You're Always in the Last Place You Look Read Free Page A

Are you okay?”
    “God doesn’t exist. I know this for—”
    The front door opened, and we both turned our heads as Zane’s aunt walked in. She assessed the scene, loosing her bags of groceries about two feet above the floor, sending apples and cans rolling every which way across the entry.
    “Oh, Zane, what happened?” She was looking at me when she asked this.
    Mrs. Cormley dropped onto her jean-clad knees, and felt her nephews head while I shuffled out of the way.
    Zane lifted his eyes to her. “Bee. I’m going to die here you know.”
    She frowned. “For some reason they seem to like you don’t they?” She sighed heavily. “How are your muscles?”
    “Sore.” When her face scrunched up, he added. “I’m okay. Just tired.”
    Mrs. Cormley bowed her head, nodding slowly. I glanced at Zane, his face was drawn, his blue eyes wrinkled with emotional pain. I had no idea what possessed me, but I reached out and squeezed his calf. His eyes widened slightly as he sucked in his lip ring, toying with the silver loop between his lips. Then his face hardened, and he pulled his leg away at the same time I came to my senses, and yanked my hand back.
    “I, ah, should go.” I stood up, eyes riveted on the door, unable to look at Zane. Something about him brought out the sensitive side in me, and I wasn’t very happy about that. I doubted he would care jack-shit about me in a similar situation.
    Mrs. Cormley followed me up. “Thank you, Gabriel.” She offered me a pensive smile.
    I shrugged. “No problem. I wasn’t going to leave him out there to die in Henry’s field.”
    “I appreciate it nonetheless, and I’m sure Zane does too, even if he won’t say it.”
    I nodded, turned towards the door, and almost tripped over a can of chili. Bending down, I righted her grocery bags, setting them against the wall. I straightened, and took one last peek at Zane. He had rolled over, the burgundy afghan bundled tightly around him. He needed to get off the hardwood floor, and onto the couch, or at least carpet. As I stepped into the yellow bug infested late afternoon I thought; why do I care ? The guy doesn’t even like me. Yet for some crazy reason I felt the gravity of compassion.
    I turned right, and headed down the sidewalk towards home. My mind twitched over the fact I cared about someone I didn’t want to even think about. It’s not as if we would ever be friends . I had two friends, Lily and Tye, and it wasn’t as if Zane fit in with either one of them.
    “Damn,” I muttered looking down at the softball rolling away from my leg. I rubbed my calf where it had pelted me, and tried to glare at the girl who was running over.
    “Sorry,” the little red-head said, twisting her hands nervously.
    I shook my head, and smiled at her. “No problem. Didn’t even hurt.” I picked up the ball, and tossed it to her. I was definitely a chump. I supposed that was the reason my decision to go to seminary school instead of college hadn’t surprised anyone. Other than my father, that is. He told me he felt God had a different plan for me. When I asked him why he thought that, he only said to trust him on this, that time would reveal my true purpose. He still refused to give me a hint as to why he believed this. God wasn’t talking either (not that I expected him to), so I ignored them both, and enrolled into the religious studies program in Boise.
    It wasn’t as if I had received the calling or anything. More like I couldn’t think of what else I wanted to do. And, well, it was comfortable. A life I had grown up in, and didn’t a lot of sons follow in their father’s footsteps?
    *
    Mom set down a plate of hamburgers causing Dad and I to blink at each other in surprise. We both knew she had given the last of our steer to Mrs. Mallory and her five kids over the weekend. I had actually been supportive of this endeavor since Mrs. Mallory and her kids looked like refugees right now. The woman tried. She really did. She