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There’s no stopping my curiosity and I nearly curse myself when I ask, “What are you having delivered?”
Christina’s lips curl into a wide smile. It looks devious and I stifle a shudder, trying to see the good in her. It’s hard and it will continue being hard given the last time I was in her company. She looked down on me for my family and my passions, thinking a lowly art student wasn’t good enough for her son. I don’t know if she thinks the same now or if she’s doing everything within her power to have a relationship with Lucas. I suspect the latter, but I can’t fault her, given the way she was brought up. At least she’s not being rude to me now.
“When Lucas was a little boy, we used to make S’mores at the fire pit,” she gestures towards the pit lingering several feet away from us. “I just convinced a local grocery store to come deliver the goods for us by six. That should give us ample time to prepare, right?” she asks her gold Chanel watch, but I assume she’s talking to me.
“Yep, that should be perfect.” I’m about to tell her the bros and I could have gone grocery shopping for her, but decide to leave it, knowing she will have her reasons behind hassling some poor manager on the phone.
“How has your art been, Rachel?”
I’m so surprised by her question it takes me a minute to answer. “F-fine,” I say, wondering if this is a trap. I turn around in my seat, facing my closed sketchbook, my hands covering it as if to protect it from her scrutiny.
It’s hard to read Christina’s face with those large sunglasses. The wind blows, but her blonde bobbed hair doesn’t move with it. There’s so much perfume on it I doubt it could move in a tornado. She slides onto the bench across from me, sighing while taking off her sunglasses, resting them near my pencil case. Her makeup is perfectly done. I wonder if she called for a makeup artist to come over and primp her in the morning, because there’s no way I would be able to pull off an eyeliner look so perfect. She rests her chin her palm as she regards me.
“You know, I was very jealous of you when we first met,” Christina says, looking me straight in the eye.
I don’t blink, worried the moment my eyes close I will wake up and find myself still in bed. Is this really happening? “W-why?” I ask, for it’s the only question that comes to mind. She might not have everything, such as the greatest relationship with her son, but she has a lot: money, status, a husband, a nice roof over her head, respect, and the confidence to tell people to fuck off when they’re using you.
Christina shrugs. “I, too, wanted to be an artist.”
I’m too stunned for words. Honestly, I can’t see it, but maybe Christina was a completely different person when she was my age. People do change.
“Although, our styles are drastically different,” she says haughtily, turning her gaze towards Hunter. “That’s enough firewood for now!”
Hunter stops mid-swing and carefully lowers the ax, wiping the sweat from his brow. I can’t help, but watch the way he moves, wondering if he will be getting into the shower, and if there’s any way I can slip away to join him. I push that thought away. Right now, I am only Lucas’s girlfriend. At least in Christina’s eyes, which means I need to act the part. I doubt Lucas has confessed the true nature of our relationship.
“I was interested in modern art, and history,” Christina continues, “and before I met Frank, I wanted to open a gallery of my own in New York. Unfortunately, life had different plans for me. My parents introduced me to Frank, hoping we would marry and combine our family companies given my father had lost most the money to gambling. And, at the time, I thought Frank loved me so I gave in to their wishes.”
Christina sighs and we both watch Hunter pick up a football, tossing it to an unsuspecting Seth, who barely catches it in time. I giggle as Seth slowly rises from his place on the grass, a look of rage on his face as he launches the football back at Hunter, aimed for his face. Hunter, being a former NFL player, obviously catches it easily. What I’m most surprised by is Christina laughing with me.
She shakes her head and turns to me, something akin to sorrow and hope gleaming back at me in those blue eyes of hers. “Sometimes I wonder what would have happened if I pursued my dreams. Would I be any happier? Or would I feel the same? I was jealous you had the choice, whereas I did not.”
I don’t know what to say, and so I nod, thinking that’s what I should do. Being jealous is no excuse for being cruel to me, but at least it’s a reason as to why she acted the way she did. And holding onto past grudges will do no services to me.
“I wanted to apologize to you, Rachel, for the way I acted and I hope we can move on from here. At least, for Lucas’s sake.”
I smile. “Yeah, for Lucas’s sake.”
Christina’s smile brightens and we turn our gazes back to Seth and Hunter, watching them chuck the ball at each other. Seth curses with each toss, turning it into a competition that Hunter doesn’t seem phased by. Alex disappears inside the cabin and all seems right in the world again. I’m no longer worrying about my parents. They will figure it out on their own. Maybe I should do what Lucas did—not exactly, I don’t want to cut them off completely, but a line needs to be drawn; boundaries need to be made. I should live life the way I want, and now what they expect of me.
“Ah, thank you, Alex,” Christine says when Alex reappears from the cabin, carrying a stack of plates with silverware and napkins on top. “You didn’t have to do that.”
Alex shrugs while resting the plates on the picnic table. “I like being useful.”
“You’re so sweet. Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”
Alex’s gaze slides to mine and he remains quiet. Thankfully, I hear a car pulling up from behind and turn, watching Lucas slam the door shut while his father turns off the ignition. He frowns at us, his brows pushed together, making me think something terrible happened on the trip. Frank looks a bit wet. His hair is slicked back, but he’s smiling, which looks very unusual compared to the man I met in Paris.
“How was it?” Christine shouts, sliding her sunglasses back on while she goes to greet her husband.
“I fell in,” Frank announces joyfully, gesturing at his wet clothes. “Lucas pulled me out of the water.”
Christine chuckles. “Of course, he did. Are you boys hungry?”
“Famished!”
I rise from my seat and stride briskly toward Lucas, ignoring both Frank and Christine as they talk about the rafting trip. There’s something strange about Lucas. He looks upset. He hasn’t moved from the car’s side and is watching the group as if he’s staring into a window of a home he doesn’t belong to.
“Hey,” I start while reaching for him, “how was it?”
