by Pike, Leslie
“Same as me?”
I just nod and wipe a tear away.
“Do I remind you of him?”
“No, because I never knew him as a young man. I only knew the child. He was unique, and so are you.”
He takes in my words, but remains silent.
“But it would have made me happy if he grew up to be as good a guy as you are. I’d have been proud to have a son like you.”
His eyes fill with tears, mirroring mine. There are no words to accompany the emotion. But when he hangs his head and hides his face between his legs it says a hell of a lot.
I wipe away the last of mine and try to get my shit together. Then he speaks and I’m back to square one.
“I bet you were a good father.”
“Thank you, Sam. I loved him. I always will.”
The tears come hard now. Harder than they ever have before. What’s happening? I can’t control them. I stand up and start pacing, not really knowing where to go or what to say. It’s just all coming out. The grief, the horror, the stark realization nothing I do can change the fate of my child. And here amidst it all the truth comes to me. I can’t continue to live inside the pain forever.
In the moment it’s as if I’m watching myself from above. I’m aware snot is dripping from my nose and I hear the sobbing. I can’t take another step, so I kneel in the sand and sit on my legs. If I could I’d curl into a ball and roll into the ocean.
That’s when I feel Sam move right beside me. Arms go around my shoulders and his head leans against mine.
“It’s okay. Just let it out. I’ll be sad with you.”
And so I do. Unrestrained and void of any thought other than my boy. And Sam let’s go too, crying for his lost parents. Knowing he’ll never see them again.
“I miss them so much,” he whisper sobs in my ear.
A kind of beautiful thing happens. Hearing the suffering of a child brings me back to earth. I begin to get in control of my emotions. This is where I’m needed right now. Sam’s wound is fresher and he’s barely fourteen. Justin would want me to help. Even at eight he was a kind boy. So, in honor of Justin I console Sam.
“Hey. It really sucks, doesn’t it?” I say it between sobs. “But we can help each other cope. When you’re down I want you to call me or come over. We can go for a run, or a yogurt or something. Whatever you want we’ll do. We can survive our sorrows together.”
He sits up.
“I was doing better but then Christmas and New Year’s. And now my birthday,” he says shaking his head and wiping his nose.
“Listen, I hated every holiday till I met you and your aunt. Every single one. But it’s changing. I feel it. You guys are healing me in some way. And I thank you for that. Just be patient with yourself, Sam. It’s not going to happen overnight.”
He looks in my eyes and gives me a half smile. Just to show he’s heard.
“Remember one thing. When you’ve loved someone as much as we did, your grief is big. But I’d rather of had the love. The kind most people miss out on. Wouldn’t you?”
“Yeah. For sure,” he says sniffing his tears to a stop.
“What we have is the memories of being alive together. I’m going to hold on to those.”
“Me too.”
Before another word passes between us LK’s new Golden Retriever, Geronimo barrels into us. He’s wet and covered in sand. It breaks our thoughts of death and loss. This is life. At the same time a green tennis ball sails over our heads and lands a foot behind where we sit. The dog is blissfully unaware he just mowed down two people as he goes for the prize.
“I’m sorry! Oh, you alright?”
The lighthouse keeper walks up and offers Sam a hand. He carries the dog’s leash. Poor guy. He wears a horrified look on his face.
“I overshot my target,” he says. “Again, I’m so sorry.”
Sam stands and brushes the sand from his pants. I do the same. The dog brings the tennis ball back to the scene of the crime and offers it to Sam. The man has noticed we’ve both been crying. How could he miss it?
“We’re okay,” I say. “No worries.”
“Can I throw the ball?” Sam asks.
“Sure. He’d love it.”
Sam throws it as hard as he can. It sails across the wet sand and lands at the edge of the sea. For a few beats it’s lost in the foamy edge. Dog and boy take off.
“I’ve seen you out here giving Geronimo fetching lessons.”
He laughs. “He’s got that down pat. It’s all the other things I’m having trouble with, like potty training.”
