The Art of Second Chances

by Coleen Patrick

  Interesting was about all I could process. All I could handle. I thought it was a big deal to talk about a personal sketchbook with Reed. But already, I was feeling some kind of itch. My fingers tingled in response. I drummed the steering wheel.

  “You should go,” Chloe said from the passenger seat, and I flinched.

  “I thought you were sleeping.”

  “I was. But then I heard the sound of the seagulls.” Chloe dropped her feet from the dash. “I’m serious though. You should go to that art expo.”

  “Maybe…”

  “It says here that it’s a public paint out on the beach. There will be dozens of easels set up. A kids’ paint out. An auction. Even surfboard painting.”

  “Where are you getting that information?”

  She held up her phone. “The website. You should see these surfboards. Some of the designs remind me of your style.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “Colorful. Quirky. Awesome.”

  “I’m totally fishing for compliments, aren’t I?”

  Chloe shrugged. “I didn’t say that.”

  “Well, I heard it. In your tone.”

  “No, because I think you’re in a vulnerable place right now. I’m trying to be kind and supportive, with a side of get your ass back in the game.”

  “Chloe…”

  “No. I’m serious. Come on. It’s bounce back time.”

  “I know.”

  “What? Did you just say, I know?” Chloe sat back and clapped her hands together. “Okay. Tomorrow, they have the artist exhibit. We can go and check it out. Nothing threatening about looking, right? The paint out and the surfboard things aren’t until later in the week.”

  “We’ll see.”

  “Yay.” She pulled her hair back into a ponytail and secured it into a neat bun with the hairband that she’d had on her wrist. “Now that we’ve got that settled, I need you to drop me off at the beach before you go to the house.”

  “Why?”

  “First dip.”

  “Right. How could I forget?” Chloe went on a lot of vacations with her parents, but part of every beach vacation was dipping her feet in the ocean before doing anything else.

  “You sure you don’t want to come with?”

  “No." I stopped the car next to the wooden path leading to the beach. “I’ve got to check in at the house. Apparently, I ticked off everyone by not showing up or calling yesterday.”

  “Well, I’ll meet you there. It’s Shore Fun, right?”

  “Yeah, the mint green house sticking out over the dune.” I pointed out my window, over a small sandy hill covered in beach grass.

  Chloe got out of the car and shut the door.

  “Chloe?”

  She stuck her head inside the open passenger window. “Yeah?”

  “Thank you so, so much for being the best friend ever.”

  “You’re very welcome.” She reached her hand out to mine and squeezed. “I know how hard it is to want something that might not want you back.”

  “I know. I’m sorry about Taylor, too.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, when you’re ready for the There Are Plenty More Fish in the Sea speech, let me know.”

  “Will do.” Chloe grinned and backed out of the window. She waved, then walked down the path, disappearing over another larger dune.

  I shifted Chloe’s car into drive and headed to the next block until Shore Fun was in my sights. I pulled into the circular driveway. It was empty. Zac’s mom and his little sister, Lily, were probably out touring or doing something adventurous. All Lily talked about last week was going fishing on a “real boat”.

  I parked the car. Apparently, my mom was still with my dad, which made me wonder again if they were really going to get back together. It was something I wanted less than a year ago. I wasn’t so sure anymore. Everything was so different with my dad. He hardly ever called, and our relationship was, well, it was strange, and without my mom as a buffer, unconnected. The things I went to my dad for seemed to be stuck in the past, or almost irrelevant. He was always great at building and fixing stuff, like my bike or the easel he built from scratch, sanded, and stained, just for me. And of course, he was the one who removed the boards from our back fence, after I fell out of the tree when I’d tried to climb over the fence.

  It was just as important as the stuff my mom did, but they were things that didn’t come around all that often, kind of like my dad himself in the last year. When he first left home, we played a lot of phone tag, but when he didn’t show up for that dinner I planned for his birthday last fall, there was very little left to say.

