Best Man by Chris Delyani

Author:Chris Delyani
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Chris Delyani

10

SPIDERWEB

I leaned on my crutches on the platform. My skin itched under my cast. A minute went by. Two minutes. Five. It was like the universe had held up the train on purpose. I pictured Josie’s smiling freckled face, encouraging me to turn around. But before I could fish out my phone to text Marcus I was bailing, the train screeched into the station. The train doors opened like welcoming arms. I hesitated. No one was making me board the train. Deep in my heart, I knew what I was doing was wrong. Turn around, turn around.

Then the past five days in Frank’s house crashed down on me. The sagging couch. The stifling heat. The tick-tick-tick of the grandfather clock. Worst of all, Frank’s caretaking. Bringing me meals, buying me groceries, changing my sheets, towels, pillowcases. All the while he barely spoke to me, barely even looked at me. It was like he’d meant to put me in his debt. As if he knew about me and Marcus. That banging noise I’d heard while I was upstairs with Marcus two weeks ago went off in my head again, making the skin under my cast crawl. I couldn’t take it anymore. I couldn’t face another day of torturing myself—does Frank know, does Frank not know—with Frank inside the house, quietly doing chores for me. Not on a hot weekend like this.

I stuffed the phone into my pocket, boarded the train, and plopped into a seat by the door. The eastbound train whooshed in on the opposite side of the platform. The doors opened and let a few people out. My eye landed on a lanky guy in a blue plaid shirt walking toward the escalators. A log-shaped gym bag hung over his shoulder. From behind he sort of looked like Jonathan. He had the same funny duck-walk too. But that couldn’t be Jonathan, could it? I mean, Marcus had told me Jonathan was seeing his Mami in Santa Cruz for the weekend. What would Jonathan be doing in Oakland?

But I knew the answer to that question right off. Frank. Frank, of course. I’d thought he’d acted weird last night, asking me about my plans for the weekend. He’d all but stuffed me into the car to drive me to the BART station this morning. He was probably waiting at the curb for Jonathan right now, with the car still running. Holy Mother, what a douchebag. I never would’ve thought Frank could be such a sneaky little bitch.

Wait. No. What if the man in the blue plaid shirt wasn’t Jonathan? I’d only seen the guy from behind. Only one way to know for sure. I struggled to hoist myself off the seat, grab my crutches, reach down for my bag. The train doors closed before I could rise to my feet. I was trapped. Then a sigh of brakes, a grinding of wheels, and off the train went. I sank back in my seat and let the train pull me away from Frank’s house, away from my troubles there, and toward my own uncertain adventure.

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