Page 64 of Fire and Icing

“The home of country music,” he smiles.

I don’t know whether it’s the late hour, or the fact that after tonight, we’ll be living in close quarters, the contest dominating every minute of our waking hours, but I want to know more about Dustin, so I keep asking questions … about his childhood,his family, his passion for music, his experience as a firefighter, his move here.

And Dustin asks me questions … about growing up in Waterford, starting my business, my passion for baking, my gran, and my parents. My defenses are down. We’re comfortable, as if time has slowed and the world has faded away. I confide in him about my parents. Besides Syd and Gran, I don’t talk to anyone about Mom and Dad.

“They always dreamt of living in Europe. My sophomore year they heard of these programs where towns with a dwindling population and failing economy pay people to move to their village. My whole senior year they researched and took several trips to explore their options. A few days after I graduated high school, they moved to the island of Sardinia into a low-cost home. All it took was a commitment to renovate the house and to contribute to the local economy. So they’re running a bed and breakfast on the property now.”

“Wow. That’s courageous.” Dustin’s lips thin. “And radical.”

“It is. I admire them.”

“And, you miss them.” He says it as a point of fact, not a question.

“I do. They’re finally living their version of an ideal life. I’m proud of them. I know what it takes to start and maintain a business that’s your dream.”

“But …?”

Dustin sets his guitar down. He’s still sitting in the dining chair he pulled in to sit on while he played. He shifts around a bit.

“You can sit over here,” I offer, pointing to the other side of the couch.

He stands and settles in across from me, leaning back and repeating his question.

“You know what it took your parents to pursue their dream and start a business, but …?”

I sigh. “But it stings a little that they didn’t stay here. When they left, I was technically an adult. Eighteen is officially the year we come of age, so they did their job. I was on my own. Gran was still here. I have Syd. My other girlfriends.”

“No one can replace your parents,” Dustin says.

“No one can.”

“Have you been to visit them in Italy?”

“When could I?” I answer quickly. “Sorry. That came out more defensively than I intended. My job doesn’t really allow for vacations. This contest is the first time I’ve had a week off since Syd and I opened. And we moved mountains to get everything prepped for my absence and covered for the time I’ll be away.”

Dustin sits quietly, his face etched with compassion.

“It’s okay,” I assure him. “I know my parents love me. I had a great childhood. It could be much worse.”

“Hey,” he says softly. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Dismiss your own grief. Your parents moving was a blow. And them being so far without you being able to visit prolongs your grief.”

“I kinda hate grief,” I admit.

“I hear that.” He yawns.

“We should get some sleep,” I suggest. “What time is it anyway?”

He looks around the room, then he slips his phone out of his pocket. “One.”

“A.M?”

He nods and yawns again.

I yawn reflexively.

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