Split by Mel Bossa Page B

Terry swallowing beside me, that’s how quiet it was. When we got to his apartment building, Terry leaned between the front seats. “Thank you, sir. Have a good night, sir.”
    Johan didn’t say anything. He waited until Terry was safely inside his apartment, and drove away slowly.
    That’s when I noticed I wasn’t breathing much. As a matter of fact, none of my breaths made it past my throat. I pushed my shoulders down and forced them there, like Mom had showed me, then I widened my nostrils to try and get some more air inside them. I leaned back into the seat and closed my eyes. Sometimes, if I concentrate and picture the sponges inside my chest opening up like flowers after the rain, I can get my lungs to work without my medicine.
    Johan had started talking. He wasn’t yelling, just talking real slow, but it couldn’t be good because he was grumbling in Norwegian.
    Nick didn’t say much, aside from a grunt here or there. Once in a while, when Johan raised his voice a bit, Nick would sigh heavily or chew on his thumbnail.
    Trying to understand what they were saying helped me keep my mind off my episode and slowly, my breaths became deeper.
    Then Johan looked up to the rearview mirror. “Nicolai says we shouldn’t tell your aunt you were out with them tonight. What do you think, Derek? Do you think I should lie to your auntie? Do you think a young man should avoid responsibility or consequences for his actions? Do you think it’s how good men behave? Should we all connive and deceive the women who care about us?”
    I had the feeling he wasn’t really talking to me.
    “Should we? What do you think? What is the proper and honorable way to deal with this mess? You tell me.”
    Nick sank back into his seat. “Dad, why don’t you leave the poor kid alone?”
    The poor kid. Is that what I am to Nick?
    “I think we-we shuh-shu-should tell my-my aunt.” I said, trying to sound brave. “I want to.”
    Johan pulled up in their driveway. He sighed. “I think so too.” He turned to Nick. “See, the boy’s eleven years old and he has more guts than you do. Go inside. Mom wants to talk to you, and I suggest you don’t argue with her.”
    There was nothing I could do for him.
    I watched Nick climb out of the van and walk up the stairs. He pushed the front door open and then crept inside. Johan rubbed his face. “What am I going to do with that boy?” He came around and opened the door for me. “You want me to come with you, or can you handle this on your own?”
    “I’ll be okay by-by myself.”
    “All right. Listen to me. You’re a good boy, Derek. I know you don’t have it easy. I know you miss your dad.”
    I don’t miss Dad at all, but I let him say it anyway.
    “Derek, I’m counting on you to try and keep Boone straight. His mom and I feel like he’s trying to follow down his brother’s path, and that’s not a good thing. There’s not much we can do for Nicolai, he’s too headstrong, too angry, but Boone, Boone we can still work on. I want you to be the voice of reason. Okay? You understand?”
    The thought of trying to keep Boone from doing anything is kind of funny. But I nodded. “But Mr. Lund, Johan… Nick isn’t that-that bad, he was on-on-only—”
    “There are things you don’t know about my son. He’s trouble. It’s best if you stay away from him.” Johan pointed to my front door. “Now go inside, before you freeze to death.”
    Trouble. What kind of trouble is Nick?
    Inside, Aunt Frannie was still on the phone. When she saw me, she hung up without saying good-bye. “Honey? What are doing? Were you outside?” She came to me and put her hands on my face. They were very warm. “Baby, you’re frozen. Where were you? I thought you were in bed. Where did you go, Derek?”
    I opened my mouth to explain, but a big fat sob came out instead of words. I couldn’t control it. Snot and tears shot out of me and my shoulders heaved up and down. “He-he was trying to de-defend