Chapter Three #2
River drops his ball and makes the shot—a perfect hole in one. “Person with the best score buys dinner?”
I drop my ball and line up, making it just off from the hole. Ugh. He’s going to beat my ass for sure. “Can’t do dinner. Dads are having some neighbor over for Sunday dinner and Dad requested my attendance.”
River pauses for a moment, ball in hand, eyes on me. “Oh yeah?”
That’s his suspicious tone. “Yes?”
“That’ll be fun,” River says, but he draws the word fun out before skipping off toward the next hole.
River was one of the few people I remained in touch with when I left Hope Island.
It was tough sometimes, because he couldn’t hide his hate of Anthony and I couldn’t hide the fact his hate for Anthony was warranted.
I’d had no defense of the man I’d thought I loved.
But the good thing about River is that he’s steady and full of love, so I think he always knew I’d come home even when I hadn’t known.
The bright August sun beats down on us, and I feel the sweat under my curls that I’m starting to wish I didn’t have anymore. I brush them out of my eyes, and River sends me one of his what are you gonna do about it looks.
“How’s the coffee shop doing?”
“I break even,” River says with a careless shrug, which is a defense mechanism. The shop is his pride and joy, the first thing that’s his without his parents’ involvement. Despite their involvement really.
“Hey, so, what do you know about Charles?”
“Charles,” River drawls as if testing the way of the word. “He’s a good guy. All the guys like him.”
“All the guys?” I ask.
“You know, Scotty and Orson.”
“Uh-huh.”
River sends me a suspicious look as he makes another hole in one, effectively making me want to give up the charade of even having a shot at winning. “Why did you say uh-huh?”
“What does Gilbert think?”
“How would I fucking know what Gilbert thinks?” River all but shouts, squaring his shoulders and sending me a lethal glare. “I don’t care what Gilbert thinks.”
“Of course.”
We finish the remainder of the holes in silence. River grabs a frozen lemonade for himself and strawberry lemonade for me, then we head back to the car. The sun might be lower in the sky but it’s hot as hell now, and I’m feeling the weight of the warmth hang over my body like a blanket.
“Fucking hot as balls. Hate this place,” River complains as he blasts the air-conditioning in the car.
“No, you don’t.”
River sighs pitifully. “No. I don’t. I wish I did though.”
“I remember the feeling well.”
River smiles. “I suppose. Nothing like home?”
“Yeah,” I agree, earning me one of River’s happy grins.
“Swing by the coffee shop and I’ll cleanse you. Burn some rosemary. Do you still have the selenite in your room?”
I grin despite myself. “On my nightstand.”
“Good. It’s gonna be okay, Tuck.”
I’m starting to believe him. Maybe River’s woo-woo ways will rub off on me one day. He believes something, and manifests it, easy as that.
River drops me off at the house with a wave and a kissy face through the open window before he drives off.
I head inside and am greeted with silence, and I see through the back windows that my parents are out on the back porch, their favorite place to be.
I shower off the sweat and run irritated fingers through my still curly hair.
I hate my hair. The blond curls make me look innocent and sweet, and it was something Anthony always loved.
I miss being an impetuous teenager and dyeing my hair crazy colors.
I miss me. But I’m still swimming my way through who I was and how to find myself while letting that man go.
After I dry myself off, I dress in an old pair of jeans that somehow still fit perfectly, like my entire closet does.
An old band T-shirt will have to do for tonight because it’s too hot for anything else, and I’m sure Dad and Pop’s guest won’t care what I’m wearing since I don’t plan on staying too long after dinner.
The kitchen is light with the glow of sunset, and the sound of waves crashing can be heard through the back doors that are open to the porch. Dad’s in the kitchen with a smile on his face as he pours a glass of wine for him and a very familiar guest.
“Charles,” I say, not much of a question, but more in surprise.
Charles turns in the kitchen with a gentle smile, eyes crinkled at the corners. “Hey. I hope it’s okay—”
“It’s fine,” I say abruptly, and Dad gives me a withering glare. I cough, then clear my throat awkwardly as they both stare at me. “I mean, it’s fine. I don’t want to be the reason a Sunday dinner stops.”
“All right,” Charles says softly.
I feel bad because he looks like a puppy that’s been kicked, but it’s whatever.
I shift from foot to foot, unsure of what to do, and just as I’m about to join Pop on the porch, Charles walks past me with his glass of wine and joins Pop outside. Just in time for Dad to turn around and send a look my way.
“We didn’t realize you’d already met him.”
“Sunrise,” I grumble, not really in the mood to get into the Hallmark movie of it all.
“You’re being a jerk,” Dad points out.
I sigh, because he’s right. “I know. Something about him sets me on edge.”
“Oh, yes, kind people have always done that to you.”
I grit my teeth and sit down at the island to watch Dad cook. I don’t use my phone much anymore because I’m constantly anxious about receiving a text message from Anthony. So, all I can do is sit and watch Dad, and now he’s irritated with me, so he’s quiet as well.
“It’s normal to be mean when you’re healing,” Dad says sometime later.
“I’m not healing.”
Dad just grunts and looks at me over his shoulder before pulling the pizza out of the oven. “You are, and you know it. You’re five years old all over again.”
Well, fuck.
“I don’t know what to do with the fact that I loved Anthony so much, but he was so awful. Maybe there’s something wrong with me.”
Dad pauses fiddling with the pizza to turn and fix me with a serious look that makes me squirm a little in my seat. “Sometimes we reenact love we wanted from loved ones, hoping this time we’ll get it right. Maybe you saw some of your mother in Anthony.”
“I don’t know what she was like.”
Dad’s smile is bittersweet before leaning over to tap my chest, just over my heart.
“You remember her here. Maybe now you need to learn to accept all the wonderful love around you, because so many people love you, and realize that the man we all love deserves the kind of love that makes galaxies explode.”
“Is that what Pop does for you?”
Dad winks. “Pop’s love makes me feel like the universe could explode because I love him so much.”
Charles and Pop join us a few moments later at the table as Dad plates the pizza.
Charles sits beside me, and I hold my breath to not smell the warm amber scent of him.
It’s not even all cologne. Some of it is just the scent of him.
He’s so exceedingly kind, and he smells lovely, and everyone likes him, so surely there must be something wrong with him.
“How’s the physical therapy going?” Pop asks with a mouthful of pizza.
Charles wipes his mouth with a napkin and shrugs. “Okay. I don’t think I’ll ever have a full range of motion back. But I can run and lift Cupcake into the truck, so I think that’s the best I can hope for.”
“No more Super Bowls?” I ask, which earns me a glare from both of my parents. I stare back with round eyes and shrug, then whisper, “Sorry.”
Charles smiles tightly. “It’s fine. My football career is over. Hence the retirement.”
“Yeah,” I say, then return to my favorite meal.
We eat in awkward silence after that. I help Dad clean up the kitchen as Pop walks Charles out, and when Pop returns, he sends me a curious look that I can’t parse. And I’m not sure I want to anyway.