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Emerson
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“DAD’S BIRTHDAY IS THIS weekend,” Colt says, staring at his tattoo while I fry eggs for breakfast.
These chickens have totally been worth the effort. I was reluctant at first, because chickens in a one-room apartment wouldn’t be easy, but after watching Colt stuff his face with a family-sized bucket of crispy chicken pieces, I softened. Someone has to stand up for the little chirpers.
And after spending four days trying to build a coop, and screwing it up each time, Colt finally got it set up and we could move the chickens from the bathtub to the balcony. We get two eggs a day from them and if we don’t eat them daily, they add up fast and we end up with more than we need.
Colt wanted to egg Rome’s car for encouraging Austin to sleep with me. I convinced him to let me take the eggs to The Brew instead. They serve breakfast and it might force Keely to talk to me.
She stills gives me the cold shoulder. Austin telling her to be civil didn’t make a difference to the way she acts around me.
“Are we going back to see him?”
“He doesn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but yeah, I’d like to see him. Maybe just for the weekend.”
I slide four eggs onto Colt’s plate and one onto mine.
“Okay. I’ll tell work. They owe me some time off, anyway.”
Reaching into the cupboard above the counter, I pull out two glasses and pour orange juice into each one. By the time I turn around, Colt has finished eating his eggs and the two pieces of toast I hadn’t buttered yet.
“Hungry?”
He dumps his plate in the sink before downing both glasses of juice. “Got to go. Going to be late.”
“Where are you going?”
“I have a date before class,” Colt calls out as the bathroom door closes. The shower turns on a few seconds later, so I busy myself with making the bed and cleaning the dishes.
By the time I’m done, Colt is out and pulling on a pair of basketball shorts.
“Who’s your date?”
“Ethel.” He grins.
I arch an eyebrow. That’s new. “Who’s Ethel?”
“The little old lady I took out for coffee a few weeks ago.”
I lean against the wall and purse my lips. “Umm...”
“I ran into her the other day when I was walking Clyde and Jordan. She loves them and she asked me why I never called. The guilt was real, man. What sort of person would I be if I took a lovely woman’s phone number and never called her?”
I stare at him in disbelief. “You’d be you. That’s what you do.”
He picks up his keys, and fusses with his hair in the mirror. “Ethel is a sweetheart. She deserves better than that. So, I’m taking her out for coffee and then I’ll take her back to her place and clean her pipes.”
I screw my face up and bury it in my hands, trying to rid my mind of the images playing on repeat like a bad porno in my head. I gag. “Colt, please tell me you’re joking? She’s old!”
He comes over and cups my face in his hands. “I’m completely serious.”
I blanch. I can feel the color drain from my face. Colt’s eyes are alight with amusement; a smirk toys at the corner of his lips. “Well, I guess... Umm. Whatever floats your boat.” My eyebrows pull together and I’m at a loss for words. “Everyone has a kink, I suppose.”
He throws his head back and laughs. “Relax. You’re still the only one that can get my motor running. I’m cleaning her pipes for real. Her kitchen sink is blocked.”
He jumps back out of reach with a laugh as I try to punch his shoulder, and leaves.
***
MR. JAMES IS BEYOND surprised when we pull into his drive. He rushes out to the car and wraps his arms around both of us.
Colt hadn’t told him we were coming because he didn’t want to make a promise that he couldn’t keep. So we kept it a surprise.
“What are you doing here?” He laughs in excitement.
“It’s your birthday. Couldn’t miss it,” Colt says, pulling him in for a hug.
“Happy birthday, Mr. James.” I hug him and press a kiss to his cheek, breathing him in. He smells like home. Funny that. Mr. James is more my home than the place next door. Averting my gaze, I don’t want to look toward my parents’ house, the memories too painful.
“Thanks, sweetheart. I can’t believe you’re both here. Come on. Get inside.” He throws his arm around my waist and leads me into the house.
We leave Colt at the car to take care of our bags. “How’s that son of mine? Behaving?”
“I keep him out of trouble.”
Inside, I sit in the kitchen while Mr. James makes coffee and serves cake, and Colt takes our stuff upstairs to his room.
I’m laughing at a joke Mr. James makes when Colt walks in.
Colt leans over me and wipes his finger through my frosting. “Where’d the cake come from?”
I slap his hand away.
Mr. James shrugs. “It was your mom’s favorite. I was getting ready to have a quiet birthday by myself, and when I saw this cake in the window of the cake shop, I bought it. Figured if I was going to be alone on my birthday, at least I could eat your mom’s favorite cake and feel close to her.”
I give him a sad smile and pat his hand. That he thought he’d be alone on his birthday is heartbreaking. “That’s sweet. But you know we’d never let you celebrate your birthday alone.”
Mr. James grins. “I know.”
“Where’s mine?” Colt reaches for my cake again.
