“I don’t know, babe.”
Kelly reaches down, and I slap my hand into hers.
She pulls me to a stand and says, “Stella, this is my girlfriend. April, meet Stella.”
April shakes her head, and neon-red hair falls across one eye. “Not how I wanted to meet Sam’s chick, but hi. Are you okay?”
“Yes,” I say, my voice shaky. “Just a little freaked out. Doesn’t seem like the glass made it this far.”
Kelly crunches over the wreckage in her black wedges and picks up a good-sized gray rock. “Fuckers. Last time, it was a brick. They could at least try for a bit of originality. You know, a big butternut squash or something.”
“This has happened before?” I ask. “Do you want me to call the police?”
“No,” Kelly and April answer back together. They look at each other with some kind of unspoken conversation.
April shakes her head. “It was a while ago, but Sam—”
“It won’t do any good,” Kelly cuts her off, shooting her a look. “Trust me. The cops can’t fix any of this. I’ll get Dylan down at the hardware store to help replace the window. It’ll be okay.”
“What…what’s going on?” I move my gaze back and forth between them. “Are you guys all right?”
Neither says anything. Kelly is seething as she takes a broom and dustpan and then begins furiously sweeping glass.
April’s face is now awash with sadness and concern. “Kelly, stop.” But her girlfriend continues to maniacally push around chunks of glass, even as April softly touches her arm. “Sweets…stop.”
“No! We have to clean it up. Now. I don’t want him to see or hear about this.”
“Look, I’ll do it. I’ll get it done fast. I’ll call about replacing the glass, and we’ll get it fixed tonight. Kelly, get out of here. You don’t have to deal with this.” She looks to me, her eyes begging for help. “Stella…can you…”
“I’ll go with you, Kelly,” I offer. I feel as though I’m suddenly caught up in something that is none of my business, but I do want to help if I can.
Kelly stands still in the pile of glass, her fingers white-knuckling the broom handle. “Okay.”
Pete from the bar appears outside the storefront as we’re leaving. “Aw, Kel. Damn it. I’m so sorry, my girl. Get out of here. Drinks are on me. I’ll help April.”
She nods as he pats her back.
Kelly storms a few doors down to the bar, and I have to scurry to keep up with her. It’s hard to tell if she even wants me to stay with her, but now, I feel an obligation to watch over her, so I slip into the booth. She strums her nails on the table until two tequila shots arrive. I’m not particularly in the mood to drink any more, but I sling one back with her. She raises her hand for two more, and the bartender nods her way.
“Do you want to talk about what happened?” I ask softly. “Or not. That’s okay, too.”
Kelly can’t seem to look me in the eyes. She’s tapping the empty shot glass on the table and taking slow deep breaths to calm herself. After drinking her second shot and mine, which I passed to her, she lifts her head. Although I can see that she’s fighting them, tears fill her eyes.
“The rock through the window? That wasn’t because of me, and it wasn’t because of April and me. In case you were wondering, this is a gay-friendly town, and no one gives us any crap. Half the tourists this summer will be gay. You’ll see.”
“You don’t have to explain. I understand if—”
“You need to talk to Sam,” she says firmly. “It’s his story, not mine.”
Another round of shots arrive, and again, I pass even though I could probably use it.
“He needs to talk. God, he needs to talk. He won’t let me help him, but he might let you.”
An hour and a half later, I pull up the driveway to the white house on the hill. I don’t bother to unload my bags from the car because I just want to find Sam. He didn’t answer my texts or calls, so I rap on his front door. I still haven’t been inside his place, which suddenly feels extremely strange. I listen for sounds that he might be working outside, but it’s eerily quiet this evening. Still, I sense that someone is watching me, yet I don’t see Sam when I turn and scan the front area of the house.
I check the wraparound porch, and while he’s not there, I do see his silhouette out on the dock. The sun is setting now, the light spectacularly beautiful, and the shape of his figure is so immediately relieving. Before reaching him, I can tell his mood has changed dramatically from what it was earlier today. A bleakness in his aura is palpable. He must have heard about the window, and I’m dreading this conversation. The incident in town has me nearly sick to my stomach.
Old dock boards creak beneath my shoes, but Sam doesn’t turn back. He won’t even look at me when I sit down next to him and hang my feet over the lapping water. He holds a half-empty bottle of whiskey in one hand. My worry only increases when I touch his arm, and he pulls away.
