hømetøwn

• : / twenty two / : •

Sometimes when there's too much to think about, it's easier to think about nothing. Just sort of push it to the back of your mind and hide it there, and wait for it to become a bigger problem later.

We were able to do this for exactly three and a half days.

I still received daily text messages from Connor, counting down the days.

My mother called every night. I didn't listen to the voicemails. I swallowed the guilt and left salt stains on Brendon's pillow cases.

The day we finally addressed it was the same day the man from the record store called me.

Brendon and I were sitting in an ice cream shop. The dull buzz of the artificial lights hung in the air, and the cold metal seats dug into my thighs. A half melted strawberry ice cream oozed in a bowl between us.

Brendon said, "If you ever turn into a raspberry ice cream person, I'm leaving you."

"We're not together."

"That doesn't mean I won't leave you. I totally will. I will leave you on the curb to live in a box and beg for drug money."

"Drug money?"

"Yes, drug money. If you like raspberry ice cream more than strawberry ice cream, then I'm going to assume you're on multiple intense drugs."

I bit back a laugh. "Is raspberry ice cream even a flavor? I've never seen someone selling raspberry freaking ice cream."

"It's definitely a thing. And if you ever choose it over strawberry, I am leaving your ass in a --"

My phone burst into song.

"Hold that thought," I said, taking it out of my pocket. The screen lit up, displaying an unknown number.

"Is it your Mom again?"

"No. It's --"

"Connor?" A dark edge rose in his voice.

"No," I said, glancing at him then back to the phone, "it's an unknown number."

"Oh."

I looked at it for a moment, hesitating, then said, "I'm gonna answer it."

"You're gonna answer it."

"I'm gonna answer it."

I waited for him to stop me, but he just leaned back in his seat and shrugged. The phone buzzed in my hands, shrieking and insistent.

"Okay," I said. "Okay. Gonna do it." I swiped across the screen and held the phone to my ear. "Uh, hello?"

There was a pause and a shuffling noise on the other end. Heavy breaths fell into the speaker.

"Is, uh -- is this -- uh -- this is Mr. Brad Chester from the Clearwater Record Company. I was given this number for, ah, for -- in case I needed some extra help round the place? And, uh, I'm, ah, I'm just callin' to take you up on your offer."

"Mr. Chester!" I shot Brendon an excited expression. "It -- it's great to hear from you! I thought you said I should expect you not to call?"

"Yeah, well, I don't like gettin' help where it isn't needed," said Mr. Chester. "But, ah, but it, ah, it's become apparent that maybe it is. Needed, I mean. So I thought I'd give you a call."

"Yeah, I'm glad you did! When do you want me to start working?"

"Soon as you're willin'. Obviously I'm gonna need you to fill out some paper work and get to know you better so I know you aren't a crook or a slacker and whatnot. But if you're all good, I'll pay you ten an hour. Just come on over when you can."