Chapter 49
Andrew
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I've lost track of the days. My time at home has been a blur of sleep, self-pity, more sleep, Rice Krispies Treats I don't eat and hot chocolate I don't drink, overly cheerful chatter from my mom, and silence from my dad. My jeans, when I bother to put them on, are loose, and I don't care.
I can hear Mom and Dad outside my door, arguing quietly. The bright sunlight seeps through the blinds. Groggy and with a pounding headache, I drag the clock into bed with me and press the button on top to light up the display: 3:00
PM
.
I can feel an intervention coming on. It won't be the first.
When the door opens I pull the quilt up over my head. Just as quickly, someone yanks it back.
“Drew,” my dad barks. “Enough. Get up. Get dressed. We're going for a walk.”
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I don't want to walk. I don't want to talk. I don't want to do anything.
Mom pretends to be busy scrubbing the sink as Dad silently hooks the leash on Shep's collar and hands it to me. “I'll have an early dinner ready when you get back,” she offers as he opens the back door and gestures for me to walk through it.
Shep takes the lead and I trudge along behind him. Dad walks with his hands in his pockets. When Shep stops to lift his leg to a curb, Dad turns to me. “You need a shave, and you need a haircut.”
He waits for a response from me, but he doesn't get one.
He takes a deep breath, then lets it out with an, “Aw, hell.” Shep starts to walk on and I start to follow, but Dad takes the leash from me, and I dissolve into tears. I haven't cried since they picked me up at that gas station some two weeks ago or so. I drop my head and hug my arms to myself. I don't want to do this, but I can't help myself anymore.
“Goddammit, Drew.” He hooks his arm around my neck, and we walk on. “You screwed up, Son. There's no denying that. But that doesn't make
you
a screwup. It's time to be a man. Stop this wallowing and take charge of your life. I know you don't think so, but you have options, and you have Kiki to think about. That adorable little girl needs her daddy.”
She's not the only one, I suddenly realize. I need mine too. I stop and fall into him and let him hold me while I get it all out. When the sobbing eases up, he sits down on the curb and pulls me down with him. Shep pushes his wet nose into my palm.
“You've had two weeks of your mom's coddling, Son. I've given you that. But that's over, okay? You and me, we're going to work through this. You need a job, and you need a plan. You're a bright young man. You can do anything you want to do.”
“Except teach,” I say, my voice cracking.
“Then you will turn your talents elsewhere. I'm not going to do it for you, Drew, but I will support you in whatever you decide.”
I sniff and wipe my eyes on my sleeve. “Can I ask you something?”
“You can ask me anything.”
“Are you disappointed in me?” I blink a few times, then turn my head to him.
“Oh, Drew.” He stretches out his legs. “I've known you a long time, Son. At first, yeah, I was a little surprised, maybe even shocked. This Robert was your student and that is a sacred relationship. But I've never known you to be anything but completely honorable. Sometimes too honorable.”
He smiles and scratches Shep's head, and I know he's thinking about my marriage to Maya.
“So,” he continues, “I have to believe that he was someone pretty special to you.” He pauses and fixes me with his eyes. “I just don't know what you were to him and whether or not he was really worth everything that it cost you.”
I can feel the tears pricking at my eyes again.
“Look, Son, there's an opening at the kiosk in the mall. It's a decent job with some upward mobility. I'm not going to pave the way for you, but you're certainly qualified and it's a start.”
Selling cell phones? Is that where all my education has led me?
Dad seems to understand my silence. He pats me on the back. “You can stay with us for a while, get caught up on your child support, pay down your attorney's fees some. And when you decide what you want to do with your life, you can move on.”
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Robert
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I look away. This should have been one of the best days of my life. It's not, and I can't pretend any differently.
Mom lowers the camera and sighs. “It's just going to take time, baby.”
Time is something I have way too much of.
“Give me the camera,” I say, changing the subject. I hold out my hand.
She looks at me curiously. “Why?”
“I want to take a picture of you.”
“I'm not graduating. Why would you want a picture of me?”
“Just because.”
She hands the camera over with a curious smile, then strikes a diva pose. I snap a photo, then a few more because she will have photos.
“Enough,” she says, laughing. “This is your big day.”
“Yeah. Community college, here I come. Watch out world.”
She picks up an envelope from the table and hands it to me.
