Taking in a deep breath, I force myself to step from my car, unlock the clubhouse doors, and climb the steps to the office area. I’m quiet as I pass Will’s door. The office one is wide open. My heart jumps when I see Duncan at the desk, but not enough to cause me to gasp or scream. I knock softly on the doorframe to get his attention, and he looks up, dropping his eyepiece into his palm when he sees me.
“Maddy, hello,” he says, smiling and rolling out the chair so he can step closer to me. He reaches for my hand with his free one, and when he grasps it, he squeezes nice and hard. “What a nice surprise. I hope you don’t need the office. The light in there wasn’t bright enough, and I’m so close to getting this damn pocket watch to work again.”
“No, no. I came for Will, actually,” I say, shaking my head lightly at the sound of my admission.
Duncan’s expression softens and his head falls to the side with his smile.
“It’s nice to see you two reconnecting,” he says.
A heaviness hits my chest with his word choice, but I shake it away with a quick breath.
“Yeah…he was always a good friend,” I say.
Our eyes lock for a few seconds, and I squirm a little, feeling as though he’s studying me…reading me.
“He’s awake. Watching some movie or something. Go on in,” he says eventually, his eyes still narrowed enough that I feel exposed, like he knows more than I do about me.
“All right,” I smile, my cheeks suddenly red.
I turn my attention back and forth from Duncan to Will’s door, the old man watching me all the way. I’m half expecting Will to pop out and scare me and them both to have a good laugh over it.
I knock lightly.
“Go on in. Really. He’ll just think you’re me knocking,” Duncan says, waving his hand forward. Pushy old man!
I nod, twisting the knob and pushing the door open slowly. Will’s leg is slung over the couch, and I can see his messy hair tussled in all directions, peeking out from the top of the armrest.
“You hungry for some lunch?” His voice sounds groggy, and I think maybe he’s been napping.
“Duncan said I could just come in,” I say.
Will sits up quickly, his head popping up and looking over the back of the sofa. He’s watching some old car-chase movie, muscle cars squealing around tight corners on the TV screen.
“Hey,” he croaks.
I hunch my shoulders, a warm feeling crawling up my neck the longer he stares at me.
“I wanted to see if maybe…you wanted to swim?” I ask.
He continues to stare at me before shaking his head and running his hand through his wild hair. He twists on the sofa, his hand searching for the remote and finally pointing it to the TV to turn it off as he stands.
“Swim…uh…yeah. Sure, I could get some work in. Just…” he babbles, spinning in place and pacing, as if he’s trying to somehow make this space he’s in look better. As if he needs to impress me with the spare room my family’s put him up in.
“I wasn’t thinking laps, really. More…” I pause, pulling the photo of me and him on the rope swing from my back pocket and holding it out for him to take. When he grabs it, I move my hand to my forehead, instantly embarrassed that I’m suggesting it.
“Wow,” he says, leaning into the back of the sofa and pulling the photo closer in both of his hands.
“We don’t have to, if you don’t want to. I just thought...I don’t know. I haven’t been there in a while, and my mom says they might tear that swing and tree down, and…”
“I’d love to go,” he says.
I look up into his waiting eyes, his expression serious.
“Yeah?” I ask.
Will’s eyes linger on me before falling back to the image of a better time—a simpler time. He nods.
“Yeah,” he says.
He looks back up and hands me the photo.
“Give me a minute to change. I’ll drive,” he says.
“I’ll meet you outside,” I say, leaving before he encourages me to wait here. This room is too small to be in with him right now. I need to learn how to survive the wide-open spaces in his presence first.
I wait for Will by his car. He finally steps through the front door, locking it behind him. He’s wearing light-blue swim trunks and a white T-shirt, nothing like the skin-tight suit he trains in every day. Somehow, I notice more of him like this, though. He runs his hand through his hair, pushing his gray State hat on before he unlocks his car and we both get in.
“It smells new in here,” I say, noticing how spotless everything is.
“I think they spray that smell in every rental. It’s not bad for the price, but I miss my Bronco,” he says.
I smile as I buckle up and Will pulls us out onto the roadway.
“You still have the Bronco,” I say, fondly.
He turns to me, his mouth rising on one side.
“Fucker barely runs, but I’ll never sell it,” he chuckles. I laugh with him.
Will bought that truck with the money he earned mowing lawns in Knox one summer. He had these big dreams of rebuilding the engine, fixing it up. By the time he graduated high school, he had only managed to buy the thing two new tires. His parents refused to let him drive it to State, calling it a deathtrap. It sat in their garage for years. Will must have kept it when the house sold, after…after they died.