A One-Time Thing

3. Rowan

CHAPTER 3

ROWAN

I f the four-foot-tall grass didn’t kill me, the sun was going to. I’d been attempting to get the back yard in shape all weekend so Fisher could have a space at home to hang out. It wasn’t a huge yard, but it had been left to its own devices for years. The result was that it now looked like an overgrown weed patch. Eventually I’d have to fix the fence, but first I’d have to get to it.

Currently the sun-bleached boards were half hidden by the unruly grass patch that used to be a lawn. Earlier, I’d tried to tackle it, but I should have known you couldn’t cut waist-high vegetation with a push mower.

The phone in the back pocket of my shorts vibrated and I killed the weed whacker and mopped the sweat off my face with the bottom of my shirt.

“Hey, Eric.” I dropped down onto a chair that I’d brought outside and set up in the shade of the house by the back door.

“Hey, traitor. How’s Sweetwater? Miss me yet?”

“It’s great.” I tried to regulate my breathing so Eric wouldn’t be able to hear me huffing and puffing. “And of course I miss you.”

“Of course you do. How’s the house coming? Is it a palace yet?”

I snorted. “Hardly. I’m taming the jungle in the back, then I’ll work on the front yard before taking on the inside.”

“Show me around.” Eric said. “Let me see what you left me for.”

“You’re so dramatic. I didn’t leave you. I moved to give Fisher a better life.”

And to start over. There’d been too many ghosts back home. Too many memories tied up in places and people. Fisher’s mom would always be important to me. I’d always love her, but six years later and I finally was at a place where the grief wasn’t thick and cloying, stopping me from moving forward.

“Are you going to show me around or what? Let’s FaceTime.”

“You’re impossible.” Reluctantly I agreed and once we were on FaceTime, Eric grinned at me like he’d won the lottery.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes. Where’s the kid?”

“Out exploring the neighborhood on his bike.”

Eric furrowed his brow. “He’s not helping you out with the work?”

I shrugged. “I don’t want him to spend his entire summer painting and mowing and helping me out. He’s still a kid. He helps a bit, but I want him to get to know his new neighborhood. Maybe make a friend or two before school starts.”

“You’re a good dad, and a terrible landscaper. How tall is that grass?”

I turned the camera around and took Eric on a tour of the yard. “You talk as though I’m responsible for it looking like this. But it already looks better. I cleaned up the weeds next to the house first, and gave the patio a quick going-over with the weed whacker and a garden hose.” I showed Eric the progress I’d made and then flipped the camera back around.

“It’s weird here without you.” Eric pouted, but he’d known me my whole life. We met in elementary school and had stuck together ever since. We attended the same college, even if we did major in different things. It had been great to have a friend there. Eric was a constant presence in my life for so long that it was weird to know he was so far away now. But the transfer was an opportunity I couldn’t pass up.

“It’s not like you can’t come visit, you know. Now that the movers have been and gone, it’s almost livable.”

“I’m glad that you kept your standards, Rowan.” Eric laughed. Whether it was with me or at me, I couldn’t quite decide.

I knew that my decision to move away had come as a shock to him. Thankfully, he’d never tried to talk me out of it. Once I assured him it was what I wanted, what I thought would be best for Fisher, he was on board.

I hated that I couldn’t protect Fisher from everything. His experiences at school had ranged from merely okay to miserable, and I doubted he had many great memories associated with his time there. Being the new kid would be tough, but I hoped it would be better than his old school. Stopping kids from bullying my son wasn’t something I had control over, but I could control where we lived and getting the hell away from there was the best thing I could do for Fisher. Even though we’d only been here a scant few days, he seemed happier. More relaxed. It was like he too felt the hum of possibility in the air around us.

“I should let you get back to your jungle,” Eric said after we’d chatted for another few minutes about nothing in particular. We normally didn’t talk on the phone like this, but that was before when he could pop in whenever he wanted. Our friendship had already started to adapt to my new circumstances and I was glad that I wouldn’t lose it.

“I’ll call you in a couple days when I have the place in some kind of order and I’ll take you on the grand tour.”

“Sounds good. If you don’t get lost in your back yard first.” Eric cackled. He always had thought he was the funniest person in the room.

“I’m hanging up now.”

Eric blew me a kiss as I ended the call.

There was a time that a gesture like that would have had me second-guessing everything about our friendship. Did he like me? Was he just playing around? What would happen if I kissed him? Eric had been my bisexual awakening, not that he ever knew that. My crush on him had been no more than a flash in the pan. A blip in our friendship that passed as quickly as the fleeting summer of youth.

