Page 36 of Dumbstruck
“Besides,” I add, “you know how I feel about potatoes. The world’s greatest vegetable.”
“Idaho.” June rolls her eyes. “Of course. Are potatoes actually a vegetable?”
“Technically, yes. Some people think it should be reclassified as a grain, but I’m of the opinion that potatoes are and always will be vegetables.” Not to mention my family’s farm is sustained by potato sales, and a reclassification could disrupt the status quo. Maybe it would force my dad to retire, which would be a good thing if he accepted it, but he would just work harder to keep things going.
My brother texted me while I was in makeup and said something about a drainage issue in one of Dad’s fields. He asked if I could send over some money so he can pay someone to get it fixed before Dad tries fixing it himself, and I’m worried that that means Dad is losing stamina with Mom being incapacitated. Not to mention he’s nearly seventy-five. He can only keep going for so long.
There must be some sort of worried expression on my face because June reaches across the table and wraps her hand over mine. “Everything okay?”
Her question shouldn’t startle me, but it does. Maybe because it’s been a long time since anyone but Richie asked me that. “Fine,” I say out of reflex, but I frown as I look down at our aged hands and shift so our fingers are tangled together. “Maybe fine.” I lower my voice so no one overhears us. “I hate being as far from my family as I am.”
“Do you ever think about moving back?”
“Sometimes.” But I love my job, and I can’t imagine doing anything else. Mostly because I don’t have the skills for anything else. Eager to find a different topic of conversation, I put on a smile and tilt my head to one side. “How many kids do we have?”
Pursing her lips, she looks like she might reject my change of subject. But after a moment, she matches my smile and says, “That memory of yours, Martin. We have three, remember?”
“Ah, yes, I always forget about that middle one. She’s trouble.”
“The real troublemaker is the youngest. He takes after you a little too much.”
“Which is why he’s my favorite.”
She smacks my arm. “You’re not supposed to have a favorite child!”
“Oh, but you and I both know everyone secretly has a favorite. Yours is our oldest daughter, obviously.”
“Why is that obvious?”
“Because she gave you a respite from me and my inescapable need to love on you.”
A laugh bursts out of June, though she stifles it as several people look our way. Dexter is one of those, raising an eyebrow when I meet his gaze and giving me an impatient look. He seems to think we’re wasting our time chatting with each other, but what does he expect us to do?
“You are incorrigible,” June mutters, sipping her hot chocolate and shaking her head at me.
I’m already holding her hand, but it doesn’t feel like enough. So I slide my foot forward until it taps against hers. She taps back. “Only when it comes to you, love,” I mutter.
“You two are darling,” Karina says, pausing at our booth with someone else’s food in her hands. “How long have you been together?”
“Married sixty-four years,” I say proudly. My eyes stray to June’s hand in mine, her fingers distinctly empty. I should have seen if the costume department had any rings, but it’s too late now. “It’s a miracle my Margaret has put up with me this long.”
Karina smiles at the pair of us, then continues on her way.
“This is so weird not being recognized,” June whispers. “I get food here all the time.”
“I’m thoroughly enjoying this anonymity,” I whisper back. I don’t know if I could live my whole life like this, though. I’ve gotten used to the attention my career brings, and I’m not quite ready to fade into obscurity. Does that make me vain? Maybe. But I’ve always been a spotlight kind of guy, and I love nothing more than seeing the way my performances affect an audience. Make them feel something.
If I took on fewer jobs, I could spend some of my time in a place like Idaho, but cutting back on projects sounds about as appealing as telling Dexter my real name. Fewer projects would mean less money, which would make it harder to ensure my parents are taken care of. I’m no Derek Riley, who gets cast in movies without even trying, and every job I get is a relief.
“Maybe I should have let you order a coffee,” June says, squeezing my hand and pulling me out of my thoughts. She’s looking at me like I’ve been lost in thought longer than I realized.
I return her squeeze and lean closer. “You were right, and I would have regretted it.”
“You didn’t get much sleep last night.” There’s something in her expression that is so compelling, like she’s trying to say so much more than her words.
I lift one side of my mouth in a smile. “Worth it.”
June shifts forward, closing the distance between us. “I’m glad you were with me. I would have been terrified.”
