Page 79 of Pictures in Blue
“Well, I must have two across wrong then, because those letters don’t line up,” he glances up, his eyes looking above his glasses and land on me. “Thank you for the help, darlin’.”
I walk toward him and reach out a hand. “You’re welcome. And it’s Avery.”
He doesn’t move and I wonder if I already did something wrong. Did I walk weird? Should I not have approached him? Should I have let him approach me? Is he a germaphobe? Does he not like hands?
Before I can let my thoughts spiral any further, he stands up and gives me a one-armed hug and throws his glance over to Hudson.
“Clearly Hudson didn’t warn you we hug in this family,” he squeezes my shoulder and I’m surprised his arm around me doesn’t feel uncomfortable. A stranger I just met is hugging me and usually I would be a mile down the road by now, throwing paranoid looks over my shoulder to make sure no one is following me. But his hug doesn’t feel like that. It feels like…well, like a dad’s. A familiar feeling pings in my chest, the sound calling in my head, an echo at the edge of a cliff. I shove it down and wrap my arm around his back and return his affectionate squeeze.
“He didn’t, but that’s okay.”
“Well, welcome to the family. I’m George,” he says in a gruff tone that only men his age seem able to acquire.
At his father’s words, I fully intend to ignore any look Hudson might be giving me now, the agreement coming to the front of my mind. The idea of us keeping this thing surface level for two weeks is fading fast. We have been plunged into the deep end and it’s so dark, there’s no telling which way we go to reach the surface.
George unravels his arm from around my shoulders and sits back down. Pencil in hand, he starts writing in the answer I gave him after erasing the incorrect letters he had before. There’s a few more answers I could give him from glancing down at the boxes he already has filled in, but I refrain. I don’t want to be a bother to anyone if I can manage it. I pull my eyes away from his Sunday crossword and turn toward the doors behind us.
Outside is the most beautiful backyard I have ever seen, besides Hudson’s, and I don’t stop myself from sliding open the screen door and slipping out to look.
There’s a large stone patio with a wood-burning fireplace a few feet over to the right, wisteria plants surrounding the stone wall that encircles the seating area. Shades of purple and blue hang from their small branches, stretching toward the stone. I feel like I have stepped into some kind of floral paradise. There are potted plants resting along the top of the wall, most of them succulents of various sizes. Bushes of hydrangeas line the side of the house and I wonder how Isabelle can possibly keep all of this alive.
I step down the wide stairs and make my way further to explore the rest of the backyard. I follow the stone path until I reach a fully fenced in-ground pool surrounded by concrete, pool chairs scattered on top. The rest of the yard stretches far enough to have plenty of space for dogs to run back and forth, even with a swingset back in the corner and a volleyball net off to the other side. This must have been a paradise for their children and I imagine Hudson and his sisters back here tossing a volleyball back and forth, the girls ganging up on him. He gets frustrated when he serves the ball and it continues to get caught on the net, because Sarah and Sky secretly raised it before their game.
My childhood flashes through my mind and I wonder who I would have been if I grew up in a place like this. A place with two parents who wanted to stick around for me, who wanted to love me for who I was and not who they wanted me to be. I don’t even know who my dad is because Sharon never answered my questions in that regard. I always wondered if she ignored my question because she didn’t know the answer. What would it have been like to have a mom who supported me? A dad who was present?
As if summoned by my thoughts, my phone buzzes in my jacket pocket. I reluctantly take it out and see her name flashing on the screen. I’ve been ignoring her calls and texts trying to focus on myself, but Sharon is a manipulative presence that is hard to fully ignore.
I take a deep breath and hit the green button, knowing the call is going to end with me feeling like I don’t matter.
“Hello?” I can’t muster my usual fake enthusiasm I put in my voice when she calls. I don’t have the energy or the will to after seeing the home Hudson grew up in, mourning the childhood I never had the chance at having.
“Avery, why have you been ignoring my calls?” A harsh tone.
A part of me wants to be honest and tell her it’s because I obviously don’t have any wish to talk to her, but that would require a backbone. Something I don’t have the energy to grow right now.
“Sorry. I forgot to pack a charger and my phone died,” the excuse slips easily from my lips. As soon as it’s out though, I know I chose the wrong one. I chose one that showed a flaw and Sharon doesn’t like flaws. Flaws are unacceptable. They are like mosquitos on a humid day buzzing around your face no matter how many times you swat them away, seeming to multiply with every swing.
“You’re so forgetful all the time. I don’t know how many times I’ve told you to make a list to make sure you have everything, but you never listen. I swear, Avery.”
The phone lands by my thigh as I crane my neck back, eyes staring at the stark blue sky. Birds are flying by in an organized formation Sharon would be proud of and I find myself wishing I could join them. Flap my wings and fly away with the wind, soaring above everything and forgetting my life below. Leave it behind and not worry about the mess I seem to leave everywhere I go.
I bring the phone back up to my ear and realize she hadn’t stopped talking. “And so I told him that if he couldn’t provide for me, then he’d have to go because working isn’t my style. I don’t like it and I won’t do it. And I can go out and find a man worthy of my time who wants to take care of me.”
I roll my eyes, thankful she isn’t here to see me do it and critique the fact that I didn’t roll them correctly.
“Well?” she draws out. “Aren’t you going to say something?” She doesn’t want me to say what I actually think. She just wants me to offer her a place to stay while she finds a new guy that falls into her web of manipulation the previous men somehow found their way out of. This is what Sharon does. She takes and takes until the person she’s taking from is nothing but an empty shell. She entices the hermit crab out of his shell only to make sure he isn’t hiding any treasures behind him and if he is, she takes them for herself and discards him like the broken shell he leaves behind.
“I don’t have much to say. I’m not home, so I can’t really offer you anywhere to stay,” I tell her, knowing what she’s going to say next.
“Well, where are you staying now? I can just come stay with you, can’t I?” I almost laugh, but I manage to hold it in. Telling Sharon where I am is the worst mistake I could possibly make. I can only imagine what she would be like sitting at that table inside watching Hudson’s family in there actuallybea family. She’d pass out from too many new experiences. I would like to see if George would smack her in the nose with the newspaper if she even thought of making a rude comment to one of his family members. That would be worth the trip. But I’m still not letting that happen.
I sigh, resigned at the state my apartment would be in by the time I get home. “You have a spare key. Just stay at my place until you can get back on your feet.”
She scoffs. “I don’t need your generosity and condescending tone, Avery. You should be happy to have your mother stay with you. I’ll be able to fix the look of your apartment by the time you get back and then we can figure out what to do from there.”
“Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll be home in a week or so.”
“Fine. Go be by yourself in your hotel room like I’m sure you have been for the past few days. Or hit the gym. You probably need to with all the junk you’ve been eating. I’ll call you later and I expect you to answer.”
