Blinders

Chapter Twelve: Nobody But You

Cass's P.O.V

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By the end of the breakfast rush, Mikey and I both had coffee-scorched hands and caffeine jitters-- turns out, working for your teacher and his husband came with the bonus of free drinks. True to his word, Darryl had let me plug my iPod into the speakers. He looked like he regretted it now, though. I'd put a song called “Coffee Shop Soundtrack” on repeat for the past two hours.

“New song!” I announced around ten.

“Thank God,” Mikey mumbled. As soon as I put on the new song, however, they assumed the appearance of an annoyed chihuahua. “You can NOT be serious, Cassandra.”

“ 'Course I am!” I giggled, turning to the speakers as they played “Coffee's for Closers”.

Vivian had been given Mr. Ross's old violin to play with, and an unholy sound like tortured cats rose from the back room. Evelyn (who'd stolen Mikey's unattended coffee) was ricocheting off the walls in time to the bass drum. “Eevee, don't do that,” I called, shaking my head and knowing she wouldn't listen.

“Can we go visit Mom?” she begged, colliding with the countertop. “Dad's been mean and I wanna go talk to her.”

I glanced at Darryl and Mr. Ross. “Clear the tables,” Darryl said. “And load the dishwashers. Then you can go.”

“Mikey, you wanna come?” I asked.

They shrugged. “I-I'm alright with it. But if you don't want me there, I get it.”

“Nah. Mom's a good listener.”

Maybe, if Mom sees that Pete's sibling is okay... I caught the absurd thought halfway through and shook my head. That's stupid. Mikey can't raise the dead.

We rushed through cleanup, sloshing lukewarm coffee all over ourselves as we worked. Finally, Mr. Ross said, “You guys are good to go. See you later,” and we yanked off our aprons as Evelyn and Vivian bolted for the door.

The graveyard was just down the street, behind and to the right of the church. Mikey was silent as we walked along the wrought iron fence with the flaking black paint and rust spots peeking through. Evelyn and Vivian were whispering. They were probably talking about what to tell Mom.

Mikey hesitated under the entrance arch, staring at the iron letters. “What, Mikey, are you scared of cemeteries?” I asked, putting my arm around their shoulders. Evelyn and Vivian stood behind us, still whispering.

“Nah. Just thinking.” They continued forward. My sisters and I followed. “Where are we going?”

I pointed at the man-made hill behind the church. “Ya' see the headstone under the cherry tree? There it is.”

Evelyn and Vivian ran out ahead of us, the soles of their worn-out sneakers slapping against the pavement, breaking the heavy silence. Mikey was still lost in thought. “Hey, you okay?” I asked.

They nodded and said, “Thinking about Pete, I guess. I haven't seen his grave since the funeral-- can't go back, since my parents think that's worshiping the dead. And there aren't any pictures of him in the house. I just miss him, you know?”
“Yeah. I get it.”

“Tate, I mean, he smokes. I'm trying to get him to quit, but it isn't working. My family's already lost Pete. I don't think they could bear to lose anyone else.” They stared at their shoes for a while, blinking rapidly.

“Oh, Mikey...”

“His middle name was Michael,” they continued. “Is it weird that I go by Mikey, then? That it's my own way of keeping him alive? Mom and Dad don't talk about him. Tate doesn't. I mean...”

I hugged them. They sighed for so long I was sure they'd deflate. “All right,” they mumbled. “Let's go see your mom.”

My sisters had already climbed the hill, and they had flopped out next to the gravestone, yammering. I sat down next to them. A picture of my mom was protected from the elements by a sheet of glass, the photo itself inlaid an inch or two into the stone. Long blonde hair, bright green eyes, tanned skin. She never quite liked the photo. I always remembered that she thought it made her look shallow, vapid, and I always wondered why Dad picked that photo out of all the photo albums.

“Mom, guess what?” I said, and I waited for her voice to say, “What's up, kiddo?” as she wiped her hands on her paint-splattered jeans.

She didn't.

I continued, “My friend Mikey played your piano yesterday. You always said you wished someone else would play it when you couldn't.”

Mikey made a choked noise behind me.

“Dad's been kinda mean lately. He worked really late the past few weeks, and we've been fighting a lot. By the way, Mikey is here. They just started attending my school, all the way from Chicago. You'd get along really well with them.” I extended an arm to them, and they sat down and leaned against me. “You'd like them a lot more that Jason, that's for sure.”

They chuckled. “I certainly hope so.”

“Campbell likes them, too. I'm not really sure how he's doing.”

Vivian said, “I'm going to start playing violin next year!”

“I'm gonna play soccer!” Evelyn said.

“Yes, yes, the girls are finally branching out.”

Car wheels started crunching gravel. I glanced over my shoulder. My heart sunk. “That's Dad's pickup. Bolt!”

We ran down the other side of the hill. Arms windmilling. Feet stumbling. Hearts pounding. I hurdled the fence, grabbed the girls, and hoisted them over. Mikey toppled over the edge. “Graceful,” I muttered as I helped them up.

“Now what?”

“Your house! Tate's garage!”

We ran back in front of the church and down its sidestreet. Tate was on the rooftop, smoking. “Cass! Mikey! What's up?”

“Cassie's dad is looking for us. Can we hide in here?” they gasped.

“You're out of shape, kid. But yeah, go ahead.”

We locked ourselves in the garage. “God, it stinks like cigarettes in here,” I grumbled.

Vivian mumbled something about taking a nap and crawled into the bottom bunk. I glanced around the cramped room. “Did Tate paint these himself?” I asked, pointing at the album art on the walls. “They're really good.”

“Yeah, I think so.” They shrugged and started climbing up the ladder. “You okay?”

“Yeah. I mean, I scraped my knee jumping the fence, but other than that...”

“No, I mean... with your parents and stuff.”

“Oh. Yeah.”

“You sure?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Will Tate be mad if I play bass?”

They shook their head. I grabbed one from the wall and sat down on the lower bed. “Well, now what?”