“You know where the plates are,” his dad says with a gruff voice and sips his coffee. “Don't think because you’re visiting you get special treatment.”
Colt crosses his arms over his chest and arches an eyebrow. “Did Em have to get her own cake?”
“Of course not. She’s my guest,” Mr. James teases.
I grin and stick my tongue out at Colt.
“She’s no more a guest than I am,” Colt grumbles, more to himself than anyone else as he cuts a piece of cake and makes his own damn coffee. His words. I stifle a laugh. He’s like a petulant child.
“So, what are we doing tonight?” Mr. James asks hopefully, glancing between Colt and me.
“It’s a surprise,” I say.
We’re taking him to a show and then his favorite restaurant for a late dinner.
He pulls back his sleeve and checks his watch. “Do we have a timeframe or something? I’ve... Ahhh... Got a couple of things I need to do. I wasn’t expecting you, so...” he trails off, and I wonder what he could be up to.
Colt shovels chocolate cake into his mouth and mumbles, “Okay. Sure. We have some time before we have to leave.”
“Great.” Mr. James rubs his hands together and clears his throat. “I’ll take a quick shower and get out of here then.” He averts his gaze as he speaks, and it only makes me more suspicious that he’s hiding something.
After Mr. James disappears upstairs, Colt clears the dishes and hoists himself up on the counter. “What are we doing for the next few hours?”
I purse my lips, contemplating whether I should mention to Colt my suspicions about his dad. But I can’t pinpoint what it is I’m suspicious about, so I leave it and answer his question instead.
“I want to go next door,” I mumble.
“What the fuck for?” Colt’s jaw tenses and his eyes turn black.
I shrug. “I don’t know. I... Can you come with me?”
“I’m sure as hell not letting you go in there by yourself.”
I can’t explain why I want to go back there when I could barely stand to see the house. Some sick fascination? I’m not sure. I think I’m curious to see their reaction. I haven’t heard from them once since I left. Not once. As far as they’re concerned, I’m dead. They’d like that.
“We go for five minutes. That’s it. I don’t want you spending any more time in that hell hole than necessary.” Colt jumps off the counter and drags me with him up the stairs to his old room.
It hasn’t changed at all, except for a few extra trophies and awards, some newspaper clippings, too. Mr. James has always been Colt’s biggest supporter. He doesn’t get out to the games often, but if they’re televised, he never misses one. Then he stalks the papers for the next week for any mention of Colt. He buys every paper he can find during the season and it becomes his art project. It’s sweet.
To someone else, it might appear to be a little obsessive. Colt’s room is like a shrine. To me, it shows me Mr. James’s proud. And that’s all Colt wants. To make him proud. I envy their relationship and wish I had a parent that cared or showed the slightest interest in me.
I glance around Colt’s room. Mr. James’s pride is obvious. It’s palpable, like I can reach out and touch it. My eyes land on a section of the wall full of drawings and paintings. My artwork.
There is a lifetime of my artwork on the wall.
“Where did this come from?” I ask Colt, running my hand over the papers pinned to the wall. There are drawings from when I was a kid, right through to a piece I did last year for a final assignment.
“I saved everything.” Colt kneels in front of his bed, reaches underneath and drags out a case. Opening the lid, I gasp in surprise. There are stacks upon stacks of my artwork carefully stored and wrapped in my old pink blanket. “From the very first stick figure drawing you gave me; it’s all in here.”
“Why didn’t I know about this?”
“I never told you.”
“But, this...” I wave my hand at his wall.
He shrugs and slides the case back under his bed. “Dad must have found them when we left. He’s proud of you, too. You know?”
My eyes fill with tears, but I refuse to cry. I will not get emotional over some old drawings. At least that’s what I tell myself. But it’s a lie. He wraps his arms around me and whispers. “He loves you, too.”
My chest aches. All I’ve ever wanted was to be loved, to have someone be proud of me, support me, and I had it all along. In Colt and Mr. James.
“Ready to go see your parents?”
I smile at Colt and shake my head. “No.”
He opens his mouth to say something and closes it again, confused by my change of mind.
“I don’t need to.”
It became suddenly clear the moment I saw my artwork on Colt’s wall why I wanted to see my parents. It wasn’t about a sick fascination, or morbid curiosity. It wasn’t because I like to torture myself and force myself into unpleasant situations. I wanted their approval. I wanted them to see I was doing well for myself, that I was putting myself through college and making a life. I wanted them to be proud.
That’s what I thought I wanted.
But I couldn’t be more wrong.
I have everything I need. Colt. Mr. James. If I make them proud, then I’m happy. My parents mean nothing to me, but the James men mean the world to me.
I have everything I need right in this house. Not next door.
“So.” Colt bites his bottom lip and sweeps his gaze over my body before pushing me onto his bed and climbing over me. “Want to get frisky in my old room?”
I laugh and hook my legs around his waist, pulling him down to me. “We do have some time to kill, I guess.”