Total pages in book: 74
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 70570 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 353(@200wpm)___ 282(@250wpm)___ 235(@300wpm)
“It was rather great,” I tell my father, silencing my thoughts. “I got to see a lot of the town—which turned out to be all the town. Even had a peek in that new gym complex the Strongs opened.”
“Bobby and Jimmy,” my dad subtly corrects me.
“Well, you know the two of them didn’t buy a huge building like that without help. Obviously it’s owned by the Strongs.”
He shakes his head with a huff, seems to debate whether or not to go into another lecture about how wonderful and sweet and “changed” Jimmy Strong is, then visibly decides against it. “Well, I hope you had a great time today, anyhow. It’s important to meet new people. You need more friends in your life.”
I wonder where Samuel is right now. How he’s feeling. If he would quit being such a petulant, jealous adult child, I believe we could be friends … or whatever.
Friends … or whatever.
“You always tell me that,” I mumble.
“And you never listen. I’m telling you, had you taken some of this golden advice over the years, you wouldn’t be so lonely now.”
“Thinking mighty highly of yourself, calling your own advice golden. Have you tried living a day in my shoes?”
“Malc-ooolm,” he sings warningly. “Don’t spoil the spirit.”
“What spirit? We won’t even be at home for Christmas, where I like it. You, me, bad movies, and a lot of eggnog.”
“You always sulk during the holiday season, Malcolm. Tell me what difference it makes whether we sulk at home or here?”
“I even told you I don’t want to stay here with the Strongs.”
“And I’m telling you to embrace new experiences. You already met a lovely young man and spent the whole day with him. What is so wrong with you that you can’t even enjoy that?”
I can’t get Samuel out of my head. His teasing voice. His puppy dog eyes. His immature, boorish behavior. The look of stone-cold determination on his face as he kept stubbornly eating that spicy burger. The way his posture broke when he decided to leave.
“It really makes one wonder why you wouldn’t take your own golden advice,” I retort with due attitude, crossing my arms. “If you went out and met some new faces yourself, Dad, maybe you wouldn’t be spending another holiday season crying yourself to sleep with old, cheesy romance movies every night, licking your ever-bleeding wounds after Mom left.”
Silence pierces the night air.
Echoes of my own words haunt me, leaving me feeling aghast at what I just said. My dad didn’t deserve that.
Why did I go there?
“I … I just mean that I think you—” Backpedaling is the worst feeling on Earth. “I know you’re busy. With work and … and life.” I’m a shitty son. “It isn’t easy to meet compatible, suitable women in Fairview. They don’t fall out of the sky.” I’m the worst son in the world. “No one can truly replace Mom. I just meant … I just—”
“It’s okay, son.”
I dare to look at him. “I’m sorry for how that came out.”
“Why be sorry? You’re right.” He lifts his chin proudly. In the sharp glare of the moon and a nearby porch light, his eyes look like the points of two needles. “I should be the last person dishing out romance advice. The only thing I should dish out … are dishes. It’s the only place I ever truly belonged. In the kitchen.”
“Dad …”
He puts a hand gently on my shoulder, gives it a loving rub, then rises from the bench. “I’ll retire early tonight. Maybe you ought to as well. It’s the rehearsal dinner tomorrow, and then the wedding Friday, and …” He lets out a sigh. “I guess after that, you get your wish, and we go home … back to our lovely, lonely lives.”
He heads back inside before I can say another word, leaving me on the swinging bench by myself. I stare off, once again chilled to the bones by the unknowable, scary potential of this mighty, dark power I sometimes hold in my terrible words.
I wish I had the magic of Cole’s infectious smile instead.
Or the special power of Samuel’s crude humor that makes any situation bearable.
When I finally head inside, I find the house empty, even Jacky-Ann having left to wherever it is she resides when she’s not doing her duties. I don’t even know if she lives on the property and can’t be bothered to wonder about it now. I walk up to the Christmas tree, still glowing with its multicolored lights, which are on an electric timer that switches them off at a certain hour. Everyone has retired to their rooms already, leaving the house feeling vast and cold. Only I’m around to appreciate the tree’s splendor.
The tree’s splendor … which is owed entirely to the one and only person I can’t get out of my mind.