“Oh, that doesn’t sound good.”
“It’s a literal shitshow in the house. But, I do know, it’s good having a dog’s company.”
“Yeah. I get it.”
“I’d better try and catch up with those two young fellas.”
He turns and starts for his dog, who’s running in and out of the waves that roll to the shore. Sam’s giving him a workout. Youthful dogs and people are a good match.
“Have a good day,” LK says with a wave of his hand.
I stand watching the scene. Sam has done a complete turnaround. No more tears. There’s a big smile on his face and he’s never looked happier since we met. It’s the dog.
As I start walking towards them I’m formulating a plan. Now I just need to sell it to Scarlett.
Chapter 18
Scarlett
Fresh snow lines the highway as we drive toward Winterfest. The first I heard of it was a few days ago. Portland, Maine’s festival is famous apparently. I’ve got to thank Parish for the idea. Sam didn’t hesitate when we offered to spend his birthday weekend there. He got more excited than I knew he would.
“How much longer?” he says from the backseat.
He’s furiously texting. Responding to someone who’s doing the same.
“I think it’s only a few more miles. We’ve got to check into our hotel and then we can walk to the festival,” Parish answers.
“Are you excited?” I say turning to face Sam.
He looks like he is, sitting in the center seat watching for our turnoff.
“I want to go sledding first. Then can we go skating? Or wait. Maybe we can see when the hot wing eating contest is.”
“Whatever you want. It’s your birthday. We’re going to do it all. Even your aunt’s going to participate.”
I give Parish an oh no you didn’t look. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
Sam starts chuckling and Parish follows.
“It means I paid attention when you told me about your coordination problem. Maybe ice skating isn’t in your wheelhouse. I’d hate if you broke a leg putting on an ice skate.”
Then he looks in the backseat mirror. “Am I right, Sam?”
“I think she’d fall on her butt. I can just picture it now,” he laughs.
I feign anger. “I’m insulted! I’ll have you both know I was an excellent roller blade skater back in the day.”
“Maybe in the olden days,” Sam mumbles under his breath.
“And roller blades aren’t ice skates. Two very different things,” Parish adds.
“Besides, I’ve done more exciting things than you two put together. I’ve zip-lined in Machu Pichu. I’ve gone white water rafting in Tennessee. Just to name a few. I’ve ridden a camel in Bethlehem for God sake. What exactly makes you guys think I’m not the adventurous type?”
They burst out in laughter as if it’s so obvious they don’t need to explain.
“You two assholes!” I say and mean.
Now all three of us are laughing. I don’t mind that it’s at my expense. All I care about is giving this beautiful boy a good birthday.
“There’s the turnoff. A quarter mile.”
He gets in the right-hand lane and takes the Downtown Portland ramp. It looks like a winter wonderland. We go less than a block.
“There it is,” I say, pointing to the Fireside Suites sign.
“All right.”
; He turns into the driveway and pulls under the covered entry. My cell rings.
“I’ll go and check in. Be back in a minute,” he says.
“I’m going too,” Sam says sliding out and hurrying to accompany Parish.
I nod my agreement and take my mother’s call.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hello, darling. Are you in the car? Our connection isn’t the best.”
“Yeah. We’re in Portland for the weekend for Sam’s birthday. There’s a winter festival.”
“Oh, that sounds nice. Is Parish with you?”
“Yes, Mom,” I say with a smile on my face. I know the news makes her happy.
“That man has a good heart. I mean, he and Sam seem to genuinely like each other. I’m so glad because I think that’s helped both of you.”
“Listen to what he did. The festival was his idea and he went and bought each of us backpacks and filled it with the equipment we’d need to have. Like ice skates and hand warmers, gloves. I haven’t seen everything yet, but isn’t that awesome?”
“What a kind thing to do. It’s impressive, Scarlett. Wait till I tell your father.”
