I frown. “This isn’t about me,” I remind her.
“Isn’t it? Your heart is broken, and I don’t blame you, sweetheart.”
While she may be partially right, I have too many questions about them to focus on me. “Then, what are you scared of?”
She takes a contemplative moment, what feels like a lifetime. It’s enough time for me to realize I’m not around as much as I should be, that she feels alone, and I probably could have prevented that much at least.
“I’m scared of failing at a different life,” she finally says. “I would like to think I can do anything, and that I could start over if I wanted to, but I’m not as young as I used to be, and I’m not nearly as brave.”
“Ma, you’d rather stay here and be miserable than even try? I’m older now, and you can have it all—the job and you have me . . . Is it him—do you still love him?”
“No,” she says, easily. “I fell out of love with your father the moment I found out he was having an affair, or maybe it was before, given how easy it seemed to be to deal with it, looking back.” She eyes me closely, but I can tell she’s contemplating, maybe even reliving the past few years before she continues. “Of course, I felt betrayed, but I remember feeling a little bit of relief, too, which isn’t healthy,” she muses. “We worked a few things out. There are rules, and while I know you think that’s stupid or wrong, it’s helped, believe it or not.”
“He doesn’t even live here, does he?” It took me a while to figure that out, but it’s glaringly obvious as all the pieces start to fall into place.
“No, not really. He sleeps in the guest bedroom downstairs, occasionally—”
“When you have to keep up appearances,” I say, raising my hand to stop her. “I get it.” I lean across the table and clasp her hand in mine. It’s soft and delicate. “I want a better life for you than this.”
With crinkly ocher eyes, she offers me a small smile. “I know you do, sweetheart, that’s why I didn’t tell you. I don’t want you worrying about this. When I’m ready, I’ll figure everything out. I have my freedom too, you know? I have my friends and this place, which keeps me more than busy. And it’s filled with happy memories I couldn’t bear to part with.”
“But, Ma—”
She leans forward and cups my face with her hand.
“This was our decision,” she reminds me. “My only regret is not telling you myself.”
I shake my head, helpless and angry and hurt. Yesterday, my biggest concern was what size railings I needed to order for Sam’s office loft. Now, I feel like I’ve been hit by a fucking truck.
Thirty-Two
Nick
Sitting on my balcony as dusk descends, I light a smoke for the first time in two months and let the cool night air calm my senses. Light barely filters in over the mountains, and I try to think if I’ve ever felt more conflicted than I have today, than I do in this moment.
I know I have every right to be pissed off after three years of bullshit lies, but do I get to hate my dad when my mom has been just as deceiving? Would I still hate him right now if he’d told me what happen three years ago, or just be disappointed instead of both? Either way, he’s not the man I thought he was.
I take another drag of my cigarette and revel in the simple, familiar things, like the burn of the menthol in the back of my throat. I’ve gone two months without a smoke. I almost caved a couple times, but today I didn’t try to fight it.
Leaning my head back, I shut my eyes and exhale into the breeze. I feel like there’s a paper I should be writing or book I should be reading, but that’s as far as my memory serves me. A crow caws from the redwoods that line the back of the lot and the final patch of setting sunlight is warm against the cool night air.
A recognizable rumble accelerates up the street, and I know there’s a lifted, red Chevy pulling to a stop outside my house. I didn’t think I was up for company, but knowing Reilly’s here comes as a relief. When the engine shuts off, I stab out my cigarette and make my way to the front door.
Bobby peers up at me as I step out onto the landing. He climbs out of the passenger seat and lifts a six-pack and a brown paper bag. “Party time!”
“You up for visitors?” Reilly asks and tugs the hem of his shirt down as he steps up to the curb. I don’t answer because it’s not really a question. They’re both already on their way up the stairs.
“Who told you?” I ask as they make their way to my front door. I haven’t told anyone about my dad, too ashamed or angry I guess.
Bobby ignores me and steps inside my apartment.
“Alison told Sam—”
“Ah, my mom,” I finish for him. “Got it.”
