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“When I asked you before, you said the photos didn’t bother you, but maybe I should move them into our bedroom. I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable when you come over.” My mom’s voice was gentle. I wasn’t looking at her, because I didn’t want to see the pity in her eyes.
“No, please don’t do that. I love those photos, and I want to remember. It would be a shame to hide them away.”
Fuck. I was unravelling right in front of them. My parents had stopped what they were doing, and Dad put his arm around Mom’s shoulders, to comfort her.
He knew—we all knew—that having a broken son had been hard on her. Claudia Cadence-Hawkins was an absolutely brilliant human being, someone who could solve almost any problem presented to her. But she didn’t know how to help me, no matter how hard she tried, and that was difficult for her. If only she’d realize I was a problem without a solution. None of us knew what, if anything, would ever make me whole again.
“Okay,” she said. “If you’re sure…”
“I am. So, Dad, what projects have been keeping you from your garden? Have you been working on another book?” They gratefully went along with the abrupt subject change.
After we finished eating, I helped my dad do some clean-up in the garden. While he kept the front yard pristine, the back definitely needed a little help. We were about an hour into the job when he asked, “Have you ever tried any of those online dating sites, Dylan? Allen Hirsch’s daughter met a terrific woman on one of those, and they’re getting married in June.”
“Not you too, Dad. Do you know how many people keep trying to get me back out into the dating pool? My friend Malone’s wife has practically made a part time job out of finding people to set me up with,” I muttered.
“Well, maybe there’s a reason for that.”
“I know you mean well—” How many times had I said that to friends and family members? “—but there’s nothing wrong with being single. Not everyone needs to be in a relationship to be happy.”
“You’re right about that, but there’s a flaw in your argument. You’re clearly not happy, son. If you were, your mother and I, and Malone’s wife, and everyone else who cares about you wouldn’t be bringing this up all the time.”
“Do I really seem like I live in a constant state of depression?”
“No, not anymore,” he said, as he leaned on his rake amid a tangle of overgrown nasturtiums. “You did for the first two years after Travis died. We know you’re doing better now, but you still don’t seem like your old self. You used to have this real zest for life, and you’d find joy in all sorts of things. You’re not like that anymore.”
“Maybe it’s just because I’m older. How many people in their mid-thirties act like they did in their twenties?”
He adjusted his glasses as he studied me closely. “That’s a fair point. Maybe it’s unrealistic to expect you to behave like a younger version of yourself. But tell me this—when was the last time you were truly happy?”
The words left my mouth before I thought about what I was saying. “Last night. I was talking to a guy I met online, and it was kind of amazing.”
I definitely shouldn’t have said that, because it instantly got his hopes up. My parents had way too much riding on the idea of me finding someone, maybe because it was the only way they’d finally stop worrying about me.
Dad looked delighted as he exclaimed, “That’s fantastic!”
“Please don’t build this into something it’s not. I just had a good conversation with someone. That’s it.”
“I know, but it means you’re trying to get back out there. That’s all we’ve been hoping to see from you.”
I couldn’t explain that it didn’t mean that at all, not when his face was lit up like a Christmas tree. Instead, I suppressed a sigh and turned my attention back to the garden.
But then I realized it might not be the worst thing that he’d read too much into what I’d said. If my parents thought I was making an effort to meet people, maybe they’d stop worrying about me—at least for a little while, until they realized nothing had actually changed.
When I got back to San Francisco later that afternoon, I bought some groceries, then went home and prepared dinner. I made a big pot of lentil stew not just for that evening, but to replenish my freezer, for days when cooking felt like way too much effort. While it was simmering and making the loft smell wonderful, I deep cleaned my bathroom, changed the bed linens, and did my laundry.
Then I made a point of setting the table and sitting down for dinner, instead of eating while standing in the kitchen. I felt calmer tonight, which was usually the case after being away from the fire station for twenty-four hours. That sense of calmness made it easier to take better care of myself.
After I ate and cleaned up, I took a seat on the couch with my laptop and checked the time. My plan was to put in an appearance at that New Year’s Eve party around ten and stay for about an hour. Staying home sounded much better, but I hadn’t seen my friends in a while and didn’t want them to think I was blowing them off.
It was still early though, so I decided to log on to Lark’s fan page. I was hoping to find him doing a live stream, but no such luck. I also wanted to send him a message, so I wrote: Just thought I’d say hi. I hope you had a good day.
After I hit send, I frowned at the screen. I had no game whatsoever. Seriously, none.
That thought made me pause and question my motives. Was I trying to flirt with this person, and if so, to what end?
Besides, he probably had guys flirting with him constantly. Being outgoing and friendly must be a big part of running this type of fan page, and a lot of people probably misinterpreted that. They might even assume they had something going with him, just because he’d been nice to them, or because they’d exchanged a few messages.
Wait, was that what I was doing?
