“You have what you need?”
I nodded, but she went through the checklist anyway. “Paintball gun? Sleeping bag? Pillow? Toothbrush?”
“Mom, I’m not a kid.”
She continued. “Book? Pirate costume? Cards? Big?”
I nodded yes to everything except Big and kept nodding as she listed the contents of my entire bag.
“Hey, have you gotten any more of those envelopes in the mail?” she asked.
I said no, but I found it curious that she said Big’s name and then jumped straight to the envelopes.
“Hmm. What a mystery.”
“I told you. It’s just a little joke someone’s playing on me. Tell Dad to come on.”
“As long as you’re laughing. It certainly didn’t start out that way,” she reminded me. “Tony”—her voice echoed through our house—“come on. It’s time.”
Now, if I’d called my dad like that, she would have corrected me for yelling. I mentioned that and she popped me with a towel.
“About this weekend,” she began. She held out two fingers and made the I’m watching you sign.
For sport, I made the motion back and held up my paintball gun. “I’m armed. Don’t mess with me.”
“No paintball in the house.”
Like I’d shoot her right here in the living room.
Dad arrived, shouldered my bags, and said, “Is that some spunk I just heard?”
I pointed the gun at him.
He popped the top of my hat. “I like it, kiddo. Keep it coming.”
They exchanged one of those looks I wasn’t supposed to see.
“Wreck didn’t make me blind, guys,” I reminded them as we walked out the door.
They didn’t respond, which was probably good for me.
Outside, at the dock, I witnessed the reunion of Gray Garrison and Max McCall. Made even more complicated by my appearance.
Here goes. I walked over to Max.
Max offered me his hand, offered me the choice to show my allegiance. I put my hand in his.
Gray’s jaw worked double-time, and he took a deliberate step away from the group. He knew, but it was still hard to watch. As Gray stepped back, Max stepped forward, keeping a firm grip on me—it was as if they were dancing—and stuck out his hand. “Gray.” His voice gave an unfortunate squeak.
Gray accepted the handshake. “Max.”
They both leaned slightly forward in a quasi-hug.
Max never had any trouble with Gray until Gray hurt me. Gray had been someone he looked up to and respected. Likewise, Gray had thought of Max as a little brother. But a little brother wasn’t supposed to move in on his ex.
Greetings over, Gray and Max made themselves useful at the parents’ requests. Gina and I drifted together. I waited for her to launch into an apology, but she kept her shit together better than I expected. We talked mundane things—Netflix shows, my new haircut, how long the eighties clothes trend would last—while all the things went onto the boat. When Dad asked me to pass him my bag, Gina’s face became curious.
“Did you bring Big?” she asked. “I’ve missed that little guy.”
Interesting.
Gray dropped the cooler he was lifting. “You brought the ugly blue beast?”
Interesting.
“He’s never missed Pirates and Paintball, but alas, this year, I left him at home,” I said to both of them, watching carefully for a reaction.
“Too bad. If you ask me, that bird needs a good paint job,” Gray said. “I mean, Jesus, he’s ugly.”
“No one asked you,” Gina said. “I, for one, am glad she left him at home, if you had plans to abuse him.”
Interesting.
“Max”—Gray hefted the cooler onto the boat—“little piece of advice. If Sadie ever asks you to win her a stuffed animal, take off running and don’t look back.”
Gray wore a look of dissatisfaction as we boarded the boat, and I guessed why. For all his teasing about Big, the bird represented our history, and I wasn’t carrying him around anymore. That obviously meant something different to Gray than it meant to me.
He went so far as to whisper to me, “You could have brought him.”