Then there’s the underground fighting. It turns my stomach every time I think about it. Sure, we’ve all seenFight Club,we know how Hollywood depicts these types of things with blood and gore and, dare I say it, fatalities. I’m not naïve and know these portrayals are exaggerated for the benefit of the silver screen and the viewer’s entertainment. But I also know in real life, underground fights come with their very real dangers and if Ky’s injuries the other night are only the tip of the iceberg, then I dread what more is to come. I worry that one night he won’t be so lucky, and he’ll suffer a blow to the head resulting in a concussion which will put his career on the ice on hold—or worse still, ruin his life completely. He says he needs the money and I get it; he needs to help his mom out, but surely there are other, safer, ways he can find it? I wish I could make him see sense, but I know he won’t listen. In his mind, this is the only way he can earn enough money to fix his mom’s living arrangements and when it comes to family, you do whatever you can to help.
This brings me to the final bit of information he gave me. The one I’m still having trouble understanding. The fact that Adam has a hand in the development evicting Kyler’s mom and the rest of the residents of the mobile home park. I know his dad is in the construction and development industry. Nelson Construction, LLC are renowned for regenerating rundown areas of various cities and turning them into prestigious, sought-after apartments with their top of the range gyms and indoor pools exclusively for residents. Maybe I am naïve enough not to realize running a successful business means having to be cut-throat in decision making and leaving your heart and goodwill at the door so your mind can be ruthless. What I do know is I have to talk to Adam to find out exactly what’s going on. I hope if I can highlight Ky’s mom’s situation, he’ll try to help in some way. He and I may disagree on Kyler, but surely, he wouldn’t be so cruel as to evict his mom onto the street.
Of course, the other thing I need to raise with Adam is whatever he was doing with his co-worker. When Ky told me he saw Adam with his hands all over whomever this woman is, I didn’t want to believe it. But then, I think back to our recent exchanges and the fact there is an obvious distance between us—not just physically but metaphorically—and I can’t help but fear there may be some truth in what Kyler said. All I know is Adam and I need to talk so I can get the truth one way or the other. If he is seeing someone else, I need to know so I can deal with it appropriately.
I also need to deal with my actions appropriately too. It was wrong for me to kiss Kyler. I’m still in a relationship and despite my attraction to him—yes, I’ve now admitted to myself I am attracted to Kyler, despite the fact I’ve been denying it for so long—I can’t put myself in that position again. But it also feltright. It felt like the match had been lit and a fire ignited in my belly. It felt like I was simultaneously walking on air and walking on coals. I fit perfectly against his body, and we were wrapped around each other in our little cocoon, protected from the outside world. If I could, I’d take us back to the safe space in his bedroom and never emerge, but life doesn’t work that way and so I need to face up to my responsibilities like an adult and deal with the consequences. Unfortunately for me, dealing with the consequences is going to happen sooner rather than later, since I’m currently on my way back to Silver Lake for the Thanksgiving holidays.
“Hey dreamer, you’re being worryingly quiet over there. Everything okay?” Jude asks me, interrupting my thoughts and bringing me back to the present.
“Yeah, sorry, just tired I guess,” I tell him, my half-hearted excuse falling lamely from my lips.
“Tired? Or dreading spending the holidays with Mr. Business?”
Jude and I have the same thoughts about Carl Nelson, Adam’s dad. We tolerate him. It’s not that he’s a bad person—certainly not to us or our parents—he’s just so business-minded and all he talks about is work. He was never really present in Adam and his brother’s life and was always at the office and missing family dinners. I once asked Adam if it bothered him and he said other than missing the odd sports day, it didn’t because his dad was building up an empire for his family so how could he fault him? Ordinarily I would jump to Mr. Nelson’s defense and tell Jude not to be so mean, but knowing what I know now, it’s obvious Carl Nelson’s priorities have changed and he’s a little more cut-throat and a little less family man. Instead, I shrug as I reply.