  So I had no idea what it would mean if my parents got back together. It would be awkward at first. But I wanted my mom to be happy. If my dad did that, then there would be nothing to be angry with him about anymore.

  I got out of the car, stretching a little before walking toward the large porch. I passed a weathered wood sign that read: Shore Fun. Most every house at the beach had a name. Names like, Second Wind, Tide and True, and my personal favorite Seas the Day.

  I lifted the mat to look for the key, but there was nothing there. I straightened. My mom had said the key would be under the mat. I scanned the porch, taking in the swing with its floral cushions. I was about to check under them but tried the door handle instead.

  The door opened. The foyer was huge. I glanced at the stairs and considered going up to claim a bed, but my stomach growled. So, I headed straight to the kitchen, ignoring the two common rooms to my left and right.

  I dropped my purse and duffle on a chair at the kitchen table and opened the fridge, selecting a deli pack of cheese and a jar of dill spears. I had a craving for grilled cheese. With lots of pickles. I set my food loot on the granite counters and reached for the bag of bread.

  In my peripheral vision, I saw a dark lump.

  Someone was on the couch.

  I moved to my tiptoes, leaning forward on the counter for stability. I saw emerald green, some purple, and wait—

  Red sequins. That resembled ladybugs. That was the sequined scarf I bought for my mom last Christmas.

  I walked over to the couch to find my mom. She was sound asleep, wearing a jewel-toned, gauzy skirt and a baggy Outer Banks sweatshirt. And, of course, the shiny scarf.

  “Mom?” I sat on the edge of the couch in front of her.

  “Hmm,” she said, without moving or opening her eyes.

  “I didn’t know you were coming today. Where’s your car?”

  “I took a bus.”

  “You left your car in Richmond?”

  “No, I drove it home first.”

  “Oh.” Something wasn’t right. Things must not have gone well with my dad. I patted my mom on the shoulder. “Um, do you want a sandwich? I was going to make grilled cheese. I saw some of that tapioca cheese in the fridge that you like. I can use that if you want.”

  My mom mumbled a reply, but all I heard was “getting married”.

  I froze. “What? Who’s getting married?”

  Finally my mom sat up and blew out a long but steady breath—one her yoga teacher would have been proud of. “Your dad is getting married.”

  “Uh, dad is already married. To you.”

  My mom nodded. “True, but--”

  “But nothing. Wait. Are you saying he called you and asked you to drive all the way to Richmond so he could ask you for a…”

  “A divorce,” my mom said. She folded her hands together on her lap.

  “But I thought…”

  “I thought so, too, honey.” She looked a bit sad but not as depressed as I imagined a woman might be if her husband of twenty some years said he was marrying another woman. Sure, her hair was disheveled from her nap, and she was kind of frowning, but I couldn’t picture my mom having a dramatic freak out over her soon-to-be ex-husband’s impending nuptials. My mom really was the sort of person who went with the flow. Unlike me, who tried to control her environment, my mom just let i
t be—believing everything happened for a reason.

  “He’s a flipping cliché, Mom.” Only I didn’t use flipping.

  “Grace, he’s still your father.”

  I rolled my eyes. “He’s a douche. That’s what he is.”

  My mom shook her head. Slowly. Maybe she agreed with me.

  “Who is he marrying? That chick he went to Cadillac Ranch with?” Last year, he took his girlfriend to the roadside stop he’d always wanted to go to on our proposed family road trip.

  “Yes. Stacey.”

  “Ugh. I still don’t understand why he asked you to drive all the way to Richmond. You didn’t know he was going to say that, did you?”

  “No, I didn’t.” My mom smoothed down her skirt. “And I gave him a piece of my mind for making me think otherwise. But honestly, the driving all the way to Richmond part was my fault. Sure, he admitted he didn’t want to do the divorce talk over the phone, but I misread the whole situation, got a little stuck in the nostalgia. He didn’t know I was coming. I made the decision to drive there. I thought I’d surprise him.”

  “Oh no. Was Stacey there?”

  My mom wilted. “Yes.”

