Chapter 26 #2
It’s our last night in Bloomington before Drew and I head to Chicago for good. We’ll spend the next few days moving into our shared apartment before I start my new graphic design job at Driskill Marketing Group and Drew prepares to begin law school.
Our old high school football crew swarms the high-top table as the waitress drops off another round of tequila shots. They’re tossed back in a matter of seconds. Looks like I’m the designated driver tonight because we’re not even an hour in and Drew’s already tipsy.
“Will you be able to get me out of parking tickets?” Henley asks, eyes wide with excitement.
“Or you could just park legally,” I say.
“Yes, but what’s the point of having friends in high places, Vining, if not to skirt the law?”
Drew clumsily drops his pool cue to the table. He locks Henley in an intense gaze. One hand on his chest, the other aloft in a three fingered salute, he says, “Scout’s honor, my man. I got your back.”
“My guys!” a deep voice calls from behind. We all turn to see McDormand, former defensive lineman, saunter in.
Bro handshakes and back slaps are exchanged all around and we spend the next hour catching up over trays of hot wings and a bounty of alcohol.
Drew and I regale the group with tales of our college escapades as “campus football heroes.” Their words, not mine. And it mostly applies to Drew since my injury freshman year took me out of the game for good.
I point out as much, but Drew claps me on the back and says, “ Don’t be fooled, yaguys,” he slurs, words fused together. “Vining here got more action than allofus combined.”
Stifling a smile, I roll my eyes as I tip back my glass of water…because my best friend is trashed.
“Speaking of action,” McDormand interjects with a slimy look that puts my spidey senses on alert. “I saw your sister lifeguarding at the pool downtown, Fisher.”
Drew’s jaw tics, nostrils flaring.
Never one to read the room, McDormand presses on. “She grew up to be a sexy little thing, didn’t she?”
“The fuck did you say?” Drew shouts, stumbling to his feet as Henley launches forward to hold him back.
Call it jealousy or keeping a promise, but I’m instantly chest to chest with the lineman. “I suggest you shut your mouth before it gets you in trouble.”
Hands raised in surrender, he steps back.
“You keep your eyes off my sister! She’s sixteen,” Drew seethes, voice low and menacing.
“Whoa, whoa, guys. Everyone, calm down. I meant no harm,” McDormand says, but the cocky smile that spreads across his face is the final nail in his coffin as I clench my fist. “But she’s not gonna be sixteen forever, man.”
Nope, I was wrong. That was the final nail.
Faster than I can react, Drew pushes Henley aside and lunges at him.
Arms outstretched, I step between them to prevent the collision.
I turn toward my best friend to plead with him to let it go just as his fist flies, meeting me square in the eye.
A drunken, poorly aimed fist intended for McDormand.
My head knocks back with the impact. “Dammit, Fisher!”
Deaf to anything other than his own fury, Drew pushes past me. The rest of the guys flood in on all sides to keep them separated.
“My sister is off limits. Do you hear me? That goes for all of you. Not my sister. Not now. Not ever. Off. Fucking. Limits.”
Half an hour later, we’re back home. After he’s puked in the lawn, I help Drew up the stairs and to his room .
“I didn’t mean to punch you, I swear. McDormand’s a prick,” he mumbles, so close to passing out his lips barely move.
“I know. We’re cool. Sleep it off.”
He’s unconscious before I’m out the door.
My reflection in the bathroom mirror reveals the swollen sensitive flesh around my eye already darkening with what is sure to be a nasty bruise.
I toss and turn in bed for an hour, restless, mind circling the confrontation with Drew in the kitchen to the events at the bar tonight. I know I put his mind at ease when we spoke, but his message to McDormand—to all of us—was heard loud and clear.
Thank God I’m moving to Chicago tomorrow.
Sleep continues to allude me. At 1am. I decide it’s time to burn off some steam, so I throw on my swim trunks and head downstairs.
I leave the exterior lights off as I wade quietly into the water, careful not to make too much noise. After about a dozen laps, I stop at the deep end, clutching the pool ledge to catch my breath. The sound of the sliding door pierces the hum of the otherwise quiet night air.
“Midnight swims are supposed to be my thing.” Gretchen stands on the porch, towel in hand, wearing denim shorts and an over-sized t-shirt.
“Couldn’t sleep,” I say.
“I just like the quiet.”
