Page 49 of Pity Play

“He likes to fish in the summer. He skis in the winter. I’m not sure what he does in the spring.”

Taking a bite of oatmeal, I release a sound of pleasure. “Yum! Is there ginger in here?”

“Candied ginger, peanut butter, cinnamon, and frozen blueberries.”

“It’s a weird and wonderful combination,” I tell him. “Seriously good.”

“Thanks.” My praise doesn’t seem to affect him.

“Look, Luke,” I finally say, “even if you tied your dad up andforced him to talk, you can’t make him see your side of things. You can only do your best.”

“That’s what I have been doing, but I’m not making any headway.”

“Have you thought about telling him that you’re cooking at Pop’s?”

His eyes widen with anxiety. “He might never speak to me again if he knew that.”

I haven’t been into Pop’s since the supper we shared the other day, so I tell him, “I was thinking about eating there tonight. Any chance you’ll be around?”

“I’ll be there,” he says. “Why don’t you come by around seven. I’m off early tonight.”

“Sounds like a date." I quickly realize my mistake and amend that to, “Sounds like a plan.”

Luke stands up and puts his coffee cup into the sink. “Thanks for listening, Lorelai. Sorry I’m so grumpy. I’m just frustrated.”

“I know the feeling,” I tell him. “Life doesn’t always turn out the way we think it should and that can be quite a shock.”

“You mean like you having to leave your house?”

“That’s certainly one of the things.” It’s more like the main thing. Other than having to move, I really like my life.

“I’ve always been of the mind that we make our own opportunities,” he tells me.

For as simple a statement as that is, something about it really hits home. I guess I’ve always just gone with the flow and hoped for the best. Tucking his words into the back of my mind, I tell him, “I’m here if you ever need to talk.” The truth is that I really like talking to Luke. I feel like he is becoming a lot more than just a past crush. He’s a really decent guy in his own right.

The expression in his eyes softens. “Thank you. I really enjoy talking to you.” Walking toward the door, he says, “I’ll see you tonight.”

As Luke leaves, I realize that I cannot let myself keep pining after him like I have been. I’m just not sure how to stop myfeelings. While my original crush on him was one hundred percent motivated by teenage hormones—and there’s still a large percentage of raw attraction going on—I’m also getting to know him. And darn if I don’t like what I see. Luke is a good person. He’s hard-working and driven, but he’s also determined to make things right with his dad. That says a lot about the caliber of man he is.

After finishing my breakfast, I put my bowl into the sink and head into the living room. My parents have collected a weird array of stuff over the years, from bookends shaped like giant noses to animal statues carved from compressed walnut shells. There’s nothing here I would fight my brother for possession of, yet I can’t imagine relegating it all to the shelves at the charity shop. I send pictures to Noah, hoping he’ll take custody of some of it.

My dad’s alien books take up three boxes. Then I pack a drawer full of candles, thinking I might take those with me. If things don’t go well in the hunt for the perfect apartment, I might need a little mood lighting to keep me from noticing the water stains on the walls and the rats running across the floor of my living room. Not to mention keeping things bright after dark should my electricity be shut off for non-payment. Hypothetically speaking, of course.

I’m not sure why I think I’ll be lowered to living in some Dickensian slum, but honestly, that’s all that comes to mind at the moment.

I close my eyes and advise myself, “Buckle up, buttercup. You. Have. Got. This. Failure is not an option.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

LUKE

After leaving Lorelai’s, I head straight to my parents’ house where I discover my mom has already left for the hospital. My dad is going to be discharged today, which means my mom, in her typical drill sergeant way, is ready to take command. She texted me earlier to let me know they should be arriving home somewhere between eleven and one. She’s also left me a list of things to do.

Once I get everything in order, I’ll get to work and make my dad a special welcome home lunch. He might not want it, but there really isn’t much else I can offer him.

After letting myself through the front door, I realize how depressing it looks. The hospital bed in the living room reminds me what it was like at my grandparents' house when my grandfather started hospice. He could no longer take the stairs, so he spent his remaining days in the living room. Thank goodness my dad will only be downstairs until he heals. Yet, it’s still an unpleasant reminder that there are no guarantees in life.

After hanging my coat up, I go into the kitchen to make a pot of coffee. That’s where I find another note from my mom. It’ssitting on top of an old photo album that I’ve never seen before. It says:

---