My apartment is dark, still closed up from my being gone for the day. Marilyn and Monroe’s tank is the only offering of light.
“This is depressing,” Bobby mutters and flicks on the light switch.
“I just got home.” Sort of. It’s hard not to notice the stuff filling my apartment, purchased with guilt money or whatever it is—mats and towels and blankets my mom’s bought me, picture frames, top-of-the-line cooking sets I never use—so it was easier to leave the lights off.
Together, my friends fill my apartment the way jocks fill any room. The silence humming around me is stomped away by boot steps and throaty quips. It’s a liveliness I didn’t realize I needed.
“You didn’t think we’d let you stew alone, did you?” Reilly pulls a bottle of Dr. Pepper out of the mixed six-pack of soda on the counter.
I smile. “I might’ve hoped.”
“Ha!” Bobby plops down on the couch. “No way. It’s initiation night, my friend.”
“Initiation night?”
Reilly hands me a Dr. Pepper.
“What, no beer?” I ask, surprised.
“Do you want beer?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No.” Especially not after last night.
“Good,” Bobby says with a fiendish laugh. “Because we brought something way better.” He dumps the contents of the paper bag out on my coffee table: beef sticks, Sugar Babies, Whatchamacallits, and every sugary thing I remember from my childhood, are splayed out in front of me. “Wait, there’s more!” Bobby jumps up and heads out the front door.
“Although this is all very touching and . . . interesting, I’m a little confused. Is this about my parents?”
“Not really about your parents,” Reilly says. “It’s more about you being one of us now.”
“One of you? As in a part of the crew?” I laugh. “I thought I was the ringleader.”
Reilly clasps my shoulder with a chuckle. “That you are, my friend, but that’s not what I meant.” Reilly takes a swig of his soda. “All my life you’ve had to listen to me bitch and complain about how shitty my life was. I’ve never wished any of that on you, but you’re not so much an outsider anymore, are you?”
I shake my head. “That’s a fucked-up thing to say, Reilly.”
His chuckle deepens.
“But you’re right, it feels a little different.”
“Exactly. Now we can all be miserable together. Plus, we have years of advice and support to give back to you.”
“Wow, I even get reused material. I feel like royalty.”
Reilly kicks off his shoes and plops down on the sectional. I do the same, strangely happy. We clink bottlenecks, and Reilly raises his Dr. Pepper. “Welcome to the club, buddy.”
“Oh, there’s a club? How fancy.”
We both take a gulp, and Reilly heaves out a sigh. “Yep, the Fucked-up Family Club.” He smirks.
Bobby comes back inside with an old-school Nintendo console, and I burst with laughter. “No way!”
“We’re going back to our roots, baby,” Bobby says. While my childhood begins to resurface—late nights at my house, playing Super Mario and eating junk food from the nearby 7-Eleven—I can’t imagine what any of this would mean for Bobby, being like five years younger than us.
“He’s here for moron support,
” Reilly confides, winking at me.
“Hey,” Bobby says. “I might not be as thick as thieves as the two of you, but I’ve been a part of the club longer than Nick, so I’m an elder, in comparison.”
“Oh, there’s a ranking?” I clarify, glancing between them. “Good to know. I’ll start planning my coup then.”
“Yep!” Bobby plugs the console into my big screen. “And it’s boys only, too.”
“Perfect.” I clap my hands together and lean forward on the couch. My palms are itching to hold the rectangle controller in my hand again.
Reilly does the same, elbows resting on his knees. “Seriously though, why didn’t you call me?” he asks more quietly, and I wonder if he’s even a little hurt.
“It’s nothing personal,” I tell him. I’m not in the mood to have another heart-to-heart today. “I’m trying not to think about it right now, Rye. That’s all. It’s hard for me to wrap my mind around, you know?”
I don’t look at him, but see him nod from the corner of my eye. “Yeah, I figured as much. That’s why we showed up, even if all I do is whoop your ass in Tetris.”
“Tetris! My day just got even better.”
