Chapter 25
Chapter Twenty-Five
Maude had lost track of time in the particular way that only really happened when she was on the beach. She’d read, she’d napped, she’d swam in the Gulf, she’d stretched out on her towel to dry off and get some sun. It had been a glorious day and one she felt like she’d needed.
She loved her brother, but even when he was gone all day, she was still very much aware that she was no longer the only resident of her home.
This day out had been good for her mind, body, and soul. A kind of reset that nothing really managed to do the way time in nature did.
The sun had shifted from intense and high to softer and slanted, the light more warming than glaring.
Her towel was rumpled next to her, the edges full of sand, and her flipflops were somewhere on the other side of her chair.
Besides being in and out of the water, she’d walked the shoreline twice, read quite a few chapters of her book club book, and done some thinking.
Mostly about Ollie and how fantastic he was.
It had been an utterly indulgent day, but she really ought to get home. She wanted to shower before she figured out what to make for dinner. She was thinking something easy like chicken and rice.
She brushed sand from her calves and wondered how Ollie’s day had been. Maybe she could meet up with him later when he got home and took Milo for his walk. She was thinking about texting him when her phone rang.
She glanced at the screen and frowned, but not because she was unhappy to speak to the caller. More because she was already imagining what this call would be about.
Maude answered and sat back down in her chair. “Hey, Mom.”
“Oh, good,” her mother said, relief coloring her words and adding to Maude’s dread. “I was hoping you’d pick up.”
Maude closed her eyes briefly. That tone always meant one thing. She tried to keep her voice cheery. “Everything okay?”
“Yes, I suppose. It’s just that I haven’t heard from Robbie,” her mother said. “I tried calling him this morning and again this afternoon. It just rang. I know he’s been busy, but I’m worried. Your father and I both are.”
“He’s a big boy, Mom,” Maude said gently. “He can take care of himself.” Except she knew that wasn’t necessarily the case. Robbie needed help on occasion. This current space and time being one of them, otherwise, he wouldn’t be living with her.
“Well, yes, in theory,” her mother said, not apologetic in the slightest. “But he doesn’t always tell us when things are hard. You know that.”
Maude stared out at the water, the steady roll of the waves suddenly much more interesting than this conversation.
She did know that. Robbie had always been that way.
Less than forthcoming about the things that mattered most. Proud in a way that made asking for help feel like failure. To him, anyway.
“He’s fine,” Maude said, because as far as she knew, he was. “I’m sure he’s just been busy lately.”
There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Busy doing what?” her mother asked. She was obviously concerned. What mother wouldn’t be?
Maude shifted, digging her toes deeper into the sand. She could picture Robbie as he was right now. His hands occupied with tools as he brought his latest idea to life, his phone ignored, music blasting as he worked, hours slipping past without notice.
His silence wasn’t because he was avoiding them. Not exactly. It was because he was focusing, which was precisely what he needed to be doing with the fair coming up. But that explanation wasn’t hers to share.
“He’s just probably in one of those phases where he gets wrapped up in things,” Maude said, trying to be vague and truthful at the same time. “You know how he gets.”
Her mother sighed. “I do. I just don’t like not hearing from him.”
“I know,” Maude said. He absolutely had to tell their parents what was going on.
She did not want to be in the middle of this.
It was one thing to give him a hand up; it was another to cover for him because he was too chicken to tell the truth.
“Neither do I. But I don’t think this is him disappearing. It’s just him being Robbie.”
Another pause, heavier this time. “If something were wrong, you’d tell us, wouldn’t you?”
Maude closed her eyes briefly. This was the hard part. The part she shouldn’t have to be doing. “Yes,” she said. “I would.”
Her mother’s voice softened. “I worry he thinks we’re disappointed in him.”
Maude swallowed. Her mother was spot on. “I don’t think that’s what’s keeping him quiet,” she said. “I think he just wants to handle things in his own way. Again, that’s just who he is.”
“We only want him to be settled and happy and…” Her mother finished the sentence with a sigh.
“I know,” Maude replied. “And he will be. He’s just not there yet.”
The gulls cried overhead, the sound sharp against the steady thrum of the waves. The sun sank lower and her stomach grumbled.
“All right,” her mother said at last. “If you’re sure.”
“I am.”
“Will you ask him to call us the next time you talk him?” her mother added. “Just so we know he’s all right.”
Maude managed a small smile. “I will. Promise.”
They said their goodbyes, and Maude ended the call, letting the phone rest loosely at her side.
She stayed seated for a while, watching the water move in and out, thinking about how easy it was for her mom’s worry to turn into something bigger. And how hard it was to stop that once it started.
The constants were Robbie didn’t want to be a concern and their parents didn’t want to feel shut out. But once again, Maude stood between them, like some kind of mediator who not only didn’t want the job but hadn’t even volunteered.
She stood, shook the sand from her towel, and gathered up her things. It was time for Robbie to do some adulting. When he got home, they were going to have a serious conversation and if she had to give him an ultimatum, she would.
It was unfair for her to be in the middle of this.
