“Babysitting for a client who might make the agency money is your job,” she replied. “Besides, he’s your brother, Emaline. Honestly.”
She turned, heading out of the office, and my grandmother watched her go, an amused look on her face. I pulled aside the nearby blind, looking out at my father, who was standing by his car, squinting in the sun. I knew it probably did look weird I’d gone to such lengths to avoid him. But ever since I’d discussed everything that had happened between us with Theo, the thought of seeing him made me more nervous than usual. It was one thing to be angry with him; that, I could handle. Pitying him, however, was an entirely new ball game, one I was not up for playing. At least not yet.
Once the coast was clear, I went outside just in time to catch Benji and Morris darting across the main road, ice cream in hand. “Squeeze Serve, huh?” I called out. “That’s a serious Colby delicacy.”
“Morris said fudge ripple is obligatory,” Benji informed me.
“He used the word ‘obligatory’?”
“Any other flavor’s for punks,” Morris told me, pretty much confirming my suspicions. “Is Margo still inside? I have her change. But it’s not much. Squeeze Serve ain’t cheap.”
“She went to North Reddemane, to see the house,” I told him. “I’m supposed to bring Benji back up there in a bit.”
“I can take him, if you want,” Morris offered. “I need to go to Gert’s anyway.”
“Yeah!” Benji said. “I can show you my magic set, like I told you about.”
I looked at Morris. “You have a car? Since when?”
“Ivy said I could take the van. She wants me to go buy up all their milk crates, or something.”
“Ivy?”
He turned, glancing at me. “Theo’s boss. Remember her?”
“Yes, of course.” I hated when anyone made me feel stupid, but when it was Morris it burned especially. “I just didn’t realize you were still doing work for her.”
“When she needs it. Which seems to be a lot lately. Seems your boyfriend’s not much for heavy lifting.”
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I muttered.
Just as I said this, the top of Benji’s cone rolled off and down the front of his shirt, leaving a smear of chocolate sauce behind it. “Whoops,” he said, and Morris snorted. Boys.
“Bathroom’s inside, just down the hall and to the right,” I told him.
“Right,” he said, handing off the cone to me. I held it at arm’s length, not wanting to risk my own shirt, as Morris and I sat down on the steps to wait for him.
“Thanks for taking him,” I said. “I’m sure he loved it.”
“He’d never been before,” he replied. “Every kid needs a Squeeze Serve.”
I thought of Theo, with his Cheez Doodle. It was a summer of firsts, apparently. “He’s a good kid.”
Morris nodded, not replying. We sat there a moment, just watching the traffic, before he said, “He knows about the divorce, you know.”
It took me a minute to understand. “What? When did they tell him?”
“They didn’t.” He leaned back, resting one knobby elbow on the next step and folding the other behind his head. “But he’s not stupid. He can tell what’s going on.”
“He told you that?”
“He told me his parents are splitting, that his dad is moving out when they get back.”
I thought of Benji, feeling a pang in my stomach. “God. That sucks.”
Morris shrugged. “He doesn’t seem too broken up about it.”
“I doubt he’d tell you if he was. He just met you.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, “but when you go for Squeeze Serve with someone, it’s a safe zone. What’s said there, stays there.”
I looked at him. “I think that’s Las Vegas.”
“That, too.”
I rolled my eyes, leaning back beside him. I had no memory of my father with my mother, and therefore no feelings when it came to thinking of them apart. But my mom with my dad—that was different. Even when I was ten, and they’d been married only a few years, to lose my sense of my immediate family would have been devastating. If I was honest, actually, it wouldn’t be much easier now. Then I thought of something.
“You were around that age, right?” I asked him. “When your parents split?”
“Nine,” he replied.
“I think it’s going to be hard for him,” I said now, keeping my eyes on the sky overhead. “You know?”
“Maybe,” he said. “Or maybe not. Staying together isn’t always better.”
He didn’t elaborate. Morris wasn’t much on talking about his past—or anything, really—but from what I’d been able to cobble together, his life had been a lot different before the divorce. His parents owned their house and he spent a lot of time with his dad’s extended family, most of whom lived in Cape Frost. I’d even seen a few pictures of him with a black cat, obviously a beloved pet, in the one box of photographs they kept on their coffee table. He’d never mentioned any of these things, though. Like when the marriage ended, they did as well.
I nudged his foot with mine. “You know, I’m going to miss you.”
“I’m just going to Gert’s,” he said.
I sighed. “I meant in the fall, moron.”