Chapter 3 #2
The creek shaded our exploration area, but I kept an eye on his cheeks to make sure they weren’t getting too pink.
I’d seen his dad put sunscreen on him when they arrived, but I wanted to make sure he wasn’t getting too much sun anyway.
I hadn’t spent a lot—well, any really—of time with kids since I left home when I was nineteen, but today’s adventure made me a little nostalgic for my days as a kid at the creek.
Maybe I hadn’t wanted to spend my life in Carnarvon, Iowa, but there were still good memories attached.
Which reminded me… I needed to call my folks.
“You ready to go back to your dad?”
After thirty minutes with me cataloging all the bugs and rocks he could find, he’d begun looking over his shoulder.
“Hey! You gotta help,” Ben told me with a definitive nod.
“Absolutely. Which ones do you want me to carry?”
Ben divvied the rocks that needed to be shown to his dad and uncle into piles for both of us.
He agreed the roly-polies would stay home in the creek bed, along with a few snails we found.
The pile he claimed for himself looked heavy, so when his attention was diverted, I snuck some of the bigger rocks into my own.
Once everything was properly divided, we carried his treasures back to the table.
“Dad, look,” Ben ordered.
If Marc minded the messy hands that maneuvered his face to look at the rocks, he kept it to himself. Instead, he oohed and aahed at the proper times while Ben sweetly gave me credit for a few finds.
“It looks like Ben’s messiness is contagious,” Henry whispered into my ear after a shoulder nudge. “You’re kind of a mess.”
“Oh crap, I’m sorry… Your car…mud…” My voice trailed off when the extent of my carelessness hit me. “I can catch an Uber back to the house…”
Well, maybe the bus because Halo House gave me a place to stay, but I hadn’t figured out how I was going to pay for my life yet.
“Marc, we’ll be right back.”
His brother absently waved us off while his attention remained focused on Ben’s in-depth explanation of what the lines on the rock meant. I was impressed he got some of what I’d explained about compression right.
Henry didn’t ask or wait for permission before my dirty hand was clasped in his and used to move me away from the table. We headed toward the park restrooms, which had a row of sinks along the concrete wall.
Once there, Henry wordlessly pushed down the automatic faucet, which sent freezing water blasting out. The force on my hands created a ricochet effect, and it soaked the front of Henry’s polo.
“Oh jeez, I’m just making a bigger mess.”
“You’re not. I am,” Henry said with a chuckle laced with unmistakable firmness.
Ugh, as much as I was happy to be led, it was exactly what got me on the damn plate to begin with. My brain told me to pull away and wash my own damn hands. What I did instead was exactly nothing but stand there obediently like a… I don’t know what.
Actually, I did know.
And that was one game I refused to play.
“I’m very dusty. There’s a bus or something, I’m sure,” I offered tentatively.
“Are you new here? Public transportation isn’t really our thing,” Henry answered with a grin. “The seats are leather and a vacuum works perfectly fine on the floorboards. Get in.”
Henry held the door open and jerked his head toward the passenger seat. I made one final attempt to stand my ground.
He waited me out.
I got in.
“You know I’ve got a solid fifteen years on you. Respect your elders, or something.”
“Fifteen? How old do you think I am?”
“I don’t know…twenty-five?”
“Thirty-two, and pretty sure you don’t qualify as my elder. You’re what…thirty-nine? Forty?”
“Yeah, sadly, I look my age.” My laugh sounded a little forced, but I think I covered it well.
“Which is?”
“Thirty-nine for another minute.”
I wasn’t sure where Henry was headed, but I knew it wasn’t Halo House.
It was the opposite direction. Someone with more self-preservation would ask where we were going.
Since that wasn’t me, I just enjoyed the quiet of the car.
The afternoon had been so much fun, and exploring the creek with Ben was a definite highlight, but now, I was inexplicably exhausted.
We hadn’t been in the sun that much, but I was still worn out.
“For what it’s worth, I like your looks.”
Henry’s declaration sounded sincere enough that I wasn’t sure whether to say thank you or laugh. I settled on looking out the window to count the passing houses. They eventually gave way to more industrial spaces.
“Thanks. They’re all I’ve got to work with, so I’ll take it.”
“What’s that mean?”
“I’m tired.”
“Of what?”
Oh, for cryin’ out loud. I needed to learn to keep the intrusive thoughts in my head.
A lie would be easier to say but harder to defend.
The real answer was tired of all of it. Not living, because I definitely wanted that to continue, but of gauging and measuring and figuring out how to make myself as pleasing as possible.
It was frigging exhausting, and I was half-tempted to tell the truth.
“Being kept.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” I said with a melodramatic sigh, “come for the company and stay for the existential crisis.”
“As it turns out, those are best solved over tacos.”
“Yeah? How do you know?”
“It’s my job to know things.”
“I thought your job was to be a lawyer?”
“Ha, practically the same thing. Existential crises are my Tuesdays. In fairness, yours sounds more interesting than theirs, but still solvable.”
“You sure about that?” I’d returned to looking out the window.
With the top down, I was hopeful the dust would blow away, but more likely, I just looked windblown and bedraggled.
“I’m hopeful, and even if I’m wrong, there’s tacos, so it’s a win either way.”
Henry’s hand found its way back to mine.
While he steered with his left, he wrapped his fingers around mine.
Together, they rested on the center console and stayed that way until he needed both hands to pull into the parking lot.
It had been longer than I could remember since comfort without strings was offered.
I hoped this was the first time in a long time because if it wasn’t, I would be pissed. And more than a little disappointed.
“Don’t let the truck fool you. These are the best tacos you’ve had in your entire life,” Henry assured me with an emphatic nod in the direction of the neon-clad truck plastered with hand-lettered signs. “I suggest the carne asada, but the chicken is an excellent choice too.”
“The best usually do come from trucks,” I assured him.
“The tortillas are homemade perfection.”
“How’d you find this place?” I asked after Henry pulled into a parking spot.
After putting the car into Park, his hand found mine again. This time he laced our fingers together, and it…wasn’t terrible.
“It belongs to the parents of a client. I insisted that all our meetings take place here after I tried it the first time,” Henry said with an easy laugh.
I started to move for the door when Henry tugged my hand to keep me in the bucket seat.
“Nope. You wait.”
And I did.
“You don’t have to do that,” I assured him after he opened the door, took my hand, and helped me out of the car. “I’m not quite elderly, even if I’m old.”
“You’re not old. You’re definitely not elderly, and I do have to do it because it’s the polite thing to do.”
“So shouldn’t I get your door, and then we can fight it out?”
“Ha! I think it’s cute you think there’s a chance of you winning this argument.”
“Is this our first fight?”
“Yes, it is, and I appreciate you graciously letting me win. Thank you for that.”
Henry’s grin was genuine.
And my answering one was too.
It felt like a date, and I had no idea what I thought about that.