by Joey Bush
My mom spied Claudia near the back of the gallery and wanted to go talk to her, so Graham and I stayed behind as my parents walked off.
“They came,” I said. That feeling in my chest had started to unknot, and I realized how nervous I’d been that they wouldn’t come. I exhaled. “And I think my dad actually liked it.”
“I’d say he did. And look,” Graham said, nodding.
I looked, unsure of what he was gesturing at. I didn’t see anything at first, or nothing out of the ordinary; just my sculpture there, a few people looking at it.
“What?” I asked.
“On the display cube.”
I looked again, squinting a little. And there, covering the price tag, was a sticker emblazoned with the word SOLD.
*****
We’d both gotten a little tipsy on the free champagne, but by the time we made it home late that night, the buzz had worn off and we were both mellow and happy. We undressed and climbed into bed. The art opening had gone successfully. In fact, it had been better than I even imagined.
“You’d think we were like Romeo and Juliet or something,” I said, “the way our parents were acting.” I felt a heaviness in my chest though. Summer was going to be over soon; I’d be going back to school, which meant I’d be leaving the Cape. I knew people did long distance relationships sometimes, but I had gotten so used to seeing Graham every day. I didn’t want that to suddenly stop. “I’m going to miss you,” I said. “I really wish I didn’t have to go back to school.”
He stroked the side of my face. “Don’t say that. You’ve worked really hard to get where you are.”
“Well, then, I wish that you could come with me.”
He smiled. “Now that, that might be a bit more feasible.”
“Wait—what? You’d come with me? How would you do that?”
“I could open a shop in the city. On Point, the city version.”
“But what about the one here? You’d sell it?”
“Nah. Helena could run it, and it’s close enough I could come down a few times a month, even. Plus, it’s a lot slower here in the winter than it would be in the city.” He shrugged. “It was something I’d kind of been thinking about for a little while now. Expanding. I have been on the Cape here for most of my life, you know. I wouldn’t mind venturing to other parts of the world. Well, other parts of the state, as it would be in this case.”
“Wow.”
That was the last thing I’d been expecting him to say. Sure, the thought might have crossed my mind, but not as something I ever imagined would happen. But now that he’d said it, I started thinking how great that would be. And also crazy.
“I would be so happy if that happened,” I said. “But is that crazy? I mean, will people think we’re insane for doing something like this? We haven’t been together that long.”
“I don’t care,” he said. “It doesn’t matter to me what other people think.”
“But what if it doesn’t work out? Then you’ll have uprooted your whole life and opened a new business and—”
“Are you breaking up with me?”
“No! No, of course I’m not!”
“Do you not want it to work out?”
“There is actually nothing I want more than for it to work out.”
“Then don’t stress about it. Look, I know there’s some people out there that would say it’s a really shitty idea to move in together so soon. And you know what? Maybe it is. But we won’t know it till we try it. I’m willing to take that chance. And besides, we’ve already been living together for a little while this summer, and I don’t know about you, but I’ve really enjoyed it.”
I smiled. “I have too. There was a part of me that was really dreading having to go back to school because I wouldn’t be able to see you as much.”
“You’re not gonna get rid of me that easily,” he said. He pulled me close and kissed my cheek.
“That’s exactly what I wanted to hear,” I said. “You know, I’m glad I decided to take a chance on you.”
Epilogue
Graham
“Are you nervous?”
I took my eyes off the road for a second to glance at Chloe over in the passenger seat. She was sitting with her back very straight, nibbling at her fingernails. She was wearing a red, turtleneck sweater dress and she looked hot as hell.
I looked back to the road. “Nah,” I said, “I think it’ll be fine. They’ll want to know how the new shop is doing and they’ll want to know how school is going. And both of those are going great, so I really don’t think you have anything to worry about. Oh, and the fact that we’re still happily living together also works in our favor.” I reached over and patted her knee. “Everyone will have a good time today.”
“Okay,” she said, taking a deep breath. “I’ll try to think that way, too. I don’t know why I feel so nervous. I guess I just want them to see that everything really is working out.”
“Well, it is, and I’m sure they’ll be happy to see that.”
We were driving back to the Cape for Thanksgiving, which Chloe’s parents were hosting at their summer house.
“I think this is the first time my parents have even been to the Cape when it wasn’t summer,” she said.
“It sure is different, isn’t it?”
And it was. Gone were the lush greens and the warm sun and the throngs of people in their swimsuits. Many of the businesses had shut down for the off-season and there was a distinct chill in the air. It probably wouldn’t start snowing for another month, but weather in New England was notoriously fickle and late November snow was certainly not unheard of in these parts.
“I talked to Tara,” Chloe said.
“Oh yeah? Are she and Todd still getting along?”
“It sounds like it.”
“Where is it they’re at again?”
“Barbados.”
“Ah, okay. Never been.”
