But I’m not even wearing a swimsuit. The last place I felt like going after leaving the police station was home, so I drove straight to Madeline’s instead.
The wooden stair creaks as someone sits down beside me. I glance over, surprised to see Wes. I figured he was one of the shapes in the pool.
“Same old shit, huh?” Wes says, looking down at the patio. Someone jumps into the pool, spraying chlorinated water across the gray pavers.
I run my finger around the rim of my plastic cup. It’s a soothing motion. Predictable circles that lead to familiar spots. The opposite of my life. “Same old shit,” I agree.
Wes tips his beer toward me. “Cheers.”
I tap my cup against his can. “Cheers.”
“How are you, Natalie?”
“Fine.”
“Come on.” He nudges my shoulder with his. “Give it to me straight, Jacobs.”
I sigh. “I came here from the Fayetteville police station. I think that sums it up pretty well.”
“What happened?”
“She was wasted enough she thought driving was a good idea. I don’t know; I wasn’t home.”
“She’s okay? She didn’t hit anyone?”
“She’s fine. No one else was involved.”
“Was that the first time this summer?”
“No. First time I left her there, though.”
Wes whistles, long and low. “Fuck. I’m so sorry, Nat.”
“I keep thinking it can’t go on like this. And then it just…does.” I exhale, trying to let some frustration out with the sigh. “How are you? Things with your parents must be intense.”
“Yeah… It’s weird. I’m relieved they’re getting divorced. My mom deserves better. But as bad as things got between me and my dad, it always felt like he and my mom were okay. Like we were still a family, as screwed up and dysfunctional as we were. Losing that…doesn’t feel like a relief. Even when I was pissed she stayed with him, some part of me liked having that. Does that make any sense?”
“Yeah, that makes sense.”
“I also worry, sometimes, that it’s because of me. That my mom is doing this divorce for me, not herself.”
“It’s her decision, Wes,” I say, softly.
“Yeah, I know.”
We’re both silent. There’s a loud splash as Josh cannonballs into the pool, followed by several other guys copying him.
“I’m considering transferring.”
Wes drops the statement so suddenly it takes several seconds for me to process it. I look away from the party and stare at him. “Seriously?”
He scuffs his sneaker against one of the weeds that has snuck up through the patio pavers. “Yeah. Seriously.”
“Wow. That’s—wow.”
Wes was courted by dozens of schools. Ending up at Lincoln University—home to one of the best football programs in the country—as a starting quarterback is a big fucking deal. Almost guaranteed to provide a shot at the pros.
“Is there an issue with the team? Other players? Coaches?”