Page 56 of Learning at 40

“Then explain yourself,” she demands, cocking a hip as she places her fists on them. My little ray of sunshine is clouded over with disgust, and if I didn’t want her judging me about my dad, she’ll be judging me with what I say next.

“That man was my father.”

+ + +

For the remainder of the day, I’m out of sorts. A sheet is draped off the tree fort, and Pirates of the Caribbean is being projected in River’s backyard. She worried the movie was a little graphic for seven-year-olds, but I assured her it wasn’t. I didn’t even care about the movie after the earlier run-in with my father, and I wanted nothing more than to be alone. However, River would not disappoint my boys, and she filled her yard with the friends-cation crew as she called us.

Anna held Trevor at her side while River had Oliver in her lap, and I’ve clearly misjudged my boys’ reaction to the movie. I couldn’t be bothered, though.

“Dude, what is your deal?” Mason hissed near me as we sit further back from the group. I’m nursing a scotch.

“I saw my dad today,” I mutter, lifting the glass tumbler I commandeered from Anna’s bar when I took the bottle. I would replace it. I wasn’t a thief.

“Fuck. Where?” Mason understands issues with fathers as he wasn’t close with his despite working for him. It’s one reason he wanted Four Points to take off so badly. Logan’s dad passed when he was five, and Ben’s dad had been awesome, so it was only Mason and me who could commiserate on shit fathers.

“He was hanging out at some canoe rental place.” I sigh, leaning forward to balance my elbows on my thighs. “What was he doing there?”

“Does he work there?”

“I have no idea.” I hadn’t a clue where my father has been these past years. Noah had been in contact with our dad, but I didn’t understand how he could even speak to the man.

“You didn’t know he was in the area?” Mason adds.

“I had no clue.” When dear old dad came to see me in Detroit, I never followed up on where he went next, and although Noah had talked to our father, I didn’t ask questions I didn’t want answers to. I’d blocked most thoughts of my dad out of my mind. Back then with a new marriage and baby twins, I might have needed my father, but I didn’t want him. He had nothing to offer me as he’d canceled his marriage and walked out on his family.

“What are you going to do?” Mason prods.

“Pretend I didn’t see him,” I state, bringing the glass to my lips and emptying the liquid in it. Then I pour myself another half glass.

“Man, this is not the way to deal with that shit.” Mason nods at the tumbler in my hand, and I curse at him.

“Fuck you. What do you know about it?” Mason handles liquor better than the rest of us. Tequila is his twin, and I don’t know how he does it.

“I know enough that drowning in that stuff will not bring you answers.” Perhaps he’s right. The bottom of a liquor bottle isn’t going to offer wisdom. It sounds like something River’s grandfather might say if I’d ever met the man. “But it’s your bed, my friend. Until someone else is sleeping in it.”

Fuck Mason. What does he know?

I glance up at River, seated a few feet before me on a blanket spread on the grass. My son balances on her lap, his back to her chest, his head on her shoulder. I don’t need wisdom tonight. I need to get lost. I need her, and I don’t want to share her with my kids.

Only as the night wears on and the alcohol numbs me, I don’t get more than a good night kiss from my angel and a patronizing pat before she sends me home with Mason.

I didn’t like it. Not one bit.

22

[Zack]

The next morning, I’m still in a shit mood. As River works the afternoon shift, she sleeps in the morning to rest up, and I take a morning run, stopping at Autumn’s Crossroad Café with hopes coffee and a muffin will help. The place is quaint and small with a custom sandwich bar to the left of the entrance and the coffee and pastries counter to the right. Customers need to weave around a shelving unit in the middle that holds specialty items that complement their other food options.

As I stand in line, two older women wait behind me. I’m not one to eavesdrop, but their age causes them to speak loudly. Or maybe it’s just that they're nosy busybodies who love to gossip. They’re talking about some woman they consider a gold digger.

“I heard she inherited the house. Married someone nearly double her age, and then he leaves her that property worth almost three million dollars.”

My ears perk up for some reason, but I step forward as the line moves. Almost all the lakefront homes are two million or more in cost. The property alone is worth millions. A lake view from a cliff on Lake Michigan is virtually priceless.

“He had children older than her. Didn’t you say you saw her the other night with two little boys?” the first asks. “Didn’t take long for her to move on.”

My eyes catch Autumn’s as she crosses behind the counter. She shakes her head at how vocal these women are.