Maude went straight home from the beach, still sandy and a little tired in the good way. She put a pot of rice on the stove before heading in to shower. A big pot. Enough for leftovers. Not that they’d last that long with Robbie in the house.
After her quick shower, she chopped some of the veggies she had on hand, thanks to her potted garden and her last trip to the store. A little onion, some red bell pepper, and two small zucchinis.
Then she cut up a package of boneless, skinless chicken thighs and seasoned them the way she always did, which was more instinctual than according to any recipe.
She stirred, added the vegetables in, and let them cook. Once the chicken was done, she folded everything into the rice and added a little more salt and pepper, plus a good-sized knob of butter, because why not?
While it sat, she washed her hands and picked up her phone and sent Ollie a quick text. If you and Milo want company on your evening walk, I’m around.
She hit Send, then tucked the phone into the pocket of her shorts and fixed herself a big bowl of the dinner she’d made. She grabbed a fork, and a bottle of water, and carried everything out to the porch.
The color of the sky had already begun to shift, the blue deepening toward evening. She sat in her usual chair, bare legs crossed, the warmth of the bowl seeping into her palms.
Across the way, Ned’s back door opened. He stepped out in his usual uniform. Khaki pants, a button-down plaid short-sleeve shirt, and orthopedic sneakers. His dog, Cookie, trotted down the steps and immediately rolled in the grass. Ned laughed at her. He looked up and saw Maude and gave her a wave.
“Evening, Maude,” he called.
“Evening,” she said, lifting her fork in greeting.
Cookie, who had more enthusiasm than coordination, tore around the yard like she’d been released from captivity, then stopped short when she spotted Maude. Her tail went into overdrive, and she gave a little bark.
“Well, hello to you, too,” Maude said.
Cookie barked again, then ran a tight circle around Ned’s legs.
“She thinks everyone’s here to see her,” Ned said.
“She might be right,” Maude replied. Cookie was a little full of herself, like most Chihuahuas.
Ned laughed and eased himself down onto his own steps, watching Cookie investigate the yard like it was brand new.
Maude ate slowly, the rice still steaming, the porch floor warm beneath her feet.
The neighborhood hummed with sounds. Distant voices, music playing somewhere, the faint che-che-che of a lawn sprinkler.
She’d just finished the last bite when she heard the familiar rumble of Robbie’s truck.
It pulled into the driveway and the engine cut off. A second later, Robbie came into the house and, a second after that, he stuck his head through the open sliders, his shoulders slumped with the kind of tired that came from a day of physical work.
“Hey,” he said.
“Hey, yourself,” Maude replied. “Dinner’s on the stove. Big pot of chicken and rice. Help yourself.”
His face softened immediately. “You’re the best.”
“I know,” she said, without looking smug. “Get your dish then come out here. We need to talk.”
He took a breath but said nothing as he went inside. Maude took a sip of her water. This wasn’t going to be a fun conversation, but it needed to happen.
Robbie came out onto the porch with his bowl balanced in both hands and a bottle of water tucked in the crook of one arm. He dropped into the chair across from Maude and took a few bites like he hadn’t eaten all day.
“This is good,” he said. “Really good.”
“Thanks,” Maude said. “I made enough for a few days.”
He smiled faintly and kept eating. The neighborhood had quieted, the sky dimming toward blue-gray. Ned and Cookie had already gone in.
Maude watched Robbie for a moment, then said, “Mom called me today.”
He froze mid-bite.
“She’s worried,” Maude went on. “Mostly because you haven’t returned her calls or answered her texts.”
Robbie resumed eating like it was no big deal. “I’ve been busy.”
“I know that,” Maude said. “But Mom and Dad don’t.”
He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I don’t want them checking in every five minutes. Or asking questions I don’t have answers to.”
Maude sighed. She’d heard all this before. “When people don’t hear anything, they assume the worst. Especially our parents.”
He exhaled. “I just want to get further along before I explain.”
“You don’t need to explain everything,” Maude said. “But you do need to let them know you’re okay.”
“They won’t hear it that way.”
“They will if you say it plainly,” she said. “You’re on a new, positive path and you’re focused on the future. That’s enough.”
Robbie shook his head. “It never feels like enough with them.”
Maude leaned forward, wondering if a smack on the head would knock some sense into him. “This isn’t about convincing them you’re on the verge of becoming a runaway success. It’s about not letting them worry themselves sick.”
He was quiet for a few seconds, then said, “You don’t think I look like a screwup?”
She didn’t hesitate. “No.”
He glanced at her, searching her face.
“You look like someone who’s trying,” she said. “And that’s what matters.”
Robbie picked his fork back up, took another bite, then set it down again. “I suppose you want me to call them.”
“Yes,” Maude said. “And I want you to do it tonight. It’s not fair to put me in the middle of this. And if you don’t do it, I will.”
He sighed, then nodded once. “Okay. Tonight.”
“After you finish eating,” she added.
He gave a tired smile. “You’re relentless.”
“Correct,” Maude said. “Because I love you and I don’t want to end up guilty of your murder.”
He laughed softly and went back to his dinner, and Maude leaned back in her chair. That hadn’t been quite as hard as she’d thought it would be.