One More Step by Sheree Fitch Read Free Book Online Page A

pulled on a shirt, hauled on my sweats and stuffed my bare feet into my sneakers. I stood up. That’s when it felt like someone hit me with a two-by-four. And my stomach. It started to churn as if someone was in there trying to make butter.
    That tub was a heavy monster. “Lift on three,” he ordered. “
Un, deux, trois
.”
    I grunted and groaned and pulled. I couldn’t budge my end. Then, I lost it. I don’t mean my temper. I mean the contents of my stomach. I threw up in the driveway.
    Jean-Paul just stood there with his arms folded. His grin was dorkier than ever. No patting me on the back this time.
    â€œYour mother was worried sick last night,” he began. “So was I. Why did you drink until you got drunk?”
    â€œIt was a p-p-party.” I was still retching.
    â€œPretty stupid thing to do.”
    â€œWho are you calling stupid?”
    â€œNo one. I said it was a stupid thing to do. You could poison yourself and die that way.”
    â€œWhy would you care?”
    â€œAnyway, you’re grounded. Not because you got pissed. You’ll pay today for that. You’ll suffer. Believe me. We ground you, your mother and I, for breaking curfew and not calling, for not thinking about the results.”
    â€œWho are you to tell me—you’re not —”
    â€œYour father? I know this. I never will be. But, I am going to be here, Julian. For your mother. And for you, if you need me. Always.
Toujours
.”
    â€œAlways?” I was wiping the dribble from my mouth. My throat was burning, filled with bile. “I don’t believe in
toujours
, okay? That’s for idiots like you.”
    I expected anger, hollering. He started to laugh.
    â€œWho looks like the idiot at this moment?” I looked down at myself. Gross. “Go back to bed and sleep it off. I’ll get a neighborto help me with this… monster tub. And… don’t go near your mother yet. She’s ready to…” He drew his finger across his throat, “you know, make you suffer more.”
    I was sick all day. He brought me in toast and tea after supper. “Eat slowly,” he said. “When you’re ready, go tell your mother you are sorry.” Oh, was I sorry.
    The wedding reception was a huge party and dance. All J.P’s family was there (yeah he’s J.P. to me now)—including Bernadette. Sweet Bernadette. I boogied the night away with sweet Bernadette. I even got a real French kiss before the night was through. Maybe two. Maybe three.
    Don’t go there.
    Tomorrow, Chris has to leave for his summer job out west. He was away at school all this last year and I hate to admit it, but I missed him loads. Even the look.
    I’m glad for him though.
    â€œI spent the year being bad,” he keepstelling me. He won’t give details. Probably finally kissed Becca or used a condom.
    So, I’m off to spend a week with Dad and Erika and the Munsters. We’re camping in the valley. Should be cool. Since J.P.’s been around, it seems Dad has made more time for me. Or maybe, I’ve made more time for him.
    Until the lovebirds come home from their honeymoon, I’ll be here with Nana. She’s so lonesome without Poppie, it breaks my heart.
    â€œJulian, you’re so like him,” she keeps telling me. “Stubborn and bow-legged and immature for your age.” Now, that, I take as a compliment. When I am at their place, I think Poppie’s still around. I half expect him to come up behind me and put me in a headlock and shout, “Say Uncle!” I go to the basement and fool around with his electric train set. He left it to me. It came with a note. Nana says he wrote the note years ago when he thought he had cancer. “To Julian. Remember, Poppie loves ya. And son, all us men realize sooner or later, we must learn tobe fathers to ourselves.” I think a lot on that. I’ve had a lot of role models to pick