“Didn’t ask how you’re doing or what’s wrong, Quinn. I asked if you wanted to tell me what’s going on.”
I can’t tell my dad what’s bothering me. I’m not sure he’d understand, and I don’t want to bring up old wounds. “I’m going to go see Mom.” I leave my dad in his garage and make my way into the house. There’s music playing, either a recording of my dad singing to my mom or the band’s latest album. I find my mom on the patio with her feet up, a book in her hand and a glass of wine on the table. Leaning down, I kiss her on the cheek and her hand instantly comes to my head, holding me there.
“This is a nice surprise.” She moves her feet, so I can sit down across from her. As soon as I make eye contact with her, her face falls. “What’s the matter?”
With her, I can’t hide. I’ve never been able to. She reaches for my hands, holding them in her smaller ones. “Tell me,” she begs.
Clearing my throat, I look anywhere, but at her. “Elle wants me to join her band.”
“Honey, that’s great! Oh, I’m so happy for you. It’s about time the world, other than the coffee shop, get to see your talents. Don’t get me wrong, Quinn. I love watching you play there, it’s so intimate, but you deserve so much more. Did you tell your dad?”
Shaking my head, I meet her gaze, watching as she seeks out the truth I’m trying to mask. Before she can ask me again, my dad steps out and hands me a beer. Mom leans back in her chair and tilts her head, welcoming a kiss from the love of her life.
It’s odd to think that I often wonder where I’d be if Mason hadn’t died. There’s no way we’d be the family we are if Katelyn and my dad didn’t end up together. That would mean there’s a divorce, which usually means there’s hostility. I can’t imagine not being close to my sisters, and I can’t imagine Katelyn not being my mom. I don’t want to thi
nk about what the alternative could’ve been, but I also hate thinking my sisters had to suffer for my happiness.
“Are you staying for dinner?” Mom asks.
“Yeah, I can. I don’t have any plans.”
“Don’t cook, babe. We’ll order something in. It’s too nice for you to mess around in the kitchen.” This statement earns another kiss from my mom.
I sit back and observe my parents, they have the kind of love I want. There isn’t a person on the outside who can’t see how in love they are with each other. I believe someone out there is meant for me but finding them is the hard part. I’ve never put myself out there and until I do, I’m not going to find my forever.
With my dad out here, my mood changes. What I was about to tell my mom, I don’t think I can tell my dad. I’m afraid of his reaction, not that I expect my mom to act any differently, but sometimes she’s easier to talk to.
My parent’s neighbors stop by and my dad invites them to join us. He starts the patio fireplace, even though it’s pretty hot outside and we all move over to it. I’m tempted to rummage through the kitchen and find the necessities for smores. For as long as I can remember, this house has always been stocked with chocolate bars, marshmallows, and graham crackers, mostly thanks to my aunt. She said we can’t live at the beach without this sweet treat and her penchant for it rubbed off on me, Peyton, and Elle. Noah and Ben even get in on making the gooey treat.
Conversation flows around me as I study the fire. It isn’t until my mom pokes my side and looks at me expectantly do I realize I’ve been asked a question.
“I’m sorry, I missed that,” I direct my statement to Mr. Carey. He’s been our neighbor for about fifteen years and is on his third wife.
“What are you doing for work these days?” he asks. Work. The dreaded topic.
“Still trying to figure things out,” I tell him honestly.
“Your sisters graduated from college, right?”
“Yep.” And no, I didn’t go. But hey, thanks for pointing that out in a roundabout way.
“My company is hiring. Entry level, if you’re interested.”
I catch my dad’s eyes, waiting to see if he has something to say. He doesn’t. Making eye contact with Mr. Carey, I smile. “Thanks. I may take you up on that.” I won’t. The tips I make on a Friday night are enough to last me each week and my trust fund pays for my apartment. I’m literally the definition of a spoiled rich kid, although my apartment isn’t expensive, flashy or what some of my peers are living in.
Mr. Carey offers me his card and tells me to call him when I’m ready. I thank him and slip it into my wallet. I can’t imagine I’ll ever be in a position where I need to call him and ask for a job in the mailroom. Maybe I should enroll in some classes and gain some work skills. That’d be easy if I knew what I wanted to do.
Music. It’s what I want to do, but when the opportunity presents itself, I run. That’s what I did the other night when Elle invited Dana over. I sat there, listening to everything this woman had to say, completely tongue-tied and unable to speak because all I wanted to do was blurt out how hot I thought she was. Instead of looking professional, I came off as an emo musician who couldn’t be bothered to even give her a reply. Elle was pissed when she left, but in my defense, I didn’t have time to mentally prepare for the business pitch.
The doorbell rings. I volunteer to go grab dinner, and when I come back, the Careys’ are gone. “They didn’t want to stay for Chinese?”
“Nah, they had to finish their walk along the beach. Frank does it to stay in shape,” my dad says.
“With a wife as young as her, he has to do something.” I didn’t want to comment on the fact that Mr. Carey’s wife is somewhere in her twenties or the fact that each time I looked at her, she was staring at me. I have a feeling wife number three won’t be around long.
Mom dishes up the food and we eat in silence. It’s halfway through dinner when Dad brings up the elephant in the room.
“Why didn’t you join Elle’s band? She seemed pretty pissed last night when she called.”