Page 21 of Nothing But It All
Jack didn’t gag at my vomit breath or laugh at my mascara-streaked cheeks. Instead, he told his friends to go on without him and handed me bottles of water while promising that I wasn’t going to die. He did it all with a smile that set my insides on fire a whole lot more than the tequila had.
I’m pretty sure that Billie and I both fell in love with Jack that night.We both thought he was perfect for me.
“Considering my current company, I was just stating facts,” I say, glancing at my daughter again.
“Shit. Yeah, yeah. I forgot you were with Maddie.”
“Exactly,” I say, turning onto the long, winding road toward the cabins. “I’m losing you, Bills. I’ll call you when I’m back.”
“Have fun. Text me updates and let me know you haven’t perished in the wilderness.”
“Wait! What do you have going on? You started to tell me yesterday before I mentioned the child that asked for my number. I don’t want this conversation to be all about me.”
She snorts. “Your life is infinitely more interesting than mine these days.”
“Share.”
“Well, I have a presentation Monday on social media and its effect on marketing to a bunch of men in suits that probably don’t even care because God knows they won’t listen. We’ll have the same problems and discussions next month and the month after that and the month after that.”
I smile. “Good luck. I know you’ll be so interesting that they won’t be able to do anything but listen to you.”
“Right.”
My grin grows. “Also, wear a low-cut top. That might help too.”
“I want them listening, not staring.”
“Oh, they’ll be staring anyway. You’re a hottie.”
“Thanks, babe.”
“You’re welcome. Now, I gotta go. Bye, Billie.”
“Bye.”
The call disconnects from the car. Billie’s voice is replaced by a hit from the nineties blasting a bit too loud. I toggle the switch on my steering wheel to lower the sound.
The foliage grows darker and thicker as we make our way up the hill. Pathways that Jack and I used to take the kids on when they were little are nearly overgrown. I only know they’re there from memory.
My heart tugs as I sort through the moments stored away in my head. Michael attempting to ride his bike down the trails at thirteen years old, only to wreck into a tree and separate his shoulder. Maddie stopping every five feet to pick flowers, making our hikes infinitely longer.
Jack and I stealing weekends here during college and getting snowed in over Christmas break.
I smile at the memory.
“Hey,” I say, reaching over and shaking Maddie’s leg.
She pops out an AirPod. “Yeah?”
“Talk to me. You’re the one that was jazzed to come up here.”
“Can’t you see I’m busy?” She rolls her eyes with the dramatics of a daytime actress. “Kidding. Daniel made me a playlist. He said every song reminds him of me.”
It’s my turn to roll my eyes. “He did, did he?”
“He did.Isn’t itsoromantic?”
“There’s nothing romantic about a fourteen-year-old boy.”
