“As usual, Ocean Pines, you are all too kind,” Abbott says with an easy, perfect smile. He’s got to be the only hockey player in the league who still has a toothpaste-commercial-worthy smile. Only now that mouth is surrounded by a thick, almost out-of-control playoff beard he hasn’t shaved off even though he won the Cup over six weeks ago. I’ve never seen him with more than a five o’clock shadow and I kind of like it. I mean, it doesn’t look bad. Nothing looks bad on Abbott. “You know what was the hardest part about dreaming of being a pro-hockey player when I was growing up just a few blocks from here?”
Telling your best friend and first lover that you’d never be able to come out and letting them walk out of your life?
“Knowing I would have to leave this town and this state behind to play,” Abbott says. I know there’s hundreds of people here, but I swear he looks right at me — just me —and he licks his lips. “My favorite people in the world are from Ocean Pines.”
Whistles and cheers erupt.
“And now, I get to do what I thought would be impossible. I get to live my dream while living in Ocean Pines with my favorite people,” Abbott says. “Support your new NHL franchise in the fall and I’ll hopefully get to do it for a long time. Maybe the kazoo band can even play at the arena. But in the meantime, let’s have them play right now. Happy Founder’s Day, everyone. Don’t forget to try all the food, like Hawkins Lobster Shack, and then grab some cotton candy and be on the beach at ten for the fireworks.”
Everyone but me claps, and Abbott puts the mic in a stand and walks away. I know I sound like an egotistical ass, but I swear he looks over his big bulky shoulder at me one last time before he leaves the gazebo and is immediately mobbed by people. And I’d also swear that mentioning the restaurant was to butter me up and the cotton candy reference was to make me remember. As if I could forget.
Just because I’m not talking to him doesn’t mean I don’t relive every single moment we’ve had together. Every single one. Because as sad and pathetic as it is, I do.
“You doing your best impression of a tree or what?”
I startle and Terra laughs. Her dirty blonde hair is in pig tails with red, white, and blue ribbons, and she’s got American flag temporary tattoos on both her shoulders. She’s holding two bags of hot dog buns. “We run out of buns already?”
She nods. “Yeah. I swear it’s the busiest Founder’s in a while.”
“I can help,” I say immediately. I deserted the family for months and I’m still trying to make up for that, even though none of them have made me feel guilty about it… now that they understand why I left.
Terra shakes her head and yanks her arms back, away from me, when I try to reach for the bags of buns. “Nope. I got this. You need to get your ass to the cotton candy stand. She always runs out and Abbott mentioning us on stage isn’t going to help.”
I smile. “I can live without cotton candy now. I’m not a kid.”
“Yeah, and I can live without Sweet Tarts, but I don’t because life is too short.” Terra grins at me. “Go Deck. Pretend you’re having fun. Maybe Ma will stop worrying about you.”
I frown and Terra instantly shakes her head. “No. Don’t frown! It’s not a criticism of you. You’re doing fine. I know. She’s just…”
“Wracked with guilt because I made her feel like shit,” I finish for her. Terra’s eyes soften.
“You didn’t make her feel anything. She’s in charge of her emotions,” Terra replies, and I know I flipped the switch in her brain labeled ‘therapist.’ My sister is officially a certified therapist with a specialization in addiction. “You’d be upset if I said she was responsible for the feelings that made you attempt suicide.”
“Of course. That wasn’t her fault.”
“Well, same with this, Deck,” Terra replies as she juggles the bags of buns. “She’s worried about you because you’re her little boy. She missed the signs. She didn’t ask the right questions.”
“I wouldn’t have answered them honestly anyway.”
“Anyway, worrying and fussing is what she does. You’re talking to the girl sporting her boyfriend’s kidney, remember? She still feels guilty about not being a match for me. Like she could control that or something.” Terra grins again and points at the scar on her exposed abdomen. “Anyway, go eat cotton candy. She’ll be happy and I know you will be too.”
Without giving me a chance to say anything else, Terra bops off toward the Hawkins booth and I let my eyes drift to the cotton candy booth, which has a pretty big line. I really do want some, so I make my way over. There’s an older couple who look vaguely familiar in front of me, and four people in front of them. I smile at them as a hello, since they’re eyeballing me, and then crane my neck to see how many bags of that magical sugar mixture Mrs. Jones has left.
“We should go.” I hear the older man in front of me say to his wife.
“But we promised the grandkids,” she whispers back.
“We’ll come back,” he replies tersely, and I can feel his glare.
I meet his eye. “It sells out every year. I would stay put if your grandkids have their heart set on it.”
“Come on, Brenda,” he says to his wife without acknowledging me.
She looks up at me, disappointed - by the fact that she’s being pulled away, not by the fact that her husband is being rude to me. I shove my hands in my pockets. “Is there something wrong?”
“We go to your mother’s church,” she says, and her husband’s face instantly darkens.
“Yes. I know,” I say quietly but firmly.I will not feel guilt. I will not feel guilt.“Mrs… Taylor, right?”
