Chapter 20 Miller - Should I be scared?
Ifeel like I’ve barely had the chance to talk to Gwen lately.
Between the cafe and planning our big Thanksgiving, she’s been running around like a chicken with its head cut off, and I’ve been chasing her around trying to keep up.
It felt like she was ready to take the next step—whatever that means—and then plans halted.
I’m trying to figure out why without assuming the worst.
The “worst” would be that she realizes I’m just some kid with half a clue compared to her before I have the chance to be the exception. She’s not totally avoiding me though, so I’m taking it as a win and running with my slim chances.
Now that the holiday week is here, school is closed, and I took the week off work.
We haven’t had to be worrying about homework or arrival times or getting to bed at a decent hour for P.
I’ve gotten to spend some solid time with Penelope, and I’ve been free to help Gwen wherever and whenever needed.
I’m feeling positive as hell about it all.
As positive as I can be right now while borderline killing myself hauling canoes from the water to their winter racks with Gus and Sawyer.
Make friends, they said. It’ll be fun, they said.
I mess around with computers for a living.
I’m not built like these guys. This shit sucks.
But I can’t lie, I was kind of excited when Sawyer texted me and asked if I wanted to help.
I dropped P off at Beth’s this morning, where Melanie is staying for the week, so the three of them can make cookies.
Even though Beth invited me to stay, with a look that told me I might want to reconsider my plans for the day, and despite my gut telling me agreeing to help Sawyer was most likely a bad idea, I met the fucking lumberjacks over here shortly after.
I regret not joining the cookie committee.
“Let’s break after this set, yeah?” Gus calls behind me.
His voice doesn’t sound strained at all.
He’s not even a little out of breath. He’s single-handedly carried nine of these fucking monsters from the river, up the hill, and onto the rack without breaking a sweat in the time it’s taken me to handle… three. And that’s with Sawyer’s help.
“Sounds good,” I strain to get out while carrying the back end of the canoe Sawyer has the front of. It’s cold as shit out here, to the point where I can see my breath with every huff and puff, and yet sweat is still sticking my shirt to my back.
Gus shoots ahead of us—I swear this is a game to him—and locks the canoe into place, securing it with straps. He takes the one we’re holding when we reach him to repeat the process.
“You’re…an animal,” I say before chugging water.
“Buddy, we gotta get you out here more if you thought this was anything.” Gus laughs while clapping me on the back. I struggle to not keel over.
“You’re doing great, Miller,” Sawyer interjects. “What August is trying to say is, we appreciate the help. Gets us out of here faster and in turn, gets us to The Bar faster for Thanksgiving Eve.” The two of them high five, and I feel like I’ve missed something important.
“Uh, what?”
“Thanksgiving Eve,” Gus states matter of factly.
“Yep. Heard that.” I nod my head. “So, what? You just…go to the bar?”
Both of their jaws go slack like I just told them I’ve never breathed air.
“Guys, what am I missing?”
“It’s Thanksgiving Eve. You grab your best friend”—Gus puts his arm around Sawyer—“And you go to the townie bar and meet up with everyone who ever went to your high school. You get drunk and shoot the shit. Then you wake up, probably hungover, and head to the high school Thanksgiving Day football game and laugh about the night before you head back for the turkey meal. It’s Thanksgiving Eve. ”
I’m not sure if I’m more surprised by the amount of words Gus just actually said, or the fact that he willingly and seemingly excitedly surrounds himself with people from high school for an entire night. I can’t say I really get it, but I’m not about to voice that thought.
I barely saw the people I went to school with when I was there. I can’t imagine spending a night catching up. But then again, if Gus and Sawyer are going that means others who went to school with them might, which means…
“Red lives for Thanksgiving Eve, by the way. Did we mention that?” Sawyer asks.
“Well, she did, until…” Gus adds.
“If you think we look ridiculous getting excited, just know this is Deanie’s fucking superbowl. The good news is, his gang has dwindled, where ours seems to be growing just fine. So, we should be good to go without issues tonight.”
“Oh, well I’m not—” I start to explain my responsibilities as a parent when Sawyer claps a hand on my shoulder.
“You’re coming. Gran and Mel are watching lil P. They’ll be fine, just like they are now. Margot’s handling Red. We’re meeting them at The Bar. Gus and Daze have even been nice enough to agree to keep their mouths to themselves, right?” Sawyer turns to Gus who shrugs his shoulders non-committedly.
