Stepbrother Dearest (26 page)

couldn’t fathom how I was going to possibly handle the burial tomorrow without Chelsea there to lean

on…or to keep me away from Greta.

***

Scramble the letters of the word funeral; you get “real fun.” Of course, it was anything but that.

Just don’t look up. That was what I told myself. Don’t look up at the coffin on the altar. Don’t look up
at Greta’s back. Just keep looking at the watch, and every minute will be one step closer to this being over.

That rule of thumb worked for me until we got to the burial grounds at which point I had the freak out

of my life and ended up in Greta’s Honda on the road to nowhere.

I needed a smoke, but the craving wasn’t bad enough to warrant stopping the car long enough to buy

cigarettes.

Everything was a blur: the funeral, my panic attack and now, even the trees that lined the interstate

while Greta drove so fast that they blended together into one blurry green line.

Everything was just a fucking blur.

I kept looking out the window for what seemed like hours until she spoke up for the first time.

“Just about another twenty minutes, and then we’re gonna stop somewhere, okay?”

I looked over at her. She was softly humming.

Sweet Greta.

Fuck.

My chest constricted. I’d been such an asshole to her up until today, and now, I’d basically hijacked

her. She’d saved me from myself this afternoon, and I’d done nothing to deserve her taking the time out to
drive me around like this. I didn’t have the energy to tell her how much it meant to me, so I just said,

“Thank you.”

One of her long blonde hairs had strayed, landing on my black pants. I twirled it around in my hands

and eventually relaxed enough to fall asleep. It was the first time I’d slept in days.

I woke up delirious. When I realized where she’d taken me, I fell into a fit of laughter.

A casino.

It was brilliant.

When we entered the building, Greta started coughing incessantly and complained about the smoke. It

was odd, but my own desire for a cigarette had gone away. The adrenaline of being in that environment

had shifted my focus off my problems. I was pumped.

“Try to have fun, sis.” I jokingly shook her shoulders and immediately regretted putting my hands on

her at all because apparently, my body couldn’t be trusted to not react like an animal.

“Please don’t call me that.”

“What would you prefer I call you here? No one knows us. We can make up names. We’re both dressed

in all black. We look like mafia high rollers.”

“Anything but sis.”

“What do you like to play?”

“I want to hit one of the tables. What about you?”

“I just do the penny slots.”

The penny slots. God, she was cute.

“The penny slots? You’re going wild today, huh?”

“Don’t laugh.”

“You don’t go to a casino like this to play the slots, especially the penny ones.”

“I don’t know how to play any of the tables.”

“I can show you, but first we need drinks.” I winked at her. “Always liquor before you poker.”

Her face turned pink. I’d almost forgotten how addicting making her blush was.

She rolled her eyes. “God, some things never change. At least you’re back to making dirty jokes. That

means I did something right today.”

“Seriously, this idea…” I looked at the chaos all around us then back at her. “Coming here…it was

perfect.”

What I wished I could tell her was that unexpectedly getting to spend time with her again was the best

part.

We bought some chips, and I’d gone to get us some drinks. I had been feeling really good until I made

my way back to where Greta was waiting. A fat guy in a cowboy hat smacked her on the ass as she stood

next to him at the craps table.

Without further thought, my body went into fight mode.

“Tell me I did not just see that fucking slob smack you on the ass.” I gave her the drinks. “Hold

these.”

I put him in a chokehold. Both hands were needed to fit around his fat neck. “Who the fuck do you

think you are putting your hands on her like that?”

He held up his hands. “I didn’t know she was with someone. She was helping me out.”

“It looked like you were helping yourself.” I’d accidentally spit on him when the words came out of my

mouth then dragged him by the neck over to Greta. “Apologize to her right now.”

“Look man—”

“Apologize.” I yelled as I squeezed his neck even harder.

“I’m sorry.”

My ears were throbbing. I still wanted to kill him.

Greta was pleading. “Come on, Elec. Please let’s just go.”

Her scared face made me realize that beating this guy down wasn’t worth putting her through this.
I
took my drink from her and started to walk away.

Then, I heard him from behind me, “You’re lucky you came when you did. I was just about to ask her

to blow on my dice.”

I flipped the fuck out, charging toward him and nearly hurt Greta who tried to use her little body to

block my aim. She only ended up getting drenched by the drinks that spilled all over her.

“Elec, no! We can’t get kicked out of here. Please. I’m begging you.”

I realized in that moment if I even touched him, I was going to either kill him or seriously hurt him. I
needed to walk away.

“You can thank her that you still have a face.” I was still stewing as we walked out of the room. The

only other time I’d put my hands on someone like that had also been in Greta’s defense. Was I protecting
her now as a brother or an ex-lover? That was the question.

Her hair was wildly disheveled, and her dress was soaked. “Shit, Greta. You’re a mess.”

In reality, she’d never looked more beautiful.

She laughed. “A hot mess.”

“Let’s go. I’m buying you a new outfit.”

“It’s fine. I’m just a little wet.”

A little wet. Fuck. Get your mind out of the gutter, Elec.

“No, it’s not fine. That was my fault.”

“It’ll dry. Tell you what, if you win something tonight, you can spend it all on a new outfit for me at

one of these expensive shops. That’s the only way I’m letting you spend any money on me.”

