Caleb drops me off real late, but I’m not finished studying. I got the light on in the Captain’s Quarters, trying to wrap my brain around the Roosevelt Corollary.
It’s impossible to concentrate. It’s been days since I’ve heard from Wendy. I guess it was stupid what I texted. Only it wasn’t that stupid. Maybe she needs space. I don’t know.
Whatever it is, I am spinning the text—all the texts—over and over, remaking choices, rewinding and revising, trying to make it right in my mind.
And even if everything was fine with Wendy, tonight would still be impossible. Because there is television-stereo-popping-cans-jackhammer madness on the other side of my wall.
Screw it. I put my books in a cubby, release the latch, and lower the bed down into place. I put in earplugs and flip off the lights. I squeeze my pillow over my head and lock my eyelids tight. I’ll work tomorrow. I’ll hope for Manny tomorrow. Hope for Mami and Papi tomorrow. Hope for Wendy tomorrow. Just let it all go, T. Let it go. Let it go.
* * *
The wall explodes.
I pop awake. Bolt upright. Something’s on my lap.
I’m crumbling—breathless—soundless screaming as the thing pulls itself over my body and back through the wall.
When it’s gone, light pours in through a hole the size of Manny’s fist.
I stand up on the bed. Manny punches through one more time, just missing me.
I throw the pantry doors open and jump, running barefoot out the kitchen. Before I can reach the front door, something stops me. I turn and look.
He’s standing, bent over in his doorway.
He lifts his head. Wild eyes.
He’s looking at me like I’m someone else. Like we’re someplace else.
“Manny!”
His eyes light up. For a split second, he sees me.
Then it’s gone, washed away in tears.
Something pulls me to my brother.
Something stronger stops me.
The door shrieks as I throw it open.
An echo as it slams behind.
I run away as fast as I can. And I don’t look back.
* * *
Caleb picks me up. Kennedy and Rita Ta’amu are waiting when we get to his house.
Caleb tells them I need a place to stay.
“We’ve known your parents a long time,” Kennedy says. “They’re good people. If we’re going to do this, you have to keep communication open. You have to show your face over there.”
I tell him I’ll call every day and head home for Friday dinners.
Kennedy looks me in the eye. Puts his hand on my shoulder. “You have a home here, son. Long as you need.” Rita sets up a bed on the old game cave sofa. She tucks me in with a kiss on the forehead.
I wait till she makes it up the stairs.
Then I lose it.
There are tears. Snot. Full-body shakes.
Whatever hope I got left, after years of waiting for Manny to come home and make us right again, I try my hardest to cry it all out.
And when my eyes finally dry, I decide that I’m done hoping for us.
But I’m not done hoping for me.