Page 40 of Even in the Dark

“Tough session?”

“It was fine.”

He nods. He always looks disappointed with my answers; not sure why he keeps asking.

The server comes by with our menus and takes our drink orders. Tells us the specials: lobster something. The special in these places is always lobster something. Not saying it’s bad, just not as life changing as these people hype it up to be. It’s an oversized shrimp with a huge-ass shell.

Phil takes a sip of water. “The lobster shepherd’s pie sounded good, hm?”

“Sure.”

Not gonna tell him lobster shepherd’s pie sounds weird as fuck.

Think he knows, though, because he smiles. “You’re going to have the burger, aren’t you?”

My lip tics up. “Yeah. Think so.”

“Solid choice… Can’t go wrong with a burger.”

These are the kinds of conversations Phil and I have when he isn’t asking about my feelings. Total opposite of the conversations he has with the rest of his family. With them, it’s politics and history and news and stuff the girls are learning at school or whatever. Discussions—not conversations. I know the difference now. A conversation you can carry on while you’re thinking about something else. A discussion, you can’t. Need to be fully checked in for those. Not sure I’ve ever had a discussion in my life.

The burger is good. The conversation is bland. I keep losing focus and Phil has to keep repeating stuff. It’s not just the fire distracting me or the insane waves outside; there are a couple of girls around my age sitting at a packed table nearby who keep looking at me and whispering. Gets my back up, but I pretend not to notice. Phil does the same.

We finally finish, and the server brings the bill. After he’s paid, Phil clears his throat and leans forward. Trying to act casual in a way that sets me on high alert.

“Look. Dylan…” He takes a sip of water, then puts the glass down slowly, his eyes meeting mine. “I’m wondering if you could tell me about the hole in your bathroom wall?”

Shit.He knows.

Wasn’t expecting that.

“What hole?”

The corners of Phil’s mouth tighten, and he lifts an eyebrow. This look that means,are we really gonna do this?

And hell yeah, we’re gonna do this. No way I’m admitting to busting up a wall in his fancy house with my bare fist. If he wasn’t convinced I was an animal before, this will seal the deal for sure. I look him right in the eyes.

He inhales long and slow, then blows out softly. “Dylan… Come on, pal. You know what hole I’m talking about.”

Doesn’t raise his voice or anything. Calls me “pal” like I’m ten and we’re buddies. Not like we’re … whatever the hell we are. The whole thing is weirding me out. Becausehe knows.He knows, and he’s still coming in cold. Barely moved a muscle. And it makes it worse—the waiting. Having to read him, gauging his plan of attack while I make it look like I don’t know there is one.

“I don’t know what hole you’re talking about.” I push my chair out, like the conversation is over. Because hopefully it is. Then get up and head for the door, avoiding the table where the two girls aren’t even bothering to hide the fact that they’re watching me.

Full-on staring and whispering loud enough for me to hear. The entire restaurant to hear. “It’s him… Ohmygod, it’s definitely him! I’m gonna go ask for a selfie!”

I walk faster.

Phil follows me. “Dylan!” he calls as I haul ass through the huge lobby area, then out onto a covered veranda that has a bunch of tables on it but no chairs. He calls my name again. “Dylan! Don’t just walk away.” He halts me with a hand on my shoulder. “I’m talking to you.”

I brace myself because it feels like this is where the hit should come.

It doesn’t. He’s messing with me… waiting me out. And yeah, I can play that game, too. I’ve done nothing but wait—for days sometimes—in the past. Usually hated the waiting more than the beat down itself but doesn’t mean I can’t do it.

“Just… let’s talk about this for a second. Have a conversation. That’s all.” He drops his hand. “Please. Just tell me about the hole… What happened?”

“What hole?” I double-down on my denial.

“The one you punched in the wall then covered up with a painting…. The one the cleaning lady found when she came across a bunch of plaster dust on your bathroom floor.”

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