Page 15 of Ebbing Tides
But today, there was Felicity.
She came every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, and she was my favorite. And maybe that was because she reminded me a little of Lizzie Copeland—the friend I'd lost in the Army, not the daughter I'd lost later on—or maybe it was because she seemed to be the closest to me in age. But whatever it was, I liked her, and over the months since my father had come home, we'd grown to be friends of sorts. The kind of friendship you could only hope to develop with someone you had to see multiple times a week for the better part of a year.
“You know, your dad has some pretty good stuff in there that'll help you sleep,” she said with a smirk and wink. “Knock you right out.”
I smiled. “Tempting.”
The joke fell flat with my dry tone, and the smile fell from my face when I realized just how truly tempting it really was. God, what I would give for a drink. Dabbling in a few controlled substances didn't seem too shabby either, and for the first time in years, I worried I wouldn't be able to control myself.
“Everything okay, Max?” Felicity asked, now concerned.
I scratched anxiously behind my ear and reached absent-mindedly for Lido's head. Instinctively, he met me halfway.
“I don't know,” I admitted, thankful to have someone in my life I felt I could be truly honest with.
As appreciative as I was for my relationship with my sisters, I knew I also—shamefully—kept them at arm's length sometimes, especially in regard to my feelings about our father and the static in my brain. I didn't want them to feel bad. I didn't want them to worry. And I definitely didn't want Grace to tattle to her husband—because as much as I loved Sid, having him nagging me was almost worse than the bullshit in my head.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
I waved a dismissive hand. “No, it's fine. You were doing something for Dad. Don't let me keep you from—”
“He's asleep,” she interrupted. “I was just going into the kitchen to wash some of his things. It can wait a few minutes.”
She sat in a chair I remembered my father had liked to sit in during holidays when we were all in this house. My sisters andtheir families. Laura and the girls. Me. He'd sit right in that chair and address me with the type of respect I'd always craved my entire life before engaging my wife and stepdaughters in adoring conversation, and now, the thought of never seeing him in that chair again choked me up.
Felicity cocked her head. “What is it?”
I forced a smile. “Just thinking. You're in Dad's chair, and …” I lifted a hand as if to throw the comment away. “Never mind. You're not paid to be my therapist.”
“I don't mind listening.”
“You're not paid to listen either.”
She smoothed her short blonde hair over the crown of her head. “Okay, then Ilikelistening. And, hey, you listen to me, too, so we're even.”
“I can't help that you don't know when to stop talking,” I joked lightheartedly.
She rolled her eyes. “Well, you got me there. But come on. Lay it on me. Might help you sleep to get it out.”
I considered that she had a point there, so I sighed and nodded. “All right,” I conceded. “You know about my wife.”
“Yes,” she replied simply.
“It's been almost ten years since she died.”
Felicity whispered a sigh. “I'm sorry.”
I pursed my lips and chose not to engage in her sympathies. Not because I didn't appreciate them, but I didn't want it to linger. I didn't want to dwell on what people always seemed to feel. Howsorrythey always were. God, I got sick of it, and maybe that was why I never spoke of it. They were always sodamn sorry, and their sorries did nothing. They didn’t make me feel better, they didn’t erase the past, and they didn’t bring her back.
“Anyway, I think I just agreed to go on my first date since everything happened,” I confessed, keeping my eyes forward on the TV that had been kept off since before Dad got sick.
“You only think so?”
I canted my head with consideration. “My friend … this guy at work … he wants me to take his sister-in-law out for a few hours. For dinner or whatever. He wouldn't call it a date, but itfeelslike a date.”
“Why? Because you’re a man and she’s a woman?”
“No, it’s not that. It’s … I don’t know how to explain it. It’s just the vibe I get from it, I guess.”
