Page 69 of Like You Want It
“I’m gonna grab a whiskey. Anyone want?” he says, looking around.
Peter doesn’t say anything, Carol shakes her head with a tight smile, and Susie says no.
And with that, Noah turns and stalks away, back into the house to grab his whiskey, using a significant amount of force on the sliding door.
I look to Susie for some sort of direction. When you’re not a part of the family, it’s hard to know what’s expected of you.
Should I make a joke to lighten the mood? Stay silent? Will I draw too much attention to myself if I quietly roll off of my little pool lounger and slink away into a corner so I don’t have to be a part of this anymore?
Most of the time, joking would be my go-to. But this tension is so damn thick I wish I could just sink under the water and disappear.
But Susie isn’t looking at me. She’s looking at Fin.
And before I can grab her attention to ask what I should do, Fin turns, grabs his keys off the patio table, and storms off in the opposite direction, out the side gate, careful to close it gently behind him.
Everyone is silent for a moment they look into the direction the two men have stormed off to. One to the house, one off to who knows where.
There’s something painful here. Something that has been glossed over and not addressed. When Susie told me her family was filled with a bunch of avoiders, I didn’t realize it was about stuff as deeply rooted as whatever this is.
“I was thinking it would be fun to roast some s’mores tonight,” Carol says, dragging my attention to her. She closes her book and taps it against her knees. “We’ll be doing pizza for dinner, so s’mores might be a good little treat for after. I’m gonna head to the store.”
Carol leans over and kisses Peter’s temple, whispers something in his ear, then says her goodbyes and heads into the house.
I knew the day was starting to wrap up as the sun dipped lower in the sky. I just had no idea it would end so… dramatically. And with everyone ignoring the elephant.
Susie’s eyes stay locked on Nell, and when I glance over at Peter, I see him sipping his beer and staring off into the distance, pondering something only he knows.
After about fifteen more minutes of complete silence, and with the sun starting to dip in the sky, I finally build up the nerve to draw even an ounce of attention to myself
“I think I’m gonna go shower,” I say, slipping off the lounger and walking out of the pool.
As I dry with the towel, Peter calls out to me. “The upstairs guest shower is having water pressure problems. Use the one in the bedroom at the end of the hall. You’ll enjoy it more, and there are towels already in there.”
I nod and give him a thank you, then move as quickly into the house and up the stairs as possible.
