Page 60 of In Your Wake

I open my eyes in time to see her lips moving to meet mine.

This is happening. I’m letting it happen. And I don’t regret it one bit…

A sharp, wailing siren fills the tent and Maxine slips from my grasp… She’s drifting away…

Sweating, I wake with a jolt, my sheets tangled around my legs and tented at my waist.

“Sonofabitch,” I groan, rubbing my face with my hands.

I haven’t thought about that night in so long. I guess those repressed memories are more than happy to pop up now since I’ve been seeing Maxine every day. Memories I could definitely do without.

That night up in the woods changed everything between us. Irreparably. Most of all, it freaked me out and changed me in ways I never recovered from.

I shut my eyes, digging my fingers into them and see Maxine’s conflicted gaze staring back at me. I see the pain my rejection caused. The hurt spread across her beautiful face when I lied and told her I didn’t want her that way. The icy cold emptiness I felt when her warm, supple body pulled away from mine.

Sometimes, I wonder if I’d said yes, how things would have worked out. Would her lies have cut even deeper? Would my heart have been completely shattered instead of just broken in half?

That night, she left me in more ways than simply rolling out of our sleeping bag.

That night was the beginning of the end of all we’d ever been. Of all we could have been had I just been braver and taken a chance.

13

The Great Pretender

Mitch

The backyard seems smaller now than it did when I was a kid. Then again, it could be the awareness of my father’s life ending that shrinks everything down.

I’m standing across the yard, by the fence, pulling out weeds, but really, I’m trying to ignore the anxiety thumping in my chest. I have an idea of why Dad’s called us here today and I’m dreading it.

His oxygen tank hums like a grinding motor and he looks all wrong. He’s thin and weak. The cancer is winning the battle and slowly erasing him. But when his eyes meet mine, they’re still sharp and aware.

“Nice of you to help out,” Dad rasps from the deck.

“Yeah, well, one of us has to do it,” I joke, throwing the weeds into the compost bin.

“Always a smartass,” he replies and I see his mouth twitch.

I dust off my hands, stepping up onto the porch and cross my arms, leaning against the post. The silence stretches between us, the way it’s done ever since I came back to town. Slightly uncomfortable, but no less usual for us.

Then, Maxine walks through the patio door and I don’t even need to look at her to see she doesn’t want to be here. Her reluctance hangs in the air like static before a storm breaks.

“Sit down,” Bill says, but neither of us moves. “That wasn’t a suggestion,” he insists.

I roll my eyes, but drag a chair closer to him, anyway. It scrapes loudly against the wooden deck. I sit, leaning back, making a show of being far more at ease than I actually am.

The last time Dad asked us to come over, we found out about the inn. I can only imagine what bomb he’s about to drop today.

He studies us for a long time, then grabs a piece of paper from the table beside him.

“I wrote you something,” he says, unfolding the letter. He perches his glasses on the end of his nose. “In case I didn’t get the chance to read it out loud.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t,” I reply. “Save us both the awkwardness.”

“Do I need to be here for this?” Maxine asks.

“Yes, you do. This affects the both of you,” he begins, his voice shaky but steady enough. “As I was saying. I’ve never been very good at expressing what’s in my heart, but I’ll try. Mitchell, despite everything that’s happened between us, I’ve always been proud of you and your accomplishments.”