28. Chapter Twenty-eight
Chapter Twenty-eight
Cal Truitt
I made it through another summer –not completely unscathed but I did.
Grief has me opening windows for some fresh air, while something taps at my heart reminding me that she’s still here within me. It’ll always find me.
Remi leaves tomorrow. There is something surreal about saying goodbye for now.
Charlie and I will drive her to the airport, then I have to stand there and watch her walk away. She says it’s not the end of us, but she hasn’t been intimate with us since the night we talked about the past.
She suspected me. Suspects me?
That’s not something we’ll overcome. I won’t have enough proof or the words to convince her I’m not that person. Someone capable of ending anyone’s life.
Swearing and banging dishes from the kitchen makes me turn from the baseball game on tv. “Is that a tantrum or do you need help?” Grady’s been spending more time hanging out, which feels natural. We may not share all the memories that Charlie and I have, but there are some shared experiences. And there’s Sara.
“Do you remember the time she put all the empty sugar packets near the gas tank of my mom’s car? She didn’t put any sugar in the tank, but mom freaked out and had the car towed to a mechanic. Absolutely diabolical.” Sara could exact revenge over the smallest things, in the pettiest ways.
“We’d bring it up once a week or more,” he says putting the egg carton back in the fridge. “Remember that shit with your friends? She hated them.”
I don’t. But I do remember how much Charlie always disliked Wilder. When she started to see him, he would say all the time that she was being reckless. For years I thought he’d been right. That her relationship with Wilder caused her death.
Grady calls from the kitchen, “You don’t eat much here, do you? Do you have any seasonings?” I know how to cook well, but I’ve never bothered to get used to this as a ‘home’. Lake Hollow can’t ever be considered that anymore.
Last week, I allowed myself a moment of nostalgia, driving past the home I grew up in, that my parents sold the year after I completed high school. The color had changed, the basketball hoop was gone over the garage, and there was a new swing set in the backyard. But it still made me remorseful seeing it.
Handing me the omelet he made me, Grady sits with his plate next to me on the couch. “I thought you hated the Red Sox?”
“It was the only game on.”
“Carter got messed up last night.” He puts his plate down on the coffee table. “He got into a fight with Charlie, too.”
“Oh, yeah? About what?”
“I don’t know.” It was so loud and chaotic that I don’t doubt it. I’ve argued with Charlie more than ever this summer. The years with sporadic contact made it hard to pick up our friendship where it had left off. We’ve both grown up. I’ve stopped being the friend that’s willing to go with the flow. He’s stopped …
It hits me in the chest full force.
I know with a certainty that is fucking alarming.
One thing after another.
I look at Grady. “Where is Wilder and Charlie right now?”