Skye knocked. A young man in his late twenties answered. He was handsome, wore glasses, and had a large nose. He was wearing a tank top that showed off his ripped arms. Wrong place. He looked at her with sleepy eyes, but still not overly bothered by the intrusion. “Yes?”
“I’m so sorry.” She adjusted her duffel bag on her shoulder. “I’ve got the wrong place I think. I hope I didn’t wake you.” She spoke quietly, as if to not wake him up any further.
“No bother. I’m going for a run soon anyway.” His accent was medium-thick. A slight pause made him continue. “Who are you looking for?”
“Carol.”
“I’ll get her.”
After about a minute, her mother walked through the kitchen toward the entrance. Skye heard her whimper as soon as she saw her in the doorway. She stopped in her tracks, examining her long-lost daughter with her hand over her mouth. “My Skye is so blue,” she whispered.
She stepped forward out of the dark. They stood face-to-face, studying each other’s appearances. Her mom’s hair had two stripes of gray mixed in with her brown, curling fashionably around her right eye, her hair in a ponytail just like she’d remembered. Her face was radiant and bruise-free, which was something she hadn’t been able to see regularly. There were some wrinkles around her eyes that had formed, but the additional years looked good on her. Skye wanted to say sorry and weep but instead she said, “Some muscular treat you got for yourself.”
“Rents cheap.” Her laugh snorted out, imperfectly perfect. “No. In his dreams right?”
“In his dreams,” Skye repeated.
The hug was soft, not overly forceful, but their shoulders both relaxed as they huffed out their grief. “I knew it was you,” she whispered. “My Skye. It’s good to see you.”
Skye squeezed tighter. “Sorry.”
“No, no, no. I’m proud of you.” They pulled apart. “You had to. And believe it or not… It saved my hide. If you hadn’t had the guts, I’d be up shit creek.”
“You left right away too?” Skye blurted out.
“No.” She shook her head. “It took me a while. Once I stopped trying to contact you…”
Skye lowered her head shamefully.
“No, no.” She rubbed Skye’s shoulder. “That’s when I left him.” She cleared her throat. “And look at me now!”
“You’re in Italy. On a cliff.”
“I’m in Italy on a cliff.”
“Is that bakery any good?” asked Skye.
“Only the best. Let me take you on my favorite walking route, watch the sunrise.”
She watched her mother tie her running shoes after she set her luggage just inside the door around the corner. By the time she got her shoes on and rose from her chair, Skye couldn’t contain herself. She lunged at her mother and hugged her tighter this time, sobbing into the nape of her neck.
“Hey, hey,” her mother shushed her. “Do you wanna get high?” her mom asked.
They walked outside and looked out over the stone railing down at the water.
“Can we have pizza on the beach later?”
“We can do whatever the hell we want.”
Chapter Thirty - Trevor
White picket fence. Castle. On each side of it, smaller castles. The grass was half covered with a light layer of snow. Trevor looked back to the cab, Erin’s hand dangling out the window, reaching for him. He took her hand.
“He’ll be okay, you know that right?”
“Do I?”
“Just be honest with him.”
He stepped up the driveway. His dad’s shining Jag was parked. His father was definitely home, probably watching CNN with a cold beer in his lap. He’d always set the glass bottle of beer in the freezer first before drinking it. Trevor entered his monstrosity of a house. Despite the circumstances, it still felt good to be inside his home. He looked up at the wide staircase, thick oak banisters leading up to his childhood bedroom. To his right, the kitchen lights were off, so he ventured left around the corner where he found his father. He had the Ranger game on instead of CNN, and a glass of whiskey instead of beer. He had crept up, still thinking of what he should say, how he should say it.
His dad turned and jerked, spilling some of his whiskey in his lap. “Jesus!” He caught his breath with his hand to his chest. “You scared the living shit out of me! What are you doing back home so soon? Everything all right?”
“I’m fine.” He dropped his bag next to the coach.
“What brings you back? Still got a girlfriend?”
“Still got her.”
“Well good. I like her. She’s a nice, smart girl. Sit. Take a load off. You’re not coming in tomorrow, are you?”
“No, I don’t think so. If that’s all right?”
“You got four more days if you want them.” He looked back at the TV. The Rangers were on the power play working the puck around in the Red Wings’ zone. “This is a sport. I think in another life I was a hockey player. They used to beat each other senseless, but the rules have sure tightened up… More graceful now. Faster. So fast. Did I tell you I switched?” He held up his glass of scotch. “It’s like a campfire in my mouth, but oddly enough, I like it.”
Trevor was pleased to see the mood his dad was in.
“So, why you home early then?”
“There were some troubles with the hospitality. Not a big deal. Listen, I need to talk to you about some things.”
“Oh? What is it?”
“Have you been noticing anything different lately? Been feeling different at all?”
He looked down at his glass and swirled his whiskey around. “What’d I do?”
“Nothing, I’m just noticing inconsistencies at work. I should have mentioned it earlier. But it seems to me you’re forgetting things. Things you would never forget. You seem scrambled. Unfocused.”
He paused, staring at the TV. A moment or two passed.
“I thought it was just semiretirement, but it’s getting worse. Too many thoughts are hanging on the edge of my mind.”
“I didn’t think you’d be this forthcoming, to be honest.”
“Yeah, well. You’re the man of the business. You should know what’s going on with your defective partner.”
They both looked straight ahead at the TV. He had planned on bringing up the time he spoke of his passed sister in present tense, but he couldn’t bring himself to look him in the eyes and deliver.
“Dad…” Trevor said, like “come on.”
“I didn’t want you worrying about this shit. You got enough on your plate.”
“You got some for me or did you drink it all?”
“I’ll get you the cheaper stuff.”
“You just keep drinking. Two more and I’ll tell you about the doctor’s appointment I scheduled for you.”
“We’ll see.”
“Yes, we’ll see you at your appointment.”
“Not the kind of appointment I like. Doesn’t make me money.”
“I know.”
His dad nodded and motioned to get up from the couch, but Trevor stopped him. “There’s something else.”