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“Memories can hurt, too.”
“Most don’t.”
“You about to tell me memories of Dad don’t sting you when you think about them? Especially since he turned his back on us and isn’t here anymore?”
“Alright, alright. Let me tell you something about your father.” She turns to me and crosses her arms. “When he was here last night, other than the psycho laughter, what do you think was going through my head? I love your dad. I’ll always love him. Sure, there’s a bunch of anger there, too. Pain. Pissed-off emotions. But there’s love. It’ll always be there. I remember the good times as well as the bad.”
“I don’t.”
“Someday you will, baby. And you should. Don’t you dare just hate him on my behalf. You had great times with your father. Hell, he’s the reason you love those E minor chords so dang much.” She shakes her head as she gazes at me. “You know what? Maybe he’s a piece of shit deep down, but look at the four gifts he left me. You, Adrian, Skipper, Brett … I love you all so much. And there’s a piece of Chuck in each of you.” She kisses my cheek. “Your boy will stick around one way or another, whether he comes back, or just stays in your heart and your memories. That’s all that matters, the feelings you had, the good times. It’s all that matters in the end.”
I put an arm around her and hug her close to me. “I appreciate that, Mom. But you’re wrong about one thing.”
“One thing?”
“Brett’s not a gift.” I give her side-eye. “Fuck Brett and his devil-spawn wife.”
She laughs at that. “Oh, Kent, you evil bastard.” Then she shoots me a playful look. “Fine. Three gifts.”
Our laughter fills the kitchen.
Chapter 19 - Jonah
Clothes spread out across two beds.
Hair products and crap all over the bathroom counter.
I pack my stuff while quietly navigating the hotel room around Rico, who just as quietly packs his own things. Other than the initial (and cold) hello we exchanged when I arrived, he doesn’t say a word, and I don’t say a word.
Well, this is awkward as fuck.
I keep mulling over the semi-argument we had on the beach yesterday. Per my parents’ usual advice they give me, had I called them to ask for it, I sift through all of the emotions flooding my system and analyze only the facts and intentions of what Rico and I communicated to each other. I think that Rico believes he knows what makes me happy: partying, booze, and boys. I feel certain he doesn’t know me at all, since he thinks everything I love is boring and a waste of time. I believe Rico clings to an old idea of who I am, because I appeared to be more adventurous and fun when I was nothing but his giddy high school best friend. I’m simply not the same person anymore.
I think we’re growing apart, and neither of us want to accept it.
“What happened to our friendship?”
He asks me the question after packing his last tank top and zipping his luggage shut. He doesn’t look at me.
I let out a patient sigh. “We’re going to be charged a late fee if we don’t go now.”
“Where did it go wrong? Was it something I did?”
“Seriously, I have no idea what the late fee is, and we are about to have a five-hour road trip where we can talk all of this out.”
Rico sits on the edge of his bed. “Am I too pushy? Am I too gay for you? Am I too slutty?”
I sigh. “You’re fine the way you are. You’re beautiful.”
“I know I am. I’m trying to push open a figurative door to help you talk to me and answer my original damned question.” He looks at me now. “What happened to our friendship?”
I sit on the edge of my bed, too. “This trip has been … somewhat enlightening to me.”
“Enlightening?”
“About how different we are.”
“Hmm.” Rico looks away. “Well, I guess it’s been quite enlightening for me, too, then.”
“I didn’t mean that in a bitchy way. I’m just trying to be sincere. I don’t notice this as much when we’re home, living the daily grind of working our jobs and hanging out at the apartment. But here, I guess … everything just takes a different focus. I see more.”
“A different focus. Interestingly put.”
His voice and mood are obviously sour. I don’t have high hopes this conversation is going to go well. “Rico, you said something before leaving the beach yesterday. You said you missed how we used to be.” I study the side of his face as he looks away, his expression tense and stony. “How did we used to be?”
He rolls his eyes, then shrugs. “Free. Playful. Careless.”
I try to smile, but realize I can’t. “I wish you could have seen me at the party last night. I was most definitely all three of those things. Almost had sex with Kent in Mr. Hopewell’s son’s bed, before we were nearly caught and had to escape out the window and ran around the house on the roof.”