“Just hoping Mrs. Nelson brings pistachio pie instead of pumpkin this year is all.”
“Ah, first world problems, hey?”
“It’s just her pumpkin pie is just so . . .”
“Drrryyyyy!” we both say together before dissolving into laughter and my mood instantly lightens.
Jude turns his attention back to the road and I take the opportunity to take out my phone and send a quick text to Ky. Since the other night, we’ve been getting better at communicating with each other. He’s still rarely at the house—for reasons I now understand —but he makes the effort to at least eat the plate of food I save for him each night and text me updates on how much he enjoyed it.
I send a text, letting him know that I’m thinking about him spending the time with his family.
Hope you have a good Thanksgiving.
Ky: Thanks. You too. Hope DBA behaves.
Even though he’s not shy with hiding his feelings about Adam, he’s respectful enough not to be disparaging about him at every opportunity he gets. Still, I know he thinks Adam is a douche, so DBA—or Douchebag Adam—is as respectful as it will get where those two are concerned.
I’m sure he will. Text you later?
Ky: I look forward to it. Although I’m working, so replies might be delayed.
Promise me you won’t fight tonight?
The three dots appear but it takes a while for the message to come through, which makes me wonder whether he’s thinking carefully about his reply.
Ky: Have a good Thanksgiving, Thea.
His reply is short and simple and doesn’t refer at all to my previous message. I know I’ve lost the battle for him to stop fighting. Slipping my phone back in my purse, I decide we need something to distract us for the rest of the journey and resort to the childhood game we used to play when we were younger.
“Hey Jude,” I say, referring to the well-known Beatles song which he was named after. I see the smile forming on his lips and before I can continue, he instantly starts playing along. We spend the rest of the journey following the song’s advice: trying—and failing miserably as we always do—to sing sad lyrics to upbeat music in a bid to make them better.
My family is hosting Thanksgiving this year, which means the Nelsons are on their way over. We arrived back late last night, so today is the first day I’m seeing Adam again since our argument. Given the extra intel I now know about him, I’m a little nervous to say the least. The doorbell rings promptly at noon and my mom welcomes Carl, his wife Andrea, and Adam into our house. Unfortunately, Andrea is carrying a pumpkin pie and not pistachio and Jude gives me a knowing look as she passes, and I have to suppress my laughter. We take our seats, give our thanks, and eat the spread my mom and dad have been preparing since dawn. Despite the tension between us, Adam takes his usual seat next to me and kisses me on the cheek as he sits down. As designated photographer, Jude takes a couple of photos of our families together. The turkey is delicious, as are all the trimmings and it makes me realize how much I’ve missed my mom’s home-cooked meals. The nostalgia washes over me with a slight sadness, because even though I’ve taken it on myself to be the cook of our household, I’ll never match up to the standards of my mom’s. Maybe I’ll steal a few of her cookbooks when I leave so I can adapt them for our purposes. Dessert is served and thankfully mom has made additional dishes which I help myself to.
“So, Carl,” my dad says, “what’s this I hear about Austin’s parole hearing coming up?”
Andrea’s demeanor instantly changes at the mention of her oldest son. The day he was put behind bars, was the day she went from being the head organizer of the town’s events, to stepping down from every social group she was a member of. Having a convict in the family did not sit well with the Stepford Wives community in Silver Lake and she couldn’t deal with being the subject of the town’s gossip mill in the weeks that followed.
“Pfft,” Mr. Nelson replies. “He’ll be lucky to get a year shaved off his sentence. The boy deserves to serve punishment for his crimes. The pain he’s put his mother through is unforgivable.”
“I’m sure he’s realizes that and is sorry for what he’s done,” my mom says, ever the optimist who likes to see the good in people.
“I doubt it very much, Lauren. Austin only ever thinks about himself, everyone else be damned. In fact, the only good thingthatboy has done for this family is get mixed up with some trailer-park trash and bring to my attention the park she lives in, which, thankfully, has resulted in me buying the land for development.”