Snack (20 page)

“Yes, gently.”

I kiss him right between the eyes and he closes them and lowers his head with a sigh. He’s so still. Too still. I glance, panicked, at the tech.

She looks up at a monitor. “He’s fine. He’s just sleeping.”

I look down at my precious fur boy and hold my hand to my chest. I hope I’m making the right decision. Right now, I don’t know. He looks so bad. Am I being selfish, making him stay? But then again, his coming through the surgery has to mean something.

“Ms. Cooper,” the nurse interrupts my internal struggle. “Wookiee is going to need to rest today—all day. You look like you could use some rest, too.” I start to argue, but she just continues and points at my bloodied shirt. “And maybe a shower and fresh clothes. They won’t let you in to see him again until he’s more awake and drinking on his own.” After several more refusals to leave, I submit, but only after I’m assured that I can be with Wookiee the second it’s OK and that everyone working for the next day has my cell number.

I scowl at the table still set for Henry’s proposal and head to the bathroom. I promptly curl up in a ball in the tub with a bottle of Absolut Citron I nabbed from the freezer on the way in. I look at my phone, wishing for a call telling me Wookiee has made a miraculous recovery. No such luck. Only the two texts from Henry and Snack that I have no interest in returning right now. I drink until I sleep, which doesn’t take much.

When I wake, the first thing I do is scramble for the phone; afraid I’ve slept through a call. Still nothing. I’ve slept in the tub for four hours. Feeling not quite in my body and perhaps a bit hung over, I take another drink straight from the bottle, get out of the tub, and turn on the water for a shower. I strip out of my clothes robotically and get in the shower reluctantly. I’m scared to be away from my phone for even a few minutes. I shower quickly, taking care of just the very necessities. No lingering over shaving and primping. Wash, rinse, out. As if that will make the phone ring. When I get out, I’m again disappointed. No message. I turn the ringer up to the loudest setting, just in case, and throw on a pair of yoga pants, my Middlebury sweatshirt, and thick socks. I thoughtlessly rake a comb through my hair and leave it wet.

Little did I know that I would repeat this routine at home for four more days between visits to the vet’s office. Every day I go, another tube is gone. First, the breathing tube, then the chest tube, and finally the IV. Once Wookiee can eat and drink on his own and tolerate being on his feet for brief periods, they allow me to take him home. I had already called in that I would be out and working from home until further notice. Thank God for my backlog of unused articles. With a bit of fluffing I’m able to shoot two to my editor without much effort.

Taking Wookiee home was bittersweet and full of surprises. The first was when I went to pay the bill, which I had told would be estimated at five to eight thousand dollars. I was told it was paid in full. This had to be a mistake and I told the girl at the desk as much, but she insisted. I shook my head in disbelief and gratitude. It could’ve only been one person—Henry.

The second I knew for sure was when I carried Wookiee into the apartment to find every trace of Henry gone. He must have figured out when Wookiee was getting out without me telling him and arranged to get the rest of his things while I was out. Very considerate. Very un-Henry.

Maybe the next girl he’s with will benefit from our unfortunate relationship. On the kitchen bar is an envelope with his keys and no note. After settling Wookiee in a nest of blankets on the sofa, I fish my phone out of my bag and send Henry a two-word text to which he replied:

Now, there’s only Snack left to talk to, but I’m not ready. I don’t know what to say yet. All I can focus on is Wookiee. Getting myself dressed, staying a little buzzed at all times, and Wookiee. Maybe in a few days.

Nine days have lapsed since Wookiee’s accident. I won’t leave his side even to take a shower. The few I have managed since he’s been home have been cursory and with his makeshift dog bed transferred to the bathroom. I have to look out of the curtain every seconds or so to make sure he’s still there. Which is stupid because he isn’t moving very quickly, nor does he want to be away from me. Wookiee just cocks his head and looks up at me each time he hears the scraping of the shower hooks against the rod. I perceive the look on his sweet face to be somewhere between exhaustion and “I think my mom’s gone crazy.”

While drying myself, I hear the front door open. It can’t be Henry. He left his key. My super? Why wouldn’t he knock before letting himself in? I dry quickly and throw on the dirty sweatshirt and yoga pants I just took off. Wookiee perks up his ears, but strangely doesn’t bark. He’s been pretty quiet since coming home.

