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Apparently glory holes are a thing out here. Just all-day fucking.
We walk away, getting into the golf cart and chugging up the path to the workers’ apartment complex on the small island.
As we drive, my phone buzzes, and I see a text from my best friend, Dixon.
Dixon:
How’s the island treating you?
Dixon:
Saw your mom at the store. I think you may get a call from her sometime soon. She kept asking real subtle questions.
I fumble with my phone, running my fingers across the screen before answering.
Me:
Island is weird. Thanks for the heads-up.
Dixon:
You’re a shithead. But I miss you. Talked to your sister. She said you were coming home in a bit for her competition. You better make it or I’m gonna have to come visit.
I smile down at my phone and then pull up my mom’s number. I should call her, should give her an update, an explanation, even if I don’t really have one myself. She never commented on the photo I sent her, but I know she saw it. I bet she’s looked at it every damn day, wondering why I ran off without saying a word.
And I can’t really explain it. I just know how I felt in South Dakota. But men don’t feel complicated emotions, right? And if we do, we sure as hell don’t express them. So what the fuck do I say?
When we finally arrive at the apartment complex, Devon hops out of the golf cart, leaving me alone. And I do what I don’t wanna do, but should. I dial my mom’s number. It rings and rings, but no one picks up.
I just hang up and sit there, waiting for her to call back. And just like I knew she would, a moment later, my phone rings. I answer, hearing her heaving breaths on the other line as if she ran to answer it.
“Chase?” she asks, and I nod, feeling my eyes sting.
The island is doing all sorts of things to me. I don’t wanna know what I’ll be like after a month here.
I’ll become something dreadful, I’m sure.
“Yeah, hi, Mom.”
“How are you?” she asks after a moment, and then I hear her sniffle.
“Good. Just got done with work.”
“Dixon told us. You working maintenance for the rich now? That’s great. How is island life?”
I know she’s trying to keep it superficial, and I appreciate it. I’m not sure I could handle her jumping down my throat about me leaving, or guilting me about Dad.
“It’s different,” I say, and then add, “I can send you some more pictures if you’d like.”
“Of course. I’d like that.”
We’re silent a moment, and she says, “I miss you. You come home anytime, you hear?”
“I know. I just needed to get away…for a bit. And I’ll come home for Ginny’s cheer competition.”
I add the last part, but I’m not sure that’s the truth. I miss home, but I don’t. It’s more of a deep-seated homesickness for the familiar. But I’m not sure I miss the drudgery all that much.
“Yeah, okay. That’s good. I’ll plan on you being here for that then.”
