Bad Ideas (First & Forever 4)

“Thanks. I’d better get going, so I’ll see you later.” I started to head toward the door, but then I turned back to him and asked, “Are you doing okay financially, Lark? I can give you some money for groceries if you need it.” I couldn’t help myself. I really was a caretaker through and through.

He flashed me a big smile. “Thanks for asking, but I’m actually doing great. I started one of those fans only pages last month, and the money is rolling in. I really do keep forgetting to go to the grocery store. That wasn’t code for ‘I’m totally broke’ or anything.”

“Okay. Just making sure.”

When I reached the front door, I was almost smacked in the face as it swung open. One of my roommates stepped inside as I staggered backwards, and he exclaimed, “Oh no, sorry! Bad timing.”

“No worries. How’s it going, Kel?” This was only the second time I’d seen him since I’d moved in. He was a cute Korean-American guy with pink hair, and he was holding a bulging duffle bag.

“I’ve been better,” he said, as he brushed his long bangs out of his eyes. “My boyfriend and I just had a fight about him leaving me behind when he goes home at Christmas, and—well, long story short, I decided we should take a bit of a break.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Yeah, it sucks. Anyway, I’ll be home a lot more, instead of spending all my time at his place.” All of a sudden, some sort of furry thing with big ears stuck its head out of Kel’s open-topped fanny pack, and I leapt back. “Don’t worry, that’s just Winston,” Kel said with a grin. “He’s a sweetheart.”

I had no idea what Winston was, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to know. “Cool. Well, I’m on my way out, but I’ll see you soon.” I stepped around my roommate and headed for the door, never taking my eyes off the…rodent, probably?

When Eden, Seth, and I decided to leave St. Louis and come to San Francisco back in January, it was so we could take care of Eden’s widowed grandpa George, who’d been living all alone and dealing with chronic pain. We’d moved into his house near Golden Gate Park, found jobs, and began to put down roots in our new city.

Now I stood out on the sidewalk, looking up at the cute, Spanish-style house that had been my home for most of the year. I’d moved out in October, when Eden and Seth got together. That was just a bit too much of a front row seat on their new relationship.

Soon after, George married a lovely woman named Flora, after a whirlwind courtship. Now he lived in her palatial home, and he’d given Seth and Eden his house as a living inheritance. He’d given me a fat check at the same time, as a way of thanking me for helping take care of him, and to let me know he considered me family. I had yet to cash it though, because I didn’t feel right about taking his money.

I knocked when I reached the top of the stairs. My brother answered the door a few moments later and looked exasperated as he said, “You don’t have to knock, Casey. Just use your key. We’ve told you that a million times.”

“I know you have, and I’ve told you I’m not about to barge into your home and run the risk of interrupting something.”

“Dude, we weren’t preparing for this brunch by boning on the dining room table, or whatever you thought you might walk in on.” Seth rolled his eyes, which were exactly the same shade of blue as mine. We were also the same height, but besides that we really didn’t look alike. I didn’t count our matching big builds, because that was from time spent in the gym, not genetics.

We were looking more dissimilar as time went on. I glanced at him and tried to figure out when exactly my kid brother had evolved into a suave, sophisticated man. His short, blond hair was inexplicably perfect, while mine was doing whatever it wanted to, same as usual. He was wearing black jeans, a royal blue button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled back, and loafers, and I was dressed in faded Levi’s, sneakers, a gray zippered hoodie, and one of my pun T-shirts. This one had a picture of a hammer on it above the caption: This is not a drill. In retrospect, I probably should have made more of an effort.

Seth was seven years younger than me. Growing up, he’d definitely had a case of hero worship going on. He used to follow me around, and he tried so hard to be just like me. But at some point, I’d apparently ground to a halt, and he’d shot right past me. Now, I wished I was more like him, instead of the other way around.