I creep out in the small hallway between my bedroom and bathroom and hear familiar voices.

Sid says, “Well, where do you think she is?”

Clip pokes around some of my mail on the counter. “I don’t—”

“I’m right here, assholes! Why are you breaking into my apartment?”

Clip, after a big sigh of relief, rushes toward me and hugs me. “Oh, right, we’re the assholes. Where the fuck have you been? Dad hasn’t heard from you since you left over a week ago. Nobody has been able to get ahold of you. Snack is acting like a fucking lunatic.”

“I’ve been a little busy.”

“Too busy to communicate with anyone?

As if on cue, Wookiee hobbles out from the bathroom. After one look, Clip and Sid drop to their knees to greet him.

“Holy fuck!” Sid pets Wook’s head.

“Min, What happened? What the fuck happened to Wook?” Clip pipes in.

I calmly point to Wookiee as he shivers and finally plants himself awkwardly in a modified sit before them. “That’s what I’ve been doing.”

We sit on the floor while I retell the entire story of Wookiee’s accident, not leaving anything out.

Clip reaches over and squeezes my arm and Sid puts one arm around me while patting Wook on the head. I allow myself the small comfort of resting my head on my much bigger little brother’s shoulder. I have to swipe away the stream of tears that run down my cheeks. It’s hard to relive Wookiee’s accident, but the of pain remembering what happened is getting less and less by the day. The room is dark with only a smidgen of light sneaking through the curtains that I’ve kept drawn. There are empty vodka bottles and cans of SpaghettiOs in the sink and on the bar, along with prescription bottles of Wookiee’s medicines and mail piled up. This is not my normal operating procedure.

“God, look at this place!” Clip scolds me. “Look at you! Jesus, you and Snack deserve each other. You are two of the stupidest smart people I know!”

The mention of Snack’s name and I fire a line of psycho questioning.

“How is he?”

Why the fuck do I care?

“Never mind. I don’t care.”

Yes, I want to know. I miss him.

“Wait! How is he?”

“As bad as you, if not worse. He’s been drinking a lot, ignoring the kids, staying out late,” Sid pipes in. They both get up and start cleaning up my apartment, something I’ve never seen either of them do without the threat of death from our father. I scoop Wookiee up gently to cuddle him close.

Clip is in the kitchen doing dishes when Sid throws open the curtains and blinds me with the hazy brightness of the winter sun.

I shield my eyes. “Ow!”

Sid puts his hands on his hips. “Shit! Minnie, you look like shit!”

“Thanks!” I bite out sarcastically. “I sort of feel like shit so I’m going for a clothes-match-the-mood vibe.”

Clip stacks the last few plates, cans and, yes, vodka bottles on a dishcloth and comes out of the kitchen. “Dude, you fucked up. Snack fucked up. Hell, the mysterious invisible
not boyfriend
fucked up. But you’re all still alive. The only one that really got screwed in this deal was Wookiee.”

Wookiee whines softly at the mention of his name.

“I think things are really messed up with Snack for good this time,” I say, dropping my head in defeat.

Clip kneels in front of me on the floor, reaches out, and picks up my chin so I have to look at him. “Min, he’s been in love with you forever. And I know you feel the same.”

“You didn’t help with that much.”

“Yeah, I know. Whatever. You need to figure that shit out. What do
you
want?” Clip raises his eyebrow.

Sid adds, “Because in case you forgot, there’s a wedding in our future.”

I look back and forth between them. “What? One of you?”

“No, moron. Did you forget? Dad and Colette. Snack’s about to become your stepbrother. So no matter what happens with you guys, if you love each other or hate each other, you’re going to have to tolerate each other because you’re about to be related.”

Then Sid whispers to Clip, “One way or another.”

Clip drags me to my feet and carefully lifts Wookiee out of my arms and hands him off to Sid. “What the fuck are you doing? Give him back”

“We’ll wait here, while you take a shower.”

“Fuck you, Clip. I just took one.”

