Page 85 of Seven Year Itch
“Word gets around in this town, Calder.”
“You mean baby Luke opened his big fat mouth.” I stomp over to the door and begin stuffing my feet into my shoes. “Nothing serious is going on with me and Dakota.”
“But there is something going on?” my mom asks, her eyes wide and full of hope like I’m about to tell her I’m giving her another grandchild. Good God, this woman needs to get a grip.
“Don’t get your hopes up, Mom.”
She sighs heavily. “One of these days, you’re going to see the light.”
“What light?”
She shrugs. “The light that life is more than fun and games.”
“But then who would be the family screwup?” I huff out a laugh and lean in to kiss my mother’s forehead before opening the front door to leave.
“You sound just like your father.”
This stops me in my tracks, and I turn on the front step to stare at my mom propped on the doorframe with a knowing look on her face.
“How do I sound like Dad?” I ask as a heaviness presses down on me. I always felt like Dad was a perfect mix of Max, Wyatt, and Luke, and I was this weird outsider that could have a different father if only I wasn’t the spitting image of him.
Dad could be bossy like Max, somber like Wyatt, and generous like Luke. He was never the funny, boisterous one like me. Sure he’d laugh at my jokes, but most days, it felt like Dad and I spoke two different languages and he was constantly disappointed in me.
“Do you know how many jobs he screwed up before he madethe business what it was before he passed?” My mom says this with no emotion, no pain or regret or heartache... just matter-of-fact business.
The look on her face has my chest expanding with shock. Normally just the mention of my dad brings tears to her eyes and a tightness to her mouth that cuts me to the core. It’s made it almost impossible to work through my own feelings over the loss of him, because I’m too busy worrying about hers and giving her a shoulder to cry on. Is it possible she no longer needs that from me? I’m not sure how I feel about that. It might mean I have to start reflecting on my own grief, and I am not prepared for that.
“Dad always had his shit together. We were nothing alike.”
“Calder,” she scoffs and shakes her head. “The truth is, your father was a mess until he met me... in his personal life and his business. If it wasn’t for me, he would have been whoring around town and working road crew for that concrete company still.”
My jaw drops. “Why didn’t he ever mention that?”
“Because he wanted to be larger-than-life to you boys, obviously.” She laughs, and her eyes twinkle with affection. “He never wanted to be anything less than perfect in front of you. But the hard truth is he needed someone to take him seriously before he could take himself seriously.”
I frown and stare down at the ground, having a hard time wrapping my head around that. Even if I could believe this of my father, it doesn’t mean I’m like him. “Lucky for me, no one takes me seriously.”
“Pretty sure Dakota wasn’t laughing at you in Mexico,” my mom chirps with a glint to her eye. “Saw her looking at you a lot, but she wasn’t laughing.”
“She wasn’t looking at me,” I volley back defensively, feeling my neck turn hot under the collar.
“If you say so.” She licks her lips and smiles like the cat that got the cream, and it’s weird and uncomfortable. My mom is getting bizarre in her old age. She needs to focus on her sons thatwill give her grandbabies and leave the black-sheep middle child alone.
I say my goodbyes, and as I drive toward Dakota’s store to pick her up, I do my best to reaffirm everything I know to be true in my head. I don’t want a relationship. I don’t want a future with someone. The one time I let myself consider that with a woman, it went to complete hell and I nearly lost my relationship with my brothers.
And it’s a painful reality that my family is all I have in life. Losing my brothers is not an option. No amount of great sex with one person is worth that kind of risk. Even my dad would agree with that.
I shake off any thoughts of my family as I walk into The T-shirt Shop to pick up Dakota. The sounds of a screaming child draw my attention toward the back of the store as I look around. There’s a college-aged girl at the checkout counter who eyes me curiously.
“Can I help you?” She scans me up and down, her lips curling in disgust at my appearance.
“I’m just picking up Dakota,” I reply, shoving my hands into my pockets and glancing down to figure out what I’m wearing that’s so offensive to this girl.
“She’s just finishing up a day-care group. You can head on back.” She points to the doorway in the back of the store, so I make my way there, adjusting my shirt and still puzzling over what that girl’s problem was.
However, that interaction is completely forgotten when I step into the back room and see a group of moms and preschoolers running around the colorful space like animals.
Dakota has a white apron on that’s covered in dye like the one Ethan wore last week, and her hands are gloved as she holds a wad of white fabric in her hands. “Okay, your tie-dye shirts will need to sit overnight, and moms you can pick them up by the end of the week.”
