Page 55 of Memories By the Shore
“Hmm. Good for her.”
“We ended up getting the same ones.”
“Tattoos?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I tell him, smiling.
“That’s great, Son,” he says, but there is apprehension behind his words.
I spin back around to him. “Is everything alright?”
He rubs his chin and sighs.
I clasp my hands together to lap and wheel my chair over to him. “What’s up, Dad? Something is bothering you.”
“Have you both thought about what will happen when she returns to Arizona for college?” He comes right out and forces me to acknowledge that this bubble we’re living in won’t last forever.
I flex my shoulders with irritation. He’s only bringing up the inevitable. I wanted to live in the moment a few weeks ago and not think about how the summer would end, but things have changed between us.
“Arizona is only a couple hours’ flight away,” I counter.
My dad’s eyebrows raise. “Alright, okay, so this is serious.”
“I’m in love with her.” I look him in the eyes, showing how serious I am about Avery.
“She’s a special one, isn’t she?” he points out with concern.
I nod with a smile. “Yeah.”
“How is the new medication coming along?” He immediately goes into the real reason why he’s worried about Avery and me getting so close.
After sinking into another episode two weeks ago, he convinced me to get back on medications. It wasn’t the right one.
“I need to try a new one,” I admit, knowing I’ve already stopped taking it. “It makes me feel anxious and gives me insomnia.”
“That’s a drag. Well, back to the doctor to try another one, then?”
“I know. I’ll make an appointment this week,” I agree, but I’m pissed.
I’m angry I have to live with this condition. The new medication did give me a small amount of relief. Enough to enjoy Avery’s birthday, but I feel the heaviness banging at the back door of my thoughts daily. It’s always there, waiting for something to break me down and let it in.
“I took Avery to Joe’s beach house,” I tell him, lightening the mood.
“Yeah, buddy.” He smiles. “And what did she think?”
“She loved it.” I fold one leg over the other.
“I’m so proud of you, but still a little hurt that you won’t live with me anymore,” he teases, tossing a hanger from his desk into the hanger collection bin.
“You’ll get over it,” I retort. “I can’t live with you forever.”
“I thought we were going to be roommates for life.” He leans over and slaps my knee.
“Look”—I rub my chin—“when you’re too old to wipe your own ass, I’ll let you move in with me.”
“Fuck you,” he spits, waving me off and turning back toward his computer.
I spend the rest of the day at the shop, reviewing orders, staff questions, and scheduling. Even though numbness always floats below the surface, it still lingers by late afternoon. I miss Avery.
