I’ll help you.
Rebecca’s words from last night are all that keep me from taking off the next morning. They keep me stoic when my instincts are the opposite all through breakfast with my grandparents. And now that I’m officially wearing my Good & Green polo at my first worksite, they’re the only thing keeping my thoughts from crushing me.
Mostly.
“This sucks.”
The guy shoveling gravel beside me laughs. “But that view,” he says, gesturing at the dying mall the city is desperately trying to resuscitate with new landscaping.
I bark out a laugh, then laugh harder. Then I’m laughing so hard that the guy, Neel, has to ditch his shovel to steady the wheelbarrow I’m close to dropping.
“Hey, I’m funny, but I’m not picking this up if you spill it all over the asphalt.”
Sweat stings my eyes as I rub the tears away and try to get myself under control. It wasn’t even that funny. Maybe I just have heatstroke or something. I’m definitely delirious. Probably because it’s a million degrees out—slight hyperbole—and I’ve been wheeling eight tons—not hyperbole—of gravel into parking lot islands for the past six hours.
At least I haven’t been working alone. Neel’s about my age, strong and smart enough to use one of those squishy bandana things that looks like you wrapped up a long hotdog and tied it around your neck. I’d silently laughed at him when he soaked it and put it on earlier, but his warm brown skin hasn’t been dripping sweat like mine has and I’m starting to feel like the stupid one for turning down his offer to use his backup. I’m feeling like the stupid one for many, many reasons.
“You know it’s not always shoveling gravel in parking lots.”
“What, this is just my grandfather’s way of welcoming me to the job?”
Neel snort-laughs. “Probably.”
Great. I’ll be sure to thank him later for the breathtaking backside view of the former JCPenney that we’re looking at all day. Truly majestic.
Equally majestic is the other guy with us, our supervisor, Eddie. He’s older, probably in his thirties, with a patchy blond beard and a shaved head that isn’t fooling anyone into thinking he’s not prematurely balding. He’s technically in charge of the project, which as far as I can tell means leaning against the truck and yelling at Neel and me anytime we stop moving for more than thirty seconds.
Following my line of sight, Neel says, “Eddie’s alright. He puts on a show for new employees, but he’ll lighten up after a few weeks.” He side-eyes me. “If you last that long.”
My throat goes dry at the thought of being here for weeks. I never had a choice when I was a kid. She’d slip up, do something that messed me up, then panic, drop me with my grandparents, and stay gone just long enough to convince herself that it would never happen again. But that was years ago and that cycle of slipping—sometimes diving headfirst—followed by guilt-driven abandonment and finally stretches of peace ended once I stopped doing whatever she said no matter how messed up she was when she said it. Now I was the one taking care of her, keeping her slips at bay as much as possible and helping her get back up when I couldn’t.
She’s never gotten up on her own without me or at least the inescapable knowledge that I needed a clean mom. This time there’s no reason for her to try.
“Hey, man, are you okay?” Neel eases the shovel from my hands. “You look kind of pale.”
I try to clear my throat, then try again. “Yeah, I think maybe the heat is getting to me.”
“You want to grab some water and go sit in the shade for a few? I can make sure Eddie doesn’t give you any crap.”
I reach for a water bottle and take a healthy swig. “No, I’m good.” I have to be. Rebecca was right about all the flaws in my non-plan to find my mom. I can’t just take off, which means I have to make this work here, for now, until I figure out where to start looking. And, I realize with a small smile, I’ll get to have Rebecca by my side the whole time.
“The magic of water,” Neel says with a grin. “You already look better.”
“Yeah, water,” I mumble, then at another yell from Eddie, we get back to work.
The grueling task of shoveling gravel while being baked alive keeps me slightly pissed off for the rest of the day. Neel cuts me some slack but not Eddie. In fact, the latter pulls me aside once we get back to the Good & Green building. With his thumbs shoved into his belt loops, he makes a show of looking me over, unimpressed.
“You think I care that you’re their grandson? I don’t. I care that you’re strong, work hard, and don’t pull any attitude with me.” Eddie sucks at the gap between his front teeth. “As far as I can see, you’re O for three today, kid.”
It’s hard not to laugh at him, really it is. I’m grateful though. His posturing is exactly what I need right now.
He leans into my personal space. “Did you hear what I said?”
“Yeah, man, I hear you. And I appreciate it. So much. In fact—” I glance from side to side as though to ensure no one is nearby and listening before leaning a little closer to him “—the truth is, I have a real people-pleasing complex. I probably won’t be able to sleep tonight knowing I let you down. So if you could, you know—” I turn and look at him over my shoulder “—pat me on the back and tell me you believe in me that would... Hey wait!” I call when Eddie makes a disgusted sound in his throat and strides away. “How am I supposed to sleep tonight?”
