Zac pulled out of the campground and turned onto HWY 2. As they wove their way out of town, evergreens, boulders, and sparse brown grasses blurred by like a splashy tapestry of the region’s seasonal color pallet. Late summer was Zac’s favorite season. By August every year, he’d grow accustomed to the dry heat. It was easy finding peace in the steady temperatures and buzzing cicadas that serenaded his adventures. Despite the uptick of business OtB saw over the warmer months, the consistent churn of weekend warriors was something he could rely on. It was stabilizing.
Wildly different from his youth. Until he settled in with the Millers, he would never have used the term “stable” to describe his home life. Upheaval, loneliness, and resentment were more accurate.
His parents were rich. Filthy. Stinking. Rich.
A fact he tended to keep to himself. Because for whatever reason the complaints he shared with friends—no matter how overwhelming or painful—were always excused away with a glib “I’d trade places with you in a second” or “You can’t complain when you’re rich”. To be honest he would have happily traded places with any number of his friends. Yes, he had the latest video games, all the gadgets, and any toy he could ever want. But what he really wanted was attention from his mother and father. Hugs, laughs, the random, “We’re proud of you, son”.
Shit, he spent more holidays with the housekeeper and chauffeur than with his own parents. They were nice and all, but when someone was being paid to stick around, the attention didn’t exactly land.
Thank fuck for the Millers, who showed him what a family was.
And for Tabitha all those years ago for showing him he was enough without a dollar to his name. Worthy of love and loyalty and commitment.
Too bad he couldn’t reciprocate.
A lump formed in his throat as he hazarded a glance at Tabitha, who rested her elbow on the open window. Her pert ponytail whipped around in the toasty breeze, and she smiled up to the sun shining on her freckle-free face. She’d selected a sweet little sundress with a mossy green sweater, which she’d shucked the instant she buckled up. The thin straps of the white and peach dress met atop each shoulder in floppy bows that begged to be pulled.
Flashes of her sixteen years ago, laughing gleefully at a local bowling alley invaded his thoughts.
“Are my shoes supposed to be this big?”she’d asked, walking around like her very average-sized shoes were meant for a clown.
Zac had stood there, stroking his chin, feigning deep thought. “You know? They might be too tight. Let me get you a bigger size—ow!”
She’d slipped one off and chucked it at him, pelting his shoulder as he barked out a laugh.
“Ha ha.” She’d rolled her eyes but was unable to contain her amusement.
Donning her flung footwear once more, she’d walked up to the ball return and eyed the colorful orbs. Zac had been shocked that she had never bowled before, but from the tight training schedule she held it made sense. She selected a sky blue ball the exact color of her eyes and prepared to roll.
Without thinking, Zac had snuck up behind her to coach her on the right form. But when his hand had grazed her waist, she flung around and cracked him.
“What’s so funny?” Tabitha asked wistfully from the passenger seat.
Zac hadn’t noticed the chuckle slip through his lips, that he’d been smiling at the memory. He cleared his throat, deciding there was no harm in taking a trip down memory lane. “I was just thinking about the time I tried to teach you how to bowl.”
The recognition was instant as her face took on a mortified look of shock. Her hands couldn’t hold back a burst of laughter despite flinging them to her face.
“I’d forgotten about that.”
“I hadn’t,” Zac grumbled, cupping his crotch in mock agony. “I still get fantom throbs where you whacked me in the nuts.”
“Oh! Then I felt so bad that I dropped the ball on your toes.” She held the green sweater over her face, shaking from embarrassment and laughter. She lowered the garment and gave a cheeky little scowl. “I never did get to bowl that day.”
“That’s because we left so I could ice my battered body. I still don’t know if I’ll be able to make babies,” he groused, though his laughter trailed when he noticed Tabitha shifting uncomfortably. Her smile had dimmed, morphing into required pleasantness rather than genuine joy. What had he said? He must have ventured into an off-limits topic. Joking about having children may not be the best idea with an ex?
They sat in silence for a few awkward minutes until Tabitha said quietly, “You know, I still have never gone bowling.”
“What?” Zac turned so quickly toward her that he jerked the steering wheel a bit and the van wobbled to the rumble strip.
“Calm down,” Tabitha yelped. “Eyes on the road.”
“You shocked me,” he defended. “Everyone in America has bowled at least once.”
“That seems like an exaggeration. I guarantee not everyone has. There’s no way I’m the only one missing out on the mediocre pastime.”
“How do you know it’s mediocre?” Zac scoffed.
“Because it’s rolling a ball down some slippery wood to knock over pins.”
