12. Not in Good Company
Chapter 12
Not in Good Company
Bonnie
“You’re working for Rafe?”
“Peter, don’t be rude,” I snap.
Peter gawks and extends his palm. “I’m not crazy here. Just last week, Ma said he wasn’t a great guy.”
“I did not,” Ma says matter-of-factly, grinding her fork and knife over her salmon with purpose. “He just smokes like a chimney.”
I clank my fork down. “Ma!”
“He does,” she insists, pointing the tongs of her fork toward me. “But I did not say he was a bad man.”
I tongue my cheek, striking my fork into my fish.
“Hey, that salmon did nothing to you, Honeybee,” Dad protests.
We’re in my parents’ backyard, having our usual Friday night family dinner at the long wooden table built specifically to fit our extensive crew. I’ve been working at Ink it’s me .
“Gonna teach me all about sex, Rafe?”
It’s been a few days, but I still cringe, thinking about that sentence. It just … slipped out, as easily as asking what the time is or how the weather’s looking.
“Pete, c’mon,” Milo inserts with a frustrated sigh.
“I just …” Peter tongues his cheek and gives me a lopsided grin. “I worry about my little sister.”
The entire table erupts into calls of, “Excuses!” and, “So cheesy!” and, “Wrong!”
“What?!” Peter says, raising his utensils in the air as if they were weapons. “Are we not all worried about Bonnie? This isn’t about Rafe. It’s that she’s spending her entire summer alone with a man eight years older than her.”
I don’t like how quiet the table gets afterward. It’s eerie how the low murmurs disappear into literal crickets, chirping in the yard. As if Peter made a good point when he absolutely did not .
“And exactly what type of influence are you,” I ask him, breaking the silence, “Mr. I Own a Restaurant That’s Basically Just a Bar?”
“Restaurant,” Peter corrects me. “It’s a restaurant.”
I lean closer and repeat slower, “Bar.”
“Semantics.”
“You don’t even know what that word means.”
“Oh snap,” Sam whispers.
Even though my other brother Cassidy and his wife, Marina, are still on vacation, my oldest brother, Jasper, and his son, Sam, are back from their fishing trip. I thought they’d provide some much-needed calm to the table, but even they’re feeling spicy tonight.
Jasper snorts at Sam’s response. My nephew, now ten years old, likes to be the comic relief of the table. He gets it from his uncles more than his stoic dad, but even Jasper has his moments.
Like right now, when he murmurs, “Restaurant is a loose term, Pete.”
Peter takes it in stride, waving him off with a smirk. “Oh, what do you know, ya old codfish?”
This is my older brothers’ dynamic. They’ve fought like cats and dogs since they were kids. It was worse when Wendy started dating Jasper. Thankfully, after four years, they’ve returned to their old ways of simple disagreements and snark.
The chuckles around the table are broken by a high, determined voice from the opposite end of the table.
“You know what? I’m with you on this one, Pete.”
“And why’s that, Harriett?” I ask.
Harriett . Milo’s new girlfriend. Mousy-brown hair. Delicate, thin-framed glasses that slide to the end of her equally thin nose. Perfect posture that could rival a gymnast.
Milo hasn’t dated anyone seriously in years, and Ma was overjoyed when he finally invited her to dinner. We all were.
“Well, you are young, aren’t you?” Harriett says.
We just hoped she was a little more likable.
In some ways, she’s a lot like Milo. She’s at least bookish like him. But while Milo is well read, he doesn’t spout out opinions like a confetti cannon. Harriett is the outspoken kind of academic who’s read enough to assume she’s qualified to speak on everything.
The first thing she said upon seeing our rickety house was, “I know a structural engineer who’d have a field day with this.”
It was so deadpan that I couldn’t tell if she was joking.
Admittedly, my parents’ house is a mishmash of various siding, colors, and roofing that abruptly changes styles without warning. We’ve added stairs to the side, an apartment above the garage, and a playroom in the basement. Almost nothing matches.
It’s not perfect, but it’s us.
Wendy sits across from me, next to Jasper, with her bottom lip pulled between her teeth. Her eyes widen at me, as if to say, Don’t start , but I do, in fact, start.
“I’m old enough to make my own decisions,” I argue back.
“Of course,” Harriett says. “I don’t know. I assumed you’d want to intern for a corporation or maybe even a medical practice. A physician maybe? Something in your mom’s line of work. Professional.”
She’s also really good at poking the wounds I would rather not acknowledge.
“Professional.”
Sam opens his mouth, but Jasper clears his throat to preemptively stop any preteen sarcasm in their tracks.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say with a forced smile. “I’m not nearly as professional as I should be.”
Wendy nudges my shin under the table. That baby growing in her must provide the strength of two because the kick hurts more than it should. She tilts her head to the side, eyebrows turned inward in disapproval. Beside her, Jasper lifts an eyebrow at me. Funnily enough, I think I see a smile through his beard.
“That’s not what Harriett means, Bon,” Milo says down the table.
“You’re right, Milo,” I concede stiffly. “Sorry, Harriett.”
Milo narrows his eyes at me.
