I wondered what Mom did that was so bad at my age. Did she even know Dad back then? “How will you punish me?”
“I’m not home enough to punish you. And don’t you worry about your dad, I’ll talk to him.”
Luke smiled and blew me a kiss when she wasn’t looking. I wondered how much trouble he was in with his mother.
Wobbly on her feet, Mom nearly dropped the coffee and cookies. We each got our cream and sugar, though Mom always has her coffee black. “So how’s school?” she asked, wiping her forehead with a wet cloth.
“Good,” we answered.
“I’ll tell you, I’m beat! The soles of my feet are blistered from scorching hot sand seeping into my shoes.” Mom’s got perfect table manners—it’s rather annoying. “I don’t know how those people survive in that weather, it’s amazing.”
Then she fell silent.
“So, I’ve heard a lot of wonderful things about you, Mrs. Morrison…” Luke said after a few minutes.
I wonder what wonderful things he’s heard.
“Mary,” my mother insisted.
“Mary… do you travel the world, or just to certain places?”
“Mostly interior Australia, Luke. Although I’ve also done research in Africa and Siberia.” She took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes. “Sorry, I arrived home around noon and it was a long flight. I’m going to go get changed, and I’ll be right back.” She got up and limped toward the stairs.
Once she was out of ears’ range, Luke hissed, “She’s okay with you having sex?”
“She doesn’t really believe in punishment, or preventing the inevitable,” I blurted. Then I felt awkward. Is our having sex inevitable?
I wondered if he wondered, too.
After a thoughtful moment, he said, “Well, she’s cool.”
My hand shook as I picked up my mug to sip my overly-sweetened coffee. “She’s a free soul. It’s a work requirement, I guess.” I chuckled when his foot nudged mine. I nudged his back.
That’s when Dad walked in. Instantly, our feet parted.
Dad looked at Luke and did a double take. His eyes widened. Immediately, he asked where Mom was, and I pointed up.
She came down just then, in sweat pants and a large tee shirt. She kissed him on the cheek and asked how the book was going, as if we weren’t there at all. Dad glared at us. “What’s going on here?”
“Well, I picked Adonia up from school. Told Luke he can join us for dinner, if he wants to. I’m not home very often and I wanted to meet him.” She passed by Dad with a limp and began looking in the cupboards. “How about staying, Luke?”
Luke cleared his throat. “Sure, if Mr. Morrison’s all right with it.”
Dad stood in the center of the kitchen, holding groceries in a paper bag. He groaned and shook his head. “Mary, why did you have to pick Adonia up from school? You just got back, you should be resting. She could’ve taken the bus.”
Mom dug pots and pans out of the cabinets and tiptoed by him to the fridge. “I picked her up because she’s my daughter and I wanted to see her. Now put those away and start peeling some potatoes, will you?” She looked at me. “Why don’t you show Luke around the house?”
“Now wait a minute,” Dad said, pointing at me. “She’s still punished. He kept her out until nearly midnight, Mary.”
Mom turned to him and crossed her arms. “She’s had five days of punishment. I’m home for a week and I’d like to have a good time. Leave punishment at that.”
“It won’t happen again, Dad,” I assured him. Luke nodded in agreement.
Dad sighed. There was a lot of tension in the room, I could feel it all. Dad’s glares made me cringe. But he finally uttered, “Fine. Show Luke around the living room.” He looked at me sternly. “Just the living room.”
We left my parents in the kitchen and headed for the living room.
“So,” I started after an awkward moment, “this is our couch,” I said with a hand gesture, “our coffee table… and our television.”
Luke laughed. “Got it! Thanks!”
We spent the next two hours on the couch, watching a corny rental Sullivan picked up on the way home—a “scary movie” called Kill Me that wasn’t even scary. It’s about a dumb blonde who looks up serial killers in police databases and mails them letters daring them to kill her. The story’s stupid and the acting was atrocious.
Dinner was at six. Mom made mashed potatoes, gravy, turkey drumsticks, salad, and cranberry sauce. I assumed from the meal Mom would not be home for Thanksgiving, which really sucked. But she promised she’d be home this Christmas, so I’m hoping she’ll stick to her promise this year.
