The Mountain Lions missed their free throw. The crowd cheered. Jake leaned back, starting to smile. “After you walked us home you always liked to climb on the stool and get the animal crackers from above the refrigerator. And we’d sit there and watch Power Rangers until Dad came home.”
“And then we’d act it out outside,” I said. “While Dad made his terrible hamburgers.”
Jake laughed. “You told me the Pink Ranger was manly. Was the most manly color. Remember that?”
“God.” I laughed with him. “We were progressive as hell.”
“I tell JJ that, too,” Jake said, elbowing me. “I tell him that pink is fine. Whatever he likes is fine. Hailey loves that.”
“I’ll bet,” I said. The teams took a time-out. The memories washed up, pooling around us.
“I mean, listen, Luke,” Jake started, interrupted by two people getting up to go to the concession stand, muttering about the price of Coke. “You were my only person when we were little. That’s what I meant to say. Dad was there, but I don’t know if he ever really wanted to be a dad. He did his best. But you were there.”
My throat tensed up. I looked at my shoes. The game started up again.
“And when you began to pull away, and do shit, and act out, it was like losing another parent.”
The force of what he was saying was about to knock me over. I had two choices. I could try to escape through some other route, some other feeling, or I could take it. I remembered knocking on Johnno’s door the day after I’d taken OxyContin for the first time. I had almost backed away before he could open it. I had almost gone back.
I turned and looked at my brother. I saw my mother’s eyes in his eyes.
“I think—” I paused, choosing my words. “This isn’t an excuse, but I think Mom’s death hit me later. It sideswiped me.”
“I know it did,” Jake said, looking out on the game. He put his hand on my back for a second.
My relief had weight, had substance. “I won’t do that to you again,” I said, my voice uneven.
“You better not,” Jake muttered. “And don’t get any ideas about reenlisting after your leg heals.” Ten seconds until the first quarter was over. The Bears were behind by two points. “Mr. Purple Heart.”
I looked at him. He’d probably seen it in the paper. Dad, too. I hadn’t really talked about it with anyone in depth yet. Every time I thought about my own Purple Heart, I saw Frankie’s bloody boots. It hardly seemed real. “We’ll see.”
“Come on, defense!” Jake yelled. “Here we go!”
With seven seconds left, the point guard stole an inbound pass and gained momentum down the court. Everyone around us stood, yelling, “Go! Go! Go!” Jake stood, too.
I pressed on my cane, creaking upward, my leg shooting pain. No, I wouldn’t reenlist, I thought. I had other things to focus on. Staying sober, getting an education.
By the time I was standing, and could see what happened, the point guard had scored. With labor, I sat again. Instead of getting frustrated, I smiled at Jake, who helped me conquer the last inch or so.
“So, did y’all get a nurse?” Jake asked.
I clutched my cane, my lips pressed. “We should have.”
Jake shook his head at me. “You made Cassie do it all by herself?”
“Her neighbor helps out. It was a decision we made together.”
“Man.” Jake shook his head, admiring.
“I know. She’s good, yeah.” I thought of Cassie’s beaming face when I had started to walk the other day, her taking my arm as we circled the room. Had I thanked her for that? “She’s amazing,” I added, and felt the truth of my words. Even when we fought, she braced her body against mine, still fuming.
“I bet she complains, though. I’d whine about it all the time if I were her.”
“She doesn’t too much,” I said. “Not to me, at least.”
“She’s a good one, Luke,” Jake said, looking from the game to me for a moment. “You picked yourself a good one.”
The buzzer sounded for halftime. Jake stood, stretching. “You want anything?”
Suddenly, a man in a bright orange T-shirt took the court, holding a wireless microphone. “Okay, okay, people! Who’s ready to win some pizza from Gino’s?”
The crowd roared.
“What the hell?” I asked Jake, laughing.
Before he could answer, a blond woman in an equally bright orange shirt accompanied the man, holding a fishbowl of red scraps.