“What's this?” I open the envelope. Inside is a large, a very large, check signed by Aunt Whitney. I look up at Mom.
“Whitney and I had a come-to-Jesus meeting. She was pretty upset that you aren't going to LSU. But, according to your grandfather's will, if you choose not to go and pursue a degree in medicine, the money he'd set aside was to be split evenly amongst all his grandchildren. It's not enough to get you through four years and veterinary school, but it's a good start. This is just a loan until the funds are released. It's her way of making peace.” She grins. “And you're headed to Texas A and M, young man.”
“I'm not going to A and M. I didn't make top ten percent.”
“I know that,” she says, touching my cheek. She's been doing a lot of that latelyâhugging me, putting a comforting hand on me. “But this money means you won't have to work, and you won't have to depend on massive loans. You can focus on your classes and transfer in next year.”
It takes only a split second to make my decision. “I don't want it.” I stuff the check back in the envelope and hold it out to her. “I want to do it on my own, Mom. And I don't want Grandfather's money either. You can use it to pay down the house.”
“It's not my money.”
“Then I'll pay down the house with it. You've struggled enough.”
“Robertâ”
I shake my head, and when she won't take the envelope, I lay it back on the table.
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Some state representative is giving the commencement speech today, but I'm not listening. I'm scanning the room. I don't expect him to be here, but I can't completely tamp down the hope sparking in my chest. I see Curtis sitting with Luke's mom and dad. They're the only faces that register with me as I fidget with the edges of my gown.
My row stands and I stand with them. We make our way to the stairs on the side of the stage. One by one, my classmates walk the stage.
“Blake Walker.”
Mom waves from the audience. I smile back weakly.
“Johnathan West.”
I climb the steps and take another good look at the families and friends who've come to celebrate this day.
Where are you?
“Robert Westfall.”
I imagine that the room is unnaturally quiet as I shake Mr. Redmon's handâ“I'm very proud of you, Robert”âand then the superintendent'sâ“Congratulations, Son.”
And then I exit stage left.
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It seems like everyone is in a hugging mood today, everyone but me, that is. Mom's never met a lot of my friends so I introduce them as we go. Even Nic stops me for a perfunctory hug in the parking lot as we make our way to my car.
“You sure you don't want to drop me at the house and go hang out with some of your friends?” Mom asks as I open the door for her.
“Robert.”
My head snaps up, and my heart thuds in my chest. Luke is bounding between the cars lined up to leave, dragging Curtis with him. He drops Curtis's hand when he reaches the bumper and pulls me in for a big, swaying, back-slapping hug. “Congratulations, man,” he says.
“Yeah. You too,” I say when he releases me. “Hey, Curtis.”
Curtis eyes me with that mixture of suspicion and warning I've long since gotten used to, but he reaches out to shake my hand anyway. Damn, he's possessive. But I know Luke is right when he says he's got Curtis wrapped around his little finger.
“We're not leaving for Galveston for another couple of hours,” Luke says. “Still time to change your mind.”
I turn away from Curtis and fix my eyes on Luke. “I thought he would be here.”
Chapter 50
Robert
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Early August. The summer has been long, hot, and exceptionally dry. Thousands of trees have succumbed to the drought, their brown leaves and needles in stark contrast to their luckier comrades with roots deep enough to weather the anomaly. I feel like one of those dying trees.
The bell over the door jangles as a woman enters with a towel-wrapped tabby in her arms. I check the appointment book. Ginger. Kidney failure. She was in two days ago for blood work. Dr. Nickels made the call himself yesterday morning.
“Ah, poor baby,” Misty says, coming around the counter and taking the bundle from her owner's arms. “You don't look like you feel so good.”
The owner, Ms. Sampson, hitches her purse back onto her shoulder. “She threw up again last night even though she hasn't eaten anything in two days,” she says anxiously.
Misty runs her hand gently over the cat's head as I locate her file. “Let's get you weighed, girl.” She takes the folder from me and leads the owner down the hallway.
I finish bagging up some flea and tick control for a toy Chihuahua, then print off the receipt and hand it and the bag over the counter to the young woman as the bell over the door jangles again. It's been a busy Saturday morning already. We usually close at noon, but it's shaping up to be a late closing again today. That's okay. I like being here. I feel like I belong, and it's a way to keep my mind busy until classes start in a couple of weeks.
