Page 46 of Spotted at Lighthouse Bay
“Do we tell Cliff?”
“No, we don’t tell Cliff!” Julian bellowed. “He’s going to hit the roof. He’s going to tell us to give the money back.”
“How much is left?” Sebastian asked.
“What do I look like, a piggy bank? I don’t know, man!”
Sebastian pulled out his phone. “I’m going to call Cliff.”
“Do not call Cliff!” Julian swatted the phone out of his hand.
“What is your problem?”
His arms were raised and his shoulders tense, like he was getting ready to tackle Julian.
Julian put up his hands. “We can take care of this. She has nothing on us. We’ll scare her off.”
Sebastian rubbed his face with his hands. “You think we can do that?”
“Yeah. Easy.” He scoffed. “Besides, she left us no choice.”
Seventeen
His deployment, the nightmares, the pressure on his chest when he woke up – it was all a distant memory in this moment, fading as fast as fog. As he walked through his cousin Cody’s hometown, Rick was a kid again.
He’d left the memorial for a short stroll, retracing his childhood steps, floating on the freedom of the endless summer days, running from the movie theater to the public pool to the candy store. Playing baseball in the park. Watching the stars on the trampoline.
As an adult, what did he have to rival that? Life was too complicated. Too many terrible things had happened. What could ever possibly make him feel like summer again?
The candy store was gone, replaced by a vape shop, but the diner stood tall, its light blue booths visible through the window. He used to get milkshakes there with Cody using the money they’d earned mowing lawns.
Rick had his hand on the door of the diner when his chest tightened and he had to bend over, head spinning.
He let go of the door. It was too soon to relive those memories. One day at a time.
Rick strolled back to the memorial. There were twenty people, maybe. His mom was spending most of her time around his aunt, Cody’s mom, and everyone spoke in normal tones, snacking and sipping drinks.
A slideshow of Cody played on a screen, shuffling through memories too painful to look at. Cody dressed as a fireman for Halloween. Cody hanging out of a limo at prom. Cody in his army fatigues, his arm around Rick’s neck.
When it was over, Rick said his goodbyes and walked back to his car.
His mom followed him there. “Are you sure you’re okay?”
“Of course, Mom.”
She put her hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay tonotbe okay.”
He shook his head. “That’s not an option.”
“Of course it is.” Her eyes lingered, searching. “There was nothing anyone could have done. You have to know that.”
“Yeah.” He pulled her in for a hug. She got smaller every time he saw her. “It was nice to see you.”
“I mean it, Rick. You know none of this was your fault, right?”
If only it were that simple.
He kissed her on the cheek. “Love you, Mom. Maybe I can host Thanksgiving this year?”