My brother grabs my arm and drags me into the bathroom shower. Without releasing my arm he turns on the shower. “Take another one. Use some shampoo. And brush your damn teeth. Jesus, Minnie, it’s only three o’clock and you smell like a fucking distillery. Put on some makeup, too, if not for yourself, for me. You’re depressing me!”

“What about Wookiee?”

“Don’t worry, we’ll watch him. You just get yourself together.”

Clip’s tough brother thing is actually pretty fucking sweet. That and the really hot shower sobers me up quickly.

In the taxi, on the way over to Union Station with Clip, Sid, and a carefully packaged-for-transport Wookiee; I call my dad to let him know I’m OK. I have to repeat the happenings of the last week or so yet again. It’s actually becoming easier to talk about the accident, and I don’t feel like bawling through the whole tale anymore.

My dad listens patiently after his initial relief at hearing my voice. Finally he says, “Snack’s been calling. He even came over here and asked me very personal stuff about you. You and Henry.”

“What did you say?”

“I told him I’d never met the guy and that you didn’t seem serious about him.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Why thanks, it’s the truth, right?”

“Yes. I’ve never been serious about anybody but Snack. I’ve just been trying to get through life without him since he let me down.”

“I know, Mouse.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m old, but I’m not deaf, dumb, and stupid. It’s pretty fucking obvious. Colette and I have known you have two loved each other for a long time. Still love each other.

I laugh. It feels good. “Nice use of the fuck word, Dad.”

So, I’m going to Downers Grove. Maybe to say good-bye to the possibility of Snack forever. Or maybe not. Maybe I’ll just have another brother?

Living like this. Guarding your heart? Guarding everything like you’re afraid the crazy neighbor kid is going to come over and break your toy is killing me. Trust me I’ve had years to perfect this. I’ve been living with a condom around my heart to protect myself from love. Guess what? There isn’t one. And frankly, I’m ready to be in love without protection. From the little I’ve experienced, I already know it will feel better.

The snow is filthy. That is the first thing I notice when we get off the train in Downers Grove. It had lost all of its newness and purity. Sort of the way my renewed relationship with Snack had. I thought it had pureness and potential, but it seems I am wrong. I fucked it up by cheating and lying. He fucked it up by running.

The second thing I notice is Snack. He is walking away from me on the other side of Main Street with a giggling woman running after him. Jacksy, Jennifer Jacksy. The loosest girl that ever went to Downers Grove North High School. When she catches up to him, she throws her arms around him from behind.

Here I am standing in my favorite place. The snow is gross. It’s right before twilight when the sun is low and harsh and Snack is walking away. I know he has no idea I’m here, but it just feels too… yucky. Like, once again, our timing is off.

Standing here, holding my injured, exhausted dog—
my injured, exhausted heart gives up
. This can no longer be my favorite place. I have to find a new one, because this one no longer feels like hope.

My brothers flank me sort of like the day we moved to Downers Grove. They see the same thing I do—Snack and Jacksy walking down the street, probably toward Whiskey, Beer, and Barbeque.

I say out loud with resignation, “Fuck it. Forget it.”

I turn around to go back into the station to wait for the next train back to the city when Sid sticks his fingers in his mouth and whistles.

Clip yells, “Yo, Snackenberg! Come here!”

Snack’s head snaps us, but I can’t look. I lower my head and kiss Wookiee on the skull and then slap at them both with my free hand.

I grit my teeth. “God dammit, guys. Just let it go!”

Snack jogs over and before I know it he’s in front of us. His scent proceeds him—the unique combination of clean and cinnamon and Snack.

I look everywhere but at his face because I’m afraid of what I’ll see in his eyes. Hate. Disappointment. Rejection.

Snack greets my brothers with a nod. It gets quiet. A quiet that goes on too long.

Once again I turn to leave, but a firm hand grasps my shoulder before I’ve even moved ten degrees.

“Minnie?”

I finally look up. I don’t see any of the things I feared I would. Only concern. “What happened? What’s wrong with Wookiee?”

Wookiee whimpers and wiggles out of my arms for Snack. I hold Wookiee tighter.

Then for some reason anger boils up in me and instead of telling him about Wookiee’s accident, I light into him. “Seriously?” I point across the street. “Jennifer Jacksy?”

My brothers both back away. Cowards.