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“I lost my job at the Quik Stop. I’ve been looking for another one...” She trails off.
“No, you haven’t. Were you drunk or high this time to get fired? Mom, you need to get your shit together. You’ve been this way since I was a kid and I’m over it,” I snap.
She ignores the question. “But you have a lot of money, Carter. What do you need it all for? Seven hundred is nothing to you,” she says, her voice cracking like she’s about to cry. She probably is. She cries every time we talk, which isn’t often, but she always turns on the waterworks.
“That’s not the point and you know it,” I reply. “Get clean. Get your shit together. You’re only fifty-eight. You’re more than capable of taking care of yourself. I don’t see how that’s so hard to comprehend.”
“But I’m sick,” she replies. “I have headaches and body aches all the time. And I’m depressed.”
“All of those things are symptoms of addiction. Get clean, then you’ll get better.”
The phone beeps with an incoming call.
“But—”
“I gotta go. If you need money for a rehab center, call me and we’ll talk. Otherwise, sorry, Ma.” I end the call and answer the other. “Hello?”
“May I speak to Carter Lockwood?” an unfamiliar voice asks.
“Speaking,” I reply.
“Hi, this is Julie from Rocky Mountain Pools and Spas. How are you tonight?”
Wow, they really do work fast.
***
Ilook around at themass of people at the park, all sitting on blankets or camping chairs, with children and food bags or baskets. There’s still a slight pinkening on the horizon behind the mountains, but a smattering of stars has poked out above. Taryn’s wearing a black tank with an American flag on it and jean short-shorts. I’ve got a matching tank as well because we’re apparently one of those disgusting couples who dress alike. She’s sitting between my legs, leaning her back against my front as we sit together on a big blue blanket, waiting for the fireworks to start.
“It’s a beautiful night,” she murmurs, reaching down to lace her fingers with mine.
“Yes, it is,” I agree into her hair.
“I’m so glad we decided to do this, just the two of us,” she says with a sigh. “Lincoln’s big BBQ was fun, but all those kids around wore me out.”
I chuckle. “They’re babies and toddlers.”
“Except the one little boy with the smart mouth. What’s his name? Brett?”
“Rhett. I think,” I reply, remembering Lincoln’s cousin’s kid.
“Yeah. That’s it. He’s adorable but God forbid you drop an F-bomb and he’s on you like white on rice, asking for a quarter for the swear jar.” She laughs.
“I thought it was cute,” I say with a shrug.
She snorts in agreement.
“I’m stuffed from all the food, too. My God, that man’s family can put on a big fucking spread,” I say, patting her belly because mine is covered by her body.
She laughs and pats my hand over her stomach. “Me too.”
A bright flash of red overhead gets our attention, and music begins to blast through the speakers as the fireworks show starts. It’s a beautiful fireworks display the park puts on every year.
“I haven’t been here since I was in college with some buddies,” I confess.
“Really? I like to try to come every year. It’s the best place to see the fireworks,” she says.
I lean down and whisper in her ear. “Maybe I should cancel the pool install and buy us a house at the base of the mountains where we can watch it all from our deck.”
