I dropped onto the couch, trying to get my shit together. In the kitchen, I heard the microwave go on, but not enough to drown out Zeke saying, “I’m not just doing it for you. It sounds like Callum needs somewhere to stay that’s not home. Let him feel like he’s useful.”
I figured that for reverse psychology or something, but that didn’t make it not true. For the first time, a road trip didn’t sound like a pain in the ass, but I had five days to get through before I had the excuse to leave town.
I’m such a coward, leaving Grandpa alone with Uncle Wayne.Except that was Grandpa’s choice. Wasn’t it?
Zeke and Jos came back in with a big bowl of popcorn. Zeke set it on the coffee table in front of me, and dropped onto the couch at my side, just far enough away not to touch me. Jos grabbed a cushion and sat on the floor at the end of the table, ineasy reach of the popcorn. Zeke unfroze whatever movie they’d been watching and over the buzz of a pair of motorcycles on the screen, said, “Tell me about your uncle. Should I be worried?”
“He’s not dangerous,” I said. “At least, he wasn’t before he did five years in prison.”
Zeke’s gaze sharpened. “For what?”
“Fraud. Identity theft. Actual theft. I’m not sure what else. Money, not violence. And he’s interested in blonds with big boobs, not kids. He never touched me when I was young, not even a slap. But he’s mean with his words, and he’s not honest, and you can’t trust him.”
“What’s his full name?”
“Wayne Richard Fitzpatrick. Why?”
“Date of birth?”
“Sometime in September 1979.”
Zeke pulled out his phone and tapped in a note. “I’ll check up on him, make sure there’s nothing on his sheet worse than what you told me.”
“Let me know if you find something.” I realized I was hugging my arms around myself and made an effort to relax. “Either way, Jos shouldn’t go over to Grandpa’s when Uncle Wayne is there.” I glanced at the boy. “He’s real good at figuring out your tender spots and digging at them.”
Jos craned his neck to look at me. “Then why does Mr. Roy let him hang around?”
“Well, you may’ve realized that Grandpa likes to think the best of everyone.” Jos had wandered over several times in the last two weeks, to where Grandpa had become “Mr. Roy” to him, and just “Roy” to Zeke. “Grandpa’s a real easygoing guy.”
“Yeah. But he wouldn’t let someone be mean to you.”
He did. So many times.Except he hadn’t known the extent of Uncle Wayne’s bullying. When Grandpa was around, Uncle Wayne had always been jokey but friendly, not crossing anylines. And I’d never snitched. “Grandpa wasn’t around when Uncle Wayne was at his worst, so he didn’t know. Plus, Uncle Wayne is his kid, right?”
Zeke asked, “Your dad’s brother?”
“Yeah. Grandpa lost my dad fourteen years ago. Uncle Wayne’s the only kid he has left, and he loves him. That’s what a good parent does, right? Loves their kid even when they screw up or do something bad. He was super disappointed in Uncle Wayne when he went to prison, but I don’t think Grandpa ever stopped loving him. I don’t think he knows how.”
That made my gut ache, because I could never make Grandpa choose between me and Uncle Wayne. That’s why I never snitched, never told him how bad I felt. If I had, Grandpa would’ve protected me. I’d been more sure of that with every year that passed. But it would’ve hurt him badly to kick Uncle Wayne out or refuse to see him. I couldn’t make him lose his last kid. I’d been a tough enough kid to handle a little bullying.
“Your grandfather has a heart as big as all of Canada,” Zeke agreed. “I hope your uncle learned a lesson in prison.”
I doubted it. Prison probably wouldn’t change the character of someone for the better. But Zeke flicked a glance to Jos, so I said, “I hope so too.”
Watching the movie and eating my weight in popcorn took the edge off the restless anger inside me. Explosion by explosion and flipped car by flipped car, I let go of the desire to break things. To go back and punch Uncle Wayne right in his sneering face.
Jos wandered upstairs at the end of the movie, leaving Zeke and me side by side on the couch in front of an empty bowl with a few unpopped kernels at the bottom. Zeke picked up the dish and headed for the kitchen, gesturing with his head for me to follow.
As the water ran in the sink, Zeke murmured, “Tell me the truth. Is your uncle going to make trouble for Jos?”
“I can’t imagine why,” I whispered back. “He has a gambling addiction, so he’s all about money, but Jos doesn’t have any. He likes his beer, but he’s not any other kind of addict. Well, he wasn’t.” I recalled Uncle Wayne’s new hardness, the lines in his face and the muscles under his sweatshirt. “Maybe you can find out, when you do his background check.”
Zeke reached out and brushed my hair off my forehead. For a second, I yearned to lean into that touch. To catch his hand and kiss it and ask for a hug. But that wasn’t who we were. We’d exchanged another pair of very satisfactory blowjobs in that small bathroom Wednesday night after his shift, but we weren’t boyfriends.
“What about you?” he asked.
“Me what?” I’d lost any train of thought with that touch.
“Will he make trouble for you?”
