Page 46 of Good Days Bad Days
“My God, I haven’t been out this way in years. I’m having flashbacks,” Cam says, examining the Cape Cod–style house across the street that used to belong to his best friend, Josh. “Remember the huge oak out back? The tree house?”
“The one that got struck by lightning?” It’d been the biggest shock of our freshman year. Sparks from the blaze blew onto the roof of Josh’s house and burned enough of it to make the family homeless for the next six months. The town held bake sales and clothing drives to help the Dunleavy family get back on their feet.
“Not struck by lightning, actually. You wouldn’t know that, though. It came out after you left that Josh was smoking cigarettes in the tree house. He caused the fire. Got probation or something like that. The town kinda turned on the whole family after that, and they moved to Illinois.”
“I had no idea. That’s wild.” Hearing Josh’s sad story, I think about how people must tell my family’s tragic tale.The mom is psycho. CPS took that poor girl away. Never saw her again. Someone should do something about that house, though. It’s an eyesore.“Did you keep in touch with him?”
“Yeah. He’s an electrical engineer now, three kids.” Cam chuckles, still staring at the perfectly rebuilt house.
“Bet they don’t know about his run-in with the law.” I think of all the stories from my formative years I’ve kept from Olivia, giving her the edited version of my childhood. It’s like those photo filters she likes to play around with that can erase wrinkles, blemishes, and dark circles or even raise cheekbones and sharpen jawlines.
“That’s a parent’s prerogative,” he says, his gaze running up and down my face like he’s scanning it into memory or updating an old one. “Did you ever tell your daughter about ...”
He doesn’t finish but I can tell he wants to ask if I’ve ever talked about him, about my first love, about the boy who kissed me with his eyes closed, who left me flowers in my backyard on the shore path so my parents wouldn’t see them, who I still dreamed of for years after leaving this town.
“No, I kinda left all this behind me.” I motion to the town, but I think we both know it includes him. I’ve always felt justified in cutting off the dead limb of my childhood, my parents, my hometown, and burying it in a shallow grave I avoid at all costs. But the past month has unearthed the unmourned remains, and I’m often the one holding the shovel.
“Until now,” he reminds me, holding up a finger and sliding his feet a few inches closer, causing a soft whooshing sound in my ears. The unreleased electricity from our connection in Janesville tingles at the tips of my toes and fingers.
“Until now,” I repeat.
Cam touches my cheek and then digs his fingers into the hair at the nape of my neck, sending a tremor down my spine. If I don’t move, if I keep staring up into his eyes and letting the loaded silence expand between us—he’s going to kiss me. If he kisses me, this is a date. If I kiss him back, I’m dating a man that isn’t my husband. If I’m dating someone other than Ian, does that mean my marriage is over?
I inhale sharply. His eyes fly open and he’s about to speak when a bluish-white beam of light cuts through our bubble of reminiscence, making us blink. A car pulls halfway into the space behind my rentedAudi. I expect it to back up immediately, likely a tourist realizing their mistake while looking for their own vacation rental, but instead the engine clicks off and the sound of two doors opening and slamming follows.
Cam angles his body toward the intruders as though he might need to protect my honor, which is totally endearing.
“Can we help you?” he asks, the blinding lights on the dark SUV making silhouettes of the two approaching figures. The beep of the car’s security system engaging is immediately followed by the headlights going dark. It takes a second to clear the spots from my eyes, but I soon recognize the voice that calls out from the darkness.
“Mom!!!” Olivia breaks into the porch light’s circumference at full speed, slamming into my body like she’s trying to merge our molecules. She hugs me more aggressively than she has since reaching puberty.
“Olivia,” I gasp once I catch my breath, dazed from the impact, confused to find my child suddenly standing in front of me in a town I’ve intentionally shielded her from for her entire life. “How ... where ... why?” I stutter, when from behind my daughter, the second figure comes into focus.
“Hi, Charlie.”
It’s Ian, hands in the pockets of his green Columbia jacket, wearing a canvas burnt-orange cap with a frayed bill, his dark hair curling up around the edges by his ears. His beard is a bit longer than I’m used to, and dark circles are clearly visible under his brown eyes. It feels like every organ inside of my body flips at the same time, reminding me this is the man I love and the resulting nausea reminding me he’s also the man who hurt me. And now he’s here, standing in front of me.
“Don’t be mad at Ian. It was my idea,” Olivia says. “I told him I was coming and begged him to join me.”
“She’s very convincing.” Ian smiles his heartthrob TV smile but with a touch of a hard edge, eyes darting between me and Cam, who I’d nearly forgotten was standing next to me. “I’m sorry, we haven’t met,” he says directly to Cam, who’s no longer in his defensive position.
“Oh, this is Cameron Stokes. My ...” I search for the right description and decide to be as general as possible. “We grew up together. This is my daughter, Olivia, and ...”
“I’m Ian, Charlie’s husband. Nice to meet you,” Ian says, shaking Cam’s hand, pumping once before dropping it and folding his arms across his chest, his tungsten wedding ring with redwood inlay standing out on his left ring finger as a stronger statement of our union than his self-introduction. Cam makes some generic, friendly greetings as my head spins, recalibrating my plans for the night, week, month.
Cam touches my elbow, drawing Ian’s gaze.
“I should go,” he says with a stiff grin that looks more like a grimace. “I’ll call you later.”
I’m about to apologize and thank him for dinner and a beautiful evening when he walks off without waiting for my response. All three of us watch as he gets in the car and pulls away, the Wisconsin license plate receding as he turns onto the main road.
“I’ll get your bags,” Ian says to Olivia, the stormy heaviness hanging over him fading a bit with Cam’s departure.
“Seriously, Mom, don’t be mad,” Olivia says as Ian wrestles her luggage from the trunk and I unlock the deadbolt with the code from the property manager.
“I’m not mad, I’m just surprised. I wish I’d known you were coming.”
“I tried calling you from the airport, but your phone was off. Besides, if I’d told you any earlier, you wouldn’t have let me come.”