“Oh, here he comes, Mom. We’ve got to check in. I’ll call you tomorrow, Okay?”
“Yeah, that’s fine. Give Sam a kiss from us and we’ll sing him happy birthday tomorrow on his big day.”
“That’s good. Bye, Mom.”
I disconnect just as the boys get back inside.
“Wow! It’s freezing. I should have put on my coat,” says Parish.
I take his cold hands in mine and try to warm them.
“We got a suite, Auntie. It even has a fireplace.”
“It does? That’s awesome.”
He starts the car and we head for the far side of the building.
“We have two queen beds,” Parish says. “I thought it would be more fun if we were all together.”
When our eyes meet a silent agreement passes between us. He sacrificed sex for Sam’s benefit. Gave up any hope for private time. But wow. It’s about the most romantic thing he could have done.
Amazing. This is a kind of romance I didn’t know existed. One that has nothing to do with loving words or bouquets of beautiful flowers. It’s more meaningful. I feel like he not only did it for Sam, but for me. He knew I’d feel funny having him stay alone in a strange room on his birthday. Especially this first one without his parents.
So Parish put us first. Without making Sam feel uncomfortable and ahead of his own desires. It makes me love him more than ever. I mean want. It makes me want him more than ever.
* * *
Standing at the entry downtown builds our excitement. There’s winter revelers on every corner and strolling down the middle of the street. Each venue has a line forming. Snowmen and snowflake decorations adorn windows of the shops and restaurants. I’ve seen Frozen references everywhere and little girls dressed in character.
We’re bundled against the cold. Knit caps, thick gloves, down jackets. Parish looks fucking sexy. There I said it. I know I’m not supposed to think of his cock this weekend but that’s like asking the magnolias not to blossom. Not going to happen.
Sam’s surveying the scene. It’s his stealth mode.
“Who’re you looking for?”
“No one. Just looking around.”
“Okay here’s what we need to do,” Parish says reading the Winterfest Guide. “We should sled and ice skate first, before the hot wing eating contest. We don’t want to throw up going downhill.”
“Are you both entering that? You’re crazy.”
Two voices answer with fists pumping. “Wings! Wings! Wings!”
“I’ll cheer you on and hold your heads later when you’re barfing.”
Parish waves my concerns off and continues laying out our itinerary. “After that we can do the horse-pulled wagon ride.”
“That sounds good,” Sam says enthusiastically. “I want to see the ice carvings too.”
“What about food? Hot wings aside,” I say.
“There’s a whole street with all kinds of food. There’s a chili chowder booth and s’mores. I saw food trucks lined up for an entire block.”
“Come on!” Sam calls out, already five steps ahead.
We follow him to the bottom of the hill. Plows have pushed the fresh snow to form a high slope. A banner proclaiming Sledding Hill spans the width of the run, and families stand waiting their turn.
“There’s where we get the sleds,” Parish says pointing. “Get in line with Sam. I’ll get our sled”
Walking through the crowd makes me wonder if my nose is as red as the ones I see. Vapor rises from the mouths of happy laughing children.
“Ready to ride?” I put an arm around Sam and just as quickly remove it. I’m always forgetting rule number two.
“Yeah. You coming?” he says.
“Absolutely. I’m a badass, Sam. This little hill doesn’t scare me,” I tease.
“Auntie, it’s bigger than it looks. Wait till you look down.”
I wave his concerns away as Parish approaches.
“That thing’s huge!” I say admiring the long sled.
He mouths the words ‘That’s what she said’ so only I can see.
I poke him in the arm, but the jacket’s so thick he probably doesn’t feel a thing.
“Are we all going together?” Sam asks.
“Of course.”
“I want to be in the front!”
“You’ll get on first, then your aunt, and I’ll bring up the rear.”
The line moves quickly as people take their place at the top of the hill and push off. The closer we get the higher it seems.
“I told you,” Sam says noticing my new look of panic.
Parish puts an arm around me as we make it to the top.
