Page 94 of Cherry Picking
RILEY
Griffin and Camryleave together that morning, and I turn Parker away when he knocks on the door. Mom hounds me about breakfast, but I play the sick card and she lets it go. We can be a solitary bunch sometimes, and especially after big holiday events, we tend to keep to ourselves for a few days.
But by the time the weekend comes around, it’s time to bustle for New Years plans, and I’m forced out of my room and into the planning den. Mom says as long as she’s got a couple bottles of that sparkling non-alcoholic juice, she’s set. Dad always watches one of the TV countdowns.
There’s a neighborhood New Year Skate that the local hockey team hosts. Some years I stop in to lend a hand, but this year I’m not feeling it.
Parker is going to some late night bowling fest with lots of cheesy decorations and apparel, and much to both of our dismay, Mom thinks I should go keep an eye on him.
“Mom, I’m a thirty year old man. I don’t want to babysit a bunch of teenagers pretending to get drunk on juice.”
“We don’t do that,” Parker deadpans. “But I’m with him. There’s an entire bowling staff running the thing.”
“Sweeties.” Mom steps away from the counter where she’s been writing away while we plead our case. “Did you ever think maybe your Dad and I could use a little alone time? Riley, honey, you haven’t left the house of your own volition in days. A little bit of privacy would be nice.”
Parker makes a gagging noise, and I roll my lip to keep from smiling. Not that lack of privacy stopped me and Griff from getting up to things, but since it’s my parents … Yeah, I appreciate the thoughtfulness.
“I’ll drop him off and make myself sparse, alright? You get me out of your hair, and Parker gets to save himself the embarrassment.”
“There’s my smartass, son.” Mom makes her way back to her laptop, Parker scuffing his shoes on the tile once she looks away.
“Can we go now?”
I grab my keys off the wrack and nod. “Sure thing, bud.”
I drop Parker off at nine, then drive to a nearby park to explore the lights. There’s some food stands set up, and small crowds of people chatting and laughing. It reminds me of that day in Nashville with Griff.
The first time I felt a need to announce him to the public. Even if it was to a pair of strangers.
It felt good.
It felt right.
That’s where the guilt first set in.
It was a seed.
One I either needed to bury or rip out of the ground. My instinct was the former, Griff requested the latter.
I chose Griff.
And then the regret consumed me.
A new layer of guilt because I don’t regret loving Griffin Foster.
I don’t regret wanting him.
But so much else, woven around and before our relationship, that I regret.
Being unable to untangle those threads, that’s what’s killing us.
I could pick up my phone and wish him a happy new year, but I don’t know if he’d answer. It sure would be nice to hear his voice.
The indigo sky speckled with twinkling lights and flurries of translucent snow is a welcome break from staring at beige walls and stained sheets in need of washing but that smell like the two of us together.
One more night becomes two. Then three.
Mom will probably have thrown them in the wash by the time midnight rolls around, and it’s better if I don’t have an emotional breakdown over something as silly as that.
