Page 21 of Adrift

I mean, he’s cute in a boy-next-door sort of way–definitely charming and sweet–but there’s something missing. I’m no one to judge someone based on their looks–I’ve had that done to me my whole life–but while the guy is tall and handsome, I’m not sure how I feel about outweighing him on the scale.

Not that I’ve encountered a scale in quite some time. I stay away from them like a vampire to sunlight.

All this to say, I’d likely restrict blood flow in the poor guy’s legs–and other vital appendages–if I sat on his lap. It would be like sitting on a very tall, thin, young boy. And being able to sit on the lap of the man I’m with is one of my guiding principles. It’s something I won’t compromise on.

Darian would have absolutely no circulation problems if I were to ever sit on his lap . . .. Which I never would, so I quickly chuck that untoward thought right out of my mind.

“Because A,” Melody continues, “you need a distraction during the weekends and in your free time. Be a nineteen-year-old for once! And B, the proof will be in the pudding when you do. You’ll see that what I told you about your brother-in-law was right.”

Wait, what did she tell me about my brother-in-law? I’m so confused, but I don’t have the time to clarify. I need to stay on schedule and give Arman a bottle before putting him down for his nap. Then I plan to fill out the volunteer paperwork online for the nursing home nearby.

I leave my shoes in the foyer after locking the door behind me and look at Arman in the stroller. He’s rubbing his eyes, as if right on cue. “Okay, I’ll see about Liam. I doubt it’s anything, and I was probably just reading into it. But listen, I’ve gotta go.”

I hear a car door slam and know she’s heading out from work. “Okay, keep me posted, queenie. I just have a feeling this summer is going to be all about you getting your kayak polished.”

She giggles at her ridiculous joke while I refrain from saying anything more than a “bye” before I disconnect the phone. I’m convinced the girl is on drugs.

But maybe I should find her dealer.

Chapter Eight

Rani

“So, what’s his name?” I force myself not to laugh as I watch Liam try–and fail–to control his parents’ dog. Said dog is currently trying to jump on anyone who passes by, while said passersby are giving us both derisive looks.

“Her name? It’s Pepper, actually.” He tips his chin toward Arman in the stroller. “What about him?”

“Arman.” The sun is beating down on us today, so I lower the shade on Arman’s stroller to cover him up. He’s been babbling non-stop, waving hi to strangers and pointing out trees–twee!–and the swings in the playground–wins!

I make a note to tell Darian about his new words tonight. He came home last night and briefly said he’d already eaten dinner before he waited for Arman to finish and took him up for a bath.

It’s not like we made plans to eat together or anything, nor was there any expectation for him to ask me if I’d eaten–I’m old enough to take care of myself–but I couldn’t help feeling like it was a brush off.

I didn’t tell him that I made chicken enchiladas for dinner while Arman napped that afternoon. I just warmed one up for myself and ate in my room instead, while I reviewed the directions for my summer photojournalism project online and responded to comments on my blog.

“Nice name. Is he your sister’s kid or your brother’s?”

I figured this would come up sooner or later. “My sister’s,” I reply, before adding, “She died last year . . . during childbirth.”

Liam stays quiet, seeming to take in my response for a moment, though I see his step falter beside me. He strikes me as the type who stays composed in most situations. “I’m sorry, Rani. That must have been so incredibly hard.”

“Thanks,” I whisper as a familiar melancholy sweeps in.

For a few moments, only the sounds of Arman’s stroller tires crunching along the pebbled path and Pepper’s frenzied pants float around us, but for whatever reason, I decide to tell Liam more. I’m not in the habit of divulging my life story to strangers, but there’s a sincerity to Liam, a calm presence that I find comforting, like I can unveil myself a little more without being pitied or judged.

“I didn’t know her very well, actually.” I glance at him. “She eloped with my brother-in-law many years ago, and my parents sort of disowned her. I was really young when it all happened and for many years, we had no contact. Then, one day, my brother-in-law called to tell us she died giving birth.”

Liam lets out a big puff of air, and through my periphery, I notice his eyes linger on my profile. “I can’t imagine how terrible your parents must feel. They never got a chance to make amends . . ..”

I give him a quick shake of my head. “My mom is a very prideful woman, so I doubt she’d ever admit that. But the funny thing is, she thinks she has everyone fooled. She thinks no one knows that she’s hurting, that she’s scared. And whether or not anyone else knows, I do. She’s had so many refills of her prescription sleeping pills, you’d think she was trying to start a drug lab in our house.” I glance at Liam, who’s listening intently, no longer even trying to control his dog. “No one needs that many sleeping pills unless they’re running away from their past where it haunts them the most, in their sleep.”

“And what about your dad?”

I huff out a laugh, not able to hide my scorn. “My dad has been asleep at the wheel for so long, he can’t get himself back to a place he recognizes anymore. Every time he tries to speak up, my mom muzzles him with nothing more than a disdainful glance. I think he’s made his peace with his decision to let her control their lives. Her decisions are his decisions; her needs are his to fulfill. The man has no backbone.”

“Well, I bet you’re glad to have a summer away from them, then.”

I ponder his comment for a moment. Am I glad to have a break from my parents? Yes. Was my offer to help Darian a way of getting away from them? Not consciously, but perhaps my subconscious needed the reprieve, too. “I suppose, but my main concern was for my nephew.”

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