Recovering Read Free Page A

solo adventure.
    I lean back
on the couch, careful with my ribs. Wow, Tarren lied about something and then
left. Color me shocked. And I haven’t even received a cheerful postcard from
him yet. What is the world coming to?
     Maya gnaws
on her lip, and I bring myself back to reality. She’s right. It’s weird.
Definitely weird. Tarren doesn’t know anybody. He doesn’t have friends except
for that piss ant Lo, and Dr. Lee, of course. Could he have found a girlfriend?
God, I hope so. A man just shouldn’t go dry for that long. It’s not right or
healthy. If I had his movie star looks you can bet your ass I’d put them to way
better use than Tarren ever does.
     I know the
girlfriend idea is wishful thinking. The scars. Tarren won’t even acknowledge
them, as if he could just think them out of existence. I swear he’d insist on
wearing long-sleeves and pants into hell rather than let anyone see the scars.
Trying to talk to him about them is about as pleasant and productive as walking
repeatedly into a brick wall.
    And he took the
medical kit. Not exactly a bouquet of roses.
     Maya looks
at me in expectation, like this is some kind of Nancy Drew mystery that we can
solve together with a magnifying glass and some gumption. I turn off my worry
spout. Tarren can take care of himself, and if the situation were dangerous he
would have loaded up with weapons and ammo. I tell Maya as much.
     Maya starts
going on about tracking him down, but I put the kibosh on that.
     “Tarren
leaves. That’s what he does. Get used to it,” I tell her.
     Maya used to
be president of the Tarren-is-an-unfeeling-husk club, but lately it seems like
she’s given up her membership. With all the time she’s spending on the road
with him, I think Stockholm Syndrome is starting to set in.
     ”He’s just…”
she answers meekly.
     “What?” I
didn’t realize how pissed I was getting until this word snaps out of me. I
guess we’re doing this. “He’s what, Maya? Just Tarren? Yeah, I know.” Not like
I haven’t been living with the guy my entire life.  And now I’m thinking about
Mom and her cancer again.
     I don’t want
to be in this conversation anymore, so I get up and head for the stairs. I
don’t want Maya feeling sorry for Tarren. He and Tammy left back then too, when
Mom was sick. The mission. Always the damn mission, but that was just a
pathetic excuse. They were afraid of Mom, of all that pain and sickness. And I
was just peachy with it? Like watching Mom die wasn’t as lovely as having my
soul peeled away with a rusted spoon? I tell this to Maya as I walk up the
stairs. And yeah, those stairs suck ass, but I don’t stop, and I sure as hell
don’t lean on the bannister, not while Maya’s watching.
     I tell Maya
about how I took care of Mom, how I called Tarren and Tammy when I knew she was
dying. How they didn’t make it back in time. I don’t tell Maya how Mom got so
small it seemed like she was just evaporating right in front of my eyes. How all
that strength, all that power that had infused her entire being just faded
away. It was a good lesson. Anyone can be weak. Anyone can break no matter how
strong they pretend to be on the outside.
     I get to the
top of the stairs, and honestly, I’m pretty much out of strength. I need to go
lights out for a few hours, stop thinking about the brother who can’t stand to
look at me.
     “He’d run
into a burning building for any one of us,” I say, knowing that Maya can hear
me with her super ears. “Hell, he’d do it for a complete stranger, but that
doesn’t make him brave.”
     Pretty damn
good. Didn’t even practice it. I slam my bedroom door for emphasis, and it’s
all I can do to get to the bed before the exhaustion knocks me out like a
cartoon mallet.
     

Chapter 3
      The forced shut down does me good.
When I wake up from my extended nap, I find Sir Hopsalot settled next to my
hip. His nose trembles, and he looks at me with wide, knowing eyes. I reach