I felt like a douche, and I knew I wasn’t leaving tonight until I bought her the nicest dress in this joint
to make up for what I did.

After I’d gone to get drinks, I told her it was better if we separated while I played poker. There were a
ton of guys who looked like they were on the prowl in the poker room, and I didn’t want to have to fuck

anyone up tonight. Greta didn’t realize how attractive she was.

It amazed me that she even listened and agreed to go play the slots for a while.

When I sat down at the table, my phone vibrated.

Why does it matter to you anymore if other guys hit on me? You’re not supposed to care.

Shit. It shouldn’t have been a surprise that she called me out on my behavior.

She was right.

I was being selfish. I wasn’t really afraid of some guy hitting on her. What scared me was the

possibility that I’d have to watch while she returned the interest or entertained it. She was single, and I
wasn’t. What was to stop her? I was just as jealous as ever, and I had no right to be. It was unreasonable
and wrong. So, I didn’t respond to the text because there was no good answer.

I couldn’t concentrate on the game and kept losing. My mind was too focused on the text and more so

on my unacceptable behavior. I took out my phone and swiped through pictures of Chelsea in an attempt

to remind myself whom I belonged to. I scanned through the photos: our drive to San Diego, she and my

mother cooking Ecuadorian food, she and I kissing, our cat Dublin…the ring she hadn’t seen yet. I tried

to turn my attention back to the game, but Greta’s question kept eating away at me. So, I texted her a

non-answer that happened to be the truth.

I know I’m not supposed to care. But when it comes to you, what I’m supposed to be feeling has never

seemed to matter.

About twenty minutes later, I was down 200 bucks when she met up with me and waved a thousand

dollars cash in my face. I couldn’t believe she’d won all of that money on the penny slots.

“Shit, Greta! Congratulations!”

When I gave her a congratulatory hug, I could feel how fast her heart was beating. I told myself it was

because of her win and not the same reason my heart was exploding.

We decided to look for a place for dinner and opted for the steakhouse. All throughout our meal, I was

obsessing over a strange text I’d received a little while earlier from an unknown number. It was the

number 22 and had come in at exactly 2:22. February 22 was Randy’s birthday. I was convinced the

message was from him, that it was his way of fucking with me from beyond. So, I was barely touching my

food.

Greta, on the other hand, had no problem finishing off my steak and hers. She’d drowned the meat in

A1 steak sauce.

I busted her balls. “How about some steak with your sauce?”

“I love it. It reminds me of my dad. He used to put it on everything.”

Watching her eat had made me smile. She couldn’t have known how much her being there for me that

night meant. I’d only freaked out in a gazillion different ways yet she was still here…with A1 sauce all over
her face.

She noticed me grinning at her. “What?” she said with her mouth full.

I took my napkin and reached across to wipe the side of her mouth. “Nothing, sloppy.”

It suddenly hit me: tomorrow could be the last time I ever see Greta.

My entire body tensed up. This day had put me through the wringer of every feeling imaginable.

Something else also hit me: the answer to the question she texted me earlier, the reason why it bothered
me if other guys came on to her. I was eventually able to let Greta go only because I thought she was

happy and that she was with someone who loved her. Everything I believed to get me over her was a lie.

Realizing that had now put my feelings back at square one even though I wouldn’t be able to act on them.

***

I lay my head back on the couch and let out a deep sigh. This glimpse inside of his head was killing me.

I needed to take another break from the book because an incredible amount of anxiety was building about

where this story was going.

I was running late for my friend’s 30th birthday party at Club Underground on top of that. I couldn’t

exactly skip out because I’d been one of the organizers along with a couple of my co-workers.

I decided I would take a shower, get dressed then take my kindle with me to sneak in reading whenever

I could tonight while I was out. My device showed that I only had 15-percent left in the book. I assumed

I’d be fine to finish it in public.

You know what they say about assuming things.

The night was unexpectedly chilly as I stood on the corner and tried to hail a cab. The thin red dress I

was wearing was definitely fitting for Club Underground, but I probably should have taken a jacket.

Sully texted me.

Have fun tonight!

I’d tried to convince her to come out with me, but she said she had a date with an electric razor for her

monthly “lady parts” grooming night. TMI for sure, especially when in reality, they weren’t lady parts at all.

We’d rented a small private room with a bar for the party. This would have seemed like an epic night

were I not so preoccupied with finishing the book.

I finally caught a cab.

“West 16th Street.”

I slammed the door and immediately wasted no time getting my kindle out.

***

After we left the steakhouse, my funk was back in full force. Greta had gone to get us some drinks while
I went to buy more chips.

I sat down at a table to wait for her when out of nowhere tears just started streaming down my face. It

made no sense because there hadn’t even been a preceding thought. It seemed to just be the release of

everything that had been bottled up. This was the last place I wanted to break down. Once the tears

started, they wouldn’t stop.

In a self-punishing way, I added fuel to the fire and started to focus on things that made it worse. I

sometimes blamed myself for coming into the world and making Randy’s life miserable. I wondered if he

and Mami’s marriage would have lasted were it not for me. Deep down, there was always an underlying

hope that things would turn around, that he and I could look each other in the eyes someday and see

something other than hate—that he would tell me he really loved me even though he didn’t know how to

show it.

That would never happen now.

I looked up to find Greta standing there watching me as she held a drink in each hand.