Chapter Thirty-Three #2
Brooks cheeks get adorably pink. I squeeze his hands and give him a reassuring smile. He was so worried that today was going to be bad news. It ended up being the best fucking news imaginable. I know Brooks and I still have a lot to work out, logistically, but we’ll figure it out.
We’ve been crossing bridges as we get there all damn summer.
“Some call it a spell, most others would call it a wiener,” Gannett snorts.
Dad shakes his head muttering, “Still not ready to hear those details yet…”
“Gannett!” Mom barks. “You are not too old to send to your room!”
He narrows his eyes on her, but she gives him the look back, and he sculks off, back to the living room. When Brooks and I follow him there, after finishing lunch with my parents, we find him fully engrossed in the game. “That is no way that wasn’t a fuckin’ strike!” he yells at the TV.
“Hey,” I say, nudging my chin at him, “thank you again, man.”
He looks over at me, from the opposite end of the couch. He eyes Brooks and me both, and smirks at the sight of Brooks on my lap. “No worries,” he tells me. “I know you’d do the same for me and Sarah, if we ever needed a hand.”
“Where are she and the girls anyway? They weren’t here yesterday either,” I ask.
“Visiting her parents down in Mass,” he notes, tipping a beer to his lips. “She and I are… working on some things, I guess. Think she needed a break from me to clear her head.”
Uh oh, that sounds familiar.
“A friend of mine from college does couples therapy,” Brooks chimes in. “I mean, if you think it’d be helpful.”
Gannett snorts. “I’m—uh—not sure seeing a shrink is something that will help us. Pretty sure we’re far from fixable, at this point.”
I chuckle. “I thought the same thing about Colt and I, until I started seeing a shrink, man.”
Gan barks out a laugh. “You’re literally seeing the shrink. Like, dating him or whatever. That doesn’t count.”
Brooks rolls his eyes and sighs. “I’m not a shrink, for crying out loud! But, for the record, there’s nothing to be ashamed of when it comes to getting help, if you want the relationship to work.”
I nod. “Getting therapy doesn’t strip you of your man card, Gan. You get to hold right onto that. Everything is confidential,” I note, winking at Brooks.
My brother takes another sip of his beer, mulling the thought over. “Ev has my number,” he tells Brooks. “Send me the contact info, and I’ll catch up with Sarah and see what she thinks. Thank you.”
We were going to head back to camp, but when Brooks checked in, Morgan assured him that the place would still be standing by the time we got back, and he could take another day away from the place.
In fact, she went all boss mode on Brooks, and insisted that he not come back today.
Olivia came to fill in for Morgan, who is still on ‘light duty’ per Brooks’ orders—although, Morgan’s practically running the show there from the sidelines, now that Kai had a knee-scooter thing sent to her.
I’m fucking impressed that he’s genuinely trying to make what he did right. I can’t believe I’m admitting this, but I actually had to be the one to point that out to Brooks. I can’t say as I blame him for doubting Kai, though. Kai does have a history of playing on Brooks’ emotions.
So now here I am, taking Brooks for a ride and giving him a tour of Ternbay. We rumble down Summer Street, towards the cemetery. I’m not sure why, but I feel compelled to have Brooks meet Miranda. Well, her resting spot, anyway.
On the way by one of the capes that line the street, I point out the one that’s painted seafoam green. “That’s where Miranda worked,” I yell back to him.
“What is it?”
“Women’s shelter,” I tell him. “She was the director there. More than that, she practically lived there, even on her days off. She loved what she did for work. Colt used to love going there with her. He’d practically beg her to bring him in to work with her when he was younger.”
“Wait, pull over!” Brooks pleads. “Please.”
I bring us up to one of the off-street parking spaces, propping the idling bike up with my legs, and twist my body. “What’s wrong?” I ask.
“It looks familiar…” Brooks hums. “I can’t put my finger on it. I don’t know why, but I just have a gut feeling like I should recognize this place.” He shakes his head. “Anyway, sorry… I’m fine. We can go on.”
“You sure you’re alright?”
He nods. “Yeah. I just—it’s weird…”
“Okay…” I say, hesitating before pulling back onto the road.
Around the block, I flick my blinker on and guide us down the bumpy trail that leads to the back corner of the cemetery.
Being out in Alder Notch as long as I have has been the longest I’ve been away from here.
The grass has gotten a little tall around her headstone, and the solar lights I have placed around it have been toppled by the wind.
As I right them, I glance back at Brooks, who is squinting at Miranda’s image Walt and I had etched into the granite—right above her epitaph: Miranda Marie Waters. Daughter. Wife. Mother. Tender of broken souls.
“I feel like I’m seeing a ghost,” Brooks whispers.
I straighten and draw myself up next to him. “What? Why?”