Page 41 of Lucas (Life in the Brohouse 7)

Jason bobs his head emphatically—anything to appease my mom.

“No, I want the whole day and Sunday,” Mom says. “It’s not often we get together like this and you and your father need adequate bonding time.”

Jason looks like he’s going to pee himself. He doesn’t have enough staff to take my shifts. “B-but—”

“No buts!” Mom shouts while turning on her heel. She grabs Dad’s elbow and tugs him towards the door. “I will see you bright and early tomorrow, Lucas!” she calls sweetly before opening the door and slipping outside.

As soon as she’s gone Jason whispers to me, “Your mom is the most terrifying woman I have ever met.”

I chuckle and nod. “That she is.”

Guilt stabs through me as I think of the chapters due at the end of this month, and what the book will do to my mother. I half imagine her to scream at me, but I know it will hurt her. She probably won’t do anything in retaliation, and that’s what makes it so much worse.

***

Dad sways in the raft. Out of the corner of my eye I see his eyes opening and closing. Six must be pretty early in the morning for him. For me, I’m usually up at this hour, heading to the gym before I open the cafe. I even had time for coffee and a light breakfast. The water trickles around us. About four people sit behind us, chatting idly. I listen to their conversations, how excited they are to be on a big river. Everyone has rafted before. At least, they should have. These rivers can be pretty dangerous for a rookie and it’s good to at least understand the basics of paddling and steering.

Dad hasn’t said a word to me since picking me up this morning. He didn’t even come up to the apartment and knock on the door. I simply looked outside and he was there, waiting for me. And when I got in the seat next to him, he continued looking absolutely perturbed, like he didn’t even want to be here.

Then why is he doing this? Sure, Mom is making him, but he can lie, go to the bar and have a few drinks, make up lies as he usually does and continue merrily on with his life. It would make things easier for me. I love rafting, but dealing with his passive aggressive nature makes me want to deal with crappy customers and coffee then be here in nature. At least when Mom is around, I have someone to talk to. Kinda wish she was with us rather than back at the cabin, preparing for whatever picnic she has in store for us.

I straighten, my hands gripping the paddle when I see the rapids up ahead. Dad shifts his weight next to me. Glad to see he’s livened up a bit.

“Alright!” The guide shouts from behind us, steering us towards the rapids. The splashing of water fills my ears. The water looks so blue, the trees so green. It’s a beautiful spring day, perfect for whitewater rafting. Despite having to do this with Dad, maybe this is the perfect thing to get me out of my funk.

“I want everyone to begin paddling!”

I push my paddle into the water, timing myself to Dad’s strokes out of the corner of my eye. I grimace when my paddle hits the one behind me. We need to do this in unison if we’re going to get through this smoothly, and I can’t help wondering if everyone in the raft with me hasn’t done this before.

“When I say stop, stop!”

My frown deepens. Yeah, this seems more like a tourist thing rather than a professional rafting company. Not that it’s a bad thing, I’m just used to working with a different kind of crew. The guy behinds me follows my rhythm and we head straight on to the rapids. The water hits me in the face, blurring my view. The rocks underneath us make it difficult to continue paddling, but I push my feet deeper in between the folds of the inflated boat. I’ve never fallen out of a raft before and I’m not going to let this be my first time.

We skirt by rocks, going deeper down the water, which moves faster. I can hardly hear anything. My lips curl. I can’t help smiling. This is exactly what I needed. I haven’t rowed or done anything on the water in so long. My arms burn, my heart quickens with adrenaline and I feel alive for the first time in a very long while.

We turn sharply and I hear a very loud splash. Turning, I find Dad missing, and shouts coming from the water. “Shit!” The guide shouts, gaping while watching Dad struggle against the currents.

I wrench to the other side of the raft, watching Dad grab onto a large rock in the middle of the river, his eyes bugging out, his face wet and flushed bright red. “Hold on!” The guide shouts while turning the boat around. “I need everyone to paddle.”

I shove my paddle into the water. It’s easier going down a river than up. I groan, and the burn in my shoulders and arms worsen, but I can’t give up. The man may be an asshole, but he’s my father after all. We sidle close to the rock and I grab Dad by his life jacket, heaving him out of the water in one strong move and hauling his big body onto the boat.

Dad groans, his body shivering as a gust of wind blows past. “Get off me,” he grunts while smacking my hand away.

“Oh, thank you, Lucas,” I say angrily, moving back to my side of the raft. “That was so kind of you, Lucas.”

Dad doesn’t say anything and I don’t look at him while the guide leads us back down the river. I can’t believe he smacked me away. It’s not like I kicked him out of the boat. It’s not even my fault he fell in. The boat turned sharply. It could happen to anyone. I guess he just hates me. He’s always hated me. I can’t remember a time when he genuinely enjoyed my company and it hurts. Maybe I should put that in the book, make it out like I’m the poor kid who had to grow up in such a dysfunctional family. Maybe then I won’t feel so much guilt.

An hour passes and the river calms. The guide permits us to get into the water and swim, but Dad and I remain in the boat, listening to the others laughing and splashing. So much for father son bonding time.

“Here,” Dad says.

I turn, finding him holding out a granola bar. “No, thanks.” I ignore the grumbling in my stomach. That light breakfast has been burned off, but there’s no way I’m going to take food from him after being smacked away an hour before. It’s probably childish, but my pride is a bit sore and I feel like I deserve an apology.

“It’s good to see all that money didn’t go to waste.”

I shake my head, my anger boiling. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Dad shrugs and shoves the entire granola bar in his mouth. “You still remember how to row,” he says while chewing. “You’re pretty good at steering and knowing when to row and not to. I’m surprised you’re stuck in that cafe rather than doing something like this.”

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