I’m overbearing, I know. Colt already bitched at me about it. First thing he did after he got up and hauled his tote out of his bedroom, actually. A part of me hoped that he would be forced to talk to me if we were in such close proximity for nearly five hours, but he just sat there, eyes fixed out the window, some screamo shit blaring through his earbuds.
Luckily, Petro yakked my ear off, which made things less awkward. The kid’s a solid guy and I like that Colton has him to rely on, but damn—he can monologue for hours. I know, because I listened to him rattle on and on about some game he plays,Dungeons and Dragonsor something. I just nodded along, sparing an occasional glance in the rearview at him grinning at himself.
Whatever, the nodding helped keep me from dozing off, so it served a purpose, I guess.
Getting up early and going out with the old man, hauling traps in and resetting them, leaves me bone tired at the end of the day. Staying out late and drinking with the rest of the crew of both his and my brother’s boats—wherever I’m needed most that day—isn’t doing anything to help me feel rested, either. But there I’ve been, every night for the last two and a half weeks, tipping back drinks at Portside with my brother, Gannett, and the rest of the old cronies crew, while listening to them tick off all the reasons why I need to stay with the trade.
Call it peer pressure, I guess. Even though at thirty-four, you’d think I’d be past that stage in my life.
It’s a routine I only foresee getting worse, without the guilt of leaving my teenage son home by himself to do so. Luckily—likely because I told him he needed to be on his best behavior if he wanted to come out here this summer—he attended school every single day for the remainder of the year, didn’t get into any mischief, and really only came out of his room to use the bathroom or grab another snack. He didn’t even go to prom, which I was relieved about, since it’s notoriously a night where the angsty teens of Ternbay all seem to plot some epic, destructive prank—all because they’re fucking bored or something.
Despite the turn around, I still realize I’m putting all my chips on the table, hoping this summer he’ll come back having turned over a new leaf before his senior year. I’d like to see Colt find some direction and know where he wants to go with life. Right now, he seems so unmotivated to do anything regarding his future. I’m essentially hoping that the experience here can force my son to find a sense of purpose… and that Brooks Gallagher is a damn miracle worker.
Though, the man I met today certainly didn’t seem like the self-assured one I was emailing back and forth regarding Colt weeks ago. His cheeks kept getting all pink whenever we made eye contact. The Brooks I met today seemed, I don’t know, friggin’ shy around me or something—like I wasn’t who he expected to meet in person.
Certainly not like that other guy who showed up as I was leaving to go grab Brooks some new spark plugs. What did he call me?Hot stuff?
That guy was obviously as gay as the day is long—which, no problem, you do you—but why did I get so uncomfortable when he so obviously eye-fucked the shit out of me, before calling mehot stuff? Probably because, when he said that, it caused a raucous feeling inthe pit of my gut—like he could just tell the secret I’ve been carrying around forever, and he wouldn’t hesitate to call me out on it.
It awakened feelings in you that you’ve tamped down since you hit puberty, dumbass. Feelings you need to keep locked up, if you know what’s good for you.
Shaking those thoughts out of my head, my left hand tightens around the steering wheel, cracking the leather beneath it. Even my own thoughts berate me; they have for years. My wedding ring glistens in the sunlight as I flick on my blinker to pull back into the drive at Camp Healing Waters.
I wasn’t a good enough husband. I’m not a good enough dad, and I’m not good enough to bury these feelings—these questions I’ve harbored regarding my true self.
I’m starting to feel like that’s all I’ll ever be—a fuckup. The black sheep in my community, and the man who’s too damn much of a pussy to be seen for who he truly is.
A thirty-four-year-old failure. Widower to a woman who, in the last couple of years of her life, couldn’t even bring herself to say ‘I love you’ back to me. Father to a son who hates his guts. A shit friend, because I don’t see a point in wasting away the hours shooting the shit—talking shit, actually—about all the local sordid gossip while getting three sheets to the wind. Jobless, because I don’t see my helping out Wagner as my job, it’s just something to tide me over…
Until what, though? That’s the friggin’ question of the century, right there.
