Page 16 of Surviving the Break
For Max, that was reason enough, and for me, anyone who could find a morsel of empathy for my brother had my loyalty and, I had a feeling, my heart as well. “Thatis why I want you, Max.”
His eyes pulsed with awareness, but not nearly enough. He thought I was too much to handle right now, but soon he would comprehend what the full force of me felt like.
“YOU NEED TO GO ON A DATE,”Damon announced as he dropped into the chair across from my desk at the hospital.
He’d stopped by for lunch and forced me into telling him how things were proceeding with Max. They weren’t. I hadn’t counted on him being so stubborn. From the outside looking in, one would think he hated me. Hell, I was beginning to think he hated me. If I so much as called his name he’d snarl, “No!” in preparation of me asking him out, when all I’d wanted to know was where I should set up the easels for the art display.
“I thought no one was good enough for me?”
“I didn’t say you should marry someone, but you’ve obviously gone without sex for too long. This pining forMaxneeds to end.” He spoke his name as if it were poison. I wanted to point out that he’d informed me, just yesterday, that he and Max were having a pleasant conversation over beers in his backyard. It served me no good to point out Damon’s unstable mood swings at the moment. Something he couldn’t help.
“I’ve had sex,” I said defensively.
He gave me a deliberate look. “Your hand doesn’t count.”
I swiveled in my chair to face the window. Could it be that Max and I both needed a break from me? Was sex what I needed? How long had it been?Shit.Months. I’d definitely been in need of it, but I’d been laser-focused on one ass in particular. Was Max having sex? I released the death grip I had on the armchair at the sound of the leather groaning. He was opposed to relationships, but thinking back on the night we met confirmed he didn’t live a sexless life.
Maybe Damon was right. At the very least, a date would cement whether or not the torch I’d been carrying for Max was simply a case of wanting what I couldn’t have or if my feelings held some merit.
I faced Damon again, who sat and watched me with curiosity. Then I picked up my phone and scrolled through my contacts.
7
MAX
Granddad and I took a road trip to Uncle Bo’s pearl farm one summer. Just us guys. The whole way there, I talked about how excited I was to finally see the “hoy-sters.” I couldn’t properly pronounce oysters. Granddad told me how beautiful pearls were, and I couldn’t wait to learn all about where they came from.
We got to the farm, and Uncle Bo and Aunt Madeline were waiting outside to greet us. “Don’t let your excitement cost you your manners, okay?” Granddad was big on manners. I gave him a nod. My small body bounced with anticipation; finally, I would get to see the oysters.
I ran out of the car and into Bo’s arms.
“All right, Madeline. Let’s not keep the boy waiting any longer. To the oysters!”
We stopped in front of the door to the harvesting facility—where the oysters were brought when the pearls were ready to be harvested. Uncle Bo bent down in front of me, his hands on his knees. “Are you ready, son?” I nodded manically.
Tanks filled the room. Almost touching the ceiling. Each packed with water and… “Are those rocks, Uncle Bo?” I asked.
“Those are oysters, Max,” he explained.
“But...but they look like rocks.”
“Well, that’s a good thing. It’s one of the ways they protect themselves in the ocean.”
I took Granddad’s pinky and pulled him off to the side. He knelt down and whispered, “What’s the matter, squirt?”
“You said the pearls were pretty. I don’t like these ugly rocks. They look dirty. I want to go home.” I crossed my arms, pouting, and he looked over his shoulder to Uncle Bo.
“That wouldn’t be very gracious of us. Bo and Madeline were kind enough to invite us down, and they’re so excited about showing you around. You wouldn’t want to hurt their feelings, would you?”
I dropped my arms. “No, I wouldn’t.”
“That’s my boy.”
We explored each tank, while Bo educated us on the process. To be honest, I wasn’t interested. I’d written the “rocks” off the moment I stepped through that door. I knew better than to be rude. A second room off to the side had the same setup, but these tanks were smaller. More like fish tanks. Bo reached into one and pulled out an especially unappealing-to-the-eye oyster.
“Do you want to hold it, Max?” he’d asked. I pulled my hands to my chest and hid behind Granddad’s back. No way was I touching one of those things.
Uncle Bo took the oyster over to a table. I peeked around Granddad. I didn’t want to touch the oyster, but I was curious about what Uncle Bo planned to do with it. He put on gloves and used a surgical instrument to open the oyster’s shell. Madeline handed him a plug, which he used to keep the shell open. I stepped from around Granddad but remained close.
