Bus

The rest of my day is spent writhing over how bad tomorrow is gonna end up. Since that exchange at the arcade, the only thing I can think about is the one thing I told myself to avoid – the damn bus. I wish I never ran into Sara or Keke. Then I might be able to actually enjoy the time spent with the only two other actual people on earth that share my family tree (our weird uncle is so weird that I hardly consider him a person anymore).

Ezra runs out of tokens pretty quick but runs back to us with her arms bursting full of tickets, begging to exchange them for prizes. So I just kind of itch the back of my head and tell her, “Okay, sure.”

Then she bolts away again.

“You’re a terrible uncle,” Carrie snorts, elbowing me. “You’re so awkward.”

I shoot her a dirty look. “No shit, Sherlock.”

Ezra ends up getting this huge stuffed tiger that I have to carry out to the car. It’s twice her size and I have no idea why the hell she gets it, but I guess a prize is a prize and she’s cool with it. It ends up crammed in the backseat of my stupid little mid-90s sedan and it barely gives her enough room to breathe. Might I add that it also blocks out my view into the rear window.

So I grunt and grimace, trying to see over that stupid fake feline, but it’s no use. I don’t want to chop its head off, though, since I got a feeling that would end up in Ezra crying and I really do not need that right now.

We get home at around five, completely pooped of all energy, and Ezra passes out on the couch. Seriously. It’s the first thing she does besides walking through the door to my apartment and taking off her shoes. She plops face-down on the futon in the living room and starts snoring.

I just stand there staring at her, wondering how the hell she’s able to do that. Carrie walks up behind me with Ezra’s tiger in one arm and slaps my shoulder with a grin.

“She gets that from her asshole of a father,” she beams so bittersweet.

Before she walks away to the measly one-bed guest room that I have no purpose for, I start walking after her. “Whatever happened to that idiot, anyway?”

“I don’t know,” Carrie shrugs, avoiding eye contact. “I guess I might find out tomorrow when I hang out with one of his ex-friends, though.”

“Damn. I never got a chance to kick his ass.”

My sister laughs, covering her mouth to keep from being too loud. “Doug, he could break your neck. I wouldn’t take him on. Besides, I’ve dropped nearly all contact with him so it’s not like you can hunt him down.”

I bite my lip to keep from grinning. It’s just nice to know he’s out of everybody’s life.

“But, I guess that’s what brothers are supposed to do,” she adds, setting the tiger down among the mess of bags she and Ezra brought. “Besides avoiding contact with their little sister for years at a time…”

“Look, I’m sorry! Jeez,” I bargain, throwing my arms out before me. “You don’t have to keep reminding me about it.”

Carrie looks up at me and does a crooked little half-smile. “I know, I’m just being honest here.”

“So am I.”

“I mean, I do miss you and everything, as hard as it might be for you to believe.”

I sneer. I hate these fucked-up sentimental moments. They just don’t work. “You’re so corny.”

“You just hate expressing emotions other than hate,” she smirks, jabbing a finger into my chest. She flips her short bangs out of her eyes and cocks her head.

“Ain’t that the truth,” I spit. “You hit the nail on the head.”

“Why do you enjoy it? It’s not exactly something positive.”

I shrug. I don’t really have an answer for her.

“One day something’ll come along and you’ll change that,” she whispers.

“Doubt it.”

She throws her hands up. “See? That’s what I’m talking about. You’ve always doubted everything. But I guess…that’s how you are.” A forced smile breaks out on her face, going so perfectly with the peanut-gallery look in her eyes.

