by Claire Adams
At least Nancie recognized the potential in my offer, but it didn’t make me feel any better. Gavin’s mother was dying, and I had monetized it. But there was so much more than just that tiny little detail, right? I could only hope that Gavin could see the potential, and maybe he really would be in touch.
I closed my eyes and drifted into a light sleep. I had dreamt of our exchange at dinner the entire night, reliving the humiliation of being left alone at a table for two. But in my nap, I only dreamt of Gavin, of his blue eyes, the gray highlights in his dark hair, his muscles and hard body. In my dream, I wondered how taut his body was, and tried touching him. But he pulled away with a nasty smirk and told me to go fuck myself.
I woke up just in time for an early lunch and wondered if that really was how Gavin felt.
I had nearly forgotten about my plans for dinner until my mom called me in the late afternoon, reminding me that I had agreed to come over. I promised her I would arrive early and spent the rest of the afternoon active on my social media accounts.
It was a never-ending cycle, the constant liking and reposting and commenting and liking. But the more you did it, the bigger the presence you had. And that was how Nancie had gotten her million followers.
Curiosity got the best of me, and I looked up Gavin Hayward on the search bar. His profile popped up almost instantly, and I clicked on it. His profile picture was an older one, nearly 10 years old, it seemed, and he looked slightly chubbier with a full head of hair and a shirt that was pulled down to show off a tattoo on his left shoulder. I had completely forgotten that Gavin had tattoos covering nearly his entire body, with the only exceptions of hands, neck, and face. His shoulder tattoo was a lizard that looked as if it were perched, like a little friend always beside his ear.
He only had two other pictures on his profile. One with Ron, which most likely was because Ron had created the profile, and the other a 20-year-old Gavin in between his mother and father. It was remarkable how similar he looked to his father now. Same hard jawline, bright blue eyes between thick, dark eyelashes, and a straight nose with a slight bump on the bridge. His hair was from his mother, and smile as well.
I locked my phone and threw it on my bed. Why was I creeping on his profile anyways? He wasn’t interested in me, or my idea, and he probably wouldn’t want to ever see me again.
I glanced at my clock. I had 30 minutes before I said I would arrive at my parents, and the drive itself was 25 minutes.
I got ready in a rush and was out the door in record time. The drive thankfully had no traffic, and I was knocking on the door just as it turned six.
“I didn’t actually think you’d get here early,” mom said. “Dinner should be ready in 30 minutes.”
“I got all my work done for the day,” I said. Mom rolled her eyes, but she didn’t ask if I was looking for a real job, at least.
“Hey, sweetheart,” Dad said as he hugged me. “How’s your weekend so far?”
“Uneventful,” I said and took a seat on the couch. It was rough, with cushioned backs that were sunk low. No wonder dad always complained about back problems. “Don’t forget, if you guys want a new couch, I can get a good discount at that giant furniture warehouse downtown.”
I had starred in a commercial for them a few years ago and had received a lifetime of half-off discounts in compensation.
“This one’s still good,” dad said and joined me on the couch. “I think we’ll keep it until the legs break.”
I shifted my weight as the couch rocked beneath us.
“Doesn’t sound like it’ll be that long,” I said. “Just promise me you’ll let me know?”
“Promise,” dad said as he changed the TV channel. I couldn’t believe they were still wasting their money on cable.
We watched an episode of House Hunters as mom finished up dinner. I knew one day she was going to ask me to help, but the last thing I needed was her constant judgment as we circled the tiny kitchen together.
“Food’s ready,” she said. I helped her set the table and prep the plates. It was taco night, and we each took turns piling meat, cheese, onions, sour cream, and avocado in corn shells.
“The food smells great, honey,” dad said as we took our seats. They glanced at each other with such loving eyes that I had to turn away.
“Are you guys ever going to stop acting like teenagers with a crush?” I asked and took a bite of my taco. Pieces of crunchy shells fell onto my plate, and I used them to scoop up rice and beans.
