Cheeky

№ 20. I've Got Game

He looked so peaceful; reclined against the wooden bench with his head tilted, eyes shut, and cup of tea lazily gripped in both palms. He looked content.

"Yes, Barbie?" he sighed.

I suddenly felt flustered and whipped back to the sunset. Shit, he caught me staring. But, there's no use in pretending like it didn't happen. Just go with it.

"Can I ask you a question, George?"

"Depends," he said.

"On what?"

"Will I like it?"

I sat for a second, pondering, "I don't know. But, if we're friends and you're comfortable, could I ask you it anyways?"

He nodded, his eyes still closed. I shifted myself to face him and leaned an arm on the back of the bench.

"What happened to your Dad?"

George remained silent, not moving, for what seemed like forever. I stared at him,  waiting for an answer and worried that I had overstepped some sort of boundary.

Crap, I knew I shouldn't have asked, it's probably -

"He died three years ago."

His eyes were still closed as he sat, drinking in the sea air. I held my breath, afraid that he would suddenly get very angry. But he didn't, he just continued calmly.

"My dad was diagnosed with Luekemia when I was sixteen, but it was already too late to do much. Doctors said he had only a couple of months, but he lived two more years."

"I'm so sorry, that must have been really hard on your mom, " I whispered.

George scoffed, "Yeah, guess so."

"Why do you say that?"

"She ran from it."

"From what?"

George had opened his eyes by now, and was staring ahead blankly.

"When my dad passed, she didn't want to face anything anymore. So she left."

"I thought you said she moved because she loved the ocean."

George shook his head, "She didn't want to be anywhere that reminded her of him. So she sold almost everything and moved here. "

I felt a wave of realization wash over me, "your dad's store..."

George swallowed, "I couldn't let her. I remember we fought so hard about it. But how could I let her?"

He looked over at me now as if it were exactly three years ago, and he was in the middle of it all.

"His shop was everything to him - to me. I grew up in that place, he taught me everything I know. And she just wanted to sell it off. I-I just couldn't let her. It was all I had left of him."

"So you stayed in London and she moved," I finished.

I felt guilty,  for asking him such a personal question. I couldn't even imagine the loss. Here I was, trying to escape from my parents and their craziness,  while George had lost his father as a teenager. I wanted to hug him,  but I stopped myself.

"My turn," George stated.

"Oh, so it's a game we're playing?"

"Makes it more fun, don't you think? "

I shrugged, "If it makes you feel better."

George threw his empty cup into a trash can that stood beside our bench.