Despite it being out of the blue, he hadn’t needed more than a couple seconds to understand what I’d been talking about. He’d inclined his head, said, “I figured it was something like that,” then bought me a drink.
He’d made it clear that he wouldn’t pry, but he was there if I wanted to talk.
I never wanted to talk.
That said, I couldn’t live like this anymore.
“I have to get my shit together.”
“I’m kinda good at helping others with that.” Ethan threw that out there.
I nodded once, appreciating his offer. It was his gym Darius and I sparred at, and he joined us sometimes when we switched things up and lifted weights.
“Any word from Ryan and Jake lately?” I knew we wouldn’t hear from Darius until he was stateside again. He went off the grid completely when he worked.
“Yeah, sure. They try to email once a week, as I’m guessing you know.”
I did. It was a thing in their family. With two autistic sisters who depended on structure, it was vital that no one made any promises they couldn’t keep, because the girls waited by the phone or the computer. Therefore, the “try” in try to email once a week was very important. So Willow and Elise didn’t bank on a response.
“They’re doing all right,” Ethan went on. “Ryan’s gone dark for a while, but he gave us a heads-up.”
Damn it, I was failing Jake. I’d told him I’d be there for his sisters.
“Do you have plans next weekend?” I wondered. “Maybe we could do a barbecue at your folks’ place. I’d like to see if there’s anything I can do for them.”
“Yeah, no, that sounds good.” He nodded. “Ma worries about you sometimes.”
That made me feel uncomfortable and humbled at the same time.
Five
Three days later, I felt marginally better.
I’d changed my cell phone number, I’d finished polishing and treating the hardwood floors in the downstairs of my house, and I had spoken to the principal at school. Phil had assured me that everything would work out fine, but that I’d be on administrative leave until my record had been expunged. And since it was the middle of summer, I wasn’t looking at more than maybe an extra month away from work.
I could live with that. My attorney didn’t foresee any problems.
At the moment, the only niggling worry I had at the back of my mind was that Pipsqueak hadn’t visited in a long time. She’d stopped by the new house twice right around the time I moved in, but then I’d gone off the deep end and hadn’t been outside much.
I talked to Mary yesterday to confirm our barbecue on Saturday, and she’d given me the girls’ numbers—while assuring me they were doing okay.
Still, I kind of missed Pipsqueak’s random musings and brutal honesty.
After covering my shiny floor in cardboard, I decided to take a break. My next task involved tearing down the old molding and fixing the uneven surfaces in the walls. I had the plaster already, but I’d have to go out tomorrow to buy paint.
I grabbed a Coke from the fridge and then stepped outside on my patio in the backyard. I’d been more of a front porch guy in the past, but my new one was too small and had only one step. A couple lawn chairs in the backyard would have to do for now, though I had plans to make something grander here soon. Some of the boards on the deck needed to be replaced.
A handful of kids were playing soccer on the big lawn between my house and the playground. They looked to be around Pipsqueak’s age.
I sent her a quick text as I sat down with my soda.
This is Avery. Your mother gave me your number. I just wanted to check in and see how you’re doing.
I sent a similar message to Willow, who responded very quickly.
I am okay. How are you? I will add your number too.
I hoped she meant it. I’d been around those girls enough to know that they had a few rehearsed replies, one of them being when asked how they were doing. Then again, my response was just as rehearsed.
All good here. Let me know if there’s anything I can do or if your mother needs help.
“Mister!”
My head snapped up. I spied Pipsqueak darting across the playground and the lawn where the kids were playing soccer. I felt the corners of my mouth twist up a little, and I had to admit it was a relief to see her. She was clearly enjoying the summer to the fullest. She showed up in shorts, bare feet, a top that was maybe a little too skimpy, and a ponytail that swished from side to side as she ran.
She was carrying another bottle of lemonade with her.
By the time she reached the gate to my fence, her cheeks were a little flushed, and she smiled widely. “You’re alive again!”
I chuckled quietly. “Was I dead before?”
“It sure looked like it.” She opened the gate and widened her eyes. “I rang the doorbell a few days ago, but you didn’t answer. So, it’s possible I looked in through the kitchen window, and you were asleep on a mattress in the living room.”
I made a face. That couldn’t have been a flattering sight.
Pipsqueak skipped across the lawn and jumped up on the deck to have a seat in the chair next to mine. “I got your text.”
I figured.
“You have to try this one.” She extended the bottle to me. “It’s lemon, papaya, and kiwi.”
That explained the little black seeds swimming at the bottom of the otherwise-clear yellow liquid.
Having declined the previous two lemonades she’d brought with her, I reckoned the least I could do was try this one. I set down my Coke on the floorboards and accepted the bottle, then took a tentative sip.
Oh. I’d expected it to be either too tart or too sweet, but it was good. Really good. I liked kiwi. It was perfectly chilled too.
“You like it, don’t you?” Pipsqueak’s green eyes lit up in anticipation of my answer, and I couldn’t help but smile.
“It’s good,” I admitted.
She beamed. “Keep it. We have twelve more bottles.”
“That’s sweet of you.” I took another swig—okay, two. “How’s your summer treating you? Did you do anything fun for the 4th?”
“We got to Skype with Jake,” she said happily. “We didn’t do a big barbecue, though. Aunt Britt is still upset, and Mom misses the guys.”
I frowned. “Did I miss something about your aunt?”
“She’s getting divorced,” she sighed. “I overheard her telling Mom that my uncle met a bunch of other women.”
I winced and peered down at the lemonade bottle. Part of me felt it hit too close to home, while the other part of me wondered what Britt had done to make her husband cheat. And…I knew that was a fucked-up thought that proved how low I’d sunk.
I didn’t believe in a black-and-white world where, if one was right, the other was automatically wrong. Life was a series of events, and some caused backlashes and reactions, such as my distrust of women. I could rationalize and analyze; I wasn’t stupid. My misogyny had its roots in my childhood, and the last two years of my marriage with Angie had made things much worse. But I knew, in theory, that not all women were deceitful little whores. I was just struggling to accept the reality. My genuine feelings for women had been blackened but were nevertheless real, and I honestly didn’t know how to fix it. I didn’t know how to go from wondering what Britt had done wrong to merely saying their situation sucked and being betrayed hurt.