Page 17 of In Your Wake

“That we’re swimming in debt and could get shut down any day?” Maxine continues. She doesn’t wait for me to answer. Not that I would know what to say, anyway. This is all news to me. “No, you don’t. To you it’s a cash cow and another way for you to stuff your pockets, because that’s what matters, right? The money?”

“What do you mean it could shut down?” I glance at Mom, but she shakes her head, gives up, crosses her arms, and hunches over.

Maxine gives my parents a mirthful laugh. “You see? He doesn’t have a clue. You’re making a huge mistake letting him have any say in this.”

“They’re my parents. Where do you get off telling them what they should or shouldn’t—”

“Enough!” Bill yells, raising his hands, and though his voice is frail, his authority still bounces off the walls. “Just… enough.” He takes a deep, raspy breath, as if strained by the outburst, then releases it with a heavy sigh. “I won’t pretend to understand what happened between the two of you. And I can’t understand how two people who were once inseparable can act like enemies. But honestly, no matter the reason, I’m beyond caring at this point.” He raises his head, spearing us with his severe, pale blue glare. “My time is running out. Robyn and I need people we trust to be here for us. And I expect you two to do it without complaining.”

Deflated, Maxine sinks into her chair, letting her shoulders drop. “You’re right, Bill. I’m sorry.”

“Yeah, sorry.” I sit, glancing out the window toward the backyard, and running a hand down my face. “But there’s no way this is going to work out.”

With difficulty, Bill pushes away from the table, and I wince. He leans on chair backs, then on the counter for support, walking around the table. A distant memory surfaces of him hoisting me onto his shoulders at the summer fair when I was a child. What a stark contrast to the frail man making his way toward me now.

He plants his hand on my shoulder, but it might as well be a feather, his touch is so light.

“Mitchell, I’ve never asked much of you. I’ve supported you, even when I disagreed with your choices.” He pauses as if to give me the chance to agree. He means the big fuss I made about leaving Oakwhite for MSU and then dropping out when I got drafted to the NHL. He probably also means my fights with the general manager, with my teammates. All my fighting.

“It shouldn’t be too hard for you to do this,” he continues. “Can you put your differences aside? For us?”

Several arguments battle in my mind. But that’s his point, isn’t it? That I’ve been a spoiled, whiny brat for too long. That I’ve gone against his wishes—everyone’s wishes—and done my thing without caring how they felt. And now, more so than any other time in my life, I should be here for them. This is no longer about me.

I purse my lips and nod. “Sure, Dad. I’ll do it.”

Max

I’ve never eaten a meal so fast or tasted the food so little. Every bite of what I’m sure is another one of Robyn’s excellent dinners turns to ash in my mouth.

She and Bill keep up a very normal conversation, small talk about what’s happening in town, but across from me, Mitch seems as uncomfortable as I am. Every word and answer he gives is monosyllabic, lacking the warmth I used to let wash over me like a summer’s day.

Whenever Mitch spoke, I was captivated. He wasn’t a big talker, and didn’t dive into deep, philosophical discussions, but I used to like that about him. It meant that when he said something, it mattered. That he’d weighed his words before saying them and didn’t waste them—they were valuable.

Tonight is the complete opposite of that.

He’s all one-word answers, his thoughts a million miles away as if he’s regretting coming home and wishing he was back in the city. He keeps pushing his food around his plate, worrying his lip. Not that I see much of his mouth under that bushy beard.

Even when his facial hair started coming in, he’d shave regularly, or at the very least, keep it trimmed. By the time he was seventeen, he was one of the few guys we knew that had a full-grown beard. But now he’s sporting a messy, disheveled one, and I don’t care how dangerous it makes him seem, he needs a shave.

After dinner, I help Robyn tidy up the kitchen while Mitchell takes Bill outside to the backyard. I’d love to be a fly on the wall for that conversation, but I have a feeling it’ll be more of Mitchell arguing, more of Bill telling him to mind his tone and ignoring the simple truth that pairing us together is like lighting a fuse.

“Are you okay?” Robyn asks when I’m heading out.

I nod, offering her a tight smile. “I will be.”

She tucks my hair behind my ear in that motherly way, and the affection sends warmth to my heart. “I know this is a difficult situation.”

Difficult? This is impossible.

“But I’m sure you two will work it out.”

I tilt my head. “We don’t have a choice, do we?”

She purses her mouth. “Life isn’t always fun and easy, Maxine. Take it from me; when you find those precious people that make it better, you need to keep them close.”

She means well. She sees her son through rose-colored glasses and has an entirely different perspective on Mitchell. So, even if I don’t agree with her at all, considering the messy situation she’s living through with Bill, I need to stop making this harder. She’s given me an immense responsibility and invested years of trust in me.

All things considered, working with Mitch might not be the worst thing ever. I mean, it’s not life or death like what she’s dealing with. Even if spending any amount of time with Mitch might kill me, I need to do this.