Page 65 of Nothing But It All
“Look, Jack—this doesn’t have to be complicated, and you don’t need my help. Actually, I can’t even help you. You just need to ... prioritize your life. Your real life. The core of who you are as a person.”
Shit.
“If she’s the most important thing in your life, then treat her like it,” she says. “Because the fact of the matter is that she’s going to believe you when you show her how you feel. Remember that.”
I turn on the tap and wash my hands.I owe Billie when I get home.
“There used to be a pitch-in dinner at the end of the lake season, as we called it back then,” I say, turning off the tap. “One summer, I was probably eight or nine, it was ...magicthat year. The weather was perfect. The lake water was cool and clean. All the moms would meet at the Cupboard in the evenings and play cards and have drinks or whatever. The dads would play horseshoes or sit on picnic tables and smoke cigars. It was a big community vibe.”
“That sounds nice.”
I grin, drying off my hands. “It was.” I toss the towel next to the sink and take out a platter and seasonings. “Anyway, that particular year, everyone was jacked for the last get-together before we all went our separate ways. Mrs. Shaw procured a couple of homemade ice cream makers, and there was just this buzz about the night.”
Lauren sits up. Interest mixed with confusion—Why am I telling her this and not answering her question?—is written across her beautiful face.
I open the package of meat and begin making patties. I remember doing this with my mom for years.
“Mom worked all afternoon making this pretzel-strawberry salad that my dad loved. And she made cucumbers and onion in vinegar—don’t ask me why I remember that.” I chuckle. “We were getting readyto head to the Cupboard. Mom had her little basket full of Tupperware, and I had my flashlight in case a game of flashlight tag popped off.”
Lauren grins.
“And Dad left. Someone called in from work, and he split. Now that I think about it, he must have given them the landline number for the Cupboard to reach him. Anyway, I’ll never forget the look on Mom’s face as he kissed her cheek and let the screen door slam behind him. She stood there for a long second and then turned to me and acted like nothing happened. But I knew.”
Lauren sets her cup on the end table and sits upright. Her eyes are wide, but she doesn’t say a word.
“And I know that I’ve done that to you,” I say slowly. I put a perfectly round patty on the plate and start on another one. “I don’t know how I got so fucked up, Lo. Yeah, I was justifying things by saying I was working—and that was true. But I don’t know how, or when, work took top priority.” I look up at her. “I’m sorry for that.”
She holds my gaze but doesn’t speak. Her pupils widen, and I can see my words filtering through her eyes.
“Wow, Jack,” she says, blowing out a breath. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“I know. And I’m sorry you weren’t.” I frown. “So, the answer is no. I won’t be going to work tonight. Tommy can handle it, and if he can’t, then I’ll handle it when we get back to town.”
The smile that crosses her lips lights up a part of my soul that I’d forgotten was even there. I haven’t seen this look on her face in years. Her smile is directedat mefor something I’ve done—some way I’ve made her happy.
My God, how I’ve missed it.
“Well, Jack,” she says before clearing her throat. “I appreciate that.”
“You’re welcome.”
“I think I should apologize to you too,” she says carefully.
I make the final patty and then throw the container away. Then I head to the sink to wash my hands again.
She exhales heavily. “Things became soabout me.”
“Well, I’m glad one of us was looking out for you.”
The tension that’s always between us is there, but different. She’s not ready to storm out or shout at me, nor is she on the brink of hurling passive-aggressive insults my way. And for my part, I’m not waiting to dismiss what she says.
It’s a juxtaposition—a comfortable strain stretching between us.
It also might be progress, if we’re careful.
“I’m sorry I haven’t ... tried more, I guess,” she says. “I’ve given up on us lately. There were reasons why; I remember the day I threw in the towel. But maybe if I hadn’t—”
“As long as you pick it back up, we’re going to be fine.”
