by Mia Kerick
“Is your mom doing okay?” I ask quietly, so LeeLee can’t overhear.
“Yeah. She’s fine. It wasn’t her heart, but we’re glad we checked it out.”
LeeLee collects her princess charms from the sandcastle and stuffs them into her backpack. “Bye-bye Lolly and Dodie and puppy!” She races up the beach.
“Thanks a million,” Sam calls, chasing after her.
Bodie is still sitting on the sand in something of a daze, his gaze cast over the water.
“What a sweet little girl,” I say.
“She sure is. I could spend every day with you and Hugo and LeeLee.”
I never thought spending time with LeeLee would have such a profound effect on Bodie. It pleases me that he is finding his place with the people here on Gillamour Island.
Chapter 18
It isn’t too crazy tonight at the bar. The Tuesday night crowd is a jovial one, dancing to Motown hits cranked on the old juke box, drinking steadily but not too heavily. Keeping us busy but not frantically so.
There’s no line at the door, so Bodie is taking a break at the bar, conversing intently with Mark Lyons, who owns The Island Toolbox Hardware Store on Main Street.
“I’ve been looking for somebody to manage lumber and building materials for a while now.” Mark finishes off his beer. “The only way I can compete with the big box stores on the mainland is to have somebody who knows his shit. Or her shit. I’m not opposed to having a woman run the department.”
“I worked at a home store just outside of Springfield for about a year. Spent time in different departments, but lumber and building was what I liked best,” Bodie offers.
“Maybe you could stop by the store over the next few days. I’ll show you around, and we can figure out if there’s a possible opportunity for you.”
I hate it that I have to turn on the blender and miss Bodie’s response. But duty calls, and the frozen pineapple-banana daquiris aren’t going to make themselves. I breathe a small sigh of relief that Bodie is actively looking for a job for the fall. He hasn’t been particularly transparent about his future plans. And God knows, I’m not going to box him into a corner and question him.
What it comes down to is that August is here—mid-August, actually. And something inside me still flinches at the notion that when Labor Day weekend rolls around, Bodie will roll away with it. I have no idea where he’d go or even why, but I never forgot what he once told me. That to this point in his life, he believed he was born for leaving. A man who needs or wants to pick up and leave every place he resides—before roots take hold.
I pour the daquiris into three waiting glasses. “Mika! Drinks are up!”
Mika literally bumps into Jack as she rushes to the bar.
“Watch yourself, stupid!” He shoves her aside and drops into the stool beside Bodie. “It’s too slow to keep you on the clock, Bowden. Gonna let you off early tonight.”
“You sure?” Bodie asks. “If you want, I can help Nico lug kegs.”
Jack places his elbow on the bar and leans his face against the back of his hand. “That won’t be necessary.” He shifts sideways to greet Mark Lyons. “Hey, bud. Let me buy you a shot. Oliver, we need three Fireball shooters.”
Bodie stands. “I should get back to the door.”
“Didn’t you hear me, dumbass? I told you that you’re off the clock. So, sit your fine ass back down and wait with Mark and me for Oliver to close up.”
Bodie hesitates, but Mark chimes in with, “Stick around, Bodie. I want to get to know you better.”
I slide the glasses across the bar and say to Bodie, “We can walk home tonight, so go ahead and have a few drinks.”
“Hear that, Bowden? You just got permission to booze it up with the guys.”
Bodie hoists himself back onto the stool and hesitantly lifts his shot.
“To new opportunities,” Mark says.
“And new relationships,” Jack adds, his focus on Bodie.
Bodie blinks once and sucks down his drink. And since I’m really not in the mood to watch my ex-boyfriend come on to my current boyfriend, I turn my attention to scrubbing the bar. Maybe I can get out of here early too.
“Three more,” Jack calls. Of course, I get right on it.
Thirty minutes and too many shots later, Mark stumbles to the door. “He’s not driving, I hope,” I say.
“You know he lives over the laundry center, two doors down,” Jack replies. “Time for your chill pill, Tunstead.”
“Well, what about you? Are you driving?” I ask.
