5

“I don’t know for sure about anything except for one thing.” “What’s that?” the doctor asks.

“I’m not going to lick that chapstick or that floor anymore. I don’t want a rash.”

“Good idea.”

“What about other things?” Jersey asks.

I look up, not sure where this is going. Jersey has the doctor’s full attention too.

“What other things?” the doctor asks. “What do you mean?” “If someone told me to lick something else, is that okay?”

My heart stops beating and my throat goes instantly dry. I stand without thinking, reaching out for my brother. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Mick straighten up.

The doctor tucks his clipboard under his arm, his voice revealing none of the panic that I’m feeling. “Well, that would depend on what it was, I guess.

You can lick pretty much any food item, but that might be the limit as far as I’m

 

concerned.”

Jersey looks off to the side, staring at the wall for his next question. “What about a cat poo? Would that be okay to lick?”

The doctor clears his throat. “Um, no. That would definitely not be okay to lick. There are lots of bacteria in cat poo.”

“Good,” says Jersey, getting down off the exam table, breathing a sigh of relief. “Cuz they taste pretty bad. I’m not going to do that ever again, either.” He holds out his hand. “I’m done now, Doctor Harper Harper Harper. Have a nice day.” After shaking the doctor’s hand, he leaves the room. The door remains open behind him.

I stand there frozen in place, my mouth hanging open. We don’t even own a fucking cat.

“I’m going to wait out there with Jersey,” Mick says, beating a hasty retreat.

I wish I could run out there with him, but I know I can’t. After the door shuts, I swallow with difficulty and try to speak. “Uhhh, Doc … gah … uh …”

He holds up a hand. “Listen … I know that no one in your family has asked your brother to lick … well, let’s just say … inappropriate things. But we need to keep in mind that he’s very vulnerable and still needs quite a bit of supervision. People take advantage of the weak.”

My face burns a deep red. “I know that. We all know that. Believe me, we live with it every day.”

“Hey, I don’t want you to feel like you have to watch him like a hawk, okay?” He bends at the waist a little and shoots me with his doe-brown laser beam eyes, making me want to cry. He’s too understanding to be a real doctor. “He needs to spread his wings a little and be out in the world on his own if he’s ever going to be independent. But let’s do this in baby steps, okay?”

“I don’t see why he needs to be independent at all. I think you guys are nuts.” I grab my purse and throw it over my shoulder, disgusted with the conversation already. Jersey is way too vulnerable to be independent. I’ve watch for twelve years while he’s been systematically been bullied, hurt, and manipulated by evil kids. I can only imagine what adults would do to him out in the real world.

“You don’t agree?”

“No. I don’t.” I’m more than irritated now. The holy mother of all cusswords is banging on the door of my mouth, begging to be let out. Man, it would feel soooo good, too.

“And what would you have us do?”

I throw up my arms. “I don’t know. Just … keep him busy and watched

 

over.”

“Who’s going to do that? Your aging parents?” “No.”

“You?”

I shrug, sticking my chin out in challenge. “Sure. Why not?”

“Because I assume one day you’re going to want to get married and have children of your own.”

“So? Jersey’s not going to stop that from happening.” I’m two seconds away from bobbing and weaving my head around in true home-girl fashion. Doc Harper has my back up now.

He presses his lips together and sighs. “You say that now… but you cannot possibly imagine how difficult it would be to raise a newborn with Jersey in the house.”

This is the first time I’ve ever been angry at the good doctor. I hate to think what he’s suggesting about my brother or me.

I walk over to the door and put my fingers on the handle before delivering my final parting shot. “Actually, I can imagine. I’ve been taking care of that cat-poo-licker his entire life. For twelve years. I’ve wiped his ass after he’s shit his pants during dinner, I’ve dressed him in clothes he hates and gotten a black eye for it, and I’ve watched over him and kept him out of trouble more hours than I could ever count, except for I guess that one time he licked cat shit. He’s my brother and my responsibility. I’ll make sure he’s fine, regardless of whether he’s ever independent, you can count on that.” I open the door and step out before the doctor has a chance to respond. I’m too pissed to debate Jersey’s issues right now. I just want to get home and forget this day ever happened. My mom is going to blow a major gasket when she hears about what Jersey said.

Mick is out in the waiting room listening to Jersey recite the capitals of all the states, nodding in appreciation even when he gets most of them wrong.