“It’s nice. One of Tara’s favorite places. I’m glad they’re having fun. Though if they were around, they could be here today, too!”
I chuckled. “That would certainly make things a little more interesting. Though I think they’re actually interesting enough as is.”
And they were. It wasn’t just going to be Chloe’s parents at this Thanksgiving; my own mother was going, as well as my father and his family. My family. It was still so strange to think that I had this whole family that I didn’t even really know.
“It’ll be good to see Parker,” Chloe said.
“It will.” I’d gone through with the organ donation, and the procedure itself had been relatively simple. I was under general anesthetic, so of course didn’t remember anything about the actual surgery. I’d been sore after, but the pain certainly wasn’t that bad. I was back doing everything I normally did after about two weeks. Recovery for Parker took longer, but that was to be expected. He and I had traded texts a few times, and Craig had kept me updated with his progress—Parker would have to be monitored by doctors and take medication for the rest of his life, but so far, so good; his body was not rejecting the kidney.
*****
She was quiet for the rest of the drive, even when I tried to make conversation. I stopped talking and just drove. Thanksgiving had never been a big holiday for me, so it did feel strange now to be heading to what would probably turn out to be a pretty big celebration. The past Thanksgivings of my adult life had always been with friends, not family, because the Thanksgivings of my childhood had been complete disasters. But now Chloe and I were heading to a house full of family.
And it felt good to be in contact with my father, even though our relationship was more like friends than father-son. That was okay, though. There was no way we could ever go back in time and have the sort of dynamic that we might have had if he’d been there my entire life.
*****
“It looks like everyone’s here already,” she said. “I didn’t realize we were that late.”
“I don’t think we are; ma
ybe everyone else was just early.”
I parked the car and turned the key in the ignition. “Hold on a second,” Chloe said, when she saw me reaching for the door handle. “I just ... I just want to sit here for a second.” She relaxed back into the seat and took a few deep breaths. “Tell me everything’s going to be all right.”
I smiled. “It’s going to be okay. If I can go in there knowing my mother, and my father that I just reconnected with are in there, you will be more than fine.” She nodded as I spoke. I reached over and took her hand, gave it a squeeze. “We’re in this together, remember? We’ll go in there and have a nice time. It’ll be good to see everyone.”
“I know.” She took another deep breath and then smiled that sweet grin of hers. “Okay, I’m ready.”
“I love you, you know.”
“I love you, too,” she said.
We got out of the car and walked toward the house where our families were waiting.
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LOUD
The Complete Series
By Claire Adams
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.
Copyright © 2016 Claire Adams
CHAPTER ONE
Brooke
Moving sucks. However, it has become something of a tradition for me. I’ve moved more times than I care to think about. So many times, in fact, that I’ve adapted to look at it as a reinvention of myself, a new leaf to turn, a blank page that I can use to rewrite my life. Instead of dreading it, I have come to use it as a new start.
Not that I had much choice in the matter growing up, with my dad having been in the military and being stationed all over the place. Don’t get me wrong, it was great in a lot of ways. I mean, not only did I get to experience different cities and different states, but also I got to live in a few different countries.
Of course, there were aspects of it that kind of sucked, too. I never got to make the kind of solid, lasting friendships that kids get to make when they grow up in one location. I admit, I was rather envious when I saw other kids my age and their best friends who they'd known for most of their lives. I wanted those kind of connections. But even with social media and cell phones, those connections always faded. Then there was my first real high school boyfriend — I had to leave him behind just about the time things were starting to settle in and get to the good part. So, yeah, moving isn’t always ideal, but life is what you make it. Or, so I’m told.
So, I find myself moving once again. Only this time, it has nothing to do with my dad getting orders to yet another Air Force base. Nope, this time it was my choice. And it was the right choice, considering the circumstances that led to it. Granted, if I wanted to maintain any level of self-respect, it was the only choice I really had after what he did to me. He who should not be spoken of. I didn't want to think about him, about that, about the place we shared together, about the trust I put in him, about the stability I'd longed for and thought I had finally found. That is, until it was all ripped away.
“Helloooo. Earth to Brooke! C'mon, I can't get this sofa off the back of this truck by myself, girl!”
Leslie.
The sound of her voice brought a smile to my face. I guess I did have some stability, after all. There's nothing quite like a best friend to distract you from a broken heart. Especially, when she's as bubbly as Leslie. Okay, maybe bubbly isn’t the right way to describe her. Maybe a little left of center in the best way possible is more accurate.
“Sorry, Les, I was just-”
“Daydreamin', girl, like always!”
She rolled her eyes at me in that melodramatic manner that she is known — and loved — for. It’s really not a huge surprise to anyone who’s ever known her that she's majoring in drama. She'll land a part as soon as she graduates, I have no doubt.
I snapped myself out of the turmoil of thoughts and emotions crashing through my head and hurried over to help Leslie get the sofa off the truck.
“I’m coming. Don’t get too excited. Just hold on before you hurt yourself!”
