“No one else even got involved,” I say.
“No one else is stupid enough to want to debate the existence of God. It’s an unwinnable argument.” He finishes putting the last of the clean dishes back into the cabinets.
“On which side?”
“Either.”
“Do you believe in God?”
“Yes,” he answers definitively. My expression must betray me because he asks, “What?”
“I’m just surprised. I didn’t think you would.”
“Because I’m cursed and everyone around me dies?” he asks unemotionally.
I don’t want to give him affirmation, but it is what I was thinking.
“I believe in God, Sunshine. I’ve always believed that God exists,” he says.
And what he says next isn’t self-pity or angst or melodrama. It’s truth.
“I just know that he hates me.”
Maybe what he says should floor me, but it doesn’t even make me blink. Maybe I should jump in immediately and tell him that he shouldn’t think that way. That, of course, God doesn’t hate him. That it’s a ridiculous thing to believe. Except, it’s not. Nothing about it is ridiculous. When you watch every person you love systematically removed from your life until at seventeen years old there is no one left, how can you think anything else? It makes such perfect sense that the only thing that surprises me is that I didn’t think of it myself.
CHAPTER 27
Josh
“You look ridiculous.”
Sunshine is already in my garage at eight o’clock, dressed to go to a party with Drew. She hates the parties, but he gets her to go every time.
Our routine has become, well, routine. We do homework, make dinner and then hang out in the garage. Sometimes she leaves for a while to run before she ends up back here sanding down wood or looking over my shoulder and asking a hundred questions about every single thing I’m doing. She’ll sand down anything and everything but she won’t go near any of the power tools because she doesn’t trust her hand.
“What? You don’t think it works? I may not change them back.” She looks down at the old worn out work boots she’s borrowed from me. They are enormous on her feet and she has them pulled and laced as tightly as possible to hold them on. She walked in earlier in the most torturous black dress imaginable and open-toed shoes. I have too many tools going today, so she only got to stay if she changed the shoes. Part of me hoped she’d choose the leaving option so I wouldn’t have to keep looking at her in that dress and struggling to keep my dick in check, but she didn’t put me out of my misery. Weeks ago, when I finally accepted the fact that she wasn’t going away, I promised myself I wouldn’t go anywhere near her. I’m not that self-destructive. But on days when she walks in wearing tight black dresses and my work boots, I wonder how long I can keep that promise.
“You sure you won’t come?” she asks. She always asks when she’s going out with Drew. But I won’t subject myself to that, even to be close to her. Drew pulls into the driveway and saves me from having to answer.
“Nice boots. I like it. Maybe I’ll let you keep those on.”
She flips him off but it means nothing.
“You should come,” he says to me. “I can hook you up.”
“Hook yourself up. I’m good.”
“Yeah, we know.” He looks at Nastya. “I’m good, too. I have my own personal Sunshine to keep me warm.”
Something in me snaps with that. He goes out with her, he touches her, he says shit no one should be allowed to get away with to her. But he cannot call her Sunshine. I’m nailing a board down over my anger so I don’t blow up. They’ll be out of here in a minute and it’ll be over. I wish they’d get out of here now.
“Call me Sunshine again, and I will murder you, cocksucker.”
I don’t know whose head spins faster, mine or Drew’s, but I’m the speechless one in this garage right now. Once I register the words, my shock has to compete with my amusement and I fight the smile because, obviously, she doesn’t like him calling her Sunshine any more than I do.
I’m not sure when she made the decision to speak to him, but I know it wasn’t at this moment. I may not have figured out much about her but I have picked up on the fact that everything she does is a choice. She considers the repercussions for every action she takes. The girl does not understand the word spontaneous. She plans every breath.
“You talked? You talked! She talked!” He looks at me for my reaction but there isn’t one. I’m surprised, but I’m not shocked. I’m still trying to stifle a smile.
If it’s at all possible, I think his eyes get wider.
“You f**ker! You knew!” He’s going back and forth between Sunshine and I, unable to decide who to look at. Neither of us is looking at him.
He’s regaining his composure and I remember myself enough to walk over and close the garage. My house is all the way down at the end of the street, so nobody can really see in, but Drew is being obnoxiously loud right now and we don’t need an audience.
“Well, well, well.” Now he’s pleased with himself but there’s no reason for it. Drew can find a way to make anything his own personal triumph. Obviously his charms are so irresistible that he can make a not-quite-mute girl talk. Or maybe he just thinks he’s figured something out.
“How long?” he asks, and I’m not sure what he means until he motions between Nastya and I. “You two? How long?”
“Us two nothing. We talk that’s it.” I look across to where she’s leaning against the work bench. She keeps glancing over at me. I can’t tell if she wants me to know something or if there’s something she wants from me. I feel a mixture of relief and resentment. I’m glad to be done keeping this from Drew but I can’t help feeling that I’ve lost something irretrievable and that she’s the one who gave it away without asking.
“That’s it? She hasn’t talked to anyone since she’s been here. Not one word. Except apparently to you. And that’s it?”
“Didn’t mean to let you down.” I think I’m the one who’s disappointed. I know that she’s just a little bit less mine than she was a few minutes ago.
“She doesn’t even have an accent.” He turns his attention back to Nastya.
“Disappointed?” Her voice comes out like arsenic-laced honey. It sounds nothing like the one she uses with me.