Luke sat across from me—between Dad and Sullivan—and Mom sat to my left, next to Dad. We ate in silence for a while. Sullivan probably would’ve talked, but I gave him a killer look every so often, to keep his trap shut.
“So Luke,” Mom finally said, “where are you going to college?”
Luke swallowed his salad. “I’m not going to college right after I graduate.”
Dad shot Mom a look and dug into his mashed potatoes.
“So what will you do?” Mom asked.
“I’m training for the Olympics. I want to be a professional alpine skier.”
Dad grimaced. “How close to Olympics material are you?”
Luke cleared his throat. “Pretty close. I’ve won several national awards, and beat a record for the longest U.S. ski jump last year. It was a trip, and it won me ten grand. But alpine skiing is my passion, not jumping.”
My parents exchanged looks. Neither of them really knew what he was talking about. “How long was the jump?” Dad pried, and began devouring his turkey leg.
“Ninety meters,” Luke said. “Just under three hundred feet.”
“So while you’re training, what will you do for a steady paycheck, Luke?” Mom wiped her mouth and sat up straight again, as she was slouching about a centimeter. It’s cool that Mom lets us talk at the dinner table now; a few years back, when she was around more, we had to eat in utter silence. I guess we have to talk at the table now or she’d be oblivious about what is going on in our house.
“I plan to be a ski instructor,” Luke replied.
More silence.
Luke and I exchanged looks. I didn’t want to ask any cheesy questions I already knew the answers to just to get a conversation going—what would my parents possibly be interested in hearing, anyway?
“How’s Lilly?” Mom suddenly asked.
I sighed. “She’s in Florida. She’s never in her hotel room, so I wouldn’t really know.”
Luke rubbed his forehead. He suddenly looked flushed.
“That must be a nice switch from this weather. Not too hot, either. Didn’t you say on the phone her brother was moving in with her? Or something like that. Remember, about two weeks or so ago?” Mom took another bite of salad and dabbed her mouth with the napkin.
I nodded. “He did, though I haven’t met him.” I looked at Luke. “Luke, are you okay?”
“Excuse me,” he wheezed, and rushed off, presumably to the bathroom.
“What’s going on with him?” Dad pondered.
“Maybe he’s got diarrhea,” Sullivan suggested. He and Dad laughed hysterically.
Mom and I shot them looks, and she gestured for me to go after him.
The bathroom was on the other side of the house. I knocked on the door. “Luke? Are you all right in there?”
No answer for a few seconds. Then he said, “I guess.” A few moments passed and he opened the door. His eyes were wet. Had he been crying? He’s really manly, so it’s hard to imagine, although if he did, I like a sensitive guy every now and then!
I squeezed his hand. “You’re not gonna die on me, are you?”
He chuckled. “Nah, I’m just dehydrated, I felt sick. Washed my face.”
I smiled weakly. “Oh.”
“I didn’t vomit or anything,” he assured me, looking concerned.
I laughed. “I wouldn�
��t tell Mom if you did. Do you want to come back to the table?”
“Yeah.”
Once in our seats again, Mom offered him some water. He ate slowly, smiling every time our eyes met. I thought maybe it’s not dehydration—that maybe he didn’t like Mom’s cooking—but that seemed unlikely, as he wasn’t making any funny faces.
Mom placed a plate of apple pie before each of us. “I hope you like it,” she told Luke. “You have excellent table manners, by the way.”
Luke smiled. “Thank you, Mary.”
Dad shot him a look. Mom kicked him under the table—Dad’s grunt was a giveaway. Plus, her face lit up like a light bulb—I guess she forgot she wasn’t supposed to kick with those feet!
“You’re an amazing chef,” Luke said to Mom. “Best pie I’ve tasted!”
“Thanks, Luke! It’s actually store bought.”
Dad chuckled.
“You know, Luke” Mom said, “since you’re going to be a ski instructor, perhaps you can give Paul some lessons? He’s always wanted to learn.” She looked at my Dad. “Isn’t that right, dear?”