“Did you guys all plan this behind my back?”
“No,” Sawyer quickly says.
“We planned it behind both of your backs,” Gus adds.
Sawyer backs up their plan. “It’s time to get out of your head and do something about how you’re feeling. You can’t hide behind Penelope forever. That’s not fair to anyone.”
I lean my back against the wood building and brush my hair back to look up at the sky. They’re probably right. In fact, I know they are. But it still feels weird to have people around me in my business.
I could say no. They can’t actually drag me out or hold my kid hostage, but thinking about going in that direction doesn’t make me feel good at all.
“You’re sure Gwen’s going to be there?”
Gus claps his hands together and a grin breaks out on Sawyer’s face. “Sure as shit, my dude,” Sawyer assures me. “There’s no way Margot fails this mission. She’s invested.”
A night with Gwen sounds pretty fucking mint.
I let my hand slide down my face. “Fuck me, I guess I’m going to The Bar tonight.”
Things are…rowdy in the Rivers household tonight.
Sawyer and Gus have been crushing beers since we secured the last canoe into place this afternoon, telling me it was cause for celebration in the highest degree.
My daughter is running around with a chef’s hat and one of her princess dresses on, chasing Melanie who said this was the most cardio she’s done since Margot was P’s age.
Beth is singing along to the country music she has blasting through speakers while I stand here in the middle of the kitchen feeling seven different kinds of overstimulated.
I’m not used to this. I’ll say it until I’m blue in the face.
Growing up, my house was only loud if there was a football game on and Michael Caswell’s team was losing, or my dad was screaming at me.
There were never big moments of happiness and the good kind of chaos, just doom, gloom, and destruction.
When the guys and I wrapped up at the riverside, I popped over to the apartment to pack P an overnight bag.
I’ll also admit to checking the cafe for Gwen, but Chris told me Margot had already swept her away.
He was on closing duty today, but assured me he was bartending tonight, and he’d see me there.
I’m not sure if that was supposed to make me feel better? But, sure, whatever. The guy’s weird.
When I got back to Beth’s, I pulled Penelope outside to talk to her away from everyone.
I wanted to make sure she was comfortable staying with Beth and Melanie again.
This is her second sleepover ever. It’s a big deal and while I’m open to change and branching out, if my girl isn’t one hundred percent on board, I’m out.
But it’s clear Penelope thrives in this kind of environment. I could barely finish my sentence before she was jumping into my arms, screaming into my ear about how excited she was to have a night with her two grandmas.
We’re not related in the slightest, but I’m not correcting her. I know they won’t either.
Penelope’s squeals of delight are the one bit of normalcy I’m clinging to so I don’t have to excuse myself outside.
It’s stupid, because if anyone else told me they needed a minute to breathe, I’d get it.
I’d insist they do what they have to do.
Mental health matters, yadda yadda, shit my parenting books say.
I, for some dumbass reason, feel like I have to be stronger. I’ve overcome worse. Some noise and chaos with well meaning people really shouldn’t be a big deal. But it is, and I really wish Gwen was here.
I settle for the next best thing and pull my phone out of my pocket and sit down at Beth’s kitchen table. I send off a text and wait for the three dots to appear on the screen.
Me
What are the chances I get to buy the most beautiful woman in Merrymount a drink tonight?
Gwendolyn
no need. i drink for free tonight. ;)
Me
Is this another small town thing I don’t know about? Like the entire concept of “Thanksgiving Eve” ???
Gwendolyn
it’s a silly tradition, but i benefit from it which means you’ll also get to benefit from it. so no making jokes, got it?
Me
I’m scared
Me
Should I be scared?
Gwendolyn
prom kings and queens of merrymount high get free drinks at the bar on thanksgiving eve every year. and on that note, margot said she’s going to fling my phone out of the moving car later if i don’t put it down right now. see you soon!
A second later a picture comes through of Gwen and Margot, cheeks pressed together, doing duck faces at the camera. Gwen’s hair is pinned up in those giant ass roll things and it looks like there’s a caterpillar resting on one of Margot’s eyelids.
I stare at the picture probably longer than I should because I don’t hear when Beth comes up behind me and leans over my shoulder to inspect my screen. I startle when she says, “Two gorgeous girls.”
I fumble my phone until it lands on the table. “Holy shit!”