Chapter 16
“A front handspring.”
Raising the can of beer to my lips, I wave Riley off before sitting on the steps beside him. “Child’s play.”
I jump and turn when Riley scoots closer to me, tilting his face closer to mine. “Can you juggle ?” he whispers, his voice unsure but laced with hope.
The childish side of Riley used to bother me, like at Lucas's birthday when he led a gang of second graders armed with water guns to take me down. And maybe it’s because I’m about to finish my second beer, but this time, I’m drawn to it. His eyes widen with the breath he holds and twinkle with some sort of wonder, like I might be the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.
I’ve been staring at him too long, so I clear my throat and look down. “That’s like asking you if you can boogie board.”
“Anyone can boogie board. Not everyone can juggle.”
“Yes. I can juggle,” I say, but the look on Riley’s face tells me that my answer alone won’t satisfy him. Sighing, I peek over my shoulder at the remaining cans of the six-pack he brought out. I stand, grabbing three of them. “Don’t open these until tomorrow,” I warn, and then, much to Riley’s clear amusement, I perform .
Juggling is simply a rhythm dictated by the weight of whatever you’ve got in your hands. And we juggle all the time—work, relationships, friends, kids. Life is one big balancing act, and even though the cans I currently juggle are a piece of cake, my life has been anything but because the universe has thrown me a couple of boulders to manage on rhythm too.
Riley claps. “I am beyond impressed. Can you teach me?”
I lean my head and chest back to catch a can when I slow my pace to stop. “We’ll have to find a few balls. I don’t feel like power washing beer off the patio.”
“What? You don’t think I can do it?”
“I didn’t say that. It just takes practice is all.” I place the cans on a step below him, sighing when I feel his stare. “What? Don’t ask me to walk across the electric wire.”
His deep green eyes widen again. “Can you?”
I laugh and sit back in my place.
“I can’t believe he kept this from me,” Riley sneers. “You’re not lying, are you? Did you really grow up in a circus?”
“Technically, I grew up in a fifth wheel.”
The thought of the trailer makes me feel cramped and claustrophobic even though Riley and I sit outside in the fresh air. The stench of stale cigarette smoke stings my nose even though it’s a memory. For me, the worst memories are the kind you can smell and most of my childhood has a stench.
“But yes,” I continue, “My parents owned a circus. My dad was the ringleader, my mom choreographed and performed. We were always on the road. I think the longest we stayed in one place was when I was twelve somewhere in Arkansas and that’s only because my dad got arrested for not having the right permits.”
“That’s gotta be tough for a kid.”
“A little,” I admit. “I mean. There’s magic at the circus, sure. If you’re watching. But…it’s not magical behind the scenes. I was homeschooled, sometimes . My friends were all adults—performers, truckers. We were always on the go. I guess you could say I had a big family but…it wouldn’t be something I’d wish upon a kid. I ran away when I was seventeen.” I shrug. “I don’t want anything even close to the chaos for Lucas.”
These days, it feels like we’re getting close.
“What?” I ask when I turn back, finding Riley standing.
“He’s going to be alright, you know.”
A heavy sigh leaves my heart. “He’s going to be heartbroken.”
“I don’t mean just about Tides,” Riley says quietly. “He’ll be alright because you’re his mom.”
Even though I’m not sure I believe Riley’s words, I smile as genuinely as I did in the parking lot after Career Day before things went south.
Part of me wants to push him a bit, to understand the boundary Riley drew with the one thing he loves most in life. But I don’t want to ruin the peace that this moment is full of. I don’t want to make heavy the air that finally feels so easy between us when all around is a hurricane.
I give him something else.
“I’m sorry,” I admit honestly.
“For what?”
I rub my lips together and then sigh. “I never exactly treated you kindly. I looked at you as a threat and…”
And the truth is, I’m grateful that in this life, before and after me, Nate did have Riley, right up until the end.
“A threat ?” Riley laughs. “Me. A threat. Why do you have me saved as Peter Pan in your phone then? He wasn’t threatening. Why didn’t you give me Captain Hook?”
My eyes widen.
“Yeah. I know about that. And for the record, now that I know what I know about you, you’re definitely Tinker Bell.”
The frown I hold explodes into a laugh. “Tinker Bell?”
“I mean, she can fly. And she kind of just goes about fixing everything until its perfect again. It feels like the perfect fit. But she definitely wasn’t threatened by Peter Pan. I think she actually was in love with him.”
I wave him off. “It’s ridiculous I know. But…you know before we moved here, I knew more about you than anyone else. Even Claire. You were the most important person in his life—”
“Until you. I’m not sure how you don’t see that.”
But I don’t. Because I’ve never been more important to anyone.
