Read Know Not Why: A Novel for Free Online Page A

someone
somewhere once upon a time thought a Paw Pals Furry Friendship
Bracelet-Making Kit For Your Dog Or Cat was a swell idea. And that
does nothing besides make me sad for them.
    “But,” I say, after I eloquently describe the
concept of beaded jewelry for your canine companion as ‘on crack,
yo,’ “don’t tell Kristy I said that, ‘kay? Because she seemed to be
under the misguided but adorable impression that that thing was
awesome.”
    “Sure,” Cora says easily. “You’re not into her,
are you?”
    I don’t say anything. Silence has a certain
manly stoicism that, say, stammering and blushing bright red tends
to lack.
    “Yeah, figures.” Cora snorts. “The cute blonde
with great tits. How original of you!”
    “Can’t hate on a classic,” I reply,
shrugging.
    “Right.” Cora rolls her eyes. “Well, don’t get
your hopes up, babe. She’s—”
    Luckily, I’m spared the ‘way out of your league’
speech – a thing I know well – because Arthur comes downstairs to
make sure we’re closing in a timely manner. We’re not.
    Cora grabs all her stuff and gets out in like
two seconds; as a result, it’s just me and my favorite
chamomile-imbibing nemesis on our way out the door. The cold is
even nastier today. It bites down on you as soon as you step
outside. I linger a little, watching my breath come out in clouds
while Arthur locks up.
    “Hey,” I say, almost by accident. It’s just – I
dunno, I can’t not say it, I’m still weirdly stupidly mad
about this morning. Whatever, it’s his fault for a) being a sly
bastard and b) threatening to develop a personality. “Earlier.”
    “Mmhmm?”
    “You were messing with me.”
    He doesn’t even turn to look at me. I watch as
his mouth quirks up in a smile. “Maybe a little.”
    Maybe a little? That’s it? No denials? No
stuttered apologies filled with shame?
    I can’t really think of anything to say – well,
anything nice – so I abide by a timeless classic and don’t
say anything at all.
    Well, until I’m a few feet away. Then I mutter a
hearty “Fucker” under my breath.
    “’Night, Howard.” He heard me.
    “’Night, Artie ,” I retaliate, because
it’s cold and I’m irritated and so, yeah, I went there.

    +

    “Hey, hon,” my mom greets me when I come in.
She’s lounging on the couch, a composition notebook open in her
lap. “How was work?”
    “Okay,” I reply. I don’t really feel like going
into it. I go into the kitchen and start rummaging through the
fridge. Doesn’t look like there’s anything on the agenda in terms
of dinner. My dad was the one with the cooking skills in this
family, and my mom hasn’t exactly striven to pick any up since he
died. Whatever. Could be worse. If she did start doing the
fifties housewife thing at this point, half of the restaurants in
town would go out of business. We are connoisseurs of takeout. But
apparently even that would’ve been asking for too much tonight. I
wish I’d stopped for burgers.
    “Dennis called earlier,” Mom reports as I come
into the living room, toting a Coke and a cup of tapioca pudding
from the back of the fridge. Meals are for the weak. “He’s thinking
about bringing this Emily girl home with him for Christmas.”
    “Great,” I say, maybe not so enthusiastically. I
love my brother and all, but there’s something depressing about
being around someone who looks just like me but happens to excel at
life. Not to mention that Dennis bringing This Emily Girl home
won’t exactly equal happy holidays for Amber.
    “It sounds like he’s doing well,” Mom continues.
She’s starting to get
but-maybe-I-shouldn’t-be-talking-about-your-brother-lest-it-scar-your-delicate-soul
face. My favorite.
    “Great,” I say.
    “He was glad to hear about your job.”
    “Swell. I bet he was real jealous, too.”
    “Howie,” Mom begins, her eyes threatening to
turn concerned.
    “Not bitter, though,” I’m quick to add. “Just
acerbically witty.”
    Mom gives