We all know Hawk’s an asshole. We simply choose when and how to entertain his bullshit. With a satisfied exhale, Uncle Bert returns to the table, this time taking Hawk’s seat across from me. “So—are you telling me if Jack Collins were about to lose his ten acres on Gunn Lake, you’d marry him?”
“Oh my God, fuck off.” I push my hat off my head and thread my hand into my hair.
“Humor me. Would you?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m …not gay. I’m not attracted to him, and it would be awkward as fuck.”
“Then we can establish that you’re attracted to her, but if you don’t have love in a marriage, you’re going to be miserable.” He cocks his head at me.
I meet his gaze directly, trying to level with him. “I’m not sure love is something I’m capable of.”
Bert takes a beat and then says, “So you have a unique way of processing things emotionally,” he points out one of my eccentricities; that being my inability to handle ‘big’ feelings – a category I’d definitely say love falls under. “Doesn’t mean you can’t fall in love. And I’d like to think marrying someone means you have potential.”
“I can’t even get myself to go on a fucking dates,” I point out, ignoring his shit talking.
“No,” he nods slowly before getting up and heading to the fridge, “apparently you skip right to proposing marriage.”
“Very funny,” I jeer as he grabs a beer of his own. “It’s not for the same reasons and you know it.”
“Yes, I know it.” Bert twists the top off his bottle before picking up my discarded one on the counter. “And put your empties in the damn recycling, you little shit.” He tosses it in the recycling bin under the sink. “Despite your adamant reasoning, I still have thoughts, and you’re going to keep your mouth shut while you listen to them,” he calmly declares as he sits back down.
I shake my head but wave a hand for him to proceed as I take a pull of my beer.
“Maybe you don’t think you’re capable of love or romance, but there’s no way you don’t feel anything for this girl,” he starts.
Molly’s face with her beautiful hair blowing across it in the sunlight involuntarily comes to mind at his words.
When I first showed up at her house, before the land developer drama, she had no idea I was cataloging that very sight of her. I care about her, that’s for sure. And to feel that for someone I’ve known for such a short time—that in itself is an oddity for me. Hell, getting to know her atallis bizarre for my track record.
“What’s in it for you?” he rephrases.
I consult my beer bottle and think about my answer. Marrying Molly would eliminate the pressure of finding someone, being social, dating etc. I’d just be tied to one person and not have to worry about everyone else… It may not sound moral, but I decide to opt for honesty.
“Some breathing room for starters,” I tell him, slightly afraid to look up and see the disappointment in his eyes. “A chance to be away from everyone hounding the ever-loving hell out of my ass to date or get laid or be more entertaining for fuck’s sake.” The words rush out on a heavy gust of pressurized air from my lungs. “The pressure would be off, and I’d be tied to just one person, and …she’s one that I don’t hate being around,” I admit, surprising myself and finally looking up at him, feeling confident in that last part.
Bert meets my gaze with a soft look in his eyes and a warm smile under his peppered mustache. “I understand.” He nods somberly.
And I believe him. He’s seen how hard my brothers have been on me for just being different from them. Because I prefer my own company and the quietness of the woods instead of entertaining others with conversation and palling around with them. For not being able to tolerate loud atmospheres for long before it starts to hurt. And for not wanting to play the dating game and jump through hoops in the hope of getting laid.Uncle Bert never said much before, just occasionally telling my brothers to lay off. But the two simple words he just spoke and the compassionate look in his eyes give me a reassurance I never knew I was craving: someone else thinks it’s okay to live my life the way I do.
“The crazy thing is, I think going straight into marriage might pan out well for you romantically.”
“How do you figure that math?” My eyebrows rise dubiously as I start peeling at the label on my bottle.
“Because this way you can pursue authenticity without all the superficial garbage getting in the way, and you can both tailor the relationship to your unique needs,” he explains the equation in a way I surprisingly understand. “What’s her name?”
“Molly,” I supply. “Molly Butler.”
“Fuck…” the word coasts out of him on a breath it seems he didn’t mean to let out. “The Butler property.”
“Yeah, you know it?”
He nods thoughtfully at the table top. “I knew of her grandparents, and I heard a few things.” He rubs at his forehead and looks at the ceiling for a second. “Their little granddaughter went to live with them after their daughter went to prison.” he sighs, as if the hard part is over. “They kept to themselves a lot. I figured they just got busy with raising her.” He shrugs. “So that’s her, huh?”
“Yeah.” I nod, feeling so much more than I did even two minutes ago. And definitely more than I have for another person. Molly has somehow managed to penetrate my private orbit, and I’m shocked I don’t want her to leave it.