“…And the capital of North Dakota is South Carolina. See? It’s tricky like that. You have to really try to remember, but you can do it, Mickey Mouse.

You can do it. I believe in you.”

“Come on, time to go home,” I say. I’m completely exhausted. All I want to do is go home and take a two-week-long nap.

Jersey stands without a fight. “Come on, Mickey Mouse. Time for dinner.”

“He’s not staying for dinner,” I say as we go out to the car. “He’s busy.” We get in the vehicle and I start it up, looking in the back seat to be sure

Jersey is putting his seatbelt on.

“Are you busy?” Jersey asks, looking sad.

 

“Yeah, I’m pretty busy,” Mick says, settling into the front seat next to me. “Maybe another time, J-man.”

I’m angry at his answer. Does it mean he’s regretting hanging out with my brother? Does it mean he hates me? Or is he really busy? Argh, I want this day to have never happened. Nothing with Jersey is ever easy. And no matter what Mick does, I’m going to assume the worst. I can’t even look at him.

“Who’s J-man?” Jersey asks, confused. I can see his scrunched-up face in the rearview mirror as I reverse out of our parking space.

“That’s you. J is for Jersey,” Mick explains as I pull out onto the main

road.

There’s a giant elephant in the car, namely the identity of the person

responsible for the poo-licking, but I’d rather die than discuss it in front of Mick. I’ve decided that I’m glad he got the hint and said he couldn’t come to dinner. I can only take so much humiliation coming from my family for one day before I snap. And when I snap, it’s never pretty. Not that I care what Mick

thinks. Maybe it would be good for him to see me all snapped out. Then I could write off the errant thoughts of him naked as tiny brain aneurisms on my part and move on with my life.

Twenty minutes later after a car ride filled with lists of state capitals, we arrive back at our house. I realize then that I forgot to bring Mick home.

“Shit.” I rest my head on the steering wheel as Jersey gets out and sprints up the front walk and into the house, yelling the entire way.

“What’s the matter?” Mick asks.

“I forgot to drive you home.” I want to cry. I don’t think I can be alone with him now.    Or ever for that matter.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call my brother.” He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket.

“No, I’ll take you.”

“No, that’s fine,” he says, getting out of the car and turning his back on me.

It probably should be a relief, but his refusal to allow me to take him home feels like a rejection and just pisses me off more. My brain is making no sense. First I hate him and never want to see him again and then I wonder if he might like me someday.

As I watch him on his phone, I can’t help but wonder if the reason he’s saying no to my ride offer is because he really dislikes me or because he’s had enough of the Torres household to last a lifetime. Either reason sucks big donkey dong.

Jersey appears out on the porch with my mom in tow.

I get out of the car and rush up to meet them, my heart going way too fast.

 

Screw caring about Mick and wanting him to like me. This cannot happen. “Hey, Mickey Mouse!” Jersey yells, leaving Mom with me on the lawn. “What’s this all about?” she asks.

“Mom!” I grab her arm and squeeze it, talking low and fast. “Don’t let him stay for dinner! Tell Jersey no! Tell him Mick’s busy! Tell him we don’t have enough food! Tell him … tell him … tell him you’re dying of a dread disease and don’t have time to host guests for dinner anymore!”

She smiles at me. “What’s gotten into you? Are you okay? How’d the doctor’s go?”

“Mom! Are you even listening to me?! I’m serious!”

Jersey walks up with Mick’s hand in his. “This is Mickey Mouse and I want him to come to dinner.”

Mick holds out his hand. “Hello, Mrs …”

“Torres. But you can call me Linda,” my mom the traitor says.

I glare at her but she ignores me completely. In fact, the smile on her face says she’s enjoying this way too much. I would pinch her on the butt if Mick wasn’t looking right at her.

“You’re welcome to stay, Mick. We have plenty of food.”

“That’s okay. I was just trying to reach my brother to get a lift home.”

She reaches out and takes his wrist. “Nonsense. You’re staying here for dinner and Quinlan can take you home after dessert.”

“Quinlan?” he asks me as he’s being led away, an evil grin lighting up his

face.

I shake my head and give him the death-ray glare, mouthing every cuss

word I know in his direction.

All he does is smile. And then he has the absolute gall to wink at me.