Almost Perfect - Brian Katcher [50]
chapter seventeen
THE COLD WEATHER BROKE that Sunday, and for the first time in months I could believe that spring might come back to Missouri. Mom was working the breakfast shift. Unable to think of anything else to do, I spent the morning cleaning out the shed.
The shed wasn’t huge, but we’d managed to cram ten years’ worth of junk inside: my lawn care stuff, old clothes of Laura’s, cartons of Mom’s old possessions. It took me nearly three hours, but I managed to pull everything out, sweep, and restack all the boxes. By the time I was done, the outbuilding was even more of a mess than before.
I hadn’t spoken to Sage since my Friday night confrontation with her father. He’d rattled me. Not just because of the insults and threats. It was the way he’d talked about Sage. He’d acted like she was making pipe bombs in the basement or something. I guess I didn’t expect him to understand Sage’s motivation. But that shame he felt, how could Sage deal with that?
Around noon, I was trying to get my lawn mower started in preparation for spring business. I’d mown most of the lawns in this neighborhood for the past five seasons. The next year, someone else would take over. Yesterday I’d received my official letter of acceptance from MU. I’d be in Columbia, pushing a mop or stacking boxes for a lot more than I made now. And when I graduated … I tried to imagine myself renting an apartment, driving my own car, filling out a tax return … When did I suddenly grow up?
I’d nearly thrown out my back trying to tug the mower to life when I heard a car barrel down our road. It was followed by an ominous thud and a crunching noise from the vicinity of our front yard. When I ran around the trailer to investigate, I found Rob trying to remove one of our garbage cans from under his front bumper. He smiled the apologetic smile of the perpetual screwup.
Sage leapt from the rear seat, either excited to see me or relieved to be out of Rob’s car. Maybe both.
Sage had on jeans, a tight sweater, and a denim jacket. In one hand she held the jump start battery, and in the other she clutched a purse the size of a briefcase.
“I snuck out,” she announced proudly. “My parents think we’re picking up Tammi from her piano lesson.”
“I’ll be back in fifteen minutes,” said Rob. He shot me a conspiring wink, tripped over the trash can lid, and fell into the ditch. I led Sage behind the trailer as Rob was still trying to back out of the driveway.
Sage strutted across the yard as if she’d been to my home a dozen times already. She didn’t seem to notice that I lived in a glorified RV. Or maybe she didn’t care.
I could tell her to leave, tell her she shouldn’t be here. It’s not my job to deal with Sage’s hostile father. I don’t want to have to question my own sexuality every time she smiles at me. But I won’t ask her to leave because I don’t want her to.
“Here!” Sage suddenly barked, thrusting the car battery into my chest. The thing must have weighed forty pounds, and I nearly staggered over backward. I chuckled internally as I put it down. Sage made a believable girl, but she definitely had a guy’s stamina.
Sage sat down on one of our ancient lawn chairs. I sat opposite on the warm concrete plug of the septic tank.
“I was worried about you, Sage.” It hadn’t occurred to me until I said it, but I really had been concerned. Had her father yelled at her after I’d left? Reminded her that she wasn’t a girl? Maybe I should have stood up to him more, though that probably wouldn’t have helped.
Sage giggled. She had a powerful laugh. Not masculine, but it certainly was in keeping with her height. “I was worried about you, too, Logan. I hated to leave you with my dad. But I knew he only wanted to yell at you for a while. If I’d stayed, he would have gotten a lot angrier.”
“Gee, thanks.”
“Dad’s all talk. He …” Sage suddenly glanced around the yard, gripping her purse, as if fearful she’d be overheard.
“Logan, can we go in your house?”
“No, sorry. Mom would kill me if she knew