Page 7 of Small City Heart
Chapter Three
Patrick spent a few hours at the diner—though nothing remotely interesting happened after Charlie North left—before heading over to his parents’ house.
No. Not his parents’. It was now his mom’s. Alone. It would take some time to get used to thinking of it that way.
He hadn’t been there since his dad had moved out, and Patrick stalled on the porch, scared to see what awaited him inside. He sat down heavily on the front step.
Some of his best childhood memories had happened in this front yard. Covering the driveway with chalk drawings. Blowing wishes on dandelions. Climbing the big oak tree by the sidewalk. Making snow angels in the shallowest of snow. So many of those good memories involved his dad. It was hard to imagine walking inside and not smelling his dad’s aftershave or seeing his grass stained work boots by the front door.
Little details started to jump out at him about the front yard, details that told the story of his parents’ dissolution. The hedges hadn’t been trimmed, and it was clear the weed eater hadn’t been run all summer. There was no stupid flag hanging out front either, and the cushions on the porch swing were now hot pink.
Patrick didn’t know how long he sat there thinking about the changes a few years and an affair could bring, but eventually Mom pulled into the driveway.
Only then did Patrick feel like he had mustered up the courage to go inside. His mom acted like there was nothing strange about him hanging out in the summer heat. She kissed him on the cheek and shooed him through the front door.
It was dark and hot inside. The living room furniture was new. He felt a bit breathless. There was still a family picture on the mantle from when Patrick was a preteen—him, his mom, and his dad, all wearing flannel shirts. Patrick, who had burnt at least one ex’s photos after a breakup, didn’t know what to think about that link to the past.
“That Charlie North sure is something, huh?” his mom said, bustling into the kitchen to drink her after-work cup of coffee. She poured him a cup and topped it off with a shot of whiskey.
“He knows he’s hot. I hate men like that.”
Mom rolled her eyes. “Bullshit. You can’t find a nicer guy than Charlie. He’s very responsible. Always on time. Saves kittens from trees.”
“I’m sure he volunteers at food pantries and also never snores. Perfect Charles North. What a bore.”
His mom smiled sharply. Patrick ignored her. The kitchen was his mother’s realm, so it appeared mostly unchanged at first glance. The coffee tasted different, though. It wasn’t decaf, which was his dad’s preference.
“Are you okay?” Mom asked, snapping Patrick out of his thoughts.
“Yes,” he stammered. “Why?”
“You’re looking around like you expect a ghost to jump out at you.”
“I haven’t been here since Dad moved out.” It did feel like Patrick was expecting a ghost—his father.
“Oh! You should see what I did to one of the spare bedrooms then.” Mom jumped up and ushered him toward the other side of the house. She seemed totally unbothered by this, but she was probably used to living alone now.
The room, which his dad had converted to a home gym when Patrick was in middle school, was now full of house plants and a sewing table and a big comfy chaise lounge.
Patrick laughed, totally delighted by the changes. He sat on the chaise and she plopped down beside him.
“I’m glad you’re here,” she said. “It’ll be weird without your dad by my side.”
His parents had officially split around Christmas. Patrick’s dad was a Small City alum too—they had been high school sweethearts—so his mom had never been to an Alumni Weekend without him.
“He’s not going to show up, is he?” Patrick asked. That dreadful thought hadn’t occurred to him until that moment.
His whole reason for coming was so Mom would have a date. A buffer. She was going to be confronted by person after person, especially alumni who weren’t townies and privy to the gossip, asking about Dad, not knowing they’d recently divorced.
Patrick hadn’t thought about what it would be like if Dad were there too. With his new girlfriend, maybe.
It was not a pleasant thought at all.
“No. We already talked about it. He’s sitting this one out.”
“Youtalkto him?”
She glanced over at him, her brow furrowed. “Yeah.”
