CHAPTER 9
Hank
Ifelt like a creep as I stared out my window at Old Man Thompson’s place but apparently not enough to stop myself from doing it.
The light was on in the kitchen and I could see Skylar and Luna busily preparing dinner. I could hear the faint sound of music coming from their open window. I had no idea what they were listening to but I could see that they were enjoying it. Luna was using a wooden spoon as a microphone while Skylar had opted for a spatula. The mom and daughter duo had put on quite a performance of lip-syncing and dancing.
Warmth and comfort spread through me as I watched the duo sing, chop veggies, dance, and laugh.
It was clear, even from the little time that I was lucky enough to spend with them today, that Skylar was an incredible mom. Watching her with Luna reminded me of my mom. Not so much in their parenting techniques, the two weren’t similar in that regard. But the way she looked at Luna when she spoke to her, the way she ran her hand down her hair, the way she was silly with her.
My mom was good at that; the playing, pretending, and enjoying life. Sabrina Comfort’s imagination was a thousand times better than mine had ever been. She could turn the simplest, most boring task into an adventure. Everything was about discovery and getting the most fun out of every moment.
There was a picture of us on the beach making a sandcastle, I had to be around three at the time. I was holding a bucket in my hands and my mom had a bucket on her head and was making a funny face. It was my favorite photo. I hadn’t seen it since my dad packed up all of her things after the funeral and put them up in the attic.
When he first did it, I’d been mad. As I got older, I realized that it was just too painful for him to have reminders of her around. But I’d promised myself that as soon as he was gone, I’d go up there and get it all down. But it was coming up on a year in few months, and I still hadn’t done it yet.
My phone buzzed intruding on my inner thoughts. I pulled it out of my pocket and sighed when I read the message from my brother.
Billy:How did the date go? Inquiring minds want to know.
That was the part of living in a small town that people like Skylar didn’t understand. Everyone knew everyone’s business.
It was one of the reasons that I avoided relationships since Melody. I was a private person. I hated people knowing my business. Especially considering I was a Comfort, and Comfort men were front-page news. Literally.
Me:It wasn’t a date.
Billy:Really? Ice cream and a trolley ride seem like it could be straight out of The Bachelor hometown dates.
Honestly, my brother had the reality show taste of a pre-teen girl or housewife. He actually played those shows on the televisions at the bar. He claimed he put on the reality soap operas to draw in a female demographic, but from what I’d seen it was the men that ended up watching them.
As much as I hated to admit it, I’d found myself sucked into them too. I’d gotten hooked on Love Island thanks to my brother, so much so that I’d even found myself putting them on at home. I’d watched four of the UK, and all of the Australia and US seasons. It wasn’t something I was proud of. Some men wanted to clear their browser history because of porn they’d watched, I wanted to clear my Hulu history because of Love Island.
Me:I was just showing them around town.
The bubbles indicating Billy was typing immediately popped up.
Billy:I didn’t know that you were offering tours to newcomers now. Good to know.
My neck crawled with irritation. He was getting way too much enjoyment from this.
Billy:I should put up a flyer on the bulletin board. You can give land tours and Jimmy’s got the seas.
I put my phone back in my pocket. This conversation was over.
When they were growing up, both my brothers had been a little scared of me. They would talk shit to each other but never dared to do it to me. I’d been off-limits. As adults, that reverence or respect or fear had gone right out the window. I wasn’t sure when it had happened but neither of them had it.
There was a knock at the door, and I opened it to find Lincoln Byers on the other side holding two large pizzas. I grabbed them and then handed the kid a twenty-dollar tip. I knew that he was saving up for a car before heading off to college next year, and he was a good kid.
“Thanks, Mr. Comfort.”
“I told you. Hank.” I hated when people called me Mr. Comfort because it reminded me of my old man. And I prided myself on being nothing like him.
“You got company?” Linc asked, glancing over my shoulder.
I always ordered two larges because I kept leftovers in the fridge for Jimmy. My baby brother, who I guess was a man now that he was engaged, had a hollow leg. At a little over six foot, he was the runt of the litter, but he put down more food than Billy and me combined. When he was a teenager, I’d taken him to the doctor convinced he had a parasite because he was eating us out of house and home, but the doctor assured me it was just a growth spurt and it would level out. That was ten years ago, he hadn’t grown an inch in at least six years and from what I saw he wasn’t slowing down.
One day his bad eating habits were going to catch up with him when his metabolism slowed down and he’d have to adjust his intake. But until that day it was easier keeping the fridge stocked with leftovers so I didn’t have to hear him whining about being hungry.