I never was more important to my parents than the circus. My needs—basic, innocent ones—were secondary. It didn’t matter to them that Lenny, who handled ticketing, taught me how to multiply, or that Priscilla, another acrobat, taught me to read. It didn’t bother my parents that while other kids my age were reading Harry Potter , I was nose deep into a Danielle Steel novel Priscilla lent me from her own personal library.
It didn’t even matter when I ran away. No one came looking for me.
And it didn’t matter to Nate that when it came to Riley, my distaste for him wasn’t important, the anxiety he stirred up within me was nothing. But Riley—and the chaotic way with which he lived his life—didn’t fit in my first comes love, then comes marriage formula. His easy going, worry-about-it-later approach to life was like a piece of my unwanted past parking illegally in my present.
I frown at the thought that maybe Nate knew I never had enough reason to hate Riley beyond my own insecurities.
I shake my head. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t have to apologize. I mean, we’re sitting here together, right?” Riley leans back on the steps. “If it makes you feel better, I guess I was kind of wrong too.”
“Riley—”
“I didn’t think you were a threat ,” he continues with a laugh. “But…yeah, it was kind of clear you thought there wasn’t a place for me here. And I guess I lumped you in with all the other people in my life who sort of always thought the same thing. ”
There’s a softness to Riley’s voice as he tightropes along the fine line of vulnerability. “Who?” I ask, gently.
Riley gives a half shrug. “I guess you told me about your secret circus life, so maybe I should tell you about mine.”
I lean forward and tease, “You were a clown, weren’t you?”
Riley snorts. “No. My secret isn’t so interesting.”
“You already told me you passed the Bar,” I remind him.
“Yeah,” Riley says, “What you don’t know is I passed it on the third time. And that’s not because I’m not smart, or because, I don’t know, maybe you have an idea in your head that I stayed out way too late the night before and woke up on the beach with sand down my—”
“I didn’t think that.”
Riley passes me a playful smirk and lifts a finger. “That was only the second time.”
I smack his arm even though I can’t tell if he’s joking.
“No, it took me so long because I’m…dyslexic. And I struggle with it. Even as an adult.”
My first thought is that Riley’s secret doesn’t seem to be like the kind of thing he should feel the need to keep to himself. But then, I realize, I don’t really know all that much about dyslexia, apart from a few handouts from Lucas's school early on in the year about what to look for at home. And if I’m being honest, I don’t even remember what those notices said.
“I don’t test well,” Riley continues. “Never have. Not on a second-grade spelling test or the Bar.”
I gnaw on my lip for a moment. “So, reading is difficult?”
“It’s more than difficult and it’s more than reading,” Riley tells me. “Yeah, letters are difficult, so reading is hard. And there’s lots of tips and tricks you should pick up along the way, but I wasn’t even diagnosed until my senior year in high school. Before that…”
“Before that, what?”
“Everyone thought I was stupid. Especially, my father.”
I flinch from Riley’s words, as if the hurt I imagine him feeling is my own. Because I’m a parent. And parents are kids’ first—and most important—cheerleaders. You applaud along with them when they learn to clap with chubby hands, nearly scare them with your enthusiasm after they take their first steps. Parents celebrate the first and last days of school, because they’re proud of not just all the accomplishments leading up to the days, but the possibilities as well. I can’t imagine calling Lucas stupid. I can’t imagine ripping away at just one ounce of confidence I’ve loved watching him gain.
“But, law school, becoming a lawyer. Yeah, there was some pretty heavy pressure to do that. I felt vindicated by the diagnosis, but it changed nothing for him. Truth be told, I went to law school at night. It took me five years. And…yeah, I don’t read all that great, but I can still learn. Took me two years to realize if someone read the material out loud, it was way easier for me. I paid people to do it. Nate did it.” Riley lifts his head as he laughs. “Before he was stationed in North Carolina he narrated all of my damn Tortes book and only asked for a six-pack of beer and a burger.”
The smile hurts, but I can’t fight it. Because that’s exactly something Nate would do.
“And he helped me again. This time with the Bar.” Riley takes a deep breath. “All those nights last summer we’d be out late, we were at the library.”
I press my lips together. “The library?”
Riley scratches his head. “I didn’t…I don’t like people knowing this stuff about me because if it turns out not to go my way, it gives them a reason to look down on me.”
“Did…did you think I would look down on you?”
Riley raises his eyebrows.
“I mean for this reason?”
“I don’t know. If you found out it took me five years to get through law school and three times to pass the Bar, would you?”
“I’m not right now. Not one bit,” I answer honestly but inside, I feel terrible. “You shouldn’t be scrutinized because you learn differently.”
Riley picks at an imaginary spot on his shorts. “I was though. My whole life.”
