Chapter 2 #2
“I’m currently wondering how long Reggie is going to stand outside, saying goodbye when the vans are gone,” I said with a shrug.
It was, after all, one of the things I had been thinking about, so it wasn’t really a lie.
I didn’t need to mention that I’d also been thinking about how close Jude was to being an adult and what that meant for his mother.
And he didn’t need to know there was an odd flutter in my chest when Reggie turned around, and not only did he have that wistful smile I expected on his face, but he looked up toward the window I was looking through and waved.
The glass cut the glare, so it was dark from the outside; he couldn’t actually see me, but just as I’d known he would linger out there in his bittersweet feelings, he knew I would be at the window looking out.
I glanced at the corner of my desk, at the few pictures I kept there for me to look at whenever I felt the night growing long while the paperwork and calls piled up.
The school picture of Jude had been replaced every year, but this one was of my son a few months ago when he’d visited for Christmas.
We’d gone to a winter festival in a town a few hours away, a quiet little, sleepy town by the name of Fairlake.
The picture was of the two of us standing next to a decorated gazebo, hot chocolate steaming in our hands as we smiled at the camera.
Beside it was a picture of Reggie and me in the same town; he had introduced me to Fairlake.
I was sure most people expected he was the type to go down to Denver, where the nightlife was still flourishing, but he only went there for the food scene and occasionally a night out.
He preferred little things like a small, sleepy town in Colorado that looked like it was from some Hallmark movie.
If there was some sort of festival there, he was one of the out of towners that went and had dragged me a couple of times.
The picture wasn’t at any specific festival, just a selfie he had taken of the two of us, cookies from a local bakery clutched in our hands.
There was frosting smeared at the corner of my mouth and a sprinkle on my collar, but he had refused to delete the picture to take another one, insisting it was better like that.
I didn’t agree, even now, but it was the picture he loved, so why not use it?
We didn’t take many pictures together, so it wasn’t like I had a lot to choose from.
I had somehow lost the one we had taken together at the grand opening of Arete, and the only other one I had was from years ago when Malcolm had been alive.
It had been at his and Reggie’s wedding, just the three of us smiling at the camera by a small lake as we peered into the camera, the newlyweds happy and beaming, and me pleased for my best friend.
Now best friend was gone, and his widower was my business partner and best friend.
In some ways, the beginning of Reggie and I’s relationship shifting from casual friends to something closer had been fueled by the grief of two men who wanted to hold on to someone who had been important to Malcolm.
Then it continued, and deep down, I had known it was also a way to alleviate my guilt and shame.
In the last few years of Malcolm’s life, I hadn’t been around as much as I should have, busying myself with work and the first signs of trouble in my marriage.
I had told myself there was plenty of time; we were still young and I had so much I had to focus on.
His life was going well for him; there was no need for me to be there.
Turns out aneurysms didn’t care about how much time there was supposed to be left in someone’s life.
“I was gonna ask what he was doing,” Jude said, pulling me from my thoughts. “Normally when I talk to you, he’s around somewhere.”
“That’s what happens when you live and work in the same place you built together,” I said wryly.
“Hey, I wasn’t complaining,” he protested. “I like Reggie. He’s a mix of cool uncle and fun stepdad, with a touch of weirdo thrown in.”
“I… What?” I asked, startled by his comparison.
“What? He’s weird,” Jude said with a laugh.
“Stepdad?” I blurted, before I could think. Uncle, I could see, sort of. Reggie hadn’t been shy about being part of Jude’s life, but he hadn’t been a constant presence.
“Oh well,” Jude spluttered, snapping my attention back to the conversation. “I mean, I guess not, that would be—”
“Strange?” I offered, confused why he was feeling awkward rather than me.
“Yeah, really strange,” he said with emphasis. Enough to make me raise an eyebrow. “But that would make sense, right?”
“Would it?” I wondered.
“Well, weird stuff would follow him around, right?” he asked. “He’s weird.”
I opened my mouth before thinking better of it.
Jude tried not to be too much like his mother, but for people who knew them, the similarities were hard to miss.