“I’m guessing just fine,” says a voice that makes me smile, a true smile, before I can even turn around to see Rebecca leaning out the driver side window of a white car, the frame of her wheelchair in the passenger seat.
My smile grows as I stride over to her. “You’re early.”
A hint of pink colors her cheeks. “Oh yeah, I had to—”
“I’m not complaining.” And not just because we’re going to start figuring out where to look for my mom.
The pink deepens a little as she hears the compliment in my words. “So first day, huh? Should I ask?”
I squint at her in the glare of the setting sun and move a little closer. Just a little. Every part of my body aches and I’ve got blisters on my hands because I decided I didn’t need the work gloves my grandmother left me this morning. “Well, I made a friend,” I say, gesturing in the direction Eddie went. “So there’s that.”
Her mouth quirks. “I saw. Gold star for you.”
“And there’s you. I didn’t know you had a car.”
“It’s my boss’s car. I only get to drive it when I’m running an errand for her. She’s a wheelchair user too, obviously.” She gestures at a lever beside the steering wheel that connects down to a metal plate over the pedals. She pushes her sunglasses up to keep the breeze from blowing her curls into her face. “Listen, about last night. I—”
“Was right. I didn’t get to say it then, but you were. Taking off isn’t going to help me find my mom. I know I got mad, but I just couldn’t think, and you did. So, um. Thanks.”
Rebecca stares at me and I come close to wiping at my face thinking there must be something on it. “Ethan Kelly. Wow.” She half laughs, half exhales. “You would never have done that when we were kids.”
I still kind of want to wipe at my face. “Done what?”
“Admitted you were wrong and thanked me for pointing it out.”
I crack a smile. “When we were kids it was usually you wanting to do the stupid stuff.”
“Stupid? Don’t you mean fun?”
My answer is to lift the hem of my shirt revealing our one and only attempt at becoming tattoo artists.
Her cheeks flush redder than before as her gaze traces the faded and wobbly sun on the right side of my abdomen. “I was hoping it faded away maybe?” She bites her lip in a way that catches my eye. “Though I kind of feel like that one’s on you. I mean you knew I couldn’t draw.”
I lower my shirt and pull my gaze away from her lips—had they been that full when we were kids? “Drawing and stabbing me a million times with a safety pin you dipped in ink are two different skills. That was kind of your selling point if I remember.” Well, that and even at twelve, I was not about to pass up the chance to have her hands on my skin for that long. Or mine on hers. “Is yours still...?” I hadn’t thought to look for the tiny sunflower I inked on her lower back yesterday.
“Barely.” She slumps slightly. “I told you you weren’t sticking the pin deep enough.”
Before either of us can say anything else, the door behind me opens to let Neel out, carrying a huge pot of white star-shaped flowers with red centers. He makes a cartoonish course correction when he sees Rebecca, and heads straight toward her.
“Hey, you.”
“Hi, Neel,” she returns brightly. “Is that my order?”
Neel brings the pot up to her for inspection. “Hoya carnosa. And if Amelia doesn’t like it—”
Rebecca sighs. “She’ll send me back out until she does.” To me she adds, “Amelia’s my boss and she’s kind of...”
“Picky,” she and Neel say at the same time, and then share a smile that I’m not even a little bit a fan of.
“She uses them for design inspiration,” she continues. “Amelia’s a jeweler by the way, did I tell you that? I mean we both are.”
She had not—of course, we had gotten interrupted by the pool...and again right now. I side-eye Neel. I didn’t realize they knew each other.
“Wow. That sounds so much cooler than what I’m doing.” I rub at the base of my back which is sore from shoveling and Neel answers for her.
“It is. You should see the shop where she works. It’s this old converted airplane hangar out by the citrus groves. Get her to take you sometime.”
Rebecca gives me a smiling nod. “Sure, anytime.”
I wait for Neel to leave once he’s got the flowers loaded in the back of her car and then realize he’s waiting for me to leave. I duck my head to hide my half smile. Yeah, that’s not going to happen. “Hey, man, give us a minute, would you?”
“Oh,” Neel says, backing up a step. “Right, sure.” Before he leaves for good, he steps right back up to Rebecca’s side of the car, forcing me to move back. “If Amelia doesn’t like the Hoya, text me and I’ll bring something else over.”
“You know you don’t have to do that kind of stuff anymore,” she says, lowering her voice in a way meant to include only the two of them.
“Just like you don’t have to come pick up orders yourself anymore.” He grins as he backs away. “And yet...”
Rebecca’s gaze lingers on Neel’s retreating form a beat too long before returning to me. “He’s really great,” she says. “You guys are going to like working together.”
“Yeah.” But I don’t want to talk about Neel. “So when can we start? You aren’t on dinner duty again tonight?”
A new expression passes over her face, but it’s gone too quickly for me to figure out what it means and then it doesn’t matter because she says, “I’m all yours.”