While my crush on Eric hadn’t lasted, my attraction to men had stood the test of time. Between being a closeted teen, then a busy college student, then being married to Fisher’s mom, there hadn’t been a lot of opportunity for me to date men. And though Fisher’s mom had been gone for years now, the idea of dating had always made my skin crawl.

Fisher already got shit from his classmates for being the kid with red hair. The kid with the dead mom. The kid that everyone seemed to want to pick on as a rite of passage or something. Having a dad who dated men definitely wasn’t an option.

At least, it didn’t used to be. But I could now. In theory at least. In reality, I was too busy embarking on a new life. Too busy doing yard work and unpacking and planning home repairs before I had to officially start at my new position next week to even think about trying to meet someone.

My single status wasn’t something I agonized about. At first, I was too heart-sore to worry about being single. And then I was too busy being a single father, working and looking after Fisher. Doing the job of two parents. There simply wasn’t room to care about my personal life, or lack thereof.

But Fisher was older now. I’d raised him to be fairly self-sufficient, and while I didn’t see myself jumping into the dating pool anytime soon, it felt like it was possible at least. Whoever I ended up with would have to be good with Fisher coming first, though.

With the yard half done, I stopped for a drink and to reapply some sunscreen to my face and neck. Being a redhead myself, I burned to a crisp in no time at all. Spray-on sunscreen was practically a household staple in the summer. After guzzling half a gallon of water straight from the hose, I got back to work. I wanted to at least get the grass cut down to a manageable length then cleaned up so it could be mowed properly.

When I was a kid, old dilapidated buildings and houses had always caught my imagination. The mystery of who lived there and why they’d left had always intrigued me. Sometimes I made up my own theories, but mostly I just wondered if the house ever missed having people in it. They looked lonely, sitting on overgrown lots with darkened windows.

Of course I’d never really grown out of that, or I might not have bought a house that looked lonely in the listing pictures.

I turned the weed whacker off and stowed it in the garden shed. I’d had to run out and buy a lawn mower and the weed whacker, but the previous owners had left a lawn rake and a few other random items. A couple old bike tires, but no bike. An air pump with no hose. Mostly it was junk that would need to be hauled away eventually.

When I exited the shed, I took another look at the lawn and all the fallen grass and decided that I’d had enough for one day. Fisher could rake it up later and I’d run the mower over it tomorrow.

It was nearing dinner time, and while we’d managed to go grocery shopping and stock the cupboards and the fridge, the last thing I wanted to do was cook dinner. I’d spotted a pizza place during our shop, though, and Fisher never said no to pizza.

After dusting the stray grass off my legs, and my arms, and every other part of me, I decided that a quick shower would be in order before I went out into public. It wasn’t until I got out of the shower that I realized I’d lost track of time. Fisher had probably returned from his travels as he’d promised not to go too far.

I dressed in a pair of light cotton trousers and a short-sleeved button-up. My poor legs had gotten enough sun for one summer already. Then I went upstairs to get my son.

“Fish, we’re going for pizza.” I waited at the top of the stairs for his response, but none came.

I checked the bedroom to the right first. Fisher was great for having his headphones on. It was no wonder he hadn’t heard me. Only, he wasn’t in the bedroom. The same sea of boxes was pushed up against one wall and his bed was against the other. The covers were mussed and there was already laundry on the floor. But no Fisher.

“Fish, come on. Let’s get dinner.” I poked my head in the other room and found it just as empty as the first.

I didn’t panic. It wasn’t a big deal that he wasn’t back yet. Maybe he was outside. Maybe he made a friend and lost track of time too. I pulled my cell out of my pocket and called his number. Alarm set in when it went to voicemail instead of being answered.

I tried again, and by the time voicemail picked up, my hands were shaking so bad I fumbled my phone. I shouldn’t have let him out by himself for so long. Yeah, he was twelve and was more than capable of riding around the block a few times to check out the neighborhood, but he was supposed to have been back by now.

Thundering down the stairs, I checked the rest of the house and the back yard. Coming up empty, I ran for the front door, not bothering with shoes. Who had time for shoes when their kid was missing?

Though I tried to tell myself to stay calm, it didn’t work. I was the opposite of cool in a crisis. I could deal with a lot of things, but losing Fisher wasn’t one of them. I shot out the front door and called his name. I ran to the end of the driveway and looked up the street for any sign of him and his bright blue bike. Every second that passed when I didn’t spot him, another knife drove into my heart.

I looked in the opposite direction, but there was only a quiet, empty street. The sound of lawn mowers droning in the distance. Somewhere nearby, music played. But there wasn’t a soul to be seen.

“Fisher!” I shouted, trying to keep the panic at bay. “Fisher!”