I sat down on my favorite leather recliner, deflated and defeated. I stared at the floor. What in the hell was I going to do to make this right?
My phone buzzed on the table next to me. I lurched for it so hard I almost fell out of my chair.
“Fuck.” I rolled my eyes and ignored it. It was Cora.
A text came through right after that. “Repeat?” was all she said. I hurriedly typed back that I wasn’t interested but I wished her the best. I got the middle finger emoji in response.
That was fine. I deserved that.
My phone rang again, and I got ready to block her when I realized it was Mom.
Shit. I broke out in a sweat. I hadn’t even factored in how much my family was going to hate me for this. I swallowed hard, feeling bile rise up the back of my throat. “Hey,” I said a little weakly.
“Happy Fourth of July!” she said her voice happy as always.
I closed my eyes. Well. This could not have happened at a worse time. My parents’ annual Fourth of July barbeque was my mom’s favorite excuse for a party. Half the town would drop in at some point today for conversation, drinks, good food, yard games, and so on.
“Tim? Did the call drop? Can you hear me?”
She was shouting in my ear now. “Yeah… Yes. I can hear you. Sorry. I’m just a little distracted this morning.”
“Well, you better get undistracted. Your dad needs held setting up the stage.”
I paused. “The stage?” What the hell?
“Yep. We’re doing Karaoke this year.”
Of course we were. I sighed. “Okay, Mom. I’ll be there in about half an hour, okay?”
“Great! Oh, could you call Nat for me and check to see if she’s bringing those mint brownies of hers?”
She didn’t wait for an answer. She just hung up.
No, I could not call Nat. I might not ever get to call Nat again. Fuck. My life was falling apart, and I had to go pretend everything was okay and set up a freaking Karaoke stage for a Fourth of July party.
I rubbed my eyes, trying to get my head in the right space.
I allowed myself another five minutes to sit there, shell shocked. Then I got up, took a shower, and got myself ready for the long day and night ahead of me.
One question ran through my head the whole time. Was Nat going to come today? If she didn’t show up, how would I explain her absence?
If she did show up, what the hell would I say?
***
Hours went by. Carrie’s dad Jack, the long-time mayor of our town and the pediatrician who’d treated all of us since we were born, won the Karaoke competition and got one of my mom’s strawberry cakes as his prize. He always won if there was a singing competition. He was weirdly good, bringing his own guitar and basically sounding and performing like an actual rock star at almost every town event.
I wondered if it was why he always got elected mayor. Well, that and the fact that he was about the nicest guy on the planet.
I looked around, seeing all the people I’d grown up with, minus the ‘friends’ of mine who’d fucked my girlfriend in high school. But I knew Sadie’s friends almost as well as she did. I walked over, finally, to where they were all sitting around one of the huge picnic tables Mom had set up. I didn’t like the guys Carrie and Blair had ended up marrying. Carrie’s husband Thatcher was okay, but I didn’t think he was good enough for her. And Blair’s husband was a douche. I was pretty sure he was a cheater. He just always seemed so disinterested in her and their kids. Melinda’s long-time boyfriend Drake was good friends with all of us. He was awesome. He could do no wrong as far as I was concerned.
It was still strange not to see Harrison, Sadie’s ex, hanging around. He’d been part of all our lives since he’d moved to town. But he’d cheated on Sadie in one of the worst ways possible. None of us could ever forgive him for what he’d done.
With a sick feeling, it suddenly hit me that I was judging guys like Harrison, Scott, and Thatcher for the same things I wasguilty of. Like Thatcher, I wasn’t good enough for Nat. And like Harrison and Scott, I was a cheater.
“What is wrong with you today?” Sadie plopped down beside me and shoved me a little, good-naturedly.
I couldn’t look her in the eyes. “I… I can’t talk about it right now.”