I smile as the woman scoops up her ridiculously tiny dog with a tiny bow clipped to the short hairs on top of its tiny head. She tosses me a thank you over her shoulder. I look around her to greet the next patient, but the greeting catches in my throat.
He's standing there, dressed in his
Math Geek
T-shirtâthe one he wore the night we went dancing togetherâplaid shorts and flip-flops, holding Kiki with one hand. A round-bellied, spotted puppy is tucked into the crook of his other arm. He looks thinner. But he's every bit as beautiful as I remember him. He smiles at me. I look away for a moment and blink a few times to steady myself, then turn back to him. “It's been a long time.”
He nods. “I don't have an appointment,” he says.
No, you don't.
I reach across the counter and take the puppy from him. “New doggie?” I say to Kiki, scratching the dog's spotted belly. He wiggles in my arms. “Let me guess his name. Um, Spot.”
She screws up her face. “No.”
“A puppy!” Misty says, coming back behind the counter and taking the dog from me. “Is this your puppy?” she asks Kiki.
“His name is Wobert,” she says proudly.
I glance at Andrew. He shrugs. “She named him after a pony.”
“His name is Robert too,” Misty says, pointing to me. “Do you have an appointment?” she asks Andrew.
We say no at the same time.
“Yikes,” she says, looking at the appointment book. “New-puppy visit?”
“Yeah,” Andrew says.
“If you don't mind waiting, Dr. Nickels might be able to work you in.”
“Great.” Andrew takes the clipboard she hands him, and the puppy, then casts another unreadable look at me before taking a seat in the waiting room with the other pet owners.
I keep busy, but I can't help sneaking looks at him. I'd hoped one day I'd see him again, but I never anticipated this awkwardness. When he's finished filling out the paperwork, he leaves Kiki on the chair and brings the clipboard back to me. I take it from him without lifting my eyes. He loiters at the counter.
“Are you just here for the weekend?” I ask as I remove the papers and clip them into a file.
“No. I moved back.”
My heart rises into my throat. I swallow and force it back down, then lift my eyes to his. “Wow. I guess you're surprised to run into me today.”
“Robertâ”
I turn my back on him and busy myself copying papers that don't need copying and shelving medicines that don't need shelving. I hold my breath until, finally, he leaves the counter and returns to his seat. I don't look at him again.
He hasn't tried to contact me. Not once. And how long has he been back? And now he shows up here with a new puppy. He must have been just as shocked to see me as I was to see him.
By the time Misty leads them to a room, the waiting area is empty. Only the man at the counter holding the leash of a Lab with a staph infection remains. Andrew hesitates as he passes the counter, but I'm busy checking out the Lab and spared the awkward moment. And when he returns to the counter twenty minutes later, I make sure I'm in an empty treatment room, sweeping up dog hair.
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Andrew
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He's angry. I don't blame him. But I saw something else in his eyes, too, something that's gotten me all goose bumpy and giddy.
I drop Kiki and Wobert back at Maya's. She blubbers when she sees the dog in my arms.
“It's just for a couple of hours,” I tell her, quickly before she can say no. “He can stay with me. I just need to leave him here for a bit. Promise. Just a couple of hours.”
She reluctantly takes the dog from me. I'm grinning like a nut, but I just can't help it.
“Did you see him?” she asks.
I nod.
Her eyes mist up, but she smiles. I plant a quick kiss on her cheek, then scoop up Kiki and swing her around in a circle and plop her back on the ground. “Gotta run!”
I crank up the stereo on my way to a quick stop at H-E-B. I don't care who sees me. I hope they see me. I hope everyone sees me. Then I beat a path back to the clinic and wait. It's ninety-eight degrees in the shade, but I'll wait all day if I have to.
At two o'clock he finally emerges from the clinic. He's still wearing the green scrubs. His eyes are downcast, so he doesn't see the whiteboard on his windshield until he's right on it. I watch from my post at the corner of the clinic as he takes it in his hands and reads the one wordâ
Glaze
. He squeezes his eyes shut and presses his fist to his mouth.
“I've missed you,” I say, stepping out into the open.
He opens his eyes, fixes them on the whiteboard. “You're late,” he says, his voice thick.
“I know,” I say gently. “I was kind of tied up with this little legal matter, and . . . I just hope I'm not too late.”