“I had no idea you gave a shit.” Jack reaches over the bar and grabs a couple of beers from the ice chest. “I’m staying here tonight. Unless you want me to join you and him in your bed.” He points at Bodie, whose head has sunken into his hands.
“No, thanks.” I retort and turn away from them to wipe down the back bar with Nico’s help.
When I start to wash the bar stools, there’s commotion at the bar.
“Keep your fuckin’ hands to yourself!”
I spin around to see Bodie, pissed off and on his feet beside the bar, snarling at Jack.
“You’re hypersensitive—know that, Bowden? You bite my head off just for being friendly.” Jack flings his stool backward and storms toward the office, yelling, “Can’t wait until Labor Day weekend—I’ll never have to look at your face again! And I’ll have ‘Ollie’ all to myself!”
“Fuckin’ asshole.” Bodie doesn’t shout. He just states it as simple fact as he rights the stool.
And just like that, I’ve had enough of tonight. “Mika and Nico will finish closing up for me. Let’s get out of here, Bodie.”
“Not on my bike. Been drinking too much to drive.”
“No, definitely not. We’ll walk home and pick up your bike tomorrow.”
As we hoof it along the sidewalk under the moonless sky, neither of us says a word. When we’re almost halfway to the cottage, Bodie breaks the silence. “I sat there and sucked down a shitload of drinks ’cause I didn’t wanna bail on Mark Lyons.”
“Why not?”
“Didn’t plan on sayin’ anything yet, but I’m hoping I can get a job at his business, Island Toolbox.”
Bodie is clueless that I eavesdropped on his conversation. “Would you like to work there?”
“Shit, yeah.”
“Well, I think you made a good decision—to stay and talk to Mark.”
“Yep. Me too. ’Til Jack-hole grabbed my dick.”
“He did not!”
“Yep. He did. Had to hold myself back from knockin’ his fuckin’ block off.”
“He would’ve deserved it.” It’s also hard for me to hold back from screaming my frustration. Jack isn’t anything close to the person I once very briefly thought he was.
“You’re telling me.”
A few more silent minutes of walking ensue. This time I speak first. “You know, you should quit Surf’s Up, Bodie. Jack’s harassing you. You could even file a complaint against him.”
“Report him? Like how you went to the cops when that asshole Dale almost raped you?”
I sigh. “I’m just worried. I’ve known Jack for a long time and…well, he’s losing it. Big time. He’s freaking me out.”
“He can’t do shit to me.” Bodie’s breathing is fast and heavy. “I’m bigger. And tougher.”
I take his hand in mine to calm him.
“Gonna tell ya something, Ollie.” His labored breathing continues.
“Okay.” I have no idea what he plans to say. But anything he wants to tell me; I need to hear.
“Gonna tell ya what went down with Wilkins.”
“You mean it?”
He nods. “See, when I was in fifth grade, this guy, Brian Wilkins, was Mom’s boyfriend. And shit, he was a mean SOB.”
Our clasped palms are already sweaty. “Did he live with you?”
“Nah. He slept over a lot, though.” He stops talking and I squeeze his hand, encouraging him to continue. “Anyhow, Mom
worked most nights at the local hospital. She was in housekeeping.”
“Did he stay at your house when your mom went to work?” I already suspect his tragic reply, but I wait for Bodie to confirm it.
“He sure did. Told Mom he was babysitting me. Wilkins used to come to my room when I went to bed. And not just once or twice—it got to be every fuckin’ night.”
I want to ask what Wilkins did to him on those terrible nights, but this is Bodie’s story. He’ll tell me what he wants me to know.
I don’t have to wait long. “Mostly he touched me. Put his mouth on me a couple times. Made me feel things I didn’t want to feel, even when it felt kinda…” His voice trails away as he struggles with how to phrase the rest.
I swoop in to help him finish his thought, although it’s probably not my place. “When it wasn’t as much physically painful, as emotionally.”
“Yeah. Sometimes my body felt good, even when my brain didn’t. And I was so pissed-off at myself—it was like my body betrayed me. After that I never trusted my body with anyone else. Not until you.”
