We had lunch at the café surrounded by screaming kids and frazzled parents trying to wrangle them.
One little boy ran by us and tripped, wiping out right next to our table. Lucah was on his feet and picking the little guy up faster than you could say “boo boo” and was checking him for injuries as his mother rushed over and tried to assess the damage.
“I think he’s okay. Just startled. You’re okay, right buddy?” Lucah handed the kid to his mom and held his hand up for a high five, which the little boy gave him, a smile breaking out on his tearstained face as his mother took him away, making promises of ice cream.
“What?” Lucah said, catching me watching him.
I shook my head. “Nothing.”
“I know what women say.” He sat down and gave me a look as if I was in on some kind of conspiracy.
“What women say about what?”
“What women say about men who are good with children.”
I played dumb. I knew exactly what he was talking about because I’d thought it about him before.
“And what is that?”
He raised one eyebrow and I mirrored him, but he didn’t crack a smile.
“That men with children are very attractive. It’s some sort of primal instinctive thing that’s supposed to help the species continue and all that. Don’t you find men who are good with children more attractive than men who can’t stand them?”
“No, not at all,” I said with as much seriousness as I could muster. Men who were good with kids were fucking attractive and anyone who said otherwise was either a liar, or wasn’t interested in men anyway.
“You’re a terrible liar, Miss Clarke,” he whispered, leaning over the table. I threw a French fry at him and he finally broke out that smile I adored so much.
His phone rang, interrupting us. He looked down at it and the smile instantly vanished.
“I need to take this, excuse me.” He didn’t wait for me to respond before he got up and walked to a quiet corner of the café. He answered the call and I could tell whoever it was, Lucah didn’t want to talk to. I knew him well enough now to recognize when he was agitated and trying to hide it. He was arguing and trying not to make a scene by raising his voice, but he was losing his temper. I tried not to watch, but it was hard not to.
Lucah threw his head back like he had so many times before, like he was looking directly at God and asking for patience, or intervention. Then he said something else and hung up. I looked down at my plate and pretended to be very interested in it as he composed himself and walked back over.
“Bad news?” I said, hoping maybe he would confide in me.
“Nothing. Just . . . nothing.” He put his phone back in his pocket and stared at his plate as if it had been the one to piss him off.
“You can talk to me, Lucah,” I said, trying something different. I reached across the table and tried to take his hand, but he pulled back.
“Okay, fine. Be a clam. See if I care.” I crossed my arms and looked away from him.
We sat in silence for a few minutes as I waited for him to cave. I hadn’t cultivated my bitch persona for nothing. I could wear it all day if I had to, and I often had.
“It’s my brother. He’s gotten himself into trouble, again, and he wants me to bail him out, again, and I won’t. He’s had too many chances and he’s burned all his bridges and he needs to get his shit together, because I’m done. I am completely done.” He lowered his voice when he swore because we were surrounded by children and families and it was probably frowned upon.
“Drugs?”
“Among other things. He just has a tendency to jump into things and then he gets into trouble. He also has a hard time saying no to people, which is another reason that he gets himself screwed over. Anyway, he’s been calling me and calling me and begging for money, for a place to stay, for whatever. I can’t let myself get involved with him again.” He shook his head and for a moment he looked completely exhausted. And older than his twenty-five years.
“Anything I can do to help?” I had no idea what I could possibly do, but that was one of those things you say when you didn’t know what else to say and you feel bad for someone you cared about.
“No. He’s my stupid brother. I’ll probably end up caving in like I usually do. Anyway. Enough about him. I don’t want him crashing our day. You ready to explore some more?” I didn’t want to drop the brother thing, but he did, so I let him.
The rest of the afternoon was spent watching a bird expert bring out a few rare birds, and then we took in a 3D show at the Omni theater. Lucah seemed to be having a good time, but I could tell he was thinking about his brother. Sloane had been blowing my phone up all day, and if I didn’t get home tonight and take care of her, she was liable to explode. I also had dinner with my parents to fit in somewhere.
We held hands as we walked toward the T and headed back to my apartment. I knew Sloane was there, so the plan was to leave Lucah in the hallway, grab his stuff, throw it at him and have him leave without being accosted and then interrogated.
Of course, that was not what happened, because as soon as Sloane heard me fumbling with the door, it flew open.