“Maybe.”
“There’s a festival in October, the one I’ve been sharing on social media. That would be a great reason to visit.”
“How’s the surfing?”
“I love that you think I’ve attempted it.”
Courtney does a fake laugh, then frowns slightly. “Renzo and I broke up.”
Ah, there it is. I never particularly liked Renzo, but they were together for a solid year, so I thought maybe this one would stick around for the long haul. But Courtney doesn’t seem to have a type, and he also doesn’t seem to like being tied down. So here we are.
“I’m sorry to hear that,” I say diplomatically while continuing to work at the puzzle. Courtney’s snort has me looking up to find he’s ruefully shaking his head at me. “What?”
“I knew you didn’t like him.”
“Well, he made youfeelold on purpose, and that’s not very kind.”
“I suppose not,” Courtney admits softly as he focuses back on his own puzzle. “I’m lonely.”
I don’t know what to say because Courtney’s not one to admit that sort of thing. He’s strong and leads by example, silent without the edge of anger people often have. I wish I could hug him and hand him a beer, but these puzzle video calls will have to be enough.
“I’m lonely, too, so we make quite a pair.”
Courtney chuckles softly. “That we do, kid.”
CHAPTER FIVE
TUCKER
It’s full dark when I get home with the bag containing hair dye and clippers. I don’t know which one to use to satisfy this itch inside of me. Maybe both. That’s a fun idea. Dad and Pop are easy to see out on the back porch when I walk through the house, and they’re sitting close enough for their arms to brush with each move. Twin glasses of wine are on the table in front of them. The sound of Dad’s laughter mixes with the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, and some of that swell of anxiety inside me lowers.
I remember the first time I dyed my hair as a wayward teenager. I’d had such a happy home, but I’d been so angry at things that were beyond my control. No one can adequately prepare a boy to understand the depth of his emotions when he realizes what it meant to be abandoned at a young age. Grappling with being unwanted by the first person who was supposed to want you irrevocably… Well, even in the happiest of homes it’s a tough pill to swallow.
Sure, I love my dads, they’re my everything, but goingthrough puberty with a block-sized chip on my shoulder ached. The best thing my parents ever did was pick their battles. I wanted to dye my hair a funky color? Cool, let’s go see a hair stylist. I wanted a tattoo before I turned eighteen? They’ll sign the permission slip. My first car needs to be something old with too much horsepower? Here’s an old Camaro that we can fix up together. One thing they never wavered on was giving me a safe and happy home to return to when I got into any sort of trouble.
Down seventy dollars from the dye, clippers, and rideshare, I really need the guitar lessons with Charles to go well. He doesn’t seem much like a Charles now that I’ve spent more than a few moments with him. I should call him Chuck and see what happens. Yikes, never mind, because then he’ll get the idea to call me Tuck. No, thank you. Only my dads get to do that.
I head into the guest bathroom, toeing off my shoes after closing the door behind me. The dark blue smudges under my eyes remind me that I really need to get some sleep. It would be easier if I wasn’t always expecting Anthony to call from a private number to pester me, or worse, beg me to come back because I don’treallyknow what I saw. He was really good at that. Always selling me a different story than the one I witnessed.
All right. Clean slate.
Decision made.
I plug the cheap clippers into the outlet and shake out the instructions for the light pink dye. It’s just a semipermanent color, so it’ll wash out with time, but it’ll be fun to feel like myself again after years of the boring blond that I low-key hated. The curls are fun, the color not so much. I seesnapshots of my mother every time I look in the mirror, which isnevera good time. The clippers are loud as I lift them to my head, and I can’t help but smile as my hair falls into the sink. It doesn’t take as long as it did to grow it out, of course. When all the hair has fallen, it feels like so much weight has disappeared off my chest. I stare in the mirror, barely recognizing myself but knowing this person more than the previous Tucker. I work the pink dye into my now short hair, then stare into the bathroom mirror again.
Tears come to my eyes, slowly at first, then all at once. Before I know it, I’m sobbing so hard, I can’t see through the ocean of tears. How did I become someone I can’t recognize anymore? How did I sacrifice my favorite parts of me just to keep Anthony happy? How did I let him speak to me so unkindly? How did I let him touch me when I didn’t want to be touched?
How did I?
How?
How?
It stops now.
I spend the remaining time cleaning up the bathroom as the light pink dye works on the remaining buzzed hair. After I wash it out, I can’t help but grin at the sight of me. There I am. I know this person, and I love him. I rub the strands of ivy across my collarbones, having the itch for a new tattoo now that I’m free again. We don’t have a tattoo shop in town, but there’s one on the mainland. I’ll have to make time for a new one soon.
I head to the kitchen with the intention to grab a cider, maybe go hide back in my room, but Pop stops me in my tracks. He leans against the counter, a glass of wine held loosely in his hand, gaze firmly trained on me. His hair is stilldark, but now it’s shot with gray, and his beard is a little wilder than I recall growing up.
