“No, but he’s your father. No matter what he says, he’s known somewhere inside that you’d leave one day. Parents always know.”
He turned his focus back to the ocean. A fishing trawler bobbed among the waves over a mile offshore, a dark speck that glinted, catching the sun as it rose and fell heading out to deeper water.
“Did your son leave?”
Teresa leaned forward, letting her gaze fall to the breaking waves far below them.
“You’ll need to tell him when he gets home tonight; he’ll want to start setting something up for you,” she said, as if not hearing his question.
“Like what?”
“Like a house and a car, money, college if you want.”
“I’ve already completed a college education, you told me yourself last month.”
“There’s always more to learn, Quinn Michael.”
He kicked his feet and looked down at the big rocks, unchanged since he could remember. They were lucky, steadfast in their place, not unsure of anything. Not even the sea could move them if they became set somewhere.
“I wanted to leave when I turned eighteen, but there was always a reason not to. Now it’s two years later and I can feel myself wavering. One minute I’ll be so excited to walk through those gates, my stomach will flip on itself, and the next it’ll be a stone thinking about leaving dad and you. I know why I’ve stayed as long as I have, and it’s not because dad forbade it. I could’ve climbed the cliffs around the fences a long time ago. It’s fear. Fear of the unknown. And compared with how safe I am here, fear’s always won out and kept me from leaving.”
Quinn pointed out to where the trawler was barely visible.
“My future is like that ship. It’s dwindling with each minute I stay here, and soon it will be out of sight.”
Teresa smiled and patted his thigh once.
“Your future isn’t that ship. It’s the ocean.” She put one frail arm across his shoulders. “Come on, traveler, let’s get back to the house and get you packed.”
When they stepped inside, his father’s voice carried to them out of the living room where he sang in perfect harmony with Frank Sinatra, belting out I’ve got you under my skin. They came even with the doorway and Quinn stopped, glancing at Teresa who’s mouth turned up in a grin that mirrored his own.
His father had a can of beer in one hand and was doing a graceful, sliding dance across the hardwood floor in time to the beat. His eyes shut as he hit a high note, his voice not carrying the velvety timber of Sinatra’s but hanging alongside it in rough accompaniment. The song ended and on cue, Quinn and Teresa began to clap.
James spun around, his eyes lighting up before taking a bow.
“Thanks, I’ll be here all week!” he yelled, hurrying across the room to them. He set his beer down and swept Quinn into a strong hug, picking him off his feet before setting him down again.
“Jeez dad, are you drunk?”
“Not in the least, my boy. Come here, Teresa.”
The older woman swatted at him, the shining smile still on her face as James pulled her into the room and began to spin her while another big-band tune began to play. Teresa let out a short shriek that became laughter as they glided around the room. Quinn shook his head, watching them, his father catching his eye and winking before he dipped Teresa who responded by slapping his shoulder and laughing again.
“I thought you weren’t coming home until late tonight?” Quinn said as James stood Teresa upright.
“We got done early,” James said, taking a swig from his beer.
“I’m assuming the meetings went well?” Teresa said, fixing a length of hair that had come loose from one of her combs.
James grinned again, happiness ingrained into every inch of his face.
“Better than I ever dreamed.”
Mallory stepped into view from the hall, a bemused expression gracing her Hispanic features.
“What is this, a fiesta?” she asked, looking around the group.