It hurts to hear this; again I squeeze his hand and clench my jaw to prepare for the rest.
“Wilkins didn’t make me do shit to him—he did all of it to me and got off on it. Some of the stuff was what me and you do in bed, so that’s why I hold back, I think.” He stops talking and sucks in a breath. “Me and him never had full-on sex, though. Never that.”
“He broke the law by molesting you, Bodie. Wilkins should be in jail.”
“Uh-huh. He sure should.” The look on Bodie’s face changes from bitter to resigned. “But the part that hurts the most is what happened after I told Mom. And believe me, it took some time to make myself spill it to her. But I finally did.”
“Did she believe you?”
“She did, but she stayed with him anyhow. Stuck me in her sister’s home. Aunt Linda wasn’t thrilled about having me there, let me tell you. She called me ‘one sweet pain in her ass.’ And Mom lived with Wilkins a couple towns away.”
“You told me you never saw her again.”
“Mom never came around her sister’s house after that, or at least not when I was home. And as soon as I graduated from high school, I left. Nobody wanted me there, so I took off before they booted me.”
“Do you wish your mother would find you and tell you she’s sorry?” It’s a ridiculous question, but nonetheless, I ask. The woman owes him a huge apology.
“Never gonna happen. So I don’t even waste time thinking about that kinda shit.”
There’s something else I need to understand. “Why did you decide to tell me about this tonight?”
Bodie stops on the sidewalk in front of my cottage. “Your house looks cute with the lights in the window.”
“It does.” I wonder if he’s going to answer my last question or decide he’s said enough.
“Tonight, Ollie, when Jack touched me through my jeans, it brought back the shit Wilkins did to me under my pajama bottoms in my bed. And how it felt to have no choice.”
“But you do have a choice. You can quit your job.”
“Not until I hear if I got the job at the hardware store.”
“I’m so damned sorry about all of this.”
“Ain’t your place to be sorry. Jack did it, not you.” He gulps audibly, and I know this is not easy for him. “I just think you should know why I am the way I am. And tonight, I’m damn drunk, so it’s not as hard to talk about these things.”
“I hate what Brian Wilkins did, Bodie.”
“Me too, but I can’t change it. Gotta live with my memories, and you make it easier.”
“Thank you for telling me.”
“You don’t have to thank me for being honest, Ollie. Just like I don’t have to thank you for other things.”
I feel closer to Bodie every time we have an agonizingly honest conversation. One of these days I’ll get around to telling him how my mother tried to control me emotionally for my entire youth. It just never seems like the right time. “Let’s go inside. You can share your snacks with me.”
Chapter 19
“Ollie, Mark just stopped by the front door and told me I got the job at Island Toolbox! I’m gonna be managing the lumber and building department.”
“That’s the best news I’ve heard in just about forever!” I exclaim. And I mean it.
Bodie is jubilant. He climbs on a stool, leans over the bar, and kisses me. “Yeah, it really is.”
“We’re gonna have to celebrate tonight.”
The grin he wears is so wide it makes me grin too. “I’m thinking, more fireworks. You in?”
“We’re so on the same page. When do you start your job at the store?” I ask.
“Not until October first. I’m gonna be hanging around the house with Hugo for a while. Thought maybe I could do some home improvements. Ya know, to earn my keep.”
“What kind of improvements?” The cottage needs basically everything.
“To start with, I’m gonna refinish the deck. No more splinters on our bare feet.”
“Maybe you could make it so the screen door to the deck actually closes.”
“I’ll put that first on my list.”
He gives me another kiss over the bar. And his hoot actually sounds like a cowboy’s yee-haw.
“I’d better get back to work.”
As Bodie makes his way to the door, I sigh and say to nobody, “He’s staying.” But I’m not so lucky that nobody hears.
“He’s staying? You must mean that doorman. And this is good news?”
“Mom.” I glance behind me to where she stands, not a blonde hair out of place. She wears a vibrant sundress with swirls of tropical colors setting off a tan that seems to sparkle in the bar’s dim light.
