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I cackled at him and his use of the word ‘blowie’.
“Shut up,” he said with a laugh, shoving my shoulder so I swayed sideways on the swing.
“Do you think you will?” I finally asked once I could get my breath back.
He shrugged.
“I’m not worried about it either way. I mean, It’s not that I’m like, leader of the chastity club or anything, but I want it to mean something, you know? Maybe that sounds stupid, but…”
“That's not stupid. I mean, if that’s stupid, then I’m stupid.”
He grinned at me, shrugging.
“Well, you’re definitely not stupid,” he countered, and we dissolved into silence after that.
I couldn’t tell how long we sat there, silent in the darkness with only the moon to light the night. There was the slow, rhythmic squeak of the swing chains and the buzz and chirp of cicadas.
Eventually, Patrick stood from the swing and stretched, his back cracking in three places.
I laughed at him.
“I tell ya, football is no joke,” he said with humor lacing his words.
“How is that going?” I asked him. “Mom told me that you’re hoping to get into college on a scholarship. You think that’s going to happen?”
He shrugged.
“I sure as hell hope so. Otherwise, I don’t think I’m going to college.”
“Really?”
He shook his head while I stood.
God, I’m getting old. My back was aching like crazy.
The two of us started walking home again.
“Yeah. I dunno what I’d go to school for anyway. I’ll probably just become an apprentice at Dad’s work. It’s a good, honest living.”
“Sure, but is it really what you want to do?”
He shrugged again.
“In the long run, if I’m making a good enough income, does it matter if it’s something I love? I mean, very few people get to make a living doing what they love, and the rest of us? We work so that we can do what we love. I’m not afraid of hard work, and the world will always need electricians, right?”
I supposed he was correct about that.
“I just want you to be happy,” I told him, grabbing his hand and squeezing.
“Ditto, sis,” he said, giving me one of his beaming smiles. “But you don’t need to worry about me. If I were you, I’d be worrying more about how the hell you’re going to get Mom and Dad on board with your forty-two year old boyfriend.”
I laughed, smacking him on the arm.
He cackled at me, then opened the gate to our back yard and let us in through the kitchen door.
Mom and Dad were both asleep in front of the TV, and I smiled lovingly at them. The love they had was all I’d ever wanted for myself. A partner, and someone to lean on to support me, who I could support, too. Someone who cared, and was tender with me.
Owen was all of those things.