“You’ll understand when you find the right person,” mom said.
“As if the right person exists,” I mumbled and ignored mom’s glare.
“How’s Nancie?” dad asked. He always did have a soft spot for her.
“She’s good, still deciding on California.” I mentioned Nancie’s dilemma to them over the phone. “Oh, I saw Gavin and his mom at their house a few days ago.”
“Gavin?” Mom narrowed her eyes.
“Ron’s best friend? From like, birth?” I offered. My parents both nodded.
“I haven’t seen him in forever! And his mother, Mona, right? I think the last time we spoke with her was the month after Charlie passed,” dad said. He was already on his fifth taco.
“We had brunch with them when Mona was first diagnosed with cancer,” mom said. “But I haven’t kept in touch. How are they?”
“Actually, not so well,” I said. “Mona’s cancer is terminal. She accounted that she has six months.”
They both gasped, and pushed away their half-eaten plates.
“The poor thing,” mom said. “That poor family. I couldn’t imagine. Just one tragedy after another.”
“It makes you realize what’s important.” Dad grabbed mom’s hand and shook his head sadly.
“How’s Gavin doing?” Mom asked.
“He seems strong,” I said. There was no way I was going to tell them about my offer. “I’m sure he’s devastated, but I think he’s just trying to be strong for his mom.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” mom said. “Mona and Charlie both raised an incredible kid. Charlie fell into quite a bit of money before Gavin was even born, but you would never have realized it. That kid was always so grateful for everything, and so well-behaved. He could have been a spoiled brat, but Ron was the spoiled half of their friendship.” Mom smiled. “I remember taking them both out for ice cream one time, I guess you could say I was the cool aunt, but my credit card was declined at the register. Gavin pulled out a $50 bill, paid for the three of us, tipped $20 to the poor girl working on a hot summer day, and then gave her the remaining $20 to pay for everyone else who came after us. He was only 10 years old.”
Dad chuckled. “When Ron was 10 years old he was a little Scrooge. He wouldn’t even spend money on pencil erasers. He just crossed everything out on paper.”
“Gavin really was a special kid. It’s no wonder he turned into a catch,” mom said. “Oh, poor thing. Losing both his mother and father in such tragic ways.”
I fidgeted in my seat. Their praising Gavin really wasn’t helping my conscience.
“You let him know that if he needs absolutely anything, he can come to us,” mom said.
“Although I don’t think there’s anything he needs that he couldn’t get,” dad said and finished his dinner. “His dad’s company sold for several billion, if I remember correctly.”
“You can’t get love from money,” mom said. “If he ever needs a family, you let him know he has one right here.”
I promised her I would, and we finished the rest of our dinner with a happier subject. But as I said goodbye, and promised again that I would let Gavin know, I couldn’t help but think that I had done exactly the opposite of what she wanted.
Gavin knew there was nothing from me he would ever want.
Chapter Nine
Gavin
I was on my third beer for the night by the time Ron met me at the local bar we frequented. It was still early in the afternoon, and Ron had just gotten bac
k from a morning of fishing when I messaged him letting him know that I would be at the bar. He hadn’t wasted any time in meeting me, and soon we both were enjoying our drinks and exchanging stories of our uneventful morning. It wasn’t particularly surprising, I supposed, when the conversation turned toward my mom, and her diagnosis.
“You could have told me,” Ron said. The bartender filled my glass of whiskey and nodded in Ron’s direction. “When you first found out, you could have told me instead of waiting for a public dinner.”
“She wanted it done that way,” I said.
“I know, but I know how stress fucks you up, and I could have been there to help deal with it all,” he said. “You and I both know that Mona would have wanted you to share your burden.”
A group of college-aged women arrived and sat on the other end of the cherry oak bar. They giggled as they each glanced at me and exchanged hushed whispers with one another. I turned from them.
