Love & Other Natural Disasters by Misa Sugiura

Author:Misa Sugiura
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperTeen
Published: 2021-04-05T00:00:00+00:00

23

ONCE WE’VE DROPPED BABA OFF AT HER HOUSE and returned home, Stephen goes straight to his office to call Dad and give him a full report. I follow Max to his room.

“What?” he says. “Why are you following me?”

“Can I talk to you for a sec about Mom?”

He groans and rubs his forehead. “I’ve had a splitting headache ever since I woke up this morning, and that walk in the sun with Baba didn’t help. Can’t it wait?”

“I’ve been waiting. I didn’t talk to you in the car, did I?” Max looks longingly at his bed, and I add, “I promise it’ll be quick. Please?”

“Fine,” he says heavily. He trudges to his bed and lies down carefully, draping his arm over his eyes. “What is it?”

“Did you know she’s moving in with Mr. Jensen?”

“What?” This shocks him into dropping his arm and lifting his head to face me. “Seriously?”

“Yep.”

“Ughhh,” he says, and back down he goes.

What, that’s it? One semi-animated expression of disbelief and a defeated groan? Then I remember that he’s hungover, so I wait another beat. But there’s nothing more. No outrage, no agitation, not so much as a mumbled “what the fuck.”

“Well?” I prompt him.

“Well, what?”

“Well, what do you have to say about it? It’s barely even been like two months since they started dating! Even if you pretend the whole idea of her and Mr. Jensen isn’t gross and weird in the first place, don’t you think it’s too soon? Don’t you think she should live on her own for . . . I don’t know, longer?”

“Can you please stop with the screeching, Zomi? Just take it down like fifteen notches?”

“I’m not screeching,” I protest.

“Every syllable that comes out of your mouth feels like you’re taking an ice pick to my skull.”

I open my mouth to argue but think better of it. Stay on topic. In my lowest, quietest, calmest voice, I say, “Don’t you think it’s weird? What should we do?”

“Yes. Nothing.”

My head practically explodes. “What? Why? Aren’t you even a little bit upset? It’s been two months, Max. Two! Months!”

Max winces. “Quiet? Please?”

“Oh. Sorry.” Oops. “But aren’t you? Upset, I mean?” I ask. Then I say the thing I’ve been wondering about for weeks now. “Do you think . . . do you think maybe she had an affair? Like started seeing him before she moved out?” I hate to think that Mom would actually cheat on Dad. I hate it so much I actively try not to think about it. But it’s not impossible, is it?

Max doesn’t say anything for a while. Then he breathes in slowly, as if he’s getting ready to say something important—and holds it for a second, then seems to change his mind and breathes out. I try very hard not to want to smother him with a pillow as he takes two more long, slow breaths, until I lose my patience and say, “Can you say something?”

Finally, he says, “Of course I’m upset. I think it’s fucking disgraceful.

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