Page 50 of To Catch a Firefly

“Why don’t you grab the potatoes?” my mom says. “I’ll get the chives.”

I nod, and we split up. I’m debating between russet or Yukon gold when I hear my name.

“Hey, Ellis.”

Turning, I find Riley, a small shopping basket in his hand. I give him a nod.

“Watching the game tonight?” he asks, grabbing a couple onions.

Considering I don’t know what game—or sport—he’s talking about, I shake my head.

He nods, seemingly expecting as much. Thankfully, Riley has never been one to push me into small talk. “See ya Monday?”

Yep.

He takes a step away before pausing. “Hey, Ellis? If you ever wanna hang out, me and a few friends go to the bar most Fridays.” He doesn’t need to clarify which bar. We only have one in town. “Show up if you want. Or you can always text me. You have my number.”

A little surprised by the offer, I nod, and Riley shoots me a smile before walking off.

“Got the potatoes?” my mom asks, nearly bumping into my calf with her motorized cart.

I drop them into the basket, and we head toward the checkout.

“Was that Riley Evans I saw?” she says once we’re outside.

I grunt a yes.

“He seems like such a nice young man. Did you know he’s on the volunteer firefighting team?”

I nod as I load our groceries into the truck, and my mom launches into a story about her friend Lydia and the time her cat got stuck on the roof. Apparently, Riley was the one who got the feline down. My mom pauses her retelling as I run across the street to pick up her filled prescription, but as soon as I’m in the driver’s seat, she goes on.

I listen, but my gaze strays out the window. The once summer-green corn has turned a harvest-ready brown, but that’s not what catches my attention. There are storm clouds gathering in the distance, gray and ominous. The sky below them is dimmed, as if the color has been leached away. Looks like rain is coming.

When we get home, I heat the grill as my mom washes potatoes. With the temperatures dropping, we won’t be able to grill for much longer. Lucky’s dad pulls up while I’m still out onthe deck. He gives me a wave on his way inside, and I hold up my hand in return, thoughts drifting to the email in my inbox.

What could my dad possibly want to talk to me about after all this time? Do I even care? He left. He left me, my mom, the house he grew up in. He packed up his belongings like it was the easiest thing and loaded up a moving truck as I sat inside and watched.

He waved when he backed out of the driveway. I’ll never forget that. I haven’t heard from him since. Not until today.

My mom has the news on when I get back inside. The potatoes are in the oven, baking, and the steaks are waiting on a plate. “Storm’s coming in,” she informs me, nodding toward the TV. The next couple days are forecasting rain and thunderstorms, and a banner along the bottom warns of possible tornadoes.

“Prepared,” I say.

As soon as my mom started using her wheelchair, I had a battery-operated lift installed in the storm shelter. That was years ago now, although we’ve only had to use it once.

She nods, giving me a smile. “Yes, we are. We’ll be fine.”

As the grill heats, I grab my laptop, sitting at the kitchen table. The low hum of the TV is white noise as I bring up my email. I ignore the one from my dad, instead opening up the last one I received from Lucky. He’s on his way to Greece, and although the tone of the message is excited—he’s never been there before—it’s perfunctory andquiet. Lucky has never been quiet. Not with me.

I click out and open up a new thread.

Luck. Hey. I don’t like this. There’s a distance between us that never used to be there. What can I say to bring you back? What can I do? I was foolish, I think, taking our friendship for granted. Assuming there was nothing I coulddo that would fuck us up. I assumed I couldn’t hurt you, but I was wrong. I forget, sometimes, that you’re not invincible. That you bleed just like me. You’ve always been larger than life. A force. But your heart is big, and I bruised it, didn’t I?

I wish I could say I’ll never keep anything from you again, but I know that’s not the truth. I’m keeping the biggest thing from you. If I told you, would it fix this? If you knew how I love you, would you understand? Or would it only drive another wedge?

I was seventeen when I kissed you at Smith Falls. I didn’t understand then what I was feeling, but I knew, in a way I hadn’t before, that I wanted to follow you. I wanted to go with you. It would have been worth it just to be near. Me and you, we could take on anything.

Things didn’t work out that way. You know that. The world isn’t always kind, and circumstances change. My mom… I couldn’t leave her. Not like that. Not like he did. But it meant, in a way, I left you. So maybe I started this.

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