“I’ll hold on to you. You’re going to love it.”
A weird sound escapes me. It’s like a wounded animal.
“I don’t know. You two could go together and I’ll just walk down.”
“Come on, Auntie!” Sam says as he climbs aboard the sled.
People are starting to look aggravated at my hesitation. Shit. Parish takes my hand and guides me to my spot behind Sam. Shit. I straddle the death trap and take a hard seat.
“Okay, Good. Now me,” Parish says taking his place without hesitation.
Now I’m trapped. His legs and arms surround me and I hear nervous laughter coming from my own mouth. Here we go. Shit!
I’m not sure how we launched but I think it was Parish pushing off with his hands. Oh Goooooood!
It’s fast. It’s so fucking fast. Picking up speed by the second. Cold wind bites my face and steals my breath. Parish holds me tight and I’m sure I’m cutting off Sam’s circulation with my locked legs. But it’s exhilarating. Yeah!
By the time we slide to solid ground and pass the finish line, I’m starting to enjoy the experience.
“Wheee!”
“See! I told you,” Sam says turning his face to me.
We glide to a stop.
“Everybody off!” Parish says getting upright first.
“Let’s do it again!” I say loudly.
The two of them return my enthusiasm. We get back in line.
After three more runs we decide to move on, because there’s only one day to fit everything in. Tomorrow’s for something much different.
“We better do the hot wing contest. I don’t think there’s enough time to get our ice skating in before one o’clock,” Parish says.
“Hey, trade beanies with me,” Sam says eyeing Parish’s OPI surf hat.
“This is old. You like it better than your new one?”
“Yeah. Is that okay?”
Parish removes the hat and tosses it to Sam. The hats are exchanged and Sam looks happy with his choice. I’m thinking there’s more to this. Who’s he trying to impress? I don’t know. Maybe I’m completely off.
“There’s the tent. Let’s get signed up,” Parish says.
&n
bsp; We walk across the street and to the white tent set up in the parking lot of the Chicken House Restaurant. A sign up table greets us when we enter, and Sam writes in his and Parish’s names for the second round of the contest.
Already the first group is sitting at the two long tables. There’s a narrow space between them where a man with a timer stands pacing. The three of us take our seats with all the other second rounders waiting against the tent walls.
“All right, contestants,” the host begins. “On my signal you’ll begin. You must clean all the chicken off the bones. No half-chewed wings. There’s a water bottle in front of each of you. Because these are The Chicken House’s famous, or more accurately infamous, hot wings. Last warning. You can back out now,” he says dramatically. “Everyone ready?”
“Oh, you guys are going to regret this,” I whisper to Parish.
“Alright, begin!”
The tables of wing lovers start chomping. The three women that entered are just as messy minded as the men and boys. Already I see the reactions to the hot sauce marinade. Within a minute one man has dropped out. But it doesn’t stop the others.
All of us on the sidelines are cheering our favorites on. Parish likes the older woman who looks like she may have a chance at winning. Her pile of bones is higher than the others. I don’t really have a favorite so I just clap my hands with the rest of the crowd.
But Sam. When I turn to say something to him he’s staring at the entry. And he’s wearing a shy smile. My eyes follow his gaze. There stands his “girlfriend” Amy. Looks like she’s with her family. I recognize her father from church, and the two brothers.
“There’s Amy!” I say knowing the information isn’t new to him.
“I know. She told me they might come.”
Parish hears our comments and takes a look.
“Go say hi,” he says.
Sam hesitates and looks like it was just proposed he speak before Congress.
“Tell her you’re going to be in the next contest,” says Parish softly.
Sam rises and stands steady for a few beats. It’s like he’s glued to the floor.
“Go,” I say. “And say hello to the father too.”
With an intake of breath, he walks over to the girl. We don’t want to stare or make it look like we’re watching, but we are. Words are exchanged but we can’t hear them. There’s smiles all around except for the older brother who isn’t paying attention.
