Free Break by Hannah Moskowitz

point. At most points.

eighteen
    I SWITCH TWO FOREIGN FILMS INTO ALPHABETICAL order. “So now he’s basically entertaining the fantasy that we can get emancipated and live happily ever after. He actually wants this to happen. He’s like the kid who wants to drop out of middle school.”
    Antonia takes the movies off the shelf and switches them back. “I’m sure you can get state money or something.”
    “Do you not know the alphabet?” I fix the movies. “He needs health insurance.”
    “
You
need health insurance,” Max calls from the register. He starts ringing up this tall guy renting a shitload of bad porn. He gives the guy a look. “Want me to throw in
Sound of Music
, no charge? You’d have yourself a par-tay.”
    I cross my eyes and let the DVD covers blur together.
    “Is your shoulder broken, Jonah?”
    “That’s not the point.”
    “They have government funding for these things,” Antonia says.
    “What about the baby?”
    “I’m sure you have an aunt or something that would love him.”
    The man collects his movies and leaves. The bell on the door jingles, and Max sticks out his tongue and crosses his arms.
    I say, “This is ridiculous. I can’t believe we’re even discussing this.” And yet I keep going. “It’s not about the money. I couldn’t take care of Jess.”
    Antonia walks behind the counter and wraps her arms around Max. “You won’t be all broken forever. You’ll heal eventually.”
    “No. You don’t get it. I can’t take care of him. As in, I take crappy care of Jesse.”
    Max says, “Come on. I’ve seen you with him. You’re a good brother.”
    I stand up—not to be dramatic, just to do something. I feel like moving. “He was covered in hives when I left him yesterday. He was already having the reaction. And I didn’t do anything.”
    “You had no way of knowing.”
    “I let him get sick. All the time. I eat shit in front of him that he could get sick from breathing. I don’t always wash my hands. I take terrible care of him.”
    Max straightens his glasses. “Didn’t you save his life last year?”
    I fold up on the floor. “Stop making me sound like a hero. The EpiPen’s easy to do. You just jam the needle into his thigh. It doesn’t make me an angel. It’s a temporary fix, anyway. Just keeps him conscious long enough to get him to a hospital.”
    “It’s significant, Jonah.”
    “Don’t act like I can heal him. Seriously. Stop. I hate that.” I wander over to the classics.
    “He wants to live with you,” Max calls. “That doesn’t tell you anything?”
    I ignore him and run my fingers over the spines of every happy-family-talking-dog DVD, swallowing the urge to explain the difference between a good brother and a loved one.
    Then I hear Weezer through the front door and, in spite of everything, I’m smiling. “That’s my ride.”
    “All right, get out of here.” Max shakes his head, like there’s something more he wanted to say.
    “What?”
    “Nothing. Go have fun with your girlfriend.”
    People keep telling me where to go.
    “She’s not my girlfriend.”
    Charlotte dances in her car, her hair whipping back and forth. I climb into the passenger seat and buckle in. “Hello.”
    “Hey.”
    She takes off out of the parking lot, the turbocharge on the Jetta growling from good use. The CD player clicks into a new song.
    “So what are we doing tonight?” she asks.
    I settle into the seat. “I don’t care. Let’s just stay out forever.”
    She laughs. “And what are we supposed to do to keep us entertained forever?”
    “I don’t need to be entertained. I just need this.”
    Out of nowhere, her eyes go all serious. She touches my cast. “How are you doing this?
    “Doing what? My hand? I hit a wall by accident.”
    “By
accident
?”
    “Don’t worry.”
    She’s quiet for a minute while we join the bigger roads. I swallow and concentrate on the music, the constant
woosh
of street noise.
    I stare at the window. “Man. You know,