Page 47 of 2204 Hunter Lane
After dinner, I was helping Payton with the dishes while the boys were watching a war documentary on T.V. Classic.
“He seems happier.” Payton began, rinsing gravy off a plate. “Well, as happy as Hunter can be.”
I smiled, glancing over my shoulder at the blonde hair swept up in a backwards baseball cap.
“Yeah, he wasn’t a total asshole today.”
Payton laughed, handing me the clean dish as I dried it off with a towel.
“He ain’t a bad kid. Just needs someone to talk to, I think.”
“And someone who’s willing to listen.”
She turned off the tap and piled up a stack of bowls, wiping off the wet edges hurriedly.
“You think you can be that for him?”
I put down the plate I was drying and sucked in a breath, reminiscing on the oddly pleasant and tranquil state of Hunter Lane today.
He never jibed once, he apologized for last night and he was attentive when I spoke about my past. As much as he hated the swarm of kids today, I saw a hint of merriment when he helped them snowboard.
There were traits to Hunter that I don’t think he’d ever seen himself, that he suppressed to the point of invisibility but they were definitely present, waiting to be released.
I saw glimpses of what he could be had he tried to control his emotions and not let alcohol consume his grief. He held the door open for me every time, paid for everything like it was second nature, observed what I needed when I didn’t know it myself and I admired him for that.
It didn’t change the way he treated me in the past, or anyone for that matter. But if Hunter had the potential to be someone good, why not see it all the way through.
“I’ll try my best.”
Chapter Twenty
Hunter
We left Rivertown Bay at nine the following morning, and made it back to Aurora for lunch.
Payton invited Bambi to stay and eat but she said she had some stuff to do and thanked us for the invitation.
I remember before she got into my dad’s van, she’d given me a sincere goodbye. It wasn’t one of those cheesy ‘oh I’ll never see you again’ goodbyes, but an actual salutation that implied she had fun.For the most part.
I don’t know when the shift happened between us, or when I began to see her a little differently than I used to, but it was sort of a relief.
When Bambi opened up to me at the bar, I saw this defencelessness in her that I’d never seen before. I had a bad habit of assuming the worst in people and that’s exactly what I did to her from the moment we met. It’s not like I fully trusted her but I didn’t exactly hate her either.
All the little quirks I chalked up as weird, were highlighted in such a polarizing light yesterday.
When those little fuckin’ critters were storming around me at the kiddy hill, acting like they’d never seen a six foot twenty-five year old at a baby slope, she’d actually levelled my nerves.
It’s the stupidest thing in the world, I’m the first to say, but seeing a girl good with kids pumped my heart a little.
Rebecca had a niece who we visited from time to time and she never bothered to say hello upon greeting. She just tossed whatever dollar store gift she’d bought her way and made an escape route to the family’s alcohol supply.
Makes me wonder how I ever fell for someone like that. I mean, it was right around the time my mom passed away and I guess I needed to channel my pain into a distraction. And that distraction was a shrewd waste of my energy.
I always planned to get Bambi talking after hearing her cry yesterday morning, but I didn’t realize she struggled with family so much. As irritable as my family was sometimes, I was grateful for the things they’d given me.
My dad, especially before Mom died, taught me everything a man could teach his son. Hunting, fishing, taking me out to the mountains for days on end to coach me on survival skills.
For a while there, he was my best friend. After the accident though, he closed himself up a lot. Didn’t think he’d actually find someone ever again and a part of me didn’t want him to. But Payton was as good a woman as they come. Even though we weren’t that close, I could visibly see the change she brought out in my dad. At least in an affectionate sense. He didn’t give a damn ‘bout what I did no more.