I clambered up onto the tailgate of the truck and moved toward the cab, maneuvering around the 1970s iconic sofa. I squatted down low before I slid my hands into position and gripped the underside of the big piece of furniture. My dad’s voice played through my mind — always use your legs to lift, not your back. I grinned a little to myself at the thought.
“Okay, Les, are you ready?” I asked.
She positioned herself at the edge of the truck's bed, clutched her side of the sofa tight, and gritted her teeth.
“I got this,” she assured me. “Been doing squats at gym with Antonio. I'm ready, as ready as I've ever been!” Her over-the-top enthusiasm made me laugh. Especially considering I could barely see her face peeking over the top of the clunky sofa from her squatting position.
I tried to reposition my hands in a way that wouldn’t slip on the plastic furniture cover wrapped around Leslie's grandmother's still pristine relic. One thing was for certain, the thing was sturdy. And there wasn’t a spot on it. Without the plastic covering, it looked as though it had just been delivered from the showroom. However, it had been sitting in Leslie’s storage since her grandmother had passed a few months before. And while it was kind of clunky, we both agreed that it was pretty much the most comfortable sofa either of us had ever sat on. Combined with the fact that the style of it was so retro that it was practically back in style, it was a no-brainer to use it for our new apartment. We'd saved more than a few dollars by not buying a new one, and we had used the money we saved to buy other items that weren’t practically antique and were a little more our style so that we could decorate the apartment with flair.
Of course, before worrying about that, we had to actually get the sofa off the truck and into the apartment. Getting the thing onto the truck had been easy enough. Leslie's uncle — a big, burly, biker — had helped us get it out of her storage building and onto the back of the truck. But then he'd had to head off to work. It had sure seemed a lot lighter when we'd had a three-hundred-pound biker helping us lift it.
“Alright, you ready? On three,” I said. “One, two, three!”
We both grunted and tried to put our backs into it. We managed to get it up off the bed of the truck, but then Leslie's eyes started bulging white in their sockets and the look on her face was more than enough for me to know we weren’t going to make it far with the sofa.
“Put it down, put it down,” she managed to gasp. “Hurry, or I'm gonna drop it on my foot!”
“Okay, okay! Easy!”
We lowered the sofa back onto the truck bed and Leslie breathed a sigh of relief as she flailed herself over the back of the sofa. After a moment she stood, resting her hands on her thighs as she breathed in and out in deep breaths of exertion.
“So, ummm, what happened to 'I've been doing squats?'” I laughed.
She looked up at me and shook her head. “Clearly I haven't been putting enough weight on the bar! Damn, that sofa feels like it weighs as much as a small car!”
I leaned back against the rear window of the truck. “Well, we've gotta get it off here somehow. And we've gotta do it soon. My brother will be getting off of work in about an hour and I've gotta get to the other side of town to give him his truck back. We need to have all of this stuff unloaded in the next thirty minutes…give or take.”
“Girl, I'm telling you, if I have to try get this big-ass sofa off of this truck again without any help, I’m pretty sure my back is gonna snap clean in half like a lil'
ol' matchstick.”
“Well, do you have any suggestions about what we’re gonna do? Bryan only agreed to lend me his truck for the afternoon.”
“Let me think,” Leslie said as she plopped down into the sofa.
The sound of a motorcycle screaming up the road distracted us from our current predicament. Even if we wanted to discuss ways to get the monstrous sofa into the apartment, we wouldn’t have been able to hear ourselves talk. We turned our heads as the motorcycle sped closer until a bright red, sleek and sexy machine with aerodynamic bodywork and sharp, purposeful curves came into view. The bike slowed down as it rounded the corner to our apartment block. The rider — a young, muscular guy dressed in a tight tee shirt and faded jeans — pulled into the parking space next to us, killing the bike's rumbling engine as he did. My knees went a little weak when he pulled off his helmet and grinned at us with a set of brilliantly white teeth. I almost expected to hear a tiny dinging sound like you’d hear on a toothpaste commercial. He had the square-jawed look of a cover model and despite having just pulled a helmet off, his dark chestnut hair was meticulously styled — short on the sides, but longer and flowing on top. His eyes seemed to hover on me for a few moments before his gaze moved to the sofa where Leslie sat. Then again, it could have simply been wishful thinking on my part.
“Nice bike, cowboy,” Leslie called out to him. “Is that a Suzuki?”
“Kawasaki,” he replied.
“Hmph. Got something against Honda or Ducati?” she asked with a grin.
“Not really, but I only ride Japanese bikes.”
“Do ya now?” she said twisting her mouth curiously. “My friend Brooke here lived in Japan for a while.”
“Nice,” he said, his stare moving back to me with a crooked grin turning up one side of his breathtaking face. “I'm hoping to visit Tokyo over semester break. I've always wanted to go. Maybe you can tell me some places I should check out?”
