Michael's Father. Melinda Curtis
mean Blake wasn’t still responsible for her.
Snatching a small bag of carrots from the refrigerator, Blake poked his finger through the plastic and tossed some onto Jen’s plate. Then he ladled another helping of hamburger mixture on top of what she’d originally taken. He couldn’t stop himself from tossing a slice of bell pepper from his own salad onto her greens, as well.
“That ought to help balance the food groups for you.”
Jen uttered a teenage sound of disgust.
“And make you regular,” Blake added for good measure.
“Gross.” She prodded her food for a moment, then sighed and started to eat.
Disaster averted, Blake slid into his seat and picked up a fork even though he was no longer hungry. Sophia’s illness was hitting him harder than he’d expected. It was as if he were losing his parents all over again—only this time he was losing Jen, too. How many more years would it be before he came home to an empty house?
They ate in quiet efficiency, with newscasters filling the silence between them and, for once, no telephone calls. Blake wasn’t sure anymore if Jennifer’s silence was due to teenage angst or sorrow for Sophia. He just knew he couldn’t fill it.
As they were cleaning up, Blake asked, “Want to watch some TV?” He needed a distraction; otherwise he’d worry about things he didn’t want to, like Jen, Sophia and Cori.
Jennifer grunted.
“I guess that means no.” Blake tried to hide his disappointment as he took a chocolate candy bar—his cure for the blues—out of the refrigerator and trudged into the living room. Maybe when Jen went up to her room, he’d flip through one of his parenting books.
Other than the school pictures of Jennifer on the fireplace mantel, the living room hadn’t changed since they’d moved in. There was a small television on a stand, a large green sectional sofa and two glass-topped coffee tables planted on a blue carpet—all castoffs from the last time Sophia remodeled the main house.
Blake slouched into the couch with his remote, expecting to be alone the rest of the evening. Miraculously, Jen hung out in the doorway.
“Star Trek? ESPN?” he offered, afraid that the tiny ray of hope welling inside him would be extinguished if he put too much faith in it.
Jen shrugged, poised awkwardly in the hall.
With a click of a button, ESPN’s upbeat theme song filled the room. Then an announcer launched into the day’s sports scores. Sports were easy. You played within the rules and won or lost. Not like parenting. The rules of parenting changed as the child aged.
“We had a substitute teacher in English today. Man, was she messed up.” Jen warmed to her story and relaxed her shoulders against the wall, her face lighting up. “Some of the kids switched seats and pretended to be someone else.”
Blake noticed all of this out of the corner of his eye. Caution kept him from looking directly at her until he deciphered her mood.
“By the end of the period, she didn’t know who was who.”
Blake’s eyes landed on Jen’s face in a blink. She was smiling. Her demeanor fairly shouted for approval. Blake passed the remote control from one hand to the other.
Let it go. Jennifer was reaching out to him. He should just smile, pat the couch next to him and share in her harmless little prank. But Blake remembered what it was like to be twelve, had once been on the path to becoming a destructive, unchecked teen himself. That had been in junior high school, while his mom struggled to keep them off welfare. Too tired each night to do much more than ask her wayward son about his day, Blake had become something of a campus hellion. When she finally found out the truth about what a bully Blake had become, through a visit to the principal’s office the day he was suspended, the sorrow and disappointment in her tears combined with a transfer to a new school helped straighten him out.
“Did you go along with it?” His words came out in a low growl and his chin dropped until it almost touched his chest, his eyes on his sister.
Jen’s expression crumbled. She sniffed, then drew belligerence around her like a cloak. “So what if I did? There’s no harm done.”
“That’s not an answer. I think you know how I expect you to behave.”
Hostile eyes stared right back at him. That was new. She hadn’t been able to hold his stern gaze before. The realization that he was losing control of her ignited his temper.
“Jennifer Louise,” he warned, sitting up straighter.
“You expect better from me, don’t you.” Her eyes flashed.
Blake’s eyes widened. A frontal attack. This, too, was new.
“You know I do.” Blake realized he should leave her alone, but he couldn’t. “Like today. You were rude to Cori Sinclair and that boy.” Blake uttered the last word distastefully.
“As if they care about me.” Arms crossed guardedly over her chest.
Why did she have to take everything so personally? As if the world were out to get her?
“That doesn’t matter. What matters is that you treat people with respect.” He stood, trying to regain some control over the situation. Over her. “Especially to those in the Messina household.”
“You act like we’re second-class citizens. Everything is about the Messinas. Like they’re royalty or something.”
“Look at all they’ve done for us.” He spread his arms and gestured around the room. “How they opened up their home to us.”
“We’ll never be allowed in the house again after Sophia dies.” Jen’s brows pulled disdainfully low.
Blake eyed her in disbelief. “Is that what this is about? Your room? She’s dying, Jen. How much more selfish can you be?”
“I must be such a disappointment to you.” Her face reddened while her arms clutched herself tighter. “If it wasn’t for me, you would’ve finished college. And you’d be somewhere…else.”
For a moment, two pairs of gray eyes clashed. It was true. Blake resented the fact that responsibility for his sister had been thrust upon him, and still felt inferior working in a world where everyone had a degree except him.
But none of it was her fault.
In a blink, Jen spun, escaping to the stairs, her footfalls beating sharply on each step, trampling his heart.
“Jen, wait.” Moving just as quickly, Blake reached the foot of the stairs.
Jen stopped but didn’t turn, her thin shoulders hunched. One hand clutched the railing, the other covered her face. She was crying.
Blake’s heart cracked. He couldn’t find his voice, trapped as it was behind his fear. Fear of losing Jen. Fear for Sophia and the pain they were all going through. And he’d accused Cori of not being strong enough today.
“You’re the most important person in the world to me.” He managed to push the words past the lump in his throat. “I’ve got your picture in my wallet. Yours, Mom’s and Dad’s. Do you want to see?” It was the olive branch he used with Jen. He’d been using it a lot more frequently lately. Sometimes Blake wondered if he’d ever reach a point where it wouldn’t work anymore.
Slowly, Jen turned, showing him her pale, tear-streaked face. Yet she remained on the steps. The tears just about killed him. Gone were the thoughts that Jen was becoming a pain in the ass. How could he be so insensitive as to make his little sister cry?
“I’m worried about Sophia, too.” Blake took a guess that this latest mood swing hung on Sophia’s failing health. “I could use a hug about now, Jenny Lou.” It was his final bit of ammo. Jenny Lou. Their mother’s version of Jennifer’s given name, Jennifer Louise. Blake had begun calling her that