Page 68 of Pity Play

“You just have to take each day as it comes,” I tell her. “Seriously, I was really scared when my parents told me they were selling, but the truth is, I think it was the best thing for me. It spurredme on and I’m starting to have ideas about a job that I’d really love to have.”

“I thought you said you were happy working at the lodge.”

“I was, but given my new circumstances, I can’t keep working there so I have to find something else.”

Allie throws her hands into the air. “I don’t even have a plan anymore! I’m so far off schedule, I don’t know how I’ll ever get back on. My life is nowhere near where it should be.”

“According to who?” I ask.

“According to me.” She plops back down on the couch and rolls herself into a small ball.

“You need some pudding,” I tell her. Then I get up and walk into the kitchen and make my friend a box of cookies and cream instant pudding.

I’ve always looked at other people and thought they had it all together, but now I’m starting to see there’s nothing wrong with how I’ve lived my life. Bumps come no matter how much you think you’re on track. Hard times affect everyone.

I’m happy with how my life is turning out, and happinessisthe goal, no matter how that looks to other people.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

LUKE

I couldn’t stop thinking of Lorelai last night. Memory after memory from our younger years popped into my head but this time I saw the past through her eyes. The girl worshipped me, and she made no bones about letting me know. In a typically thoughtless teenage way, I was annoyed by her adoration. I wish I could go back in time and give myself a swift kick in the butt. Not that anything could or would have happened given our age difference, but I sure as heck could have been nicer to her.

Lorelai was so upset last night that this morning I make the decision to pack up my things and move them over to my parents’ house for the rest of my stay in Elk Lake. It’s not that I don’t want to see her. I find that’s the problem. I don’t want to cause her any more heartache than I already have.

I consider leaving her a note to thank her for letting me stay with her, but I think that might make her angry. I'll call her to thank her and see if she wants to meet up before I return to Chicago.

My dad is still sleeping when I walk into my parents’ house. My mom leads the way to the kitchen before telling me, “Dad atethree bowls of soup last night and the equivalent of two whole sandwiches.”

“He must have been on a hunger strike,” I tease.

“He loved everything that you made for him,” she tells me.

“Then why did he tell me to quit bringing him food when he was in the hospital?”

“Because you brought your food, not his. And your food makes him think he’s not good enough, like you’re the better chef.”

“I’ve been training a long time,” I tell her. I put the grocery sack I’m carrying on the counter before pulling a mixing bowl out of the cabinet. I take six eggs out of the refrigerator before cracking them into the bowl and adding some heavy cream and cinnamon. “I haven’t made Dad’s french toast in ages.”

“Make a lot,” she says. “I’m starving.”

As she sits down at the kitchen table to keep me company, I ask, “How did Dad sleep last night?”

“He tossed around a bit, but once I gave him his pain meds, he knocked off.”

“I talked to Jim about Dad’s childhood,” I tell her.

She nods her head. “He’s a good man.”

I whisk the egg mixture into a froth before saying, “I’m going to have to tell Dad that I know.”

“I figured.”

“So, you’re fine with that?”

“I am. My first goal is peace in the kingdom, and I have not been very pleased the last couple of years.”

“How do you want me to handle things? Do you want me to tell Dad that I just came across his album?”

---