Page 8 of The Sky in Summer
“You guys got freaky at five? Do I really need to know that?”
“He hasn’t changed,” Teddy says, lifting his chin to Uncle Van.
“The girls are just older,” says Sam.
“Barely,” his cousin adds, laughing at his own joke.
Van shoots his nephews a pointed look and they stop with the comments. But the chuckling continues.
“Isn’t it wonderful hearing from the experts who know so much at such a young age?”
He is looking at me, but it is his own family the message is meant for. Regardless, there is no doubt he’s a player. Yeah he is. Look at him. God picked out some special gifts for this man. A thick hairline never destined to recede. The glacier blue eyes. That nose. The sexy mouth waiting to be kissed. The way he puckers whenever he is amused. His lips are invitations I would love to accept, if it were not that the party is most likely anything but exclusive. I would have to push and shove to be seen. I know I judge before there is any proof. But this girl is good at reading men. I don’t know why that is, because my experience with them is limited.
“How many stitches did you get?” Sam asks.
“Show ‘em,” David says.
The conversation and focus pivots to the boys, who are bored with our retelling of the sordid past. They would rather relive their own Urgent Care adventure and fill their friends in on the gory details. That’s the thing about boys. They can talk about blood and guts while eating a juicy burger. Catsup can drip, as tales of open flesh are described in detail. They find it amusing to be grossed out.
As for Van and I, we pretend to concentrate on lunch, while ignoring the elephant sitting on the table. Until he raises his milkshake and makes an appropriate toast, quietly just between us two.
“Bottoms up!”
All the way home, I am thinking of the boy. Not the man. Him I don’t know. But the new contact in my cell says I may be about to. Van asked and I accepted. We exchanged numbers, and he promised to call and schedule a lunch to catch up. Just a friendly connection. Our lives didn’t get further examination in front of the boys, or Barbra.
It made me happy because my story is too pathetic as far as a love life. Why put it on display again for those who already know the last act? And I need time to think about how much I will tell my acquaintance from kindergarten. Just because I showed him my butt doesn’t mean I will show my heart.
Almost by habit, the Honda turns into the Big Sky apartment complex. Like we are on the Autorama at Disneyland and no matter how bad my steering, it is going to arrive at the designated garage. The door rises and we pull inside.
“Okay. Rinse out your suits and hang them in the laundry room. Take your showers. Your dad will be here at six.”
One groan sounds and I know whose it is. David.
“Do we have to?”
“Yes. It’s going to be fine. He is just as nervous as you are.”
“Who cares how nervous he is?”
“You don’t have to care. Just consider your father’s angle. It’s a little uncomfortable for him too.”
“Oh! I’m so sorry he is uncomfortable.”
This protecting the twins’ relationship with their father is an ongoing job. It seems much harder since the pregnancy. One is pissed and the other hurt. Not to mention my mixed emotions, which I deal with on my own. I guess it’s all pain, some disguised as anger.
We get out of the car and head inside through the laundry entry.
Keys get tossed in the bowl on the breakfast bar and David takes off for his room. Tyler lingers. Once in a while one of them wants to talk. Nine times out of ten it’s him.
“What do you think, honey? You nervous to meet your new sister?”
Behind his eyes a little sadness sits. It breaks my heart and I’m pretty sure I am the only one he shows it to.
“I wish we didn’t have to.”
“I know.” I take him in my arms and kiss his cheek.
That’s all I can get away with lately. He allows a mother’s small show of love, then breaks away.