I shrug and mouth, What?
Harriett reminds me too much of the mayor’s son, who tried to change our town three summers ago. He also thought his opinion mattered a lot. Most people who have bad opinions think too highly of themselves.
Jasper and I exchange a glance. He shakes his head—definitely smiling now.
I missed my brother while he was on his fishing trip. Jasper is mostly made of low grunts and searing stares. His silence is why I like him. Well, that and the fact that his girlfriend of four years is the sister I never had.
“I think it’s great you have an internship,” Wendy chimes in.
“Thank you, Wen,” I say. “I don’t know why this is even up for discussion actually. I’m working. Isn’t that a good thing?”
I hoped my accomplishment would be the news of the day— an internship! —not a matter of who it was with.
“You are working,” Dad agrees. “And we’re so proud of you. Aren’t we, dear?”
Ma nods stiffly. “Of course we are.”
It’s not as convincing as she’d like.
“Don’t fall in with the bad crowd,” could have been Ma’s motto when we were growing up, but the bad crowd was up to her interpretation.
Arguably, my brother Peter was the bad crowd with how often he got detention and trespassed into our town’s quarry for late-night swims. But Pete is Pete. He’s her son; how could he possibly be a delinquent?
I expected she’d be happier I was moving forward in my career. But apparently, spending time alone with a man older than me is shaky ground for her, as if any internship wouldn’t have an older man likely spending time with me. But I guess since Rafe and I are the only employees, it’s different.
“I just worry he’s gonna … I don’t know … take advantage of you,” Peter says.
“Pete!” Wendy shrilly calls down the table.
“What? I’m saying the unspoken out loud, aren’t I?”
“Rafe is a good guy,” Jasper interjects without looking up from his salmon. My brother doesn’t need anyone to acknowledge his sentiments. “He would’ve been an idiot if he didn’t hire you. And Rafe’s no idiot. He’s also not a danger.”
I straighten my posture. “Thank you, Jasper.”
Peter sighs, dropping his fork beside his plate. “You know I’m just looking out for you, Bon. You’re my only sister. I’m protective.”
“I know, Pete.”
He nods to himself and murmurs, “Good.”
Peter is definitely trouble to some, but never to me. He’s also definitely an ass, but just like Rafe, he’s a good guy at his core.
“Wendy dear, you haven’t touched a single bite of your salmon,” Ma says from down the table.
Unconsciously, Wendy darts her eyes to Jasper. “Oh … well … I shouldn’t eat … y’know … I’m cautious …”
I jump when Ma gasps, just like Lu did a couple of weeks ago.
“Are you …”
It’s like some women can just smell the pregnancy on people. I’m starting to feel silly that I’m someone who doesn’t. I’ve never been one for children in general though. Maybe that’s why Ma stopped asking questions about boyfriends years ago. I’d dashed her hopes of being a mother, like her. That’s also around the time Wendy became a permanent staple in our family. I guess she found another daughter who would follow in her steps.
I go back to cutting my salmon.
I never really considered that before.
“You’re pregnant,” Ma says breathlessly. “Tell me you’re pregnant.”
Wendy flushes red. Jasper shifts his arm and I wonder if he puts a hand on her thigh under the table.
It’s finally Sam who yells, “Yes! And it’s a girl! I’m gonna be a brother!”
I can’t help but smile. “It’s a girl?”
I didn’t know it was possible to have a heart so full. Wendy’s always wanted a girl.
“You knew ?” Ma says, practically tumbling off the wooden picnic bench at one end and running across the long yard to grasp Wendy’s face in her palms. “Oh, my precious girl, this is wonderful.”
Jasper laughs, placing a palm on Wendy’s waist. “Let her breathe, Ma.”
It’s suddenly a cacophony of sound and movement. Dad rushes to Wendy’s side next, kissing her forehead, just like he does to me. Milo hugs her after, holding her tight in a very brotherly hug. Milo gives some of the best ones.
It’s only in passing that I notice Peter maintaining a half smile as he waits for his turn.
For the first time since his and Wendy’s breakup, I almost feel sorry for my brother. She’s happier than I’ve ever seen her. She’s glowing with Jasper’s child. She’s living the life of her dreams—a life with a partner and children—while Peter remains the same six years later.
Sure, he owns a successful restaurant. Sure, he’s never lacking for friends. Sure, he’s Never Harbor’s golden boy—the man everyone turns to for a good time. But I wonder if I’m in good company in not feeling enough for this family.
I let out a small, “Psst,” in his direction.
Peter’s brilliant green eyes meet mine. I nod in unspoken acknowledgment. His boyish smile grows as he nods back.
When the crowd clears, Pete finally walks over and wraps Wendy in a tight hug.
“Congrats,” he murmurs into her hair, but he doesn’t linger. He knows better.
Peter holds out his large palm to shake Jasper’s. “Congrats, man. Now put a ring on it, right?” he teases with a smile.
Jasper barks out a laugh and shakes Peter’s hand a few times. “Right.”
Peter is doing what he should to maintain the good ties in our family. He’s doing what’s right. Maybe he doesn’t want to disappoint anyone more than he has in the past. Maybe, like me, he’s trying his best.
