A year ago, this outlandish argument might have persuaded Bree; she might have believed it and felt guilty. But after her brother, she’d grown tired of taking on other people’s problems. When Byron had started dating Miranda and moved out of the house, Bree felt free, and in the weeks leading up to the boys’ disappearance, she’d done things she’d always wanted: an Asian cooking class, salsa dancing lessons, the cardio kickboxing and the yoga that white women at work always raved about. She’d researched Ocean City, applied to and gotten a job as a secretary at the city’s high school. So yes, she had, in a sense, neglected her friend and her brother, but she wouldn’t be blamed for their negligence. The salty taste of Ocean City was already on her tongue and she’d be damned if she’d let someone rinse it away.
Bree closed her eyes. “I’m here now, Miranda,” she said.
“Just leave me alone,” Miranda said.
Bree got up and walked out. She wouldn’t beg someone to let her help them. She shut the front door quietly behind her. She’d never see Miranda Shifflett again, although she didn’t know this now, couldn’t have even imagined it, the way the woman had become such a part of Kelley Street and Bree’s life in just a few months. She and Miranda used to play cards until all hours of the night, long after the boys were in bed. Sometimes the neighborhood women would stop by in the afternoons, and they’d cackle with Bree and Miranda on the porch for a while. Bree thought Miranda might slip up, that she might reply to someone’s friendly chide with “Nigga please,” and hush her guests into a wintry silence or send them into a jaw-popping rage. But Miranda never slipped up and she sank into the world of Kelley Street effortlessly. She was loud and laid her opinions out like winning cards, and the neighbors felt at ease with her.
At the beginning of July, Byron started joining them. Just stopped by one evening looking for Bree and stayed. He and Miranda shared their love for caramel popcorn and horror movies. And they chatted and laughed about what it was like being big in a world that cherishes the slim.
“Big girls need love, too,” Byron said, with a wink. Bree rolled her eyes and shook her head.
Miranda winked back. “Big girls have a lot of love to give.”
One night, Bree left Miranda’s a little tipsy from Coors Light. It wasn’t until she was on her porch that she realized Byron wasn’t behind her. She glanced back just in time to see Miranda’s living room lights go out. That night, Bree slept well. Finally, she thought, her brother would be some other woman’s burden. And maybe, just maybe, Byron might grow up a little.