Total pages in book: 97
Estimated words: 92136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92136 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 461(@200wpm)___ 369(@250wpm)___ 307(@300wpm)
I laughed. “Why’d you call it Peas and Carrots?”
“I have no idea,” he said, glancing over his shoulder as he changed lanes. “But we always did. And once you were hidden in your spot, you had to yell out peas and carrots to give the person who was it at least a clue where you are hiding, because the houses were so big and the yards were fair game, too. And the tree behind our house was always Goal.” He was quiet for a moment, then he laughed. “Also, I was obsessed with Batman when I was young and always wore a cape like he did. I even slept in it.”
“You did?”
“Yep. Wore it over my Batman pajamas.”
“Please tell me you still have Batman pajamas.”
He grinned and shook his head. “Sorry. But if you really want me to, I’ll come to bed in a cape for you sometime.”
I clapped my hands. “Oooooh, please do. Naked except for the cape. And I think you should wear the mask with the pointy ears too. So sexy.”
He reached over and put a hand on my leg. “Anything for you, babe. Glad to know you have a superhero kink. I like it.”
“What about your brother?” I asked. “Was he Robin to your Batman?”
Nate took his hand away. “Yes.”
An uncomfortable silence followed, during which I was kicking myself for ruining the light mood. Nate’s neck muscles were tense, his mouth a grim line. “I’m sorry,” I said. “I didn’t mean to upset you by bringing him up. I was only curious.”
It took him a moment, but eventually the tension left his body, and his jaw unclenched. “It’s okay. I’m just not used to talking about him.” He put his hand on my leg again and surprised me by going on. “It’s like there were two eras of my childhood. The Before years, which were idyllic, and the After years, which were agony. And no one ever talked about any of it. We buried the past just like we buried my brother.”
A lump formed in my throat, and I took his hand in both of mine, hoping he would keep talking. He did, although not right away.
“I’m sure we all thought we were doing the right thing by suffering in silence, sparing each other the pain of talking about Adam and our life before leukemia, or even about our grief after he was gone. But it was so hard. I remember feeling torn between wanting to remember him out loud and wishing he had never existed in the first place. I felt a lot of guilt about that.”
“God, that must have been so awful for you.” I squeezed his hand.
“It was. And there was no one I could talk to about it. My mother was drowning in her own grief and guilt, my father turned to the bottle for solace, and my friends didn’t know how to deal with such a huge loss—what twelve-year-old boy does?”
“You needed therapy,” I said. “I can’t believe no one suggested it.”
He shrugged. “Someone might have, I don’t remember. But my parents were not in the right frame of mind to arrange it, and I probably would have refused to go, anyway. Talking about it wasn’t going to bring my brother back.”
“No, but it might have eased your guilty feelings a little bit. Helped you to process the loss and prevented you from being so afraid to care for someone again.”
He shrugged. “Maybe.”
“Do you want to talk about him now? About the Before years, I mean? I’d like to know about him.” For a moment, I was afraid I’d gone too far, but then he started to talk.
“He loved baseball. And Swedish fish. And knock-knock jokes. He had a book full of them, and they were all terrible.” He smiled. “I remember this one he used to trot out every time he met someone new. Knock knock.”
“Who’s there?” I said.
“I eat mop.”
“I eat mop who?” As soon as the words were out, I realized what it sounded like I’d said, and burst out laughing. Nate did too, and the sound made my heart beat faster.
“Yeah, he used to love getting people with that one, especially girls.”
“Well, he’d have gotten me, that’s for sure.” I giggled again. “And I’m going to get my sisters with it.”
“Adam would be proud.”
“What else did he like to do?”
“Whatever I was doing. He was forever tagging along after me. He used to sleep at the foot of my bed like a puppy. And when he got too big for that, he’d sleep on the floor in my room.”
“Aww. I bet he idolized you.”
“He did.” He paused and swallowed hard. “He was a good kid. I miss him every day.”
I kissed the back of his hand. “Thanks for telling me about him.”
We listen to the radio for a while after that—we discovered we both loved This American Life on NPR—but it wasn’t too long before Paisley woke up. Since we were still about an hour from Nate’s mom’s house, we decided to pull off the road and feed her. “Are you hungry?” asked Nate as we exited the highway. “Do you want to grab lunch?”