Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
M itch’s sleep had been restless, so he’d gotten up and gone for his run while it was still dark. Even now, the horizon was just barely turning pink, and he’d already showered. It would be an hour or so before Joyce arrived to make breakfast.
With a cup of coffee in one hand, he went into his office and took out his journal and pen. He carried them to the back deck and took a seat in his usual chair. He didn’t like a lot of artificial light in the morning, but he’d left a few lights on inside, because otherwise, there wouldn’t be enough to see by.
Once the sky brightened enough, he’d turn them off.
Today was the boat outing. He was both dreading it and somewhat looking forward to it. The dread was winning by a small margin. He figured even looking forward in any amount had to be progress. He stared at the horizon line, watching the light slowly melt away the darkness.
That boat just held so many memories. Being on it for a few minutes was nothing compared to being on it for most of the day. How was he going to do that without crashing mentally and emotionally?
He clicked the pen and opened the journal, adding the date at the top of the page.
Today I’m taking Harper, Frankie, Willa, and Lucas out on the boat. I invited Joyce, but she said she had a lot to do to get ready for her sister’s arrival. I don’t think she likes the water that much. Being out on it, that is. Looking at it, she’s fine with.
I am worried that— his pen came off the paper as he hesitated. He’d journaled enough now that writing the hard things had gotten easier. But putting this on paper felt like the act of doing so might make it come true.
That was nonsense. The kind of thing that might happen in the sort of magical realm Charlie Nightingale inhabited. But this was real life. Reality didn’t work that way.
Although there was such a thing as a self-fulfilling prophecy.
He sighed and touched his pen to the paper again. I am worried that I will be overcome by memories and emotions. That I will break down in front of people I don’t know very well. Even as I write that, I know Harper will understand. I think her sister would, too.
I still don’t want it to happen.
I wasn’t raised to show a lot of emotion. Men in my family were supposed to be strong and hold their feelings in. I guess what I’m really worried about is looking weak in front of Lucas.
That’s just stupid. Lucas doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who’d worry about something like that himself. He seems better adjusted than most men I know. And very in touch with both his masculine and feminine sides.
Whereas I am clearly not. I don’t even think I have a feminine side. Somewhere, Jeanie is laughing about this.
A gentle smile bent his mouth, the image of his beautiful wife filling his head.
She was very definitely the mothering type. Kyle, if he were speaking to me, would agree. As fathers go, I think I was more the strong, silent type. Probably to my detriment. At least to the detriment of my relationship with my son. Would things be different now if I’d been a more touchy-feely parent? I’ll never know, but it does make me wonder.
Can I change now? He shook his head, thought a moment, then wrote, Do I want to? Do I care? What would it benefit me now, at this age, at this stage of my life? It won’t bring Jeanie back. Or Kyle. He wouldn’t know if I changed or not.
Harper would undoubtedly think getting in touch with my emotions was important. I would argue that I am in touch with my emotions. I just choose not to show them to most people. My grief is private.
But maybe keeping it all inside is part of the problem.
So maybe breaking down in front of these people might be a growth experience for me. Harper would probably approve of that outlook. I don’t. I loathe the idea. Why?
That took some more thinking. Some deep diving into what scared him. He drank half of his coffee before picking up his pen again.
I am afraid of being vulnerable. Of having that vulnerability used against me. But even as I write that, it makes no sense. None of the people coming on the boat today would do that. I might not know them well, but I feel that very strongly. Look how we all came together to help Harper. But would they do that for me? I think…I think they would.
Lucas is in a similar position as I am. He might not be as well-known as I am, but he understands what it means to have a public side to yourself. Maybe I should talk to him some more.
But again, that would make me vulnerable. It means opening myself up, even if it’s only in a small way. Why is that so terrifying?
I wish I could talk to Harper about this before we leave today. Maybe we’ll have a little time on the boat by ourselves. If not, we can always talk after. And I guess if I do break down, we’ll have a lot more to talk about.
He heard noise in the house. He looked up. The sky was bright enough to see by now. Joyce must have arrived. She wouldn’t interrupt him, though.
