Chapter 40
CHAPTER FORTY
THOMAS
I’m happy to finally be spending time with Finley, especially after her reaction to seeing me earlier today. Although, I don’t think she shares my sentiment. She seems annoyed every time I say something to her.
Pulling an array of carry-out menus out of my kitchen drawer, I bring them into the living room in time to hear my mom ask Finley, “What do you think we should get, dear? I’m guessing you’ve lived here longer than Thomas.”
“I’ve lived here for three years,” Finley tells her before adding, “Elk Lake has surprisingly good Chinese food. I like the kung pao shrimp.”
My family immediately jumps on board with the idea and I place the order. “Use my name,” Finley says. “They’ll give us more fortune cookies that way.”
“You’re a regular, huh?” my dad asks with a smile on his face.
“Sunday night is kung pao night,” Finley responds.
We continue to nibble on our snacks while we wait for our food delivery.
My mom has eaten more cheese in one sitting than she’s probably had in the last ten years combined.
While I know she’s going to regret it in the morning, she’s currently enjoying herself.
She asks Finley, “How do you and Thomas know each other?”
Finley side-eyes me, seemingly unsure of how to respond. So, I say, “The hospital hired Finley to take my picture for their wall of fame.”
“You’re a photographer?” my dad asks excitedly. “Do you enjoy it?”
“I love it,” she tells him. A telltale blush comes to her face. I’m guessing she’s remembering our sessions together.
“What’s your favorite part?” my mom wants to know.
Finley starts to run her fingers back and forth across the arm of her chair. That’s when I notice she’s also petting the hem of her sweater with her other hand. Oh, yeah, she’s nervous. “I love the babies,” she says. “They’re perfect in every way.”
“She also has a booming business taking boudoir photos for couples,” I tell them.
My mother’s eyes narrow critically. “Surely that can’t be lucrative.”
“It really is,” Finley tells her. “So much so I’ve recently expanded the size of my studio.”
My mom seems skeptical. “What kind of pictures constitute boudoir shots?”
Finley opens her phone and types something in before handing it to my mom. “These are from my website,” she tells her.
My mom scrolls through the phone slowly. “These are actually quite tasteful.”
Finley nods her head at the compliment before explaining, “It’s a very intimate kind of session. People want to express their love for each other in a visual way so they can look at it from the outside.”
Vivie announces, “You’ve just given me a great idea for a painting.”
“What’s that?” Finley asks.
My sister replies, “I was thinking it would be fun to paint an ordinary couple looking into a mirror and have their reflection be their fantasy.” She pauses for a moment before saying, “In fact, you know what? I’d like to paint an elderly couple and have the mirror image be of when they were young and first in love. ”
“Oh, Vivie,” Morgan says. “I love that idea! You could do a whole series like that.”
“I could,” my sister says. At this point she sort of glazes over and remains quiet, which means she’s deep in thought. I love when this happens because I know Vivie is in her happy place, mentally traveling to other worlds.
Finley stares at her, too. Then she announces, “A lot of autistic people are very creative.”
My parents both turn and look at her. I’m not sure what they’re thinking, so I say, “That’s very true.” The room goes unnaturally silent after that.
My mom finally asks, “Are you on the spectrum too, Finley?”
Finley surprises me by saying, “I am.” Then she adds, “It’s been a journey for sure.”
My dad nods his head in agreement. “Have you known your whole life?” he asks her.
“I found out in high school,” Finley tells them.
Vivienne finally joins the conversation again and says, “It’s nice to have a friend who knows what my life is like.”
Finley continues to tug at her sweater. “Do you have a lot of friends, Vivienne?”
My sister shakes her head. “Not really. I have a hard time understanding other people’s motivations. You know, like do they really like me or are they making fun of me. I’ve found it’s just simpler to stay away.”
“That’s how it is for me, too,” Finley says. “Although, I’ve recently become friends with a very nice teacher in town. Her parents are my best clients.”
“I’m your friend, too,” I hurry to interject. Finley shoots me a withering glance, making it clear the jury is still out on that one.