He speaks so matter-of-factly, like being treated differently for being different is to be expected. I’m bothered by it. And I have to take a deep breath because I wonder if I’ve really just treated Riley poorly for being different too. The realization makes my stomach sour even if it wasn’t intentional. I spent years thinking he was plagued by Peter Pan syndrome, a man who outright refused to grow up, to actually be a man.
Maybe Riley was just scared to grow up.
“You shouldn’t have been punished, especially by your family. You should be celebrated,” I tell him. “I mean, look at what you’ve accomplished.”
“Hello, pot.” Riley pokes me in the arm. “Meet kettle.”
“I didn’t even graduate high school.”
“You run your own business.”
I know I can work hard, but at the end of the day, my business doesn’t lend itself necessarily to doing something meaningful. Not like what Riley is about to do.
Maybe I need to work on my poker face, because Riley seems to read my thoughts.
“You made the greatest kid there is.”
Lucas is my biggest accomplishment. But if there’s anything I realized since the incident at the dog park and the way Lucas welcomed Riley home is that Riley had a hand in that accomplishment too. And I feel guilty for never acknowledging that before.
“Thank you for helping me with him. And I’m not just talking about recently. I mean…” I take a shaky breath. “Since the beginning.”
Riley recoils from me in surprise and I don’t blame him. “Did you take something today? You’re being awfully nice to me.”
Without thinking I reach out and rest my hand on top of Riley’s. Beneath my palm I feel the scar from his surgery. “I mean it.”
There’s something that is so warm and comforting about Riley in this moment and I’m tempted to do another thing I’m not sure I ever have before—I want to hug him, to hold on tightly.
I used to think Riley was the chaos. But now, when life is chaotic, when perfection flips upside down and backwards, Riley is constant and unchanging. He's now my calm, safe place within the chaos and more, within the unknown.
Riley flips his hand and links his fingers with mine and I look down to see how easily we might fit when we let it happen. A gentle squeeze of his hand sends a warmth up my arm and when I look, I find two forest green eyes already staring. I can’t help but wonder if he’s thinking the same as me— what if ?
What if we knew each other as individuals instead of who we were when tied to each other by another?
Riley’s face comes into clearer view, as if I’m seeing him for the first time in high definition instead of through a grainy video. That’s what happens, I realize, when walls fall and honesty flows. And what I see in Riley is someone misunderstood, someone who doesn’t simply march to the beat of his own drum. He’s just a man who functions and learns differently.
But the lines etched into his skin around his mouth and beneath his textured beard let me know he laughs the same. And the pain in his eyes as he leans forward…it lets me know he hurts the same.
Instead of being tied together because of Nate, we’re bound together because of his absence. This loss—it’s ours to comfort each other through. That’s what I want, to be close to maybe the only one who understands how deep this grief is. I want Riley swimming beside me so we reach the surface together.
And right now, neither of us move closer, but we don’t pull away either. We sit, so close I can smell his breath sweet from the beer, count the array of the lightest freckles spanning across the bridge of his nose, notice for the first time the depth of the green of his eyes.
It took several years and one tragedy for me to see the beauty hiding behind Riley’s rugged features, and one simple conversation to understand maybe he never was who I thought. Maybe he was just afraid to show me who he really is. Or who he really could be.
There’s a sweep of his gaze across my face, an invisible stroke I swear I can feel everywhere. Maybe it’s the beer or the refreshing honesty, but I swear, I feel it across my lips.
It's only when I feel the need to clear my throat that I realize Riley's gaze took my breath away.
“Mutually assured destruction forced a change in my attitude,” I answer his earlier question. “I mean, I did tell you my secret.” I drop his hand.
Riley chuckles. “Ah, right. Circus freak.”
Even though it doesn’t bother me, I find myself elbowing him anyway, like my body is looking for a reason to touch him.
Quickly, I return my arm to my side.
“I can’t believe he never told me,” I admit.
“I could say the same.”
“I guess trust-worthiness was one of his top qualities.”
Riley sighs. “Add it to the list. The very long list of one damn good person.”
“Isn’t that what they say?” I look at Riley. “Only the good die young, right?”
I watch as Riley’s face hardens—his jaw clenching, skin paling, eyes dulling. This is where I lose him. This is where he goes dark. We can stay in the light—the two of us, teasing, working together, whatever—so long as we don’t let the memory of the very person who put us in this situation cast shade over it all.
But Riley’s blank stare makes me think maybe we—or at least I—have let that happen. Judging by how quickly he jumps to his feet, it feels more certain than just maybe .
“Forgot I had a shipment coming to the store today. I’ll try to be home by the time you get home with Lucas.”
“Don’t worry about it.”
There’s a metric ton of awkwardness between us, like we hadn’t just spent the afternoon laughing, talking, sharing, and poking fun at each other. And enjoying it. Or at least I was.
Maybe a little too much.