He stared at the page, trying to decide if he was done or not. No, not quite. He added a few final thoughts.
Whatever happens today, I hope it’s good. I hope everyone enjoys themselves, and we have a safe, fun time. I hope letting Willa share pictures online isn’t a bad decision. I hope if Kyle sees them, it spurs him to get in touch with me. To understand that life goes on and we’re all the family we have left.
But most of all, I hope that if Jeanie’s looking down on us, that she knows how loved and missed she is.
He read the last line again, then set the pen aside and closed the journal. She was so missed. Not a day went by that he didn’t ache to have her at his side again.
After a moment, he picked up his things, coffee cup included, and went back inside. “Morning, Joyce.”
She looked over and smiled. “Morning. Big day today, hmm?”
“Yes. Did you change your mind about coming?”
“Oh, no. I have a whole list of things to get done. Starting with your breakfast. What would you like?”
“Something easy.” He refilled his coffee cup.
“Scrambled eggs and toast? There’s a couple sausage links left, I think.” She moved past him and opened the fridge. “Yes, two links. How’s that?”
“Perfect. I think I’ll do a little work until it’s ready.”
“Won’t take long.”
“All right. I’ll probably head to the boat after that. I want to be there ahead of time and make sure everything’s ready to go.”
“I’ll get the coolers packed as soon as I’m done here.”
“Thank you.” He went into his office and sat at his desk, tucking the journal away in the top drawer. He fired up his laptop and went straight to email.
The list of new emails was staggering. Some fan mail that had been forwarded by the team that handled that. Select emails were sent on to him, if the team thought it was something he should see. There were also two interview requests, some random junk mail that he sent to spam, and a note from his agent, Lucinda.
He opened that one first.
Good morning, Mitch!
Hope this finds you well. I have fantastic news. We’ve had a serious offer from an A-List producer in regards to an older story of yours, The Light Within . He’s talking big-budget movie and has dropped the names of Sullivan Tripp and Julia Montrose to star. I’ve already made it clear that you’d need a percentage of the gross and would require creative consultancy. It’s a big ask but your star shines bright. Let me know what you think, and I’ll get the preliminary deal over to you asap. Very exciting. Netflix has made you a hot property. The way they’re talking, this could potentially be a new franchise.
Best,
Lucinda
He reread the email to be sure he’d understood it. The Light Within was an old book. One most people had forgotten, if they’d even read it. Despite the low readership, it was a story he’d always been proud of. It was a sci-fi take on choices and consequences with a lot of beautiful imagery and layered meaning. He could see it as a movie, but it would take some fleshing out. Of course, movies did that very well.
A couple of dramatic sequences set to the perfect cinematic score and there was an extra twenty minutes.
Lucinda was right, too. He’d want a good deal, that was a given. He wasn’t going to be greedy, he had more than enough money, but the ability to have some creative control would be wonderful.
Or would it?
He’d have to be on the set for some of that, he imagined. Did he really want to live that life? To leave his safe haven and venture out into the world of…people?
His lip curled, an unbidden reaction to the very idea. But this was all talk right now. Maybe the deal was a stinker. Maybe Lucinda was just doing her best to be optimistic. He’d know when he read the fine print.
The two stars she’d mentioned, Sullivan Tripp and Julia Montrose, didn’t mean a lot to him, the names only vaguely familiar. Times like this Kyle would have been handy. No doubt he’d know.
Or Harper. She’d know.
The aroma of sizzling sausage drifted in.
He sent a quick response back to Lucinda, telling her to send the information and give him a day or two to review it.
But sending that email made him want to talk to Harper even more. At least now he had a reason that didn’t involve his emotions. Which was probably further proof that he had issues he needed to deal with when it came to his feelings, but Rome wasn’t built in a day.
Joyce knocked on the door. “Breakfast is ready.”
“Coming.” He grabbed his cup and went out to eat, looking forward to the boat trip more than he had been when he’d woken up.
Now that really was progress.