“Not the best time for eighteen holes.”
“Check your texts.”
I slow down enough to pull up the pin. That’s not the direction I was going and it puts me back in the crosshairs before it gets me out of them, but it’s not me trying to scale a ski resort type mountain either in an unstable ATV, so I’ll cut my losses. “Yes. I need forty minutes. More if I run out of gas. Battery is almost drained, so I’m hanging up. I’ll meet you at the clubhouse. If you don’t see me in forty-five, ping my phone and start searching.”
I disconnect.
I don’t tell him that one of those bullets hit true.
The blood oozes warm down my back as I turn north, hoping to avoid another—this time more accurate—shot.
42
menagerie of vibrators
Lorien
Mom and Dad, and Sam and Billy show up after the first bowl of tots has been devoured and the first two drinks for me have been consumed. Sometime around the middle of the second, I mentioned to my brother in a conspiratorial whisper that I might have a crush on the boy next door.
I omit thatthe boyis all man and made me scream more times in twelve hours than I had in the five years prior. I avoid any conversation at all about sex or my growing feelings for the man who plans to devastate me for the rest of my life. The girth is one thing. The piercing is another, but the clencher—no pun intended—is how wholly cherished I feel in his presence. His care, his possessive nature, and his out-and-out refusal to leave me unsatisfied in bed will spoil any experience I have after him.
A wham-bam-thank-you-ma’am would make my head explode. I guess I could always take up the idea that it’s about me. Get on, get off, and get gone. Men do it all the time. Icouldbe that person. But even as I think it, I know better. If I were to collect a menagerie of vibrators, I could be good alone, right?
Fighting to get my head out of the bedroom and off sex toys is easy when Dad plops down next to me. Yep, any horny left disappears like our waitress after I schooled her manners.
“Well, we did it.” Sam looks at her husband and smiles quietly. A thin gold band sits firmly on her ring finger.
Billy’s slightly thicker one rounds out the set.
“Congratulations, Sam,” I offer. “I’m so happy for you. I’m glad you have Billy.” I turn to him. “Welcome to the family. You’re stuck with us now.” It falls flatter than the humor I’d intended.
“Thanks, Lorien,” he replies, though it feels a bit forced, and very direct, as if he’s speaking to me but things are tense with my parents.
From the feel of the table, I’m not far off.
Our new waitress, the one who came with the second round of drinks, is bubbly and kind, if not a bit shy. “Hey and welcome in. What’re we drinking today?”
“Diet Coke for me,” I put in as Strider lifts his empty beer glass.
“I’ll have what he’s having.” Dad points Strider’s way and leans back in his chair.
“Water for us.” Billy moves a finger between himself and Sam. Why does that feel less like love and care and more like control?
Mom releases a quiet sigh and orders a margarita on the rocks with extra salt.
I look over at my brother and mouth the wordsalt. He gives me a wry smile in return. I may be a science nerd, but I’m an educational one. That has to count for something.
“So tell us everything,” I say to Sam.
She must want to share if only because she planned this on my brother’s birthday and in our hometown. Had she wanted solitude or it to be solely about the two of them, they could have eloped at any other time. They had the opportunity to show up here already married and skip the wholepartnerconversation. Or she could’ve made an intro and married Billy on the beach in the Keys with the waves and the kettle drums as their background after they got home. There was a point to this.
Sam looks to Billy who gives a solemn nod. “Billy—” she starts but stops to suck in a huge breath. “Billy is terminal. We want the opportunity to give him a fighting chance. A lot of the clinical trials tend to have invisible weight on married versusunmarried. As if leaving someone behind legally has more intrinsic value than if you were single.”
Dad, who is already pushed all the way back in his seat, lifts his chin and nearly topples the chair. Mom reaches for him and I do the same, just in time to catch him awkwardly. Though Mom’s cry of pain is what draws all of our attention.
“Diane,” Dad yells in a huff, busily rearranging his clothes and getting his feet underneath him. “Diane, what is it?”
The whole table stares at Mom with tears streaming down her cheeks… and her forearm with a bone protruding where it shouldn’t naturally be.
