by Mia Kerick
Oliver
I press send and sigh my relief. It makes me feel better to put their minds at ease. And I truly hope they stop by the cottage. They matter to me.
Bodie.
Ah yes, Bodie. Now’s the time to do the hard thing.
“Hugo, I need a good listener. And you’re just the guy for the job.”
He looks up at me and smiles.
“You probably noticed that Bodie left. I don’t know why, except to say it’s what he does. But aside from that convenient excuse, his leaving makes no sense.”
I stand up, grab the sprinkler hose, and drag it to another spot on the dusty excuse for a lawn.
“I love Bodie. This is a fact—it can’t be changed. The fucked-up thing is, I still trust him.”
I don’t believe for a moment that he slept with Jack.
I return to the deck and take a seat on the steps beside Hugo. He places his chin on my thigh. Of course, I pat him—it’s therapy for both of us.
“I’m kind of devastated, Hugo. But I won’t call or text Bodie and try to bring him back. He made his choice. I respect it.” I never did tell him about how my mother respected neither my choices nor my privacy when I was growing up.
Shit, my eyes are wet again. Could be drops from the sprinkler, though.
“Anyhow, something is wrong. Bodie said he loved me—and he meant it. I still believe it’s true. I just don’t know why he left. Probably never will.”
It’s strange that I don’t know is the most satisfying answer I can come up with, but it’s the only one I can accept. I truly have no clue why Bodie left. I’m just going to have to trust that he did what was right for him.
“Okay, boy. If we don’t want to be homeless and hungry, I need to find myself a job.”
I turn off the sprinkler and lead Hugo inside. Time to hit the streets.
Life doesn’t stop when everything falls apart.
Chapter 24
“Where’s Dodie?” LeeLee asks as she steps onto the deck. “Where’s your cowboy, Lolly-ver?”
Sam looks at me apologetically. “Sorry, Top Dog. I didn’t have the heart to tell her.”
And so you left it to me, and I can still barely breathe when I think of him.
I clear my throat. “No worries, Sam. Go put the food you brought in the kitchen and grab a couple of beers and a juice box for LeeLee out of the fridge.”
Sam shrugs, hands his daughter her backpack, and escapes into the kitchen.
I squat down so I’m at LeeLee’s level and take her the hand in mine. “Honey, Bodie had to leave so he could…um, explore some other parts of…the area.” I sigh at my very weak explanation.
She nods. “Like Dora the Explorer?”
“Uh, yeah. Just like her.”
LeeLee sings a little tune about Dora, which, strangely, I recognize. “Bodie was fun. He flew me to the beach. I’m sad.”
I’m sad too.
“I can fly you to the beach today. How’s that?” I offer.
“Okay, I guess.” I can tell by her critical stare that she’s sizing up my fun-ness factor. “Can I make you a Play Doh hotdog?”
“I’d be disappointed if you didn’t.”
She smiles, not enthusiastically, but pleased enough with my response. “Just don’t eat it for real. It’ll give you a tummy ache. Daddy said.”
I’m helping to settle her at the picnic table when Mika and Nico show up.
“Hi, Oliver. Hi there, princess. You look so pretty in your sundress.” Mika slides onto the picnic bench beside LeeLee. “It kinda matches mine!”
“This was my first day of school dress, Miss Mika. I’m in real school now, not baby school.” The two turn their attention to the creation of Play Doh food that you can’t actually eat.
“Hey, man. Where should I stick our cooler?” Nico is dressed in black jeans, a black T-shirt, and of course, a black leather jacket, on this sunny, late September afternoon. I smile, picturing him strolling along the beach, which is our plan for after dinner, in his black biker boots. He has, however, gone light on the jet-black eyeliner for today’s cookout.
“You can just stick it over there by the shower stall.”
Where Bodie and I showered together under the stars.
Sam comes out of the house with four bottles of beer and apple juice for LeeLee. “Hey, everybody. We so needed to get together now that Surf’s Up is ancient history.”
“Yeah. I miss you guys, like, tons,” Mika says, glancing up from her fake food project with LeeLee. “Know what? Me and Nico are having date night at Ivory Tower so we can see where you work, Oliver.”
