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In a little town like this, you could walk down Main Street and probably run into four people you knew and get caught up on all the latest town gossip in a few minutes.
I didn’t have long to dwell on my thoughts, though. My mom and dad showed up a little while into the tournament and we all wound up officiating a makeshift soccer game with way too many small children. Basically, we were trying to make sure none of the roughly twenty small children in the group simply followed the ball outside the bounds of the game and wound up chasing it down the hill and into the river.
Before I knew it, the afternoon had passed, and everybody took a temporary break to gather around the basketball courts for lunch. An entire squad of older dad-types were grilling a staggering number of hotdogs and hamburgers in the grass. Naturally, my dad was magnetically drawn to the grills, just like every other dad-aged guy in Fairhope. There was a lot of grunting about not overworking the burgers and fiddling with the fire from the men. Some of the women left and came back with platters of sides like coleslaw and macaroni salad. Harper’s mom even baked fresh hamburger and hotdog buns from scratch.
I sat with my mom and dad in the grass. I was about to bite into my burger when Dean showed up beside me with two hamburgers and a hotdog on his little paper plate. He was sweaty, despite the chill in the air, and smelled like sunscreen. He smiled easily, saw my parents giving us a look, and then planted a kiss on my cheek.
I had guiltily enjoyed all of his attempts to play boyfriend up until then, but I found the kiss just made me feel a little bit dirty and sad. Until that moment, I had done a pretty decent job of not thinking about our conversation on the bridge. He didn’t want to be with me. That was the fact staring me in the face. I needed to be a big girl and accept it. After all, I’d entered into this whole thing understanding he didn’t want relationships or commitments. Maybe he’d given me reason to wonder if that would always be the case back in Asheville when he talked about how people could change their minds, but he obviously hadn’t.
“You two are just so freaking adorable together,” my mom said.
I gave a tight smile. “Yep.”
“You looked good out there,” my dad said, nodding toward Dean.
Dean laughed. “Thank you, but you clearly weren’t watching if you think that. I think every shot I took missed the rim by at least a few feet. Basketball isn’t my sport.”
“Which one is?” my mom asked. “With a build like that, I know you’re good at something.”
“I wrestled in high school and a little in college, actually,” Dean said. “I do a little Jiu Jitsu now when I have time.”
“Ohh,” my dad said. “I used to do Taekwondo back in my younger days. Want to spar some time?”
“Dad,” I said. “That doesn’t sound like a good idea.”
Dean was grinning. “Some time, sure.”
“You know,” my mom said. “I’m still waiting to get one of those magic massages Pearl has talked about.” she rolled her neck and gave an exaggerated groan. “My neck is killing me. I must’ve slept on it wrong. Would you mind?”
To my horror, she turned her back and touched a spot on her shoulder that was supposedly bothering her. Dean gave me a slightly worried look, but I nodded, bulging my eyes toward him in a “go do it” kind of way.
He cleared his throat. “Uh, sure.” Dean scooted closer to her, sitting cross legged behind her. He flashed my dad a quick smile, then rubbed his palms together for a bit. “Gotta warm the hands up. It’s good for… circulation.”
“Right,” my dad said, nodding and watching with intense interest, as if he was about to observe a master class on massage theory.
I suddenly wished I could snap my fingers and teleport out of this situation.
Instead of doing what a normal person would do and actually massaging my mom’s shoulders, Dean opened with a series of little karate chops. Worse, he was making a breathy “Hyah” sound with every other chop.
Despite how horrified I was, I found myself covering my mouth, trying not to sputter with laughter.
My dad’s eyebrows were up.
For a few long seconds, my mom made no sign of reacting. Then she finally let out a satisfied sigh. “Wow,” she said. “That’s so nice.”
Dean looked at me, clearly baffled but relieved. Instead of stopping while he was ahead, he formed two fists and stuck out his index finger, then started jabbing her with small punching motions. He kept up with the sound effects, too.
My mom groaned with relief, rolling her neck to the side to give him better access. “Oh, Earl. You’ll have to learn this. Can you teach him, Dean?”
