‘Hey,’ she responds. Her tone is light. She seems nervous.
‘I, uh, I brought you these,’ I say, holding out the flowers. ‘By way of an apology.’
She walks down the steps. ‘They’re beautiful. Thank you.’
I hand them over and she searches my face. ‘I think I’m supposed to be the one apologizing to you.’
I hold her gaze. If we were in the cabin, I’d ask to kiss her. I’ve missed her, even since Friday. I think I’d forgive her anything, and hope that she can forgive me for walking away from her like I did in the parking lot at Surly’s. ‘You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,’ I tell her, and she looks like she might cry. ‘I mean, don’t get me wrong,’ I add. ‘I was a little surprised.’
She bites her lip. ‘So… you’re not mad?’
‘Not mad, no. Not anymore. Just a little curious maybe.’
We stand there, in her front yard, face to face. I feel an urge to ask her if she knows what kind of hold she has over me. That I’d do anything she asked if it meant even the tiniest shot at making her happy. Stripper, or no stripper, I don’t care. I just know I’ve never met a woman like her before and all I wanna do is cherish her. Make her mine.
‘You wanna come inside?’ she asks. ‘I can introduce you to my dad.’
The porch steps creak as I walk up. The dog has quit barking though now I can hear a man hollering at the TV in the house across the street. The screen door grates and I notice it’s coming off its rusty hinges.
‘How long you lived in this house?’ I ask.
She turns to face me. ‘I’ve lived here my whole life.’
‘It’s… it’s cosy.’
She tilts her head and glances up at the ceiling, which, when I follow her gaze, I realize is a spiderweb of cracks and lines. ‘It’s not, it’s crumbling,’ she says miserably. ‘But it’s home, and we don’t have the money to fix it. Come meet my dad.’
She first puts the flowers in the kitchen and then I follow her into a living area. There’s an old TV showing a Dodgers game. Serenity’s father has his feet up on the worn-out couch, the insides spewing outta one end where it’s come apart at the seams. He’s wearing a mask hooked up to some kind of oxygen tank, attached to a metal cart on wheels. He looks frail and a little emaciated.
‘Daddy,’ Serenity says. ‘This is Jake, who I was telling you about. Jake, this is my father, Glenn Harper.’
He looks up from the couch. Serenity inherited his eyes. His are bright, despite his obvious illness.
‘It’s nice to meet you, sir,’ I say.
He goes to stand, albeit a little slowly and removes his mask.
‘No, no, please don’t get up,’ I add.
‘It’s fine, son,’ he says, then shakes my hand with more force than I would have expected. ‘Always nice to meet a friend of Serenity’s. You’re a football player?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘More of a baseball fan myself.’
‘So I heard. I hope you’re not disappointed.’
‘You kidding? Serenity never brought a young man home before. I’ve been waiting all this time… figured she’s too busy. Working too hard.’
‘She does work too hard,’ I say, but I can’t say anything else because Glenn Harper is coughing.
‘Daddy, put your mask back on,’ Serenity chastises him. ‘Sit your butt down, come on.’
‘Yes, ma’am,’ he responds to her commands, and I smile at her strength. I’ll add ‘caring’ to the list of things about her that appeal to me. Glenn returns to his original position as instructed, replacing the mask over his nose and mouth.
‘Jake and I are gonna have a beer on the back porch,’ she tells him, and to me, she lifts her chin, tilting it toward the back of the house.
Outside, I take a seat on a ramshackle chair; some of the slats are missing. Serenity returns with a couple of bottles.