Date night at Ivory Tower—been there, done that.
I grit my teeth to stop my eyes from watering at the bittersweet memory. “Any luck finding jobs?” I ask, wisely changing the subject.
“Mika’s working at the Island Children’s Museum,” Nico brags. “She’s gonna be in charge of the Dinosaur Detective Exhibit.” It’s adorable how proud he is of Mika’s new opportunity.
And LeeLee stares at Mika as if she’s royalty. “Know what? I’m goin’ on a field trip to the Children’s Museum next week! Daddy’s gonna be a papperone!”
“That’s chaperone, LeeLee,” Sam corrected.
“I guess I’ll see you in the Dinosaur Detective room, princess.”
“What about you, Nico? Any luck in the job search?” I suck at small talk, but with these guys it actually isn’t so torturous.
Nico shakes his head. “Still looking, but Mika’s got my back until I’m employed again.”
“Nico’s staying with me. He’s a kept man.” The pair exchange sweet glances.
I’m happy for them. They found what I lost.
“Try the Atlantic Basement Bar, Nico,” Sam suggests. “Rumor has it they need a bar back, and Top Dog says you were the best one he ever had. He can give you an A-plus recommendation. I’ve got an application in there for a waiter job, myself.”
“Hopefully, you’ll get hired at Ivory Tower, Sam. I put in a good word for you,” I add, although he already knows. I was the one to alert him to the opening.
“Wanna hear a rumor?” Mika asks.
“Of course, we do,” Sam replies with a wink. “Always up for island gossip.”
“It’s got two parts.”
“Don’t keep them in suspense, babe,” Nico urges.
“Okay, well Jack Wheeler’s up a creek. First, I heard Surf’s Up is going out of business. Like, soon.” Mika licks her lips. “He’s such a dick. Almost everybody quit working there except for The Angel Slayer.”
“You can’t run a bar if you’ve got nobody to serve drinks,” Sam says.
“That’s not even the big news.”
My ears perk up. “Well, Mika—you’ve got our attention. So spill.”
“Remember that server named Wendell?” she asks.
“The buff blond dude with a shaved head,” Nico adds.
Sam and I nod.
“Word is Jack grabbed him—where the sun don’t shine, if you know what I mean. And he exposed himself.” Mika glances guiltily at LeeLee, but she’s fully occupied with making a Play-Doh hotdog bun. “And Wendell called the cops on him.”
“Really?” I have new respect for Wendell.
“You’re right—Jack’s up a creek,” Sam concludes. “No paddle.”
“He deserves every bit of trouble he gets,” I hiss.
“Because he sucks,” Nico agrees.
“Daddy says that’s a swear word, Nico,” LeeLee chimes in.
“Um…sorry.” His pale skin pinkens. “Won’t happen again.”
I suck down the rest of my beer. “I’m gonna grab some more brews.”
“None for me, Lolly-ver.”
I pick up her empty box from the picnic table. “I’ll get you another juice, LeeLee.”
At first, I wasn’t sure how to feel about Sam’s idea to have a cookout on my deck and an evening trip to the beach to collect shells. But as the afternoon continues, I’m more a
nd more thankful for this get together. The catching up, the Play Doh hotdogs, my Blueberry-Plum Bellinis, the cheeseburgers and real hotdogs you can actually eat, flying LeeLee to the beach, and the general comradery make me feel like I’m still part of the world. Despite the constant reminders of Bodie, I’m surviving.
But I wonder if anyone in the world cares about Bodie like I did.
He ran away from me, so I need to move on.
Chapter 25
Three weeks later
“What’s in these drinks, Oliver? They look heavenly.”
Mom and her boyfriend Gary are visiting Ivory Tower for the third time this week. I’m not sure if it’s the creative cocktails or one specific mixologist that draws them here. I don’t usually come out from behind the bar to interact with customers. My job is to create unique beverages, not to serve them with a smile. But this is my mother, with whom things are much improved. I let her in my life a little bit, and she backed off a lot. The art of compromise.
“It’s really just my take on a Raspberry Cosmopolitan. Fresh berries, Prosecco on top, a drizzle of honey on the rim.”