  “I guess you surprised him then.” My mind attempted to drum up visions of the awkward moment, but I put a stop to it. This was a whole lot of crap I didn’t want to deal with.

  My mom stared at her hands.

  She wasn’t wearing her wedding ring.

  I swallowed. We sat there for a bit, saying nothing. The windows must have been open in the kitchen because I heard a low, mechanical hum coming from the pool in the backyard. It sounded artificial and cold.

  Spring break was now officially spring breakdown.

  Chapter 14

  A Splash of Beige on a Lime Green Pool Noodle, Sand Textured in Oil

  Not long after my mom delivered the divorce bomb, I walked to the beach to find Chloe. I only got halfway across the smaller dune, when Chloe headed my way down the beach pathway.

  Even from the distance, I could see something wasn’t right with her hair. Earlier, she’d had it in a neat ballerina type bun. Now, it looked askew, the bun bobbing above her right ear.

  “Wow,” I said when she got closer. “You must be freezing. Did you get hit by a wave?”

  She shook her head, and a chunk of wet sand fell from her hair bun. “I didn’t have to go in the water. We’ve got full service here at the beach.”

  “Huh?”

  “Yeah. The water came to me. In the form of a preschooler wielding a shovel and bucket.”

  “Oh no.”

  “Oh yes.” Chloe tsked. “The girl tripped. Then she cried. Although, it was really more of a wail.”

  “Aw, she felt bad.”

  “But not for me, for her sand castle.”

  “Oh.”

  “Remind me never to have kids.”

  “Well, parents aren’t so great either,” I said as we both headed toward the house.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “My parents are officially getting divorced.”

  “Damn, Grace. I’m sorry.” Another piece of wet sand fell from her lopsided hair bun and hit the black pavement.

  “Whatever. It wasn’t like I couldn’t see it coming. It’s like reaching the end of a road for which you’d already seen the dead end sign.” I kicked at a broken shell. “The divorce part, anyway, but a wedding? That’s the part that’s really throwing me.”

  “Your dad is getting married? Already?”

  I nodded. “They don’t have a date yet, because, obviously, the divorce isn’t final, but yeah. It’s so crappy. Her name is Stacey and she’s thirty-something, as if the whole thing isn’t sick enough already.”

  “It’s like he signed up for Middle Age Cliché 101,” Chloe said.

  “I know, right? All that’s missing is the flashy car.”

  “I guess since he found the chick first, he didn’t need the car.” Chloe reached over the fence gate and tugged on the latch.

  “Hmm.”

  I stopped at the pool. I didn’t feel like going in the house yet. I’d left to go find Chloe because Mrs. Anderson had returned from fishing. I was pretty sure she and my mom were deep into the icky details of the surprise run in with Stacey.

  I stared at the lime green pool noodle that floated alongside a floundering dragonfly with a massive wingspan. I picked up the pool net and dipped it into the chlorinated water, sliding it toward the bug. I couldn’t get the dragonfly in the net so I pulled it toward me and the shallow end thinking maybe it could de-waterlog itself and fly away.

  Except it struggled too much. Hello dude. I’m trying to help.

  “Are you trying to save it?” Chloe waited for me at the back door.

  I shrugged. The dragonfly didn’t recognize me as any sort of help, so I stopped. The water sucked back, and bug rode along on the tiny wave and right into the pool filter two feet away.

  The flapping gate closed with finality.

  “Are you coming?” Chloe dropped her sandy flip-flops next to the kitchen door. “I can make us something to eat.”

  “In a minute.”

  Chloe disappeared into the house, and I circled around the pool to the diving board. I kicked off my flip-flops and walked to the edge and bobbed and bounced.

  Spring break was a complete bust. What was next? My dad’s girlfriend—um, fiancée asking me to be a bridesmaid?

  It was a ridiculous thought, but then again, the week so far had been absurd.

  I curled my toes over the edge of the board and it dipped lower again.

  Then my phone rang, and I reached into my shorts’ pocket. I squinted at the screen, cupping a palm over it so I could see who was calling me.

