POWER BACK

Chapter 22: Can I Call You Tonight?

Can I Call You Tonight?

November

Ever since her birthday, Peyton and I are closer than ever. We text and talk all the time. I had no idea everything she's going through. I can't imagine one of my brothers dying—it's bad enough that we lost Joe in a lot of ways. But, man, he was her twin. And she told me that even though she always competed with him, they were really tight. She said he was one of the kindest, most thoughtful people she's ever known. That he told her, before he died, about how she needs to let people in, about how all we have is people, and that he doesn't want her to be alone.

I asked her if I could call her tonight, or if she'd be busy. She said she had some English paper to work on, but she could talk around ten.

I watch the clock on my phone...at 10:15, I give her a ring. Don't want to seem too eager.

"Chaplin," she answers.

"Thomas," I reply. "Watchya doing?"

"Driving home."

"Where you been?" I ask her.

"Marshall's house."

What? Fuck.

"Oh. On the rez, huh?" Be cool. 

"Yeah. We were helping each other revise our essays."

"How'd it go?" Still cool.

"Good, he gave me some really good suggestions. He's much more intellectual than me, so I doubt I helped him all that much."

Fucking Batman.

"Yeah, he's hella smart," I say, trying really hard to sound chill.

"Yeah. So what have you been up to?" She asks.

"Not much." I lie down on my bed and throw my Econ book on the floor. "So sick of homework. Looking forward to a break from school."

"Got a ways to go, Chaplin. Christmas break is three weeks off."

"Yeah, Thanksgiving was such a tease."

She laughs. Then I hear a crash and a muted "shit."

"You okay?" I panic. "Thomas?"

"Yeah, yeah. Sorry. I dropped my phone. Pulling into the drive now."

I exhale in relief. "Everybody home?"

"Emma's probably spying on me from her window right now."

"How's Em?" I ask.

She's quiet for a minute. Then she sighs.

"I can feel you rolling your eyes on the other end of the phone," I say.

She chuckles. "She's fine. Things seem a little better now that Dad is out of the house for a while."

"Good. Good."

She carries me with her through her house. I hear her talking to someone in a muffled voice.

"Okay. I will," I think she says. "Yes, tonight." She sighs again.

"Talk to me Goose," I say.

"My mom. She wants me to put my clothes away and clean all the dirty cups and bowls out of my room."

"I didn't know you were such a slob, Thomas."

She laughs. "Hang on, let Slobby Slobberson clean her clothes off the bed."

I hear sounds of drawers opening and shutting, glasses clinking together, more muffled rustling, and then I think she flopped onto her bed. I wonder what she's wearing. Maybe she changed into her jammies. I imagine her in a white tank top and boxers and get turned on.