Page 58 of Home Wrecker

“I know what you mean. Cary’s that person for Bhodi. I could watch them for hours. How goofy they are together. If you take me out of the equation as it stands, Bhodi’s never had a man in his life that he didn’t have to share. My friend Dusty spent time with him, but he has a daughter. My former brother-in-law, Emory’s father, did what he could with Bhodi while he and my sister were together,” I remark, wistful. “I do like it when Bhodi and Cary include me. Though, the car stuff confounds me,” I admit with an eye roll.

“But you know flowers, and we could make our own gardening club. ”

“I’m no expert, but I haven’t killed a plant, recently.”

“You could whip this place into shape in no time.” Davina gestures to the yard.

“Is that a challenge?”

Davina’s yard is green, but it lacks other vibrant colors.

“No, sweetheart. It’s an invitation. Give me something to look forward to by coming back another time. If it’s not too much to ask, let me see my son enjoying being in love.

“I can’t change the past. And since I realized what Cary had been through, I’ve been embarrassed by the way I acted and terrified he’ll be judged because of my indiscretions. He didn’t choose to be born into this mess. No child would. I’ve given him space, holding my breath for the moment it all implodes and the world finds out what a horrible person I am. I’m tired of the distance and feeling like I’m still failing him. So, when that happens, I’d like a few good memories to hold onto.”

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Tired.

The energy to say exhausted isn’t even available.

I peer down at my cell, thankful for Cary’s patience. He’s sitting in the dark parking lot outside. I’ve kept him on standby an extra half an hour past when I promised my shift would finish.

He hadn’t sent a message saying he was here right away. I’m unsure if that means he built in extra time to accommodate my general lateness or just what. I do know I love him for the lack of text-based foot tapping. There’s enough guilt eating me. However, this is the first time since we’ve been back to the beach house this summer that I’ve knocked us off schedule.

It will likely be another ten to fifteen minutes before I can reassure the cleaning crew they can lock up after me and leave. Having Jake around is compounding their nervousness.

“What are you going to do?” I ask, wishing I cared more about Jake’s response than hearing he expects me to handle it during my days off.

Beyond the bone-weariness, I don’t give a hoot: A problem in itself.

My boyfriend is rich. I’m not. I need this job, with its sucky hours that force me away from the people I love. I have bills to pay and a son to finish raising who has gotten a taste of the finer things in life. I have too, but it’s different and has reminded me of the world of possibilities I had for Bhodi before he was born.

Out in her garden, Davina’s been chatting me up about the private high school Cary attended. It was never an unknown institution. Bennett went there. If I start saving now, I should be able to afford the tuition, assuming nothing catastrophic happens. Bhodi deserves the option of becoming a businessperson or a pilot. Although my heart soars when he says he wants to work with his hands the way Dusty does, or doing all the mechanical things Cary tutors him in at the service center.

I had dreams once upon a time. Uncomplicated ones, filled with babies and sunshine and flowers, that hadn’t seemed like much of a stretch when I was younger. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t intended to go back to work for the airlines after Bhodi was old enough. Now years into this job, I’m realigning my goals, and making my son my “mill boy” for lack of a better term. I may not have been a mill girl, but Carver invested in my friends. So why can’t I in my child?

A custodian skitters through the theatre, trying their best to remain inconspicuous while the owner and I discuss business at the bar.

See no evil, hear no evil. That’s been my motto as well whenever I’ve been in the club and questionable issues have cropped up.

Jake shrugs, downing a shot of rum and pouring a second. “She’s not the first dancer to quit with short notice.”

I’m aware of this. I simply hadn’t expected after tossing the waitress Jake asked me to let go and the dancer who was causing so many other issues that a third employee the dancer fought with would hand in her notice.

Maybe I’d become too complacent where things have been going so good outside of the brick walls of Sweet Caroline’s. Perhaps I’d enjoyed the occasional visits from friends here too much. It’s hard to balance work, family, and friendships. My girlfriends don’t keep vampire hours like I do anymore.

Overwhelmed by fatigue, I miss having Kimber behind the bar at my elbows while we served, and think back to Cece’s retirement when I fixed where Dusty smudged her lipstick before her final performance on the stage. They’ve all gone on to better… The dancer who quit tonight is too.

I’m still hanging around, making the best of it. Except my melancholy mood leaves me wondering when my turn is. I know it’s after Bhodi is grown. I have to survive the tribulations of the graveyard shift until then. I hope Cary’s willing to hang out in a deserted parking lot in the middle of the night that long.

I blow out a breath and the end of the kerchief tied around my French roll lifts. “Think she’ll show for the performances this week?”

“From past experience, we both know that’s doubtful.” Jake swirls the droplets of brown in his shot glass.

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