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“Hey.” The boat dips as I step onboard. “I don’t blame you if you tie a cement block to my feet and throw me overboard.”
Joe cracks a smile. “Trouble in paradise?”
“My dad called this morning.”
Joe takes a sharp inhale. “I heard. Just spoke to Jen. She said she’s worried about you, which means I’m worried about you.”
“Seriously.” I glance around the boat. “If there’s any kind of heavy object lying around, I’ll tie it to my legs myself.”
Joe shakes his head. “Not necessary.” He pats the seat beside him. “Sit. Talk to me, son.”
That word sounds so different coming from Joe’s mouth. Or maybe it’s the way it makes me feel that’s different.
I sit. The smell of the ocean fills my head. The ocean, and Joe’s Old Spice aftershave. Same kind he’s used since the nineties.
“I fucked up,” I say.
Joe nods. Waits for me to keep going.
I lean my elbows on my knees as I search for the right words. After a while, I decide to keep it simple. Get straight to the point. “What if I keep fucking up? And the fuck-ups get bigger and bigger until I ruin everything?”
Joe thinks on this for a minute. “It’s easy—well, not easy, but easier—to move past the things your dad did when he’s not always around. But when he does pop up, it’s like you go back to feeling like a helpless kid again.”
I swallow, heart spasming. “Yes. That’s exactly how I feel. He hasn’t changed one bit, Joe. Still using. Still lying. Still telling everyone who will listen that he’s the victim. It’s ruining my day, and now I’ve gone and ruined Jen’s too. There’s a pattern there.”
Joe arches a brow. “Really? You’re comparing those two things? Your dad opening old wounds and you getting in a fight with Jen?”
“It’s not even a fight. I scared her.”
“That wasn’t right. What did she say after it happened?”
“She just hugged me and said she wanted me to open up so she could be there for me.” I shake my head. “I don’t deserve her kindness.”
Joe elbows me. “But you do. We all deserve kindness, especially when we fuck up. You’re not imitating any kind of pattern, Abel. You were just taken off guard and you did a dumb thing because of it. Trust me when I say you’re the only one who thinks you’re doomed to repeat history.”
Chuckling, I push up to sit and tear a hand through my wet hair. “Prove it.”
“I thought you’d never ask,” Joe replies with a smile.
I frown. “What does that mean?”
Joe stands up with a grunt. “C’mon. Let’s walk over to my house. There’s something I want to show you.”
Joe lets me help him off the boat. He’s moving more slowly than usual, but his feet are steady and he’s got a twinkle in his eye.
“What are you up to?” I ask.
“You’ll see.”
Joe lives a couple blocks from the marina, one street over from Tuck. His house fits right in at Harbour Village: shingled siding, deep porches, great views of the marina and the Cape Fear River beyond.
He leads me inside and tells me to wait in the kitchen. “I’ll be right back. Make yourself at home. There’s beer in the fridge.”
“Can I help you with anything?”
“Sit, Abel. I can manage just fine.”
He disappears upstairs while I pour myself a glass of water. I glance at the ceiling when I hear athumpfrom upstairs.
