AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I don't wait for him to answer as I elbow past him to the dining room where my parents; younger brother, Crew; and little sister, Clover, are already seated.
Clay, Crew's identical twin, is missing, just as he has been since a car accident six months ago put him into a coma that he's yet to wake up from.
“Sweetheart, what's happened?” Mama asks, her Oklahoma accent thick with pained concern.
“Althea's in town.” It's Conan who answers her as I haul out a dining chair, wooden legs screeching across the old stone floor. “And he's smoking again.”
“Dude, what the fuck?” I hiss, dropping down into the chair and scowling at him like a teenager.
Our father tuts from the opposite side of the table as Clover and Crew watch on with interest. At forty-eight, Filip Mesaric is a second-generation Croatian immigrant with a pointed chin and graying hair. He has the kind of face that seems angry much of the time and is the total opposite of our jovial Southern belle of a mother whose cheeks must ache permanently from her eternal smile.
She’s not smiling now, though.
Her eyes are sad and her expression solemn as she looks to all of us. Then, she clutches her pearls tight in one hand and makes the sign of God with the other. “Oh, my darlings, something truly awful has happened.”
Crew snorts. “Relax, Mama. It's only his ex-girlfriend. Ain't the end of the world.”
Clover smacks him on the back of his head. “Hush yourself, she wasn't finished.”
He pulls a face at her, but does as she said, turning back to our mother with noticeably less attitude this time.
“Y'all know old Mrs. Patchouli? The lady who lives next door to the Sparkeses?”
“The woman who farts all the time?” Crew asks.
Mama ignores him. “Well, I saw her this morning at the store, and y'all will never guess what she told me.”
She closes her eyes and shakes her head while we all wait semi-patiently for her to carry on. Dad gets bored and starts plating up his dinner from the center of the table, carefully avoiding the disappointed look his wife is shooting at him as he shovels a spoonful of mashed rutabagas into his mouth.
“She said that Bobby Sparkes, Althea's daddy…such a sweet man he was, a true gentleman, always had such good manners, didn't he, sweetheart?” She turns to Dad with a sweet-as-cherry-pie smile on her face. “He would never start his dinner without sayin’ grace first.”
Dad instantly drops his fork and it clatters loudly onto his plate. Clover laughs silently into her glass of water.
When she's confident her husband is listening, Mama continues, “Oh, it really is so sad. Well, Mrs. Patchouli said that poor Bobby went to sit down after dinner, and Jolene—ya know, Mrs. Sparkes—oh the poor thing, she found him dead on the floor. Something happened to his heart, and he died right there and then.”
My heart plummets.
I know Bobby Sparkes. Have known him for a long time. Back when Thea and I were together, I spent most nights a week round his place for dinner. He'd tell stories of his days in the military, of meeting Jolene, the adventures they had together, and then, once Thea was born, the ones they'd had with her.
He was a man who always had a lot to say and people would listen when he did. He had traditional values, like holding doors open for women, and went to church every Sunday without fail. He was, as my mama said, a true gentleman.
And though I've seen less of him since Thea's been gone, I still spoke to him on the occasions when I saw him around town. He'd always clap me on the shoulder and ask how Mama was doing.
I'm devastated that he's died.
But more so, my heart is shattered for Thea, because regardless of my resentment toward her, she's just lost her father.
Is she okay?
That's all I can think about. How she's doing. If she's alright. If she needs me. She doesn't—I know that. She hasn't needed me for six years. So, even though the urge to go to her is overwhelming, I can't, and I won't.
“Cole,” Clover says, “you should send flowers.”
“Yeah, Cole, you should definitely send something,” Crew pitches in like the irritating asshole he is.
Conan nods along emphatically, a stupid smug smile on his face.
Fuck, I miss Clay. He'd have my back if he was here.