“Hello, Oliver.”
I never know what to say to her. “Uh, what can I get you?”
“How about some respect? I’m your mother. Next weekend is Labor Day and I haven’t had a call from you since Mother’s Day.”
“Um, sorry. It’s been a busy summer is all.”
“Busy, you say? How so?”
“Hang on a minute, Mom.” I step around the bar and find Mika in the crowd. “Can you handle the bar for a few minutes? I need to talk to my mother.”
“Sure. I’ll pour you a couple of glasses of, like, say, chardonnay. Sound good?”
“Perfect. Thanks, Mika.”
I lead Mom to the end of the bar, and we sit down. A minute later, Mika drops off two glasses of wine. “I’m sorry I haven’t called,” I lie, avoiding her eyes.
“You said you were busy. Is it because of that doorman?”
I’ve never leveled with my mother when it comes to a single aspect of my life. I’ve avoided answering her every question since middle school, when I started to possess thoughts and feelings I had reason to keep to myself. But I’m not going to hide tonight. “Yes. His name is Bodie. And he’s my boyfriend.”
Her eyes widen, probably from the pure shock that I actually answered her question honestly. I don’t plan to give her the key to my private universe, but it’s time to come out of the darkness. I’m a grown man; I can pick and choose what I tell her.
“He’s a good man. And he makes me happy. Maybe you could come over and have dinner with us. Get to know him.”
“You want me to come over to dinner? This is certainly a first.”
“Why not? You gave me the perfect dining room set. Time to try it out.”
“Why, that sounds lovely, Oliver.” She smiles. Not a Cruella De Vil-style evil grin, either. A genuine smile. And there’s a distinct possibility her eyes are damp.
“How are things going for you, Mom?” For once, I’m the one asking questions. “Are you still seeing Gary?”
She squirms on her bar stool, unaccustomed to this shift in the power balance. “Gary? Why, he’s just fine, thank you very much.”
Mom and I sip our wine and chat rather stiffly about life, in general, for fifteen minutes, until
the bar is so crowded it’s beyond Mika’s control. She shoots me a get-the-hell-over-here-ASAP glare.
“I have to return to the bar, but I’ll call you after Labor Day and we can make plans for dinner.”
As I stand, Jack steps up to my mother’s bar stool. “Mandy, dear, conversing with your prodigal son?”
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about, Jackie.” She gets up and kisses my cheek delicately.
“Stay. Have a drink with your favorite bar owner,” Jack coos.
“My favorite intoxicated bar owner, you mean?” She takes a step toward the door. “I’m so very sorry, Jackie. I have other plans for tonight.”
“Of course, you do.” He meets Mom’s cruel smile with one of his own. “Bitch.”
There’s a gleam in Jack’s eyes I’ve never before noticed. And frankly, it’s chilling.
“You looked so hot behind the bar tonight.” Bodie pushes me against the cottage’s front door. “Only thing I could think about was getting you alone.” He grabs the hem of my polo shirt and yanks it to my chest.
“My mother came in.” Talk about a mood-killer. “I…uh, invited her over to dinner after Labor Day.”
Bodie doesn’t seem to be put off by talk of my mother. But he abandons his efforts on removing my shirt to slip his hands down the back of my shorts. “Cool. As long as she doesn’t slap you again. Not gonna stand for that.”
“I want…oh, God, I love it when you squeeze my ass like that.” I’m losing my train of thought. “I want her to get to know you.”
“If that’s what you want, we’ll do it.” It’s hard to concentrate on anything but the beauty of his face when he’s so close.
When he leans in to kiss me, I grasp his narrow waist with both hands. His tongue plunges between my lips, and he’s inside. I breathe a sigh of satisfaction right into his mouth. “Let’s go to bed, Bodie,” I whisper.
“That was my plan.” I can feel his crooked smile against my lips.
Bodie pulls his hands from the back of my shorts, unlocks the front door, and finishes the job of pulling my polo shirt over my shoulders as we rush into the living room. But Hugo emerges from the kitchen and stops our progress.
