“It’s closer to the high school, so I thought it’d be full of reunion goers, and I didn’t think you’d feel ready to see them yet.”
She’s not wrong there.
“What made you think I’d want to come here instead?”
“I didn’t, but I thought that one, it would suitably distract you, and two, it’d make you feel so uncomfortable that the reunion will feel like a breeze.”
“Please never go into therapy,” I shoot back, and she gives me a toothy grin.
“We can leave as soon as you’ve finished your drink.” She gestures toward mine and I can see she’s halfway down hers already. I grab the straw and take a long gulp.
As the burning hits the back of my throat, I sputter and nearly choke.
“Are you trying to kill me? I thought you said it was peppermint iced tea!” I croak, my voice having burnt away with the alcohol.
“It is. Peppermint Long Island iced tea,” she replies with a smirk.
Seriously, I don’t know why I put up with her. Oh yes, she’s the only friend I have. I perhaps need to work on that, if I survive long enough that is.
The alcohol has now hit my stomach and strangely the warmth does make it feel more settled. Not that I’ll ever tell Clara that.Instead I glare at her and take another long drink, making it clear that I’m doing it so we can leave as quickly as possible.
I’m glad we leave as soon as we finish up our drinks; I feel like the pool guys are starting to circle us like sharks. As we start the walk back to my house so we can get ready, I notice my stomach is calmer and the alcohol has taken the edge off my anxiety a little. This evening might not be as bad as I think after all.
CHAPTER FIVE
Reece
Grogginess dulls my senses and for a moment I don’t remember where I am. I blink my eyes open and the familiarity of my childhood bedroom brings it all back to me, along with the realization that it’s late. I grab my watch from the nightstand. It’s three o’clock. Shit! The jet lag really knocked me out. Cursing myself for not setting an alarm, I jump out of bed, ignoring the ache in my bones and the dull throbbing in my head. I don’t have time to worry about them now. I need to find Holden before the reception tonight. I yank open the door, not wanting to waste any more time and nearly run into my mom carrying a pile of laundry.
“Oh, you’re up. Did you sleep well?”
“I did, but I didn’t want to sleep so long.” I bite back an accusation that she should have woken me. I’m a grown man; I’m not going to blame my mom.
“You obviously needed it, honey. Let me fix you something to eat.”
“There’s no time, Mom. There’s something I need to do urgently.” I slip past her and into the bathroom before she can ask questions. I take a quick shower, trying to rinse off the brain fog so I can function properly. When I make it downstairs a few minutes later, my mom hands me a coffee and a cookie.
“Take these with you, they’ll keep you going until later.”
“You’re the best, Mom,” I say and kiss her cheek, which earns me her widest smile.
“Go do whatever it is you need to do.” She gives me a little push toward the door. I know she’s curious what it is, and I will tell her once I’ve had a chance to apologise to Holden.
As I slide into the driver’s seat, I check my watch. It’s four now, so I don’t have much time. I reverse out of the driveway at a speed that wouldn’t have been out of place in some old cop movie. I start running through what I want to say to him, urgency jumbling the thoughts in my head. A loud horn gets my attention and I see a car heading straight for me. Fuck! I swerve, narrowly missing him. I’m definitely close enough to see the rude gesture he gives me. I’m about to give one back when I notice it’s me who’s in the wrong. I’m driving on the left side of the road. I’d forgotten about it in my haste. I correct the car back over to the right and drive across town with no further mishaps, and more vigilance.
I know Holden has a yarn store; I’ve gleaned that much from what my mom’s told me over the years. She never knew about what I did to him, the taunts and name calling, the shoving and belittling. Nothing violent, but enough to make his lifemiserable. If she had known, she would certainly have told me off, grounded me, and given me a lecture about how to treat people. Would it have made a difference? I don’t know. I was in a pretty bad place at the time. I dismiss the thought as I’ll never know, and there’s no point dwelling in the past. I need to fix this now. I pull into a parking space in front of a row of stores. The yarn store is obvious as a splash of bright colour amongst the other store fronts. I can’t help the smile that pulls at the corners of my mouth. Then I notice the name—Yarning for Ewe. It’s cute, and a sense of feeling like I lost something long ago settles in me. I don't know what it is and I don’t have time to think about it now. I push on the door but it doesn’t yield, and again as it takes a few seconds for me to realise it’s not going to open. It’s then I notice the sign, “Closed Early.”
“Damn!” I mutter and try the door one more time, giving it a rattle for good measure. I fist my hands in frustration. I’ve fucked up big time. I stand on the sidewalk, looking around for inspiration. I have no idea where he’ll be or where he lives, but I do know where his parents live—or lived—and it’s the only option I can think of right now. I race back to my car and reverse out into the traffic, earning myself a few beeps and expletives in the process, but I ignore them. I have more important things to think about. It’s only a few minutes drive to Holden’s old neighborhood. I peer at each of the houses, trying to remember which one is his parents’. At last I find it and park the car. It’s old fashioned, and like most of the houses in this neighbourhood, looks like it hasn’t changed in the last twenty years. Each one is just as I remember it. I pause at the mailbox at the end of the drive. My heart sinks that the name no longer says Pearce, but I’m going to try anyway, it’s the only chance I’ve got. There aren’t any cars in the drive, and knocking on the door doesn’t yield any results. The sinking feeling I’ve had since finding the storeclosed intensifies, and I reluctantly retrace my steps back down the drive. I spot a neighbor in his front yard mowing the grass.
“Do the Pearce’s still live here?” I shout over the noise, and he stops the mower for me to repeat the question. He takes off his ball cap and wipes his forehead with his arm.
“Nope, they moved away, must be ten years ago now.”
“Do you know where they went?”
“I heard they moved into one of those retirement communities across town.”
It doesn’t surprise me that much. Holden’s parents were quite old when he was born. I think it was a shock when he came along. They seemed to belong to an older generation even when we were kids. The news doesn’t help me.