  It was Zac.

  I fumbled to answer. “Hello?”

  “Grace?”

  “Hi.” I struggled to keep my breath even.

  “Hey, my mom called. I heard about your dad, your parents. I’m sorry, Pinks.”

  Pinks. He called me Pinks again. Warmth prickled at my fingertips and quickly spread to my extremities, because my nerves didn’t give a flying monkey fight that Zac’s sweetness was prompted by the divorce news. Nope. They kept flickering, until my legs wobbled. The diving board shimmied as if in response.

  “Thanks. It kind of sucks.”

  “Yeah, it does.” He inhaled a long breath. I pictured him running his free hand back through his hair. It was something he did whenever he felt stressed, frustrated, or worried. Except then I remembered his hair was too short to ruffle.

  Everything was different.

  “Did you get my message?” I asked, shifting from nervous to desperate.

  “Yeah. I’m sorry. I’ve been crazy busy. I was going to call you today anyway.”

  This was familiar. It was his usual excuse. For the past couple of months, he’d been insanely busy with school stuff. In some weird way, the familiarity of what he said made me feel less alone.

  I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment.

  “Zac, are we okay?” I had to know. There was nothing I could do about the situation with my parents, but hopefully, there was something to do about Zac and me. I imagined some kind of comfort in thinking that, at the very least, our friendship could still work.

  Although, I wanted the rest to work, too.

  “Of course we’re okay. Is this about Jenny again?” His voice sounded even. I didn’t detect any annoyance. This time. Maybe his sympathy over my parents’ impending divorce gave me some leeway.

  “No. I’m talking about when you said we were taking a break.”

  Silence.

  “Zac?”

  “I’m trying to think what I said. I was talking about giving the Jenny conversation a break, not us. You thought I meant a break with you?”

  “Well, yeah. I thought you broke up with me.” Hopeful relief hovered at my edges. I felt weak. I’d been wrong? This was crazy.

  “I’m sorry. You… Okay, wow. If I thought that, I don’t know. That must have been
a sucky night for you.”

  Oh. Sucky, yes, but then there was Reed. Craptacular.

  “I’m sorry if I made you think we broke up, Pinks.”

  I bypassed relief and went straight to guilt. It pressed in on me, settling in deep. Even the diving board curved downward again.

  “Yeah, well.” I switched the phone to my other hand and ear since my hand was now sweating. Except I fumbled and my phone fell into the pool.

  Chapter 15

  Salvage, Black Sugar Paper on Ply Board

  Dinner was an all girl affair. My mom, Zac’s mom, his little sister, Lily, Chloe, and I sat around the large dining room table with a spread consisting of spaghetti, garlic bread, and salad—plus, a few straggly pieces of grilled fish, courtesy of Lily’s first fishing expedition.

  “Who ate all my fish?” Lily pointed to the small plate of fish at one end of the table.

  Chloe and I shook our heads when Lily’s narrowed gaze swept in our direction.

  “No one, Lily. That is your fish,” Mrs. Anderson said.

  Lily’s eyebrows shot up.

  “All of it? But my fish was this big.” She held her arms out wide like she was measuring a baby whale.

  “Well, after I cleaned it. That’s what was left.”

  “Cleaned it? It wasn’t that dirty. It came out of the ocean.”

  “I had to remove things, honey.”

  Lily stared at the plate. Her expression moved from confusion to disgust as she probably realized what sorts of things her mom might have taken out of. Lily took a seat at the opposite end of the table. Far away from her fish.

  Score another point for the vegetarians at our table. Well, except it was a little too late for Lily’s fish.

  Lily’s mom sighed as she took the now offensive plate from the table. “I guess Zac will eat it.”

  There was a gagging sound from Lily’s end of the table, but my attention was directed at Zac’s mom.

  “Zac?” I asked. The subject of Zac’s arrival, or whether or not he was coming down to the beach at all was still fuzzy. We didn’t finish our conversation after my phone fell in the pool.