“I don’t want lessons,” Dad grumbled. He put his hands up at Luke. “Really, Luke, it’s okay.”
Mom insisted, wiping her mouth after each teaspoonful. Then she scorned Sullivan for his posture.
I wondered if the Aborigines ate at dinner tables. If not, how did she survive with them for months at a time? “Really, Luke, would you mind? Perhaps you can all go after school tomorrow?”
“Sure, I’d love to teach you how to ski, Mr. Morrison.”
Dad shook his head. “No, please, Luke… Mary, no, there’s a draft due in at the publisher’s, and I’ve the guest speech to prepare… No, I can’t, but thanks, Luke.” He glared at Mom and stabbed his pie crust.
“Adonia, did you like skiing with Luke last week? Maybe the two of you should go again. I’d love to come, but it’s not a good idea with my feet this sore.”
I beamed and nodded. Me and Luke alone again!
“You know what, what the hell, I’ll go!” Dad blurted. “I’ll learn, okay?” He wiped his mouth and briefly smiled at us before he excused himself, dumped the dishes in the sink, grabbed the Writer’s Digest off the counter and headed for the living room.
Luke smiled at me. I wasn’t thrilled about Dad coming with us, but it’s not like we had a choice.
“Can I go?” Sullivan asked.
I groaned. I did not want to spend my entire evening around him, too.
“That depends,” Mom said.
Sullivan raised an eyebrow. “That depends on what?”
“Well,” Mom said, “your room’s better be sparkling clean before you leave this house.” She looked at Luke and smiled, brushing Sullivan aside. “Well, it was great having you over, Luke.”
Luke nodded. “Thanks for inviting me. Everything was great.”
“My pleasure,” she said, picking up our plates and tip-toeing to the dishwasher. I felt really bad about her heels, I could practically feel how they stung by the way she whimpered under her breath every time her toes grew weak and her sole hit the floor.
“I would love to meet your mother, by the way,” Mom added. “I do hope you’ll have her call me this week!”
Luke took a breath. “Oh, sure. I’ll see what I can do.” Then he winked my way.
I didn’t want him to leave. If Mom was just cool enough to let him move in… Hah! Fat chance!
Dad would go haywire.
IX
We spent three hours on the beginner slopes in the afternoon. It grew dark before Dad grew tired. Thankfully it was just the three of us, since it’s against Sullivan’s religion to clean his room.
As it turns out, Dad’s an even more pathetic skier than I was my first time. Dad couldn’t stop to save his life. He bent his knees and sped downhill, losing balance and crashing every time.
“You’re bending your knees too much,” Luke reminded him for the millionth time. “That can make you speed up, not slow down, especially on steeper ski trails, where you pick up speed faster.” He looked at me and added, “Most times, anyway.”
Dad was all bundled up in snow goggles and a snowsuit, looking like a blue crayon. It was so embarrassing to see him on top of that pathetic little hill, as we waited for him at the bottom.
He took off downhill, his feet pointing in slightly to go slowly. But his knees still bent, and he had no clue how to use his poles. He just waved them around, tangled his skis up and fell to a stop.
I was mortified. Luke showed just a hint of annoyance as he watched Dad come tumbling down, again. “You all right there, Mr. Morrison?”
It’s cute how patient Luke is—Dad’s made that mistake so many times I was tempted to tear his skis away and send him home myself!
Dad stopped at Luke’s feet and wiggled around, trying to untangle his skis. He looked pitiful. Luke offered his hand, but Dad just squirmed in the snow, trying to get up by himself. “I’m fine,” he hissed through his teeth.
“You did better that time, Mr. Morrison,” Luke totally lied. “Do you want to give it another go?”
I groaned. I didn’t think I could take another go! We’d been there all afternoon, and the sun had already set.
Dad got to his feet and shook off the snow that covered him. He mumbled as he got back on the lift behind a school of ten-year-olds and their ski instructor.
I heaved a sigh. “I’m sorry you had to spend your afternoon like this.”
Luke laughed. “I’ve done worse.”
“You’re going to be a great ski instructor!”
“I guess. Although your dad doesn’t find me very helpful.”