Watching Wendy get showered with love for becoming a mother, watching Peter be the bigger man and continue to ask questions about his upcoming niece, and watching Harriett attempt to blend into the conversation, causing my mom to eventually beam at Milo—at the thought of yet another daughter entering the family—well, I’ve honestly never felt more like an outsider.
After we say goodbyes and my brothers drive off, I suddenly remember Milo was supposed to take me home.
“I’ll call him,” Dad says, reaching for his cell phone.
“No, it’s fine,” I say, waving my hands. “He’s with Harriett. I think she lives a little out of town, closer to Mourning. That’d be a twenty-minute drive back.”
“Then, I’ll drive you.” Dad’s halfway to the wooden board on the wall with hooks holding his car keys when I laugh and slap his hand away.
“It’s getting too dark out,” I say. “And headlights are your enemy.”
“They make them too bright nowadays,” he muses.
“I’ll call Lu.”
We lean in for our usual two-pat hug. My dad is far from a hugger. It’s my mom who envelops me into her bosom and kisses the top of my head.
“I am proud of you for getting an internship,” she murmurs into my hair. “Especially close to home.”
I smile as my heart stumbles. “Thanks, Ma.”
I keep waiting for the but .
But it’s with Rafe.
But be safe.
Nothing comes. I can’t tell if I’m happy she let it slide or if I’m disappointed she isn’t being honest with me.
Rafe is right. Games aren’t fun, even unintentional ones.
“This’ll look fantastic on a résumé,” she says, rubbing my shoulders.
I step away and cross my fingers. “Here’s hoping.”
As I take the front porch stairs two at a time, Ma calls after me, “You’re texting Lu, right?”
“Sending it out now!” I yell back.
I’m not. Lulu is busy studying, but I know she normally calls it quits closer to ten o’clock. I set an alarm on my phone for then and keep walking. It’s a nice night for a stroll anyway.
The footpath from my parents’ house back to Main is my favorite strip of land in Never Harbor. On one side is high coastal grass, dividing the trail from the backs of other houses with porch lights and open blinds peering into busy kitchens. On the other side is the vast expanse of ocean.
It’s blustery tonight. Birds coast over the water, some landing to float on the surface of the calm waves while others soar onward. It’s my favorite type of sky tonight—a watercolor of blended peaches, lilacs, and tangerines. It’s easy to forget that nature makes better art than I could ever manage.
Maybe that’s something to tell Rafe. Or, heck, even my professors once I get back to school.
Hey, sorry, I can’t do your stuff anymore because Earth has it covered. No big deal.
There are a lot of things I wish I could tell professors, employers, and the industry, but I’d only be whining into the void. They’re doing their jobs. It’s not their problem that my eye for good graphic design is faulty. That’s like telling a doctor it’s their fault I can’t go to med school because I’m queasy.
Rafe was right—yet again. I love squiggly lines, bright colors, and the freedom of illustration. A lot of business graphic design isn’t that. Maybe I’ve been barking up the wrong tree.
He’s so confident that I should apply to that competition for the Howling Ravens. I don’t know if I have the skills. But, God, if I don’t at least try, what else do I have left? But if I do and don’t win, I’d only disappoint myself again. Heck, I’d disappoint him.
The pedestrian footpaths empty onto Main. I walk down the sidewalk, passing by darkened shops with handwritten signs indicating they’ll reopen in the morning. Some even have phone numbers on there, stating to call if it’s an emergency. Not sure what candle emergency Moira would need to address, but the sentiment is nice. Never Harbor is just that way.
Neighborly.
Welcoming.
Unless you’re the lonesome artist spending time with the only girl in the town’s biggest family. You’d think we were the Mafia or something. And I don’t know when I suddenly became the principessa .
At the end of Main, I walk past the park. The sentry clock tower reads eight o’clock, but the clock tower is almost always wrong. Town hall has tried many times to salvage it, but no amount of tinkering is changing this clock’s tune. Ma used to joke that if it read ahead, we were in trouble; if it was on time, we were exactly where we needed to be; but if it was behind, then it was whispering for us to have an adventure.
My only adventure tonight is getting home to my studio and drawing until I pass out. There’s something magical about nighttime drawing when the rest of the world is asleep. The clock tower reading almost two hours behind can go bite me.
I walk down the wooden ramp to the pebbled beach on the opposite side of the street.
I expect to smell sea salt or even high tide. This time of year, it’s a toss-up.
Instead, I smell cigarette smoke.
I turn around, peering at the back of buildings on Main. Most floors above shops are intended for storage. Trash cans make their home on back porches, along with an unwelcome raccoon or two. Only a few second stories contain empty apartments, but I know one in particular that has an active resident.
A puff of hazy smoke drifts across the tangerine clouds again. I follow its trail, walking down the beach and stopping short of the iron railing separating the shore from a small dock. I clutch the edge, leaning my waist over and finally catching a glimpse of the culprit.
From a wooden porch high above, Rafe sits on a stool and smokes. And in my shock, I clumsily drop my phone over the railing.