He stares at the whiteboard for another long moment, then erases it with the hem of his shirt. “Where's the puppy you scammed from the shelter?”
Scammed?
“I left him with Maya. She's not too thrilled.”
“So you moved back in,” he says, matter-of-factly. He shakes his head.
“Actually, no.” But I don't think he hears me. He looks up at me, his face stricken.
“You weren't even going to call me. And if you hadn't accidently run into me today . . .”
“It wasn't an accident, Robert.”
Confusion pinches the features of his face.
“I just got back this morning. I drove all night. My first stop was your house. Your momâand she's very sweet, by the way, and I think she likes meâ” He doesn't react to my little joke. “She told me I just missed you, then she told me you work here. I picked up Kiki, we went to the shelter and found a dogâI may live to regret that one day.” I laugh lightly. “And, well, you know the rest.”
“No, I don't know the rest.” That flash of anger again. He looks up at the sky and blinks a few times. Then he sniffs. “You never tried to see me. You neverâ”
“I did! But when you didn't meet me in the parking lot that night, Iâ”
“What night?”
“Your birthday. The note? The flowers?”
More confusion. “You never sent meâwait.” I can see him scanning his memory. “Holy shit.
You
sent those flowers?”
“I wanted toâ”
“I thought they were from Nic. I gave them back to him.”
I exhale and close my eyes a moment, and then I laugh. My nose burns, and I laugh harder.
Holy shit
is right.
“What did the note say?”
I look at him, but I can't stop grinning. “You gave away my flowers?” I walk slowly toward him. “You think I'm just going to hand over that information now?” Hell yes, I am. “I was desperate to see you. I waited in the H-E-B parking lot for hours. But you didn't come.” I shrug.
“I didn't know. I tried to call you, but she blocked my number.”
I feel a white-hot flash in my chest. Maya. All this time, and she never told me. In fact, she'd worked hard to convince me that I'd thrown away my career over some fickle high school kid. She let me languish in Oklahoma for months until I just couldn't take it anymore. In the end, the need to see it for myself beat out my pride. I'd hardly allowed myself to hope for anything like the pain I see in his face now. I have to own up to the fact that Maya manipulated me to the bone, and I let her.
“I've really screwed up, baby,” I say, walking toward him. “And I don't have anything to offer you anymore.”
He looks at me now, really looks at me. His breath hitches and he blinks again to clear his own eyes. “You have flowers.”
I'd almost forgotten about them. I look down at the flowers in my hand, the florist tissue damp from sweat. “Isn't that what a guy brings when he's courting his paramour?” I lift my eyes to his again.
“Yeah. I heard that somewhere.”
“I should have been there for you.”
“Yeah. You should have.”
I nod. He's going to make me work for this. He should.
“So what happens now? Your ex-wife hates me. I doubt she'll be inviting me over for dinner anytime soon.”
I realize he still doesn't know. “I'm not living with Maya, Robert. I got a job with a cell phone company. A few weeks ago, they agreed to transfer me here. I have an apartment, but no furniture. I haven't even picked up the keys yet.” He's watching me as I draw closer, trying to make sense out of everything I'm telling him, still wary, I think. When I reach him, I get down on one knee and offer him the flowers, but the searing heat of the asphalt registers on my bare knee, and I get quickly back to my feet and brush at my reddened flesh. “Shit, that's hot.”
He smiles. That's when I know we're going to be okay. “I'm not dancing on any damn futon,” he says.
“I'll get a real bed. You can help me pick it out. We'll put it right smack in the middle of the living room. I'll even let you watch
Tosh.O
with your pants off if you want.”
“Hmm,” he responds, but his smile widens. He takes the flowers from me and studies them.
“I love you, Robert Westfall. I have loved you”âhe throws his arms around me and I stagger back a few steps, then wrap mine around himâ“since the moment you texted me that silly flasher joke,” I finish.
It's a lie. I think I was lost long before that.
We cling to each other in the heavy heat like we've docked for recharging. And I think,
Yes, that's exactly what we're doing.
“We have an awful lot to talk about,” I say in his ear. “And I'm starved. Let me take you for a late lunch. I know a little deli around the corner.”
He laughs. “I have a feeling there's a Subway sandwich in my future.”
He knows me so well.
“Someone might see us together,” he adds.
“I hope they do.”
I really, really hope they do.