She smiles coyly at Gary, a sweet, middle-aged man with nerdy tortoise shell glasses. “I told you my son has talent behind the bar.”
He returns her smile, clearly head over heels. “You did tell me, Mandy. And you were right.”
“As always.” She winks at him and then at me. “Thank you, dear.”
“Enjoy your drinks. Sam will be right over to take your next order. I have to get back to the bar.” I squeeze her hand before I leave.
My life has transitioned radically since Labor Day weekend. Ivory Tower’s nonowner mixologist was called suddenly and permanently to her elderly mother’s home in San Francisco. As luck would have it, I walked into the bar to check on my job application at the precise moment the mixologist was calling an Uber to take her to the airport.
“You want a job?” Wanda Robinson, one of the mixologist owners of the bar, had asked, literally grasping me by the collar of my golf shirt. The bar was full to the rafters and she and her husband, Raymond, appeared frantic.
“That’s why I’m h-here,” I’d stuttered.
“You have experience mixing drinks?”
“I’ve bartended at Surf’s Up for several years. And I’m a trained mixologist.”
“Perfect. Get behind the bar now.” She’d then shoved me in the direction of the bar. “You know how this place operates?”
“Uh, yeah. I’ve been here for drinks many times.”
“If you survive the night and the customers don’t complain about your skills, you’ve got the job.”
The hiring process wasn’t exactly glamorous, but here I am. Employed in my dream job. And I took Sam along, since they were short one server as well. Ivory Tower closes at midnight instead of two in the morning, allowing Sam to wake up in time to prepare LeeLee for kindergarten and get her on the school bus. And it’s nice for me to have a familiar face at the bar.
My work is fulfilling. I can afford to pay the mortgage and my school loans and feed Hugo. But I changed my mind about purchasing the yellow Volkswagen Bug. Instead, I deposited Bodie’s rent payments and the extra cash he left with the goodbye note in a brand-new savings account, designated for a someday-car. Not a yellow one and not a convertible. Wind in my hair would just be a reminder of what I lost. Good thing Gillamour Island has a beach shuttle that runs year-round.
The personal aspect of my life is also much changed from a month ago. For the first time, I have several friends that matter to me—Mika, Nico, and Sam. Little LeeLee comes with the package. My parents are part of my life again, and in a more positive way than ever before. Dad and I have been meeting for lunch a few times a week. Mom has made some drastic changes for the better, although I can tell sometimes it’s still tough for her to hold back from overstepping the boundaries. Of course, there’s also Hugo, my ever-loyal best friend.
Jack is but a bad memory.
This is where my social life begins and ends. Which is how I want it. I’m not willing to open my heart to anything beyond my tight, friendly circle.
The evening isn’t overly busy, as it’s a Tuesday in late September. I’m the only mixologist on duty. I drive everything from my mind except for one-of-a-kind concoctions, which is surprisingly easy to do. I feel safe here at Ivory Tower and it’s creatively fulfilling. To this point, the customers have adored my inspired cocktails, and Wanda and Raymond appreciate my efforts. It’s all good. Everything is as it should be.
At least this is my story and I’m sticking with it.
I glance up from the array of ingredients scattered before me on the bar. And I see him… He’s standing just inside the bar’s doorway, leaning against the wall. Arms folded. Legs crossed casually. Stetson pulled low over his eyes. Bodie is the last person in the world I expected.
It’s as if he has yanked the rug from beneath my feet. I grasp the edge of the bar to quell the wave of unsteadiness that throttles me.
Sam sees Bodie too and seats him quickly. He glances back and forth from me to him. Since I’ve openly shared my devastation with my friends, Sam knows the very sight of Bodie will rock the limited sense of peace I’ve struggled for over the past three weeks.
They speak for a moment, and then Sam races to the bar. “Hey, Top Dog. Bodie’s here.”
Still, grasping the bar, I force a reply. “Yeah, I know. I saw him.”
“He asked if you’d make him a drink.”
“Well, that’s my job, so I guess I have no choice in the matter.”
“He wants a drink that tastes like regret.”
I gawk at Sam. “That’s what he told you?”