I laughed. “Trust me, it’s not you.” Dad can be stubborn.
Dad was once again at the top of the hill. His knees were bent, his poles in the air. He took off well, but then he lost his balance, tumbled, and fell toward us, again.
Once again Luke asked if he was all right. Once again Dad got up and grumbled.
“I’m going to the restroom,” Luke informed us, pointing to the lodge. “I’ll meet you here?”
Dad looked away, so I answered. “Sure.”
When Luke was out of ears’ range, Dad asked, “Why do you like that boy?”
What’s there not to like! “He’s very nice,” I said. “One of the nicest guys I’ve met.”
“I don’t know… he seems after something.” He gave me a look, and I knew what he meant.
“He’s not, Dad. You’re just saying that because you’re my dad.”
“I was his age once. And he’s going to be an Olympic skier? Is that a realistic career path? I mean, who does that?” Dad said with a sneer.
“It’s what he loves doing,” I said hesitantly. “I think that’s good…”
Dad sighed. “Well, it is good, but not so realistic when you’re seventeen. Or any age, really.”
I wanted to tell him that I liked Luke, and that it would be best for me if he did, too. But I didn’t. I was afraid to. I know I should stand up for what I believe in, but Dad didn’t seem in the mood to be lectured by his daughter. He’s never in that mood.
Luke marched back before long, sinking in the snow every now and then. He stopped before us and we all lingered in silence for a minute.
“I’m going into the lodge. I’m through for the day,” Dad said, staring Luke down through those ridiculous blue goggles.
“Can Luke and I ski?” I asked desperately.
Dad looked at me. “Yeah, why don’t you two hit the trail once or twice? I’ll watch from behind those big windows,” he said, pointing to the lodge. “Just be very careful. And independent.” Then he started waddling away.
“Which trail?” Luke breathed.
“The expert.” I started toward the lift.
“Are you sure?”
I didn’t answer, so he followed. At the top, I felt very independent, although I doubt that’s what Dad meant. After watching Dad make a fool out of himself for hours, I felt like a pro!
But skiing was not all we had on our minds. When the last of the skiers headed down, I kissed him. It was flurrying, but the winds were calm, and the moon was huge and yellow. Faded green aurora covered the velvety sky. My body trembled, but I continued to kiss him, my skis stacked on his, his arms wrapped around me and mine around him. He didn’t have any dorky snow goggles, of course, and that’s a good thing. Because his eyes are mesmerizing.
“I love you,” I said. I meant it, too, with all my heart.
Our lips locked again. Each new kiss was deeper than the last. His lips were soft. I felt warm and fuzzy all over. I felt butterflies. “I love you too,” he breathed as he nudged my ear.
After a final kiss, he inched my scarf up above my chin. Our foreheads touched. “More than you know,” he added. A silent moment later, he grinned his ear-to-ear and motioned with his eyes toward the lodge. “You don’t think your dad saw that, do you?”
I laughed. “Yeah, right! I doubt he can see anything out of those silly goggles!”
Luke chuckled. “Well, we should head down now, before we take unusually long.” He winked. “Watch for moose.”
X
Although I ran late in the morning, I still got to my locker in time, where—surely enough—Luke was waiting. He smiled and pointed his index fingers at me. “You’re late, Beautiful.”
I giggled. “Sorry, I overslept.”
“You must have been dreaming about me…”
“How did you guess?”
He laughed, pulled me into his chest, and kissed me, hard enough to take my breath away.
Best start to my day, ever.
I was so into him, I was stunned when he suddenly slammed into me.
I shrieked! My head hit the hinge of the locker door. It felt wet, like bleeding.
Confused, I pushed him away and reached for the back of my head. My ears grew hot. I was about to ask what he did that for, when I realized he didn’t.
“What the fuck!” His back faced me, his body tense.
“That’s what I was thinking,” Jake said.
My eyes couldn’t focus. At first I thought I lost a contact, but it started bending with each blink.
“You fucking hurt her!” Luke yelled. He pulled Jake toward him, then shoved him away. Luke trembled.
My Best Friend's Brother Page 7