I fold my arms and stare at the ground.

~~~~~~~

We end up ordering pizza since Ezra says she’s too tired to go out to eat. She’s like deadweight on the futon, like a big rock that won’t move. One that snores. Seriously. What kind of four-year-old snores?

But whatever. The pizza tastes good and everybody’s in bed by ten at night. My only day of fun in a long time comes to a close, and that’s what keeps me tossing and turning through the wee hours of morning. I don’t even know if I’m gonna be able to see Carrie or Ezra tomorrow before they leave, which is something that I’m having a hard time deciding whether it’s nice or bad.

Not to mention that feeling of tremendous suspicion that there was something Keke and Sara weren’t telling me. Something is up. And whenever I get that paranoia lodged into my brain, nothing can shake it loose. Not even staring at the ceiling for minutes at a time, trying to drift off to sleep.

I barely get two winks in before my alarm clock screams to wake me up.

I slap the “off” button and roll out of bed, half-asleep and regretting just dozing off before I had to get up. My eyelids sag even more than they normally do; my hair has gone from somewhat neat (from yesterday) to a complete bird’s nest. I decide to not give a shit, knowing that the only human beings I’ll probably be seeing today are middle school morons who already hate my guts. I run a comb through it once after getting out of the shower.

And even though I spent a good chunk of last night ruminating about everything but the kitchen sink, as I sit in the living room watching the news on the lowest possible volume (Carrie and Ezra are still snoozing), my head is still zooming. According to the overly cheery anchors, people are getting shot and stabbed in the next county, and all I can think about is what kind of nasty surprise I’m probably going to face when I pull into the bus loop this morning.

I lean forward and push the hair out of my eyes, mussing it even more. I hate this. I’m so frickin’ glad I only have to drive one group of kids twice a day and I’m making enough to avoid having to get a second job. I know a ton of substitute bus drivers who’re working three jobs at once just to make it. Thank God I’m just one person.

Hopefully, I won’t get fired for whatever the hell went on. If it even did go on…

The coffee hardly wakes me up, but I drink a ton of it anyway. I’m just waiting for the time I normally zoom off to the county bus loop so I can face my fears and get it over with.

“Doug? You’re still here?”

I jolt my head over to the source of the voice, and I end up seeing Carrie leaning against the wall next to the futon couch.

“When do you go to work?”

“Around eight,” I shrug, clearing my throat. “You didn’t have to get up so early.”

“It’s 7:30; that’s not early. And I want to get out on the road at a decent time so we can get there sooner,” she tells me. She walks over and sits next to me.

I’m silent.

She looks over and smirks. “Back to the old grind, huh?”

“Yep,” I grunt.

It’s a little surprising to me when she slings her arms over my neck and pulls me over in possibly the weirdest hug she’s ever given me. She buries her head in my neck and doesn’t say a word, and the only thing I can do is sort of hug her back. It’s this awkward little thing I don’t really know how to explain.

She lets go and kisses my cheek for a long time. “I miss you. I dunno if I told you that already, but I do. You’re gonna have to call me some more or at least visit once. Really.”

“I know,” I roll my eyes. I wipe the spit off of my cheek. “God, women…”

Carrie punches my arm weakly like she just gives up halfway through throwing the hit. “I don’t think I need to tell you why I miss you.”

“’Cause you’re a lonely sadsack, and I’m a lonely sadsack too, so -”

“Shut the hell up, Doug.”

I look down at her and she’s smiling.

“Seriously, though,” she goes on, “you need to keep in contact with me. I let it slide for a few years, but I want to actually hear from you.”

Twiddling my thumbs, I roll her words around in my head, trying to let them cover all of those negative bus-related thoughts. “Yeah. I’ll call every once in a while.”

“C’mon, more than that…”

“Fine, every week. How’s that?” I grimace, half-smiling at her even though I don’t want to. “I can update you on all of the friends I don’t have and all of the pain and misery I have to go through.”

She shakes her head. “Okay, we’re gonna have to work on that. When you call me, you have to give at least one positive thing that’s happened. I don’t want to hear a sob story.”

“Carrie, our entire lives are sob stories.”

“But you can pick out one good thing that’s happened. That can’t be too hard. I mean, really, Doug. Can you look on the bright side for once?” she continues, shoving my shoulder. “For me, at least?”

I raise an eyebrow at her; it’s sorta like she doesn’t even know who the hell I am. “Well, I can try…”

Her face splits into this big grin that makes me want to smile too. “You’d better. And you better not break your promise.”

“I never promised anything!”

“Okay, then will you promise to call me at least once a week and tell me at least one positive thing that’s happened over the course of that week?” she corrects, not stopping to breathe once during that sentence.

I bite my lip and fumble with an answer. “Okay, fine.”

“Yes!” she cheers, throwing her arms around my neck again. “I finally have a brother again. One who’d better keep that promise.”

I kind of laugh, hugging her back less uncomfortably than before. “Don’t worry…”

“I won’t, as long as you actually remember,” she snarled, going from sweet to threatening in half a second flat. She pushes away from me with a shadow of a smile still on her face. “Think about it when you’re at work or something. Tell the kids you drive to remind you.”

“Hell no! They already know I’m pathetic enough. They don’t need another reason to hate me,” I sneer. “Besides, speaking of work, I gotta go now.”

I stand up and reach for my car keys lying on the counter, and when I turn around to look back at my little sister, my only sister, she keeps on smiling bittersweet like she never ever wants to be alone again.

“Do you think you can lock the door on your way out?” I ask her.

She hesitates, but nods slowly. “Yeah, I can do that.”

I’m standing at the door, but I don’t go just yet. Instead I walk back over to Carrie and lean over, kissing her on the forehead – something I haven’t done since we were kids. She just sits there looking bewildered, and then she blinks and everything is alright again.

“Bye,” I say to her over my shoulder, walking out the door.

“Bye, Doug,” she says back. “I love you.”

I pause. “Love you too.”