I got nothin’. No dreams, no goals, nothing to look forward to. At my age, I should be in my prime—settled, living a life, providing for my family. But instead, I feel like I’m starting over—floating adrift, my sails set for bleak horizons.
I sound like Jack fuckin’ Sparrow.
When I pull up to the driveway again and park my truck, I see Brooks is now showered and changed, and is now giving a tour of the place to a bunch of teenagers who all look to be the same age as Colt. Good. He’s occupied, so I can sneak in and get this fixed and head back out. I reach for the handle and hop out, quietly making my way to Brooks’ car.
It didn’t take me but a second to see that his spark plugs were corroded. They’ve likely never been changed since he’s owned the car. Simple fix. I should have him up and running again in no time. That way, I can get on the road back to Ternbay, and my son won’t have to complain that I’m overstaying my welcome.
“Well, well. Look who’s back,” sing-songs a voice from behind me. I spin on my heels to find the same guy as before, eye-fucking me once again. “I don’t think we properly got introduced before. I’m Kai,” he adds, holding out his hand for me to shake.
I return the gesture, albeit begrudgingly. This guy—Kai, I guess—is giving off snake in the grass vibes; I don’t know what it is about him. “Evan,” I grunt tersely, making sure that I spin my wrist slightly to show him my ring, before pulling my hand back.
Kai starts rambling on about something, but I don’t know what because I’ve tuned him out. All I keep thinking about is my ring and the weight of it on my finger. I haven’t even brought myself to be able to take it off, that’s how pathetic I am. Even when Miranda took hers off and left it on my nightstand for me to see she was serious about wanting a divorce, mine stayed firmly in place.Be a man; you made a promise, man up and keep that promise.It practically speaks the words to me, every time I twist it around, debating on whether or not to stop wearing it.
Now I’m using it as a weapon, hoping this Kai guy will just take a fucking hint. I’m not, and never will, give in to another man’s flirtationsagain, despite what my fucking dick sometimes thinks otherwise. I’m a Waters, after all. Born and bred into a legacy of being arealman—whatever the fuck that even means.
All I know is that it’s an image, a smoke screen I’ve had to hide behind since high school. And it would appear that I’ve done a damn good job of it too, because for the past few months all my brother has done is try to play matchmaker with me. Claiming that I should be ‘over Miranda’ by now, all he’s done is set me up with women. Women who I can’t bring myself to have any sexual interest in.
First of all, incompatibility aside, I did love Miranda, and I am probably never going to beover her. Second, Trista-Lynn, Gan’s most recent selection, is probably the worst fucking choice. Not only is she Gordy’s ex-wife, which would not be a smart move at all, she has the single most superficial and conceited personality I’ve ever seen.
Anyway, I’m almost positive the old man would disown me if he knew what I have secretly always wondered about myself, but have never been able to act on: that I am attracted to only men and not just a bi-curious man, hiding his true desires away from the world. Gannett would ridicule me to no end. Mom, I’m not sure what she’d think. She rarely forms an opinion of her own, obedient to her husband to the core.
My son would regard me as nothing more than dog shit on his shoe. He already hates me enough for getting back into the dating scene so soon after Miranda’s death. He knows nothing of the divorce talk between Miranda and me, and he also doesn’t know that I’m only back in the dating scene because of Gan’s persistence and my unrelenting fear of letting my family down.
Never mind the fact that I’m an eternal fucking embarrassment to Colt already. Imagine if word got out in our small town, if I—a Waters, practically Ternbay royalty—were to be seen ‘testingthe waters’ with another man. That’d be a scandal for sure. All hell would probably break loose, and that’s not a risk I’m willing to take. Not when it comes to my son.
“Yoo-hoo, cat got your tongue, hot stuff? I’ve been over here telling you all about myself, but you haven’t said a single thing.” Kai’s words rip me out of my self-loathing. He nods down at the spark plugs in my hand. “Are those for Brooks’ rust bucket? God, that thing is such a piece of shit. I keep telling him he needs to upgrade, but he doesn’t listen.”