“I get that.” I quickly climb out of the pool, grab my towel and throw on my shirt, not bothering to dry off first. The cotton immediately clings to my wet chest. “I’ll leave you to it then,” I add as I head for the house.
“I didn’t mean you had to leave. You can stay.”
The plea in her voice makes me stop. Thankful for the darkness that shields the uncertainty in my face, I make myself say, “I should probably try and get some sleep.”
She gnaws on her bottom lip.
I stride the final step toward the door. “Night, Fish.”
Before I can get the door open, she asks, “Did I do something wrong? ”
I look at her over my shoulder. “What?”
“You’ve been here for a month and have barely spoken two words to me.” I turn to face her fully, chin dipped to my chest as I rake a hand through my hair. “It feels like you’ve spent the last four weeks avoiding me. And now you’re leaving tomorrow.”
Guilt cleaves my heart in half.
“It’s been four years and I was really excited for both of you to be home this summer and then you get here and it’s…weird. I get that you’re seven years older and I’m just a kid, but…you never used to ignore me.”
“Stop,” I command, stepping out of the shadows to move in closer. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
She does a once-over of my face and I realize too late what she’s seeing. “Oh my God, what happened to your eye?”
“I’m fine. Just got into it with one of our old high school buddies at the bar tonight.” Not a lie, per se.
“Over what?”
I shrug. “Dumb guy stuff.” Before she can push for more details, I go on. “But I mean it, Gretch. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
The faint glow of the moonlight barely illuminates her face, making it hard to discern the thoughts barreling through that overthinking head of hers.
“But?” she whispers.
“But…it’s been a really busy time with finding a job and a place to live, going back and forth to the city. I’m exhausted, honestly.”
It’s a load of crap and I think she knows it.
“Well, I’ll leave you alone then. I know you’ve got an early morning tomorrow.” With that, she turns and goes to sit at the pool’s edge. Still fully clothed, she leans back on her palms and dangles her legs in the water.
An onslaught of feelings rush in and I can’t move. I shouldn’t be out here. I need to go inside. But I don’t want to leave with her thinking she’s done something to deserve this.
“Did you really make Drew take you to see Pitch Perfect after that party?”
She swivels her head and locks me with a look of pure mischief. Sure to leave a few feet between us, I plop down next to her, mirroring her position.
“Did he know that I’d already taken you to see it?”
She eyes me sidelong. “What do you think?”
“Well played, Fish. Well played.”
For several minutes, we sit in comfortable silence. The sound of our legs lazily floating up and down creates a steady rhythm of water pushing and pulling against the side of the pool. And this—sitting without the pressure to be or do—is the most natural thing I’ve done all month.
“I learned something new last year. You wanna see?” Gretchen asks.
I tilt my head. “Should I be scared?”
She ignores my question as she hops up and runs back inside. A few seconds later, she returns with two plastic cups. When she sits down, she turns to face me, legs crisscross apple sauce. She sets the cup upside down in front of her.
My brows lift. “You didn’t.”
Without any preamble she goes right into the Cups song from Pitch Perfect , hitting every note and movement perfectly.
I promptly turn to face her. I cross my legs like hers and set the second cup in front of me. “Okay, you have to teach me now.”
For the next fifteen minutes, she walks me through the steps. At best, I do a mediocre job, but it’s so much fun I don’t even care. And now that the ice is broken, the conversation flows like a dam that’s just been breached.
She tells me about her friends from school and my heart warms. I still want to punch the floppy-haired kid in the face, but I keep that to myself.
I ask about her plans after high school and she tells me about wanting to study fashion in New York.
She asks me about college, my new job, my family and moving to Chicago. There’s no question she throws my way that I hesitate to answer. Before we know it, it’s three in the morning. She never got in the pool and my shirt is now dry to the bone.
Back inside, we stop at the top of the stairs, our bedrooms flanking us in opposite directions. There’s not an awkward beat between us when I haul her in for a hug and say good night before we part ways.
Gretchen’s already left for work before Drew and I head for Chicago the next morning. Thoughts of her creep in and out all day. I wrestle with the juxtaposition of feeling grateful for both her friendship and the distance between us so I don’t have to see her all the time.
Because there’s one thing I can’t shake no matter how hard I try, McDormand’s words that echo ominously in my brain. What the hell am I supposed to do when she’s not sixteen anymore?