Crash and Burn

•11•

November
Parker

     The scent of dinner wafted through the kitchen window into the backyard where Charles, Richard, and I were tossing the Pearl with some old rackets from the garage. Charles had been deeply interested in my lacrosse talents as soon as he saw me play little league in sixth grade. He and my mom were just dating at the time—Charles has just transferred to the hospital where my mom worked from London—and he saw that as his way in with me. I'll admit, I thought he was using me in away. He seemed nice and I had nothing against him, but I wasn't ready to let go of my dad and—I still haven't. Charles and my mom got married the summer before freshman year and that's where I met Charles' parents, Richard and Reagan.

     Richard Henricks was a short man with cream skin that was sprinkled with faded freckles. His face was covered in wrinkles, but only from his years of smiling and laughing. He had grey hair that was bald on top and a matching goatee-mustache. The only thing that hadn't faded as his jade eyes. The same jade eyes that occupied my stepdad's face. Richard had a pretty good build for his age. I knew he was older than my other grandparents because Charles has older than my mom. He was a very outdoor and active man, so when we met at the wedding, four years ago, we also connected through that.

     I'd been to London two times since the wedding. We tried to visit them once a year for some major holiday. Whichever holiday it is that year, we do the same holiday the next year, but with my mom's parents in Florida.

     Charles was taller than Richard. That was an understatement. I was taller than Richard, but Charles was taller than me. Only by a few inches, but he was tall. Charles had a golden hair color in a modern slicked back style and a darker stubble. He had his father's eyes and laugh lines were forming around his mouth already. He, just like Richard, had a fit build from being active and a health freak.

     Both men were in khaki slacks and different colored button-up shirts. Charles his loafers on and Richard sported some European shoe. I was wearing some nice jeans and tucked in polo with a leather belt. I wasn't wearing shoes, though.

     As we tossed the ball around, Richard kept the questions coming. When he spoke, I felt guilty that we didn't talk to them more, but I knew we were busy. They were busy, too. Mom and Charles were full-time doctors, I was lacrosse team captain, and on the running for valedictorian, Reagan owned a bakery, and Richard was a retired surgeon that occasionally gave lectures at some college.

     The small, rubber ball hit the back of my net. The sun was out and the sky was clear, but there was still chilly moments. The oven beeped and dishes clanked as Reagan and Mom finished up dinner. "I'm going to save the big life questions for when Reagan is with us, but I'll ask you about one thing; man to man." I'd lived with Charles for four years and was used to his accent, but he'd been in the states for a little too long. Richard had a heavier accent that contained a slight rasp. I nodded for him to continue as I tossed Charles the ball. "I've known you for most of your teenage life, and I've never once heard of any special lady."

     I wasn't expecting that. I'm not sure why. Every once in a while someone would bring up my lack of dating. Usually it was my friends. Mom and Charles weren't around much to question, but they knew I had friends so I didn't think they were concerned. I'd gone on a few group dates and talked to girls, and I'd found girls attractive. But I didn't really have time. I could cut back on my friend's time to peruse a dating life, but that would mean less time with Kennedy, Jackson, and Hope.

     Richard took this prolonged silence the wrong way and gave Charles a quick glance, but never losing his smile. "Or special boy. . ."