“I could never make that shit up.”
“Well, his drink will be a bitter one.” I force a smile. “That’s all he said?”
“I told him how almost everybody quit Surf’s Up because Jack Wheeler treats his employees like crap, and that the bar is on the verge of going out of business because nobody wants to work there except assholes like The Angel Slayer. Bodie said he was glad that you and me got jobs here.”
“Okay.” I’m going to need to let go of the edge of the bar if I plan to make him a drink. “Whatever, I guess. Give me a minute to mix something for him.”
“Don’t slip any poison in the drink, Top Dog.” Sam grimaces.
“No poison,” I agree.
I come up with the perfect “regret cocktail” in no time at all. Gin and my homemade bitters, fresh lime juice, and not a single drop of simple syrup to soften the bitter blow. Served on ice. A mint garnish. Zero arsenic. Done. I slide it onto the bar.
And then I reach recklessly for another drink order, knocking over a vase of hydrangea. Water from the overturned vase streams across the bar and I grab a dish towel to soak up the spill. Only then do I notice I’m shaking. And rather violently. I yearn to flee to the safety of the back room, but I can’t. Raymond is enjoying a well-deserved night off, and I haven’t seen Wanda for at least two hours. She’s probably placing ingredient orders in the office.
After drying the bar, I take in a few deep breaths and fix my gaze on the bottles of booze in front of me, refusing to look in the direction of where Bodie is seated. I simply can’t look at him. And I won’t ask myself what he’s doing here. Because it’s over. We’re over. I’m through with romance.
By the time the dull roar of the crowd dies and I dare to scan the room, Bodie is gone. My eyes sting with the burn of disappointment and the frustration that I’m weak enough to indulge in it. My throat is tight; my belly is clenched up like a softball. My physical reaction to Bodie’s absence has again overwhelmed me.
“I got through this once, I can do it again.” I speak softly. To nobody, as is sometimes my habit.
Wanda rushes behind the bar. “Sam said you don’t look so good, and he’s right. You’re positively trembling. Are you okay, Oliver?”
“Yeah, but I think I just saw a ghost.”
“You saw a ghos
t in here?” She gapes around her. “It is an old building.”
“More like someone I used to know.”
“Ah, yes.” Wanda nods and bites down on her bottom lip, grasping my meaning. “I’ll clean up the bar. You should head home.”
I don’t argue with her. I truly need to go back to my cottage. To return to my natural state: alone. “Thanks, Wanda.”
When I get outside, Mom is in front of the bar, waiting for Gary to bring around the car.
“Oliver, I couldn’t help but notice that your friend, the doorman from Surf’s Up, was at Ivory Tower tonight.” She chooses her words carefully, aware that prying may damage our fragile new bond.
“Yes, he was here. I made him a drink.”
Mom steps closer to me. “I realize that he departed quite abruptly from your life. And I assume this caused you some grief.”
“That’s a fact.” And a major understatement.
“If you need someone to talk to about it, I’m here for you.”
“Thank you, Mom.”
She opens her mouth to say something else but changes her mind and turns away from me. “It’s difficult for me to leave it at that.”
“I know it is. And I appreciate your restraint.”
My mother faces me again. Her eyes are wet, but she holds back tears. “You are a smart young man, Oliver. And a sensitive one. I have confidence that you will know the right way to handle this situation.” She reaches out and takes hold of my hand. “Let us drive you home.”
Gary pulls up to the curb and Mom kisses my cheek.
“Now get in the car. We’ll have you home in ten minutes.”
I’m not at all surprised to come upon Bodie’s Harley in the corner of my driveway, hidden from view of Main Street where Mom and Gary dropped me off. I’m only mildly surprised to see him sitting on the deck steps with Hugo, his hat beside him.
“You still have your key,” I observe.
Bodie nods. “I didn’t go inside. I just let Hugo out ’cause he heard me on the deck.”
The night is still, but my heart pounds like I just ran the Boston Marathon. I stand on the grass in front of the stairs but don’t look directly at Bodie. I’m not prepared for a fresh wave of shock and a renewal of my loss’s biting pain. “What are you doing here?”