“And we’re friends,” Vivie tells her. At least Finley looks happy when she hears that.
“I hope we’ll see a lot more of you while we’re here,” my mom tells Finley, which is kind of surprising. She’s not a person who welcomes others into private family time.
“I work,” Finley says. But then she notices Vivie’s disappointed expression, and adds, “But I’m sure I can make time.”
“We’d love to come into your place and see what you do,” my dad says.
“Maybe I can take a nice family picture of you all,” Finley says with a smile. “My treat.”
“That’s a lovely offer,” my mom tells her. “We would like that very much.”
It’s too bad I still haven’t quite made up my mind about Elk Lake yet, because my family sure seems like they’d be on board with Finley as my girlfriend.
When the doorbell rings, Finley stands up to get it. I already paid over the phone, but I follow behind to help carry the bags. After opening the door, Finley greets, “Hey, Flip. You didn’t by any chance check the fortune cookies did you?”
The high-school-aged boy says, “Nope. I didn’t know the order was for you.”
I interject, “I asked for extra fortune cookies like you told me to.”
She turns to me. “How many did you ask for?”
“Just extra. I didn’t specify the number.”
Finley looks into the bag and counts them. “There are thirteen,” she says. Then she holds the open sack up to the delivery boy and tells him, “Take one out, please.” He follows orders without hesitation, which makes me wonder if this is a ritual between them.
I hand Flip a ten. After he walks away, I tell Finley again, “I’m really glad you’re here.”
Her only reply is, “I like your family.”
I can’t go on the rest of the night like this, so I ask, “What’s wrong? Are you mad that I didn’t call? I know I should have but I was really harried at work. I texted a couple of times and told you that.”
Finley’s gaze narrows until she looks like she wants to punch me. “Remember the day I texted about dropping off goodies at the hospital?”
I nod my head nervously. “I do.”
“I was texting you from the ER. They said you weren’t there and you weren’t on the schedule at all for that day.”
Uh-oh. I know I shouldn’t have lied to Finley, but I did it to protect her.
Oh heck, who am I kidding? I did it to protect myself.
I didn’t want her to give up on the possibility of us before I had a chance to decide if I was going to stay in town.
I was being a selfish jerk and I’ve been found out.
“I can explain,” I tell her. But before I do, my father calls out, “What’s keeping you two? I’m starving in here!”
Finley doesn’t stay to hear me out. Instead, she walks right past me and into the living room. I trail after her.
My mom has cleared off the coffee table and put down some silverware and napkins. She says, “Let’s eat comfortably tonight.” Yet again, my mother is acting nothing like herself. If this were any other time, we would all be sitting properly in the dining room.
I start to open the bags and arrange the containers so everyone can grab their orders. Finley takes hers, along with a fork, and goes back to sit on her stuffed chair. My family does the same.
Once we’re all settled, Vivie suggests, “Maybe tomorrow we can go for a walk on the beach. Doesn’t that sound like fun, Finley?”
“No,” Finley tells her plainly. Then she explains, “I don’t like sand.”
For some reason, I feel the need to add, “She doesn’t like foil either.” Finley glares at me like this wasn’t my information to share.
Vivie doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, she asks Finley, “What textures do you like?”
“Soft ones,” she says.
Vivie tells her, “I like rough ones.” Then she looks down at her hands. My parents must have washed and bandaged them for her. “Except for today. I tried to calm myself down with some sandpaper.”
“Thomas mentioned you liked rough textures.” Finley releases a full body shiver.
My parents have been sitting and watching this exchange like they’re witnessing a miracle. My mom finally tells Finley, “I’m glad you and Thomas found each other. You are a lovely addition to our family, Finley.”
I nearly choke on my cashew chicken. Not because my mom is being nice, but more because it seems like she already assumes Finley and I are an item. And with the way Finley is treating me, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Finley must interpret her words this way as well, because she’s quick to say, “Thomas and I are only friends.”
Opening his supper, my dad says, “Whatever you are, we’re very happy you’re here.”
Finley looks like she wants to cry, and she’s not the only one.