With a no-mercy expression, Reilly hands me a controller. “Shall we get to it then?”
“Hell. Yeah.”
Thirty-Three
Nick
“I can’t believe you’re doing this, Nick.” Sam’s voice is one of awe and surprise as she puts Shasta’s halter on in the stall across from me. “Are you sure you don’t want to ask for a rain check? You’ve sorta got a lot going on right now. Maybe you’re not thinking clearly.”
“Thanks, Sam, but I’m sure. The last thing I want to do is dwell on my parents’ shit.”
“So you’re just going to ignore it?”
“Trying to,” I tell her, peering over Target’s mane. “Someone keeps bringing it up.”
“Fine. Sorry. I just can’t believe you’re actually going to ride.”
I lead Target out of his stall and follow Sam and Shasta to the hitching post. “I can’t say I’m all that excited about it,” I admit. The horses’ hooves clomp against the cement floor, a familiar sound that fills at least two of my workdays every week.
“Shasta will be fine with Jesse in the arena. You don’t have to physically get on a horse.”
“I have to do this,” I tell her. “I want to.” I’m determined to conquer this fear I’ve had for the last ten-plus years; a seemingly small and insignificant one compared to the hurdles Jesse has to face each and every day. And maybe I’m trying to prove to myself that I’m not like my mom; I don’t want fear to hold me back.
“But Target, of all horses?”
“You told me Target needed to be ridden, so, I’m doing you a favor.”
She runs her fingers through his dark mane. “He’s the wiliest of them all. I think you should start with training wheels, that’s all.”
“Keep talking, Sam. You’re really helping me relax.”
She snorts a laugh. “Good. You razz me all the time. It’s nice to dish out a little payback.”
Shaking my head, I give her what she wants, a smile. “Touché. Well, you’re going to get plenty of material today.” I head back to Trinity’s stall. Between my parents, Bethany on her way, and riding for the first time in forever, Sam will have plenty to divulge to the crew later.
When I slide the stall door open, Trinity’s tan and white head pops up and she walks toward me. “No food yet, girl,” I tell her and slide her halter on. It’s purple and bedazzled, like only Sarah, her owner, would do. “You do get a ride, though.”
Trinity follows me out of her stall, the lead rope draped around her neck instead of in my hand, and we make our way toward the other horses at the post. Today is going to be interesting, and although I know how to ride, I’m still anxious about doing it. Call it an irrational fear after falling off as a kid, but the last thing I want to do is look like an ass in front of Bethany and Jesse, especially after the drunken state she saw me in the other night. Other than a text to confirm she’s coming, I haven’t talked to her since.
Sam picks up the horse’s hooves to give them a quick check. “Shoes look good.” She pats Trinity’s rump. “You know, this might go without saying, but it’s strange seeing you and Bethany together.”
“Yeah? Well, we’re not together. I think you know things between us are a little more complicated than that.”
“Do I?”
“We’re just friends, Sam.”
“Right. Well, it could be worse, I guess. I’ll get some carrots.”
“Wait, wait, wait.” I drape my arm over Trinity’s back. “Are you saying you don’t hate Bethany anymore? Are you starting to like her?”
She doesn’t turn around to answer me. “Don’t get all worked up,” she mutters.
I barely hear her over the clucking chickens and the horses. “You’ll have to speak louder. I don’t think I heard you right, Sam.”
“Screw off!” she shouts this time, and I laugh at the turn of events. “This week really is full of surprises,” I tell Trinity, and she blinks lazily at me.
Bethany’s Range Rover hums up the gravel drive a moment later, and I steel my nerves. Today I have to act like I have my shit together. “What could go wrong,” I breathe out and head toward her car.
I’m not sure what I expected her to be wearing today, but she takes my breath away as she steps out of the car in a pair of hip-hugging jeans and her cowboy boots. It’s easy enough to forget my nerves as she smiles at me.
Jesse ambles toward me in jeans, a pair of boots that look brand new, and a well-worn Star Wars t-shirt—one of his favorites, I imagine.
“Hey, kid.” I give him a friendly tip-of-the-hat.
