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We hang up, and I take a moment to compose myself before I go outside. There’s around twenty people here if I had to guess, the grill is already blazing and filling the air with a charred smell. I love summer.
Eloise sits with a sparkling cider, her legs crossed, looking irritated as I walk toward the crowd.
“Done talking with your boyfriend?” She snickers.
Her friend, Laura, looks over at me. She knows how Eloise is, and always sends me an apologetic look when Eloise makes comments to me.
“He’s not my boyfriend,” I say, looking down at my bare feet. I should have put flip-flops on. The concrete is scorching hot. I grab a piece of pineapple, tossing it in my mouth, trying to make myself look busy so she’ll stop talking to me.
“No, right, it’s just the boy you pull along on a little string like a hoe bag.”
Does she really think that’s a smart reply? She sounds pathetic.
My eyes begin to burn. I don’t understand her.
Just be a normal parent.
Why can’t she be interested in my life and want to gossip and laugh like all my friends moms? And what’s a hoe bag? Sometimes I’m convinced she doesn’t even know what she’s saying.
“I’m not stringing him along,” I shoot quickly. “We agreed we aren’t together, we’re friends.”
“The fact that he’s actually doing something with his life, he is probably too good for you anyhow. You waste your life at that restaurant,” she digs at me.
“Real classy,” I whisper under my breath.
My dad winces as he continues searing steaks.
He knows it was a dig at him too. She always tears him down because he manages a pub. There is a reason he stays at work an hour past closing, just so he can have time without her. She thinks he has paperwork at the end of every night, but really he has a drink by himself and watches TV in the office. It’s depressing, honestly. Who can blame him though? I would do the same thing if I were married to her.
I walk away, trying not to fuel the fire by saying anything else to her. One of her work friends changes the subject for me, drawing her attention to them.
I walk to my dad, looking at the delicious steaks he’s cooking. He’s wearing his apron that I got him for Christmas when I was probably ten. He likes to wear it when people come over.
“Hi, Daddy,” I say, hugging him from the side.
“Hi, baby girl,” he says, kissing me on the forehead. “How’s Sean?”
“He’s good. Hard at work.” I try a smile.
“I know it’s difficult, but you’ll get through it, trust me.”
He always knows how to make me feel better. I wish he knew his worth. He deserves so much more than Eloise.
He hands me a plate with the biggest steak he has.
“You get the first one.”
I love my dad—but I can’t wait to get out of here.
16
Present Day
As I’m driving back home, I realize how slick the roads have become since I left the bar a few hours ago. It isn’t just snow.
It’s ice.
I have to take the back roads, which means there are no street lights, and the road hasn’t been touched since the snow hit the ground. There is no path that’s been paved.
