Chapter 11 #2
Her eyes shift from him to me and to her drink.
She twiddles with her bracelets and thumbs the long, thick surface of the mood ring I gave her when we were kids.
It had been in my grandmother’s jewelry box, part of Mom’s inheritance.
Going through it, Mom held up the gigantic, gaudy ring and said, “This looks like something Venus would like.” She also gave Venus a box of old scarves to “tame that wild mane.” One of those scarves waves from her hair now, catching in the breeze.
Vee’s motherlessness brought out Mom’s generous, sympathetic side.
But only to a point that ended whenever Venus caused trouble for me.
That happened often.
“How’s the family?” I ask when her nerves become apparent again. It’s just like Vee to not bat an eye at confronting a large, gruff stranger, but be hesitant about opening up to me. If this were a classroom, I’d group her in the slow-to-warm-up category, requiring extra encouragement to speak.
“Ivy’s in love with Gil,” she reports. “She has a dog now, called Buster. She comforted me during a panic attack today, which speaks well for her skills as a registered nurse. She wants us to be sisters again. I’m not averse to the idea. It feels genuine, not like it did in school.”
“School isn’t a fair representation of the real world.”
“Isn’t it?” She fiddles mindlessly with her bracelets. “She’s still the popular, confident, and pretty one. You’re undoubtedly the same handsome nerd, friend to all that you always were. I’m still….the difficult one no one knows how to handle.”
She smirks, but I don’t find her words amusing.
“Fuck handling you. You didn’t need handling. You needed to be loved, and I loved you. You left anyway,” I snap.
Her eyes fall to the bar, and she bites her lip. “Yes. I-I couldn’t handle me.”
When she doesn’t explain, I ask, “Why’d you come home?”
Her eyes pinch with my irritation. “Dad’s fallen in love, too.
Can you believe it? All that talk about love being inconvenient and unnecessary changed when he met the right person.
He and Christie have gone on sabbatical.
That left his summer teaching position open.
He and Dr. Miner, my former mentor, conspired to have me replace him, and she fired me from our project, leaving me little choice.
I feel rather manipulated, especially in light of today.
I had no idea he was sending me to you.”
I nod. “Yeah, I believe you.”
“Thank you… How’s your family? Maggie and Fred?”
“They’re good, still at the old house. She’s as anxious as ever, but Fred balances her out.”
“Do you see your father?”
“Once a year at the Greene family reunion,” I say. “He no longer smokes in front of me, thanks to you.”
“Good. He shouldn’t.”
“He always asks the same three questions. How’s Maggie? How’s the Jeep? And how’s that firecracker friend of yours?”
“I’m surprised he remembers or cares to ask.”
“Well, not many twelve-year-olds would stand up to someone’s dad.”
“Someone had to. He belittled you and your mom, and he smoked around an asthmatic child. With my limited experience regarding typical family dynamics, even I knew he wasn’t much of a father.”
I can’t argue.
“I’m a father,” I say suddenly, like the gauge of my most important information has finally tipped into the red zone. “A dad. I have a son. Olly. Oliver Jay Greene. He’s six.”
Her entire demeanor lights up, and her eyes water with tears, like I’ve just shared the most perfect thing.
It is perfect to me. But that information isn’t always well-received.
“No one’s better suited to that honor than you.” She swipes at a rogue tear. “I just hope you don’t bore the poor child with history facts all the time.”
I laugh. “Hey, even you liked my boring history facts sometimes. But he has broad interests. He may even lean toward the sciences. His mom’s a doctor. We aren’t together. She has him on weekends,” I ramble, and the gauge of important information falls into the green zone again.
Our boat rocks against the wake of another as we travel underneath the bridge.
Venus braces herself with the counter, but my hand goes up anyway, locking with hers.
She smiles appreciatively as the waves settle again.
The air is cooler under the bridge. Cars rumble over our heads, and suddenly, it doesn’t feel like such a silly thing, being on this so-called boat on the river together.
“Feels like the lean-to,” she says, staring up. “After the rain.”
And it does have the cave-like quality we were once used to. I smile at the memory, but it fades fast under the weight of where we ended.
“Tell me why,” I say as we emerge into the sunlight again. “I need to know why you left.”
She nods, the sun catching her soft, green eyes, making them glow. “I was scared.”
“Scared of what? You’re not scared of anything.”
“Not true. You know that’s not true.”
Her climbing in my window, curling against me, trembling—she’s right. I’m probably the only one who saw through her fearlessness to the pain underneath. My anger retreats.
“I’m scared of many things,” she goes on nervously. “Space travel freaks me out. I don’t care for leeches, though I understand their purpose. Sinkholes and tar pits—”
“Venus—”
“You, Henry. You scared me. You still scare me.”
“How? You used to say that I made you feel safe.”
“You did… I-I-I nearly killed you, remember?”
“You might kill me today,” I joke, motioning to the flat boat under us, but it falls flat against the weight of her sadness.
I grab her legs and spin her on the stool so she has no choice but to look at me.
“Venus, please. I chose to be with you then. I’m choosing to be here now.
We saved each other that night. It brought us together.
For always. You told me you loved me. You bought the dress.
You wanted to go to prom. Why didn’t you? ”
“I saw you coming through the path with your bouquet of daisies, the friendliest flower, just like from that movie,” she says, smiling while tears slip, “and I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t do it to you.”
“Do what to me?”
“Trap you,” she breathes out.
The outboard motor pops and sputters as the captain curls into a wide U-turn, marking the halfway point. Pop Forty hits play on the speaker behind the bar, while the only other passengers—a couple in their fifties—dance awkwardly on the other side of the boat, mostly trying to keep their balance.
Despite the activity around us, our eyes stay locked on each other. Maybe I’m glaring at her. Anger, once again, pulses through me.
“You’re the most intelligent, logical person I’ve ever known.
You were my biggest advocate, my best friend, my fucking heart.
You said you loved me. We had plans. Explain what I’m missing, Venus.
Tell me what I don’t understand. Because if I can’t latch on to some understanding, some fucking peace over this, then when this boat docks, that’s it. I never want to see you again.”