Both of them eye me up and down, but while Jesse’s look is more curious, Bethany’s seems appreciative, and I flash her a smile. “Hey, good lookin’.”
“Hi.” She rests her hands on Jesse’s shoulders, almost like she’s using him as a shield. “You sure look the part today.”
I tip the brim of my hat to her with a wink. “Why thank you, mi’lady. You two don’t look too bad yourselves. I’m glad you came out.” I nod to the horses behind me. “Want to meet your trusty steed for the day?”
The screen door to the house swings open and shut, and I hear Sam’s boots on the steps before she appears around the corner of the stable.
“Howdy,” she says, her blonde waves catching in the breeze. Her eyes land on Bethany first, skirt quickly to me, then she locks eyes with Jesse. He quickly looks away. “Hi. I’m Sam. Welcome to the Miller ranch.”
Bethany squeezes Jesse’s shoulders. “Go on, J. Introduce yourself. This is Sam’s ranch and her horse you’ll be riding.”
“I’m Jesse,” he says, but he peers around at the horses, and the ranch, and the chickens walking around outside their coop. There’s a lot to see out here, and I can imagine he’s anxious to take it all in.
“Well, Jesse, it’s nice to meet you. I brought you something that is going to make Shasta your best friend in the whole world.”
“Sam knows horses better than anyone I know,” I tell Jesse. The easiness between us from the other day at my house isn’t gone, but tampered in this new place with a stranger standing in front of him. “She must have something really special for you.”
She holds out a few large carrots. “Why don’t we give the horses a snack and get to know them a bit better?” Sam hands Jesse and Bethany a carrot each. “This will put them in a good mood.” Sam smirks at me. “And Nick’s going to need all the help he can get on ol’ Target today.” She shows Jesse how many times to break the carrot and Bethany steps closer to me.
“I thought you were the horse guy,” she says, curious. She glances from Sam to me.
“Oh, I’m a horse guy—I groom them, and muck their stalls, and exercise them—but I don’t actually ride them.”
Her brow furrows. “Why not?”
“Just isn’t really
my thing,” I tell her, not wanting to go into too much detail and scare Jesse away from riding.
Her eyes widen. “Oh yeah, I do remember something Reilly said the other day about you riding.”
“Yeah, bad experience once, but I’ll make an exception today.” I wink at her.
Bethany doesn’t press for more information, but I can tell she’s curious.
“So, Jesse,” Sam says. “Have you ever been around horses before?” She’s trying to gauge his interest and experience, like she does with potential boarders who think they’re interested in buying a horse.
“When I was younger, I rode a pony,” he tells her. “But I don’t really remember it. I like horses though.”
“Then you’re in for a treat.” She stops in front of her gray mare. “This is Shasta. I’ve had her for years. She’s very special to me—I think you’re really going to like her.”
Sam runs her hand down Shasta’s muzzle, then down her neck. “You can pet her if you want. She’s gentle, just be aware of her feet.” She pats Shasta’s shoulder blade. “Shasta’s big and can’t always see you. Okay?”
Jesse nods, staring at her leg like it’s going to stomp on him.
Bethany steps in and begins to follow Sam’s lead, running her hand down the length of Shasta’s girth. “Try it, J,” she says. Bethany’s presence alone helps put Jesse more at ease, though it would seem he needs little encouragement.
Jesse reaches out his hand then smiles with awe. “She’s soft.”
“And she’s strong,” Bethany adds. “You can feel her heart beating.”
“Here, put your palm out like this,” Sam says and demonstrates how to feed a bit of carrot to Shasta. Jesse only hesitates a moment before his curiosity is too much for him to ignore and he steps closer and opens his palm by Shasta’s mouth.
I nudge Bethany and break off a piece of my carrot, nodding to her horse for the day. “You’ll be riding Trinity.” I give the palomino a pat on the neck.
“She’s beautiful,” Bethany says, running her hand down the curve of Trinity’s back.
Saratoga Falls: The Complete Love Story Series Page 85