“You only waited like a day,” I said. “Plus, I had a lot of other shit on my mind.”
“I don’t blame you,” Ron said. His attention was slowly moving between the group of women and me. “Fuck, we both have been through this already. When is life ever going to give us a break?”
We both lost our fathers at a relatively young age, is what he meant. I knew Ron’s sympathy was honest, but it still rubbed me the wrong way.
I was already drinking far too much for a Monday afternoon, but I knew no one would question a man with a dying mother. Maybe that was the problem with this town; everyone knew who I was, and that my mom was dying.
“You could tell me anything,” Ron said as I paid little attention to him and more on my glass. “We’ve been best friends since grade school; fuck, that’s over 20 years, isn’t it?” Ron chuckled as he nursed his beer. “You ever need anything, Gavin, and I got it.”
“Thanks,” I said, and meant it. I expected to hear those words from a lot of people, but it meant the most coming from Ron. Still, his voice was beginning to scratch the inside of my head, and not in a good way. I realized all I wanted was to be alone, but between mom and Ron and the rest of this goddamn town, that wasn’t ever going to happen.
“I got a call earlier from Maddie,” Ron said. “Her roommate might be moving to California soon, so she might have to move in with me.”
My fists clenched. I decided against telling Ron that his cousin was a heartless gold-digging bitch, but it still didn’t lessen the sting. I didn’t want to create any family drama, especially when I had a million other problems to deal with. Still, just hearing her name caused a headache.
“Oh?” I swallowed a gulp of my drink.
“I don’t know how I feel about it. I probably would have to stop bringing home women on the weekends,” he said. “It might be a deal breaker.”
Ron didn’t often bring women home as much as he claimed, not since his fiancée broke up with him the week before their wedding. But he definitely loved talking about it. His entire body was facing the women on the other side of the bar, and he had gotten the attention of a few of them. He told the bartender he’d pay for each of their drinks, and the women gave almost shy grins. Something told me they weren’t too shy at all
“So tell her to fuck off,” I said, my voice a little more tense than normal. Ron noticed, and he glanced at me with a frown. His skin was darker than usual after several hours in the morning sun, and his clothes had been crinkled and dampened from the lake. The women seemed to appreciate the look of a day laborer, and the bartender had returned with three of their numbers.
“For you, as well,” the bartender said and gave me a few numbers. I passed it to Ron, and he slipped them all into his pocket.
“You know I can’t do that,” Ron said. “My mom would kill me if I just let Maddie be homeless in a box off the highway.”
“She’s a grown woman,” I said. “She can take care of herself.”
But it was evident that she couldn’t take care of herself, or else she would never have tried extorting money from me. I briefly wondered what Ron would think. He’d be disappointed, upset, maybe even embarrassed. Not from the moment that I received the money from selling my father’s company did Ron ever ask for anything. Even after I offered to pay off his mortgage and school loans, he still refused it all. I had to sneak around our lunches and pay our bill before he noticed, or else he would still insist on splitting the cost. It had been difficult trying to reward his friendship, and it wasn’t until he pointed out that I refused to ever spend any money on myself that I stopped trying to shove it on him.
He was more than okay with using my boats whenever he wanted, and I did manage to convince him to let me pay for the rest of his mom’s credit card debt.
“That’s for damn sure,” he agreed and finished his beer. The bartender poured him another one, and he tipped him quickly before I could do it. “I know she’ll eventually get to where she’s going, but damn is it hard to watch her struggle.”
“Struggle?” I asked. “She lives in a two-bedroom apartment with a roommate while spending all her time on her phone, if she isn’t already posing for pictures to go in magazines.”
Ron laughed. “You’re really out of touch with reality; did you know that?”
I shrugged. “I guess, but I’d rather be out of touch than obsessed.”
“I don’t know if one’s better than the other,” Ron said. “At the end of the day, if Maddie’s asks to move in all I can do is say yes. I guess I’ll just have to get my fill of women in before then.” He gestured at the women. “Fancy any of them?”