In this matter, Jude wasn’t exactly rabid when he had his sights set on something, not quite Charlene’s level, but he could be…
adamant. Not rabid, but definitely a dog with a bone, and if he caught wind of something interesting or different, he was impossible to dissuade from digging further.
The last thing I needed was for him to realize I was taken aback by the idea that Reggie was like a step-parent to him.
Mostly because he hadn’t thought twice about the thought, and if I drew attention to it, he might get the wrong idea.
So instead, I went with a soft agreement. “He can be a little strange, I’ll give you that.”
“Didn’t you once tell Mom he was fucking weird?”
“Was that the exact quote?”
“That’s what she said.”
I grunted. “Probably. Not the best thing for me to say, but I can’t imagine your mother would lie.”
Especially because, well…when I’d first been introduced to Reggie, I had thought he was ‘fucking weird’.
It was one of those comments that was supposed to be between two people who were sharing the rest of their lives together, and not passed to anyone else, including our son.
Charlene had been quick to chide me for that thought, reminding me that Reggie made Malcolm happy and was good to him, and that was all that mattered.
I had agreed immediately, sharing that I wasn’t surprised Malcolm had found someone like Reggie; he had always had a taste for the weird and quirky.
“Yeah, well, you know Mom.”
“I do…to a certain extent. Enough to wonder if I should ask what else has been said.”
“Oh…nothing much,” he said, and I squinted at the cagey tone in his voice.
“I suppose it’s to your credit that you’re still incapable of lying well,” I said with a roll of my eyes.
“As my dad, shouldn’t you actually believe it’s a good thing, not just suppose it is?”
“I think you’re old enough for me to tell you the truth, and being able to lie convincingly, or at least in a way that’s difficult to prove as a lie, is a useful skill,” I told him with a chuckle, sitting behind my desk and looking down at the phone.
“Then again, I’ve spent pretty much my entire professional life dealing with lawyers, politicians, and businessmen…
and women. So lying and learning to navigate the lies of other people is something you learn fast.”
“I mean, you’re running like…a wellness resort. Is that really still necessary?”
“Ignoring that old habits die hard, I should point out that I’m still dealing with politicians, CEOs, and lawyers frequently,” I said with a snort. “It’s not like that changes just because I’ve gone from running a business to running a wellness resort.”
“Sure,” he said, and again I could sense him shrugging.
“And don’t think I didn’t notice that we’ve conveniently moved away from the topic you were unsuccessfully trying to lie about.”
“Hey, you were the one who went off-topic. You can’t blame me for going along with it because it worked in my favor.”
I snorted; maybe there was some hope for him yet.
Although I wanted him to stay earnest and heartfelt for the rest of his life, I had to admit that knowing how to play people was important…
if only because it meant you knew how and when you were being played.
“Fair enough, but I’ll be nice and let it drop. ”
“Aren’t you the nicest dad ever?” he said with a snort. “Also, I was thinking—”
“About?” I asked, raising a brow.
“Well, you know my birthday is in a few weeks.”
“You mean the event I’ve been asking about for a couple of months? The event I have yet to hear anything significant about? The event I’ve repeatedly asked about, because I’d be more than happy to take time off to do whatever you wanted, because you don’t turn eighteen every day? That birthday?”
“I’m not sure you’re being sarcastic enough,” Jude said dryly. “I’m not drowning in it yet. Only up to my neck.”
I grinned. “I figured I’d leave you a little breathing room. But yes, I’m aware your birthday is coming up. I should also point out that I’ve also asked about your summer plans. I was hoping to squeeze in some time with you before Fall rolls around and you’ll be busy with school.”
“That’s what I wanted to ask about,” he said cautiously, enough that I frowned at the phone.
“It’s not often you sound nervous asking me for something,” I noted warily.
“Well, I was kind of hoping I could come stay with you for a few weeks…there—”
I raised an eyebrow. “At the resort?”
“Yeah.”
“And, uh, what does your mother think about that idea?”
He groaned. “I’m going to be eighteen! I’m legally allowed to do whatever I want, and that includes being old enough to go to that resort.”