“Obviously,” Dad agrees.
“We finished each other’s sentences. They both hated that.”
“It was pretty evident your mom and I were a better match.”
“And look at you now,” I say.
“Thirty-six years and counting,” Mom says with a smile, as full of relief as it is joyful. Last year, she was worried they wouldn’t get past thirty-five. Terrified, really. Though she put on a strong front.
“Four years until Spain,” Dad says.
It’s her dream…they’ve been saving up. The cancer treatments set them back some.
“I can hardly wait,” she says.
This is what I wanted. A long-term love full of dreams and plans. A partner that shared them. I chose poorly and now, my plans for the future only last until Paige has her own plans with her own partner. More and more, it looks like I’ll end up Stowaway’s next generation of Sam. The old man who’s been here forever, alone, friendly, if not on the grumpy side.
It wouldn’t be such a bad life.
It could be better.
Withher. The image is easy enough to conjure. Lou and I sitting in those same chairs out back, hand in hand in front of the waves. That’s not reality, though. Reality is her inside the glossy pages, looking the exact opposite of the woman who has been wearing the hand-me-down clothes of my deceased neighbor.
Lou was born to be in elaborate costumes under flashing lights. Not tied to a town that’s barely grown in the three decades I’ve been witness to it. Pursuing her would only be tying her down. Different than the way her ex did, but the same, in a sense.
“So, why aren’t you dating her?”
“Dad,” I groan.
“What? It’s just a question.”
“She’s kind of famous. A model,” I say. “When she’s up to it, I’m sure she’ll return to that.”
“See? I knew she was pretty,” Mom says.
“Well, what does that matter? You can date her while she’s here. Live a little.”
“I did that once,” I say, meaning, when I moved to Portland with ridiculous dreams. “Didn’t turn out as planned.”
“Nobody says you have to have a plan,” Dad says. “Besides, whether you planned it or not, you got Piglet out of it. I’d say that’s worth it.”
I couldn’t agree more.
“Your father is right. You’re too serious and responsible, these days. You know what they say. All work and no play.”
“Makes Grady a responsible man?”
“I’m not going to win this, am I?”
“Probably not, Mom. I love you for looking out for me, though.”
“I love you, too, Grady. I only wish—” She pauses, closing her eyes for a minute. “I only wish you’d be open to a second chance at love.”
An hour later, a vehicle approaches. When Lou and Juliet left earlier, it was in Lou’s beater, but that’s not the noise I hear coming down the road. Her car rattles like it’s about to fall apart. When I step out the front door, I see the two women pulling into the Jackson house driveway in a shiny new Rivian truck.
Expensive trucks are common enough around here. Electric ones are not.
I walk over as Juliet gets out of the passenger side.