I took another look at them. They were all tall and beautiful, with smooth skin and silky hair. A few were blonde, some brunettes, a redhead, and two dark haired beauties. I was frustrated beyond all reason, and the idea of taking a beautiful woman into my bed was more than tempting. I felt a stir in my jeans as the red-head smiled at me and pushed her curly hair behind an ear. Maybe Ron had the right idea.
I stood from my seat with the intention of introducing myself when my phone rang. Ron frowned as I unlocked it to find Karen’s name staring at me with an unanswered phone call.
I answered it immediately.
“Gavin, your mother isn’t well,” she said instantly. I leaned against the bar and gestured for Ron to leave me.
“Do you need anything?” he asked.
“I’ll be right there,” I said to Karen and shook my head at Ron. “You go have fun. I’ll call you later.”
Ron left to spend the beginning of the evening with a beautiful blonde, while I rushed to my dying mother’s house.
Karen met me outside of the house, which instantly made me lash out at her.
“Don’t you ever leave her alone like this ever again!” I yelled and slammed the door shut behind us. My fear and rage bubbled inside of me until it was threatening to explode.
“I’m sorry, Gavin, but she absolutely refuses to move from the kitchen,” Karen said. I followed her into the kitchen where mom was leaning against the counter with harsh, shallow breaths. She was forcing herself to stand by her arms, which were already weak, and she was close to fainting. I ran toward her and put my arms beneath hers.
“Mom!” I practically screamed. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I don’t want to go to bed,” she said. Her tiny frame was shaking violently. “It’s not my bedtime.”
“You need to rest,” Karen pleaded behind us. “She took all her medicine today without any food. She’ll pass out if she doesn’t lay down.”
“I don’t need to lie down,” mom said. “I just need to finish these damn dishes.”
The sink had one cup stained with coffee and a plate with crumbs from a cookie.
“I’ll finish them,” I said in a softer voice. “Just go rest, and I’ll finish them.”
“Get the hell off of me,” she demanded and pushed me away. “You don’t know how I feel, or what this is doing to me.”
It felt as if my heart broke into tiny pieces. H
er face had a yellow hue, and her hair was matted at the roots and barely hanging by a thread. It was far thinner than I remembered, and it might not last much longer. I also realized that she had lost enough weight to make her already shallow cheeks even more sunken, and there were black bruises beneath her eyes and across her forehead. I pulled her against me as the reality of the situation truly hit. My mother was dying, and she was afraid.
“I’ll finish the stupid dishes,” I said and held her at arm's length. She looked away from me, but I knew I was winning.
“We’re out of dish soap,” she mumbled.
“I’ll buy some,” I said.
“Well look at that,” she laughed. “All of a sudden I’m tired.”
She leaned against my arm as I led her toward her room. She hesitated near the bed, where the sheets were crumpled and flung across the top.
“You got into a fight with Karen?” I asked and fixed the bed. Her medications were on the side table, and momentarily I wondered how long she would take them. The entire six months? What was the point?
“Just a little,” she admitted. “I know I was wrong, I’m sorry. Sometimes I just feel so damn angry.”
“I understand,” I said and helped her into the bed. I fluffed her pillows and moved them so that her back was sitting against the wall. “Are there any shows you want?” I turned on the TV and offered the remote to her.
“Just something on Netflix,” she said. “Oh, maybe that new superhero show. I’ve heard it’s good.”
I smiled, knowing exactly which one she was talking about. Not many people knew this, but my mom had quite the comic book collection sitting in storage. She had been the biggest nerd growing up and had run to the comic store every Wednesday morning for the new releases. She had given me her collection when I turned of age. They were worth several tens of thousands of dollars, and she had wanted me to sell them and pay for college. I pretended I did, until my graduation when I gifted her with both my diploma and a box full of graded comics that never once saw the light of day.