Ten
I haul my laptop up to the coffee shop, just for some time alone. The rain hits the windows. It’s mid-afternoon, and the place is empty. My hand shakes as I open my email inbox. Five hundred unread messages. My heart drops. Five hundred?
The most recent one comes up first. It’s from Floyd, the guy who helped manage the guests on the Today Show.
Antony -
I’m sure if you wanted to talk to me, you’d have emailed me or called me back already. We really want you on. Let me know. We all miss her, and it would get big coverage. We’d highlight what she wanted to talk about while in Darfur. This is a great opportunity for our loss of her to come back around.
Thanks, Wil
Our loss? OUR loss? It takes all my strength not to chuck my laptop across the stupid room. He has NO idea. None. I flip the top of the laptop closed.
Dad’s walking up the street with a large smile on his face. Perfect. So much for taking care of business and being alone.
“There you are.” Dad brushes the rain off his coat as he steps inside.
“I have my phone.” He could’ve called. I sit back, resigned to my afternoon being nothing like I imagined.
Dad sits on the edge of the seat across from me. “I got my quarterly check today. We’re going to dinner in Seattle. Sound good?”
I’m sure I should react in some way with something positive. “Yeah, did you have somewhere in mind, or can I pick?”
“Anywhere you want.” He slaps my shoulder before standing up.
“Even if you have to dress?” I raise an eyebrow and chuckle.
“Four times a year.” He laughs with me. “Or special occasions.”
Special occasions. When will Mom’s death stop hitting me?
“Sorry.” He shakes his head, realizing how he probably sounded. “Anywhere’s fine. And I usually go out with Lynn and Amber. Is that okay with you?”
I jerk upright. A night out with Amber? Suddenly my interruption isn’t feeling so awful and annoying. “Fine.” I try to sound relaxed.
“Fine.” Dad smirks. “We’ll see you when you’re done.” He points to the folded computer on my table.
“See you.”
As soon as Dad steps out, I start to do some research. I need to take Amber somewhere nice, somewhere cool. Someplace that’ll remind me what it’s like to be in a real city.
- - -
At some point in time, I’ll need to stop staring at Amber’s legs. It only worked during dinner when we all sat together, and her legs were buried under the table. Mid-thigh skirt and boots. I wonder if she has any idea how hot she is. Her hair’s up with some random strands falling down in just the right places, and her snug sweater and coat show off her waist.
I feel better than I have in a long time. A real meal out, with an amazing view of Puget Sound and the city. I’m in my New York clothes, and not the jeans a t-shirts I’ve started to live in. Armani slacks and a button up. Feels good.
Amber and I stand together, leaning on the railing of the ferry that’s taking us back to Kingston from the city. The night is cool. The breeze is frigid, and we’re standing close. Any other girl I’d kiss. Any other one. But she looks so peaceful and relaxed, her hands resting together in front of her, her forearms supporting her weight on the top railing. We can see the Seattle city lights behind us, and the dim flickering of Kingston ahead.
“I met my dad for this first time last year.”
“For the first time?” I can’t imagine.
“Yeah.” She lets out a breath. “He’d been trying to track my mom down for years. She apparently never signed papers for them to get divorced.”
“Wow.” Maybe this is part of why her and Dad don’t have anything more than a friends-with-benefits thing going on.
“I was on the dock and heard Mom arguing with a man on our boat. It scared me at first. I knew right away it wasn’t your dad.
“He ran past me. Our eyes met so fast, but I knew. Mom has blue eyes, but not like mine. Mine are my dad’s.” She remains still, and her voice is quiet and calm. Like the movement of the boat under our feet is enough. I wait for her to continue.
“His eyes widened, just a little, and it’s like I was frozen to the spot, and he just walked away. He glanced back to look at me again. We both knew. He knew who I was, and he just continued on.” She swallows once, hard.
I reach out to touch her, or comfort her or something, but I have no idea how to do that. It’s weird not knowing Dad well, but at least I always knew he was out there somewhere. “I’m sorry, I…”
“Don’t be.” She shifts her weight to look at me. “I send him emails to his work. I know it’s him. He won’t write back.”
That’s what she was looking for the other day, on her laptop. I’m sure of it. My chest aches for her. Who wouldn’t want to know Amber?
“Tonight was really fun, but you still seem sad, something in your eyes. I don’t know what you’re going through after your mom. I can’t imagine, but I know what it’s like to have a hole there.” I barely hear her voice above the sound of the ferry engines, the wind, and the water.
There’s no thinking, just doing. I step forward and pull her tightly into my arms. Holding her makes part of me want to let loose and cry right here on the damn boat, wrapped up in Amber, the sweet, fresh smell of her, the strength of her arms and the feelings that pull us together. But there’s also a calm around her, some force that makes me feel grounded. Like no matter how shitty things seem to be, they’ll get better. I wonder if she feels that, or if it’s just how she makes me feel.
“I can’t imagine someone not wanting to know you,” I whisper.
“Hey. It’s okay.” Her smile even looks genuine as she pulls her head off my chest. “I’m okay.”
She chuckles a sad sounding laugh, and I can feel each of her movements, as if she’s shaking some of her calmness and it’s spilling into me, because I’m not ready to let her go, not yet.
Her face has the smallest, palest freckles. My hand reaches out with this sudden desire to touch them—her nose, the top of her cheekbones.
She pulls away from me. “I don’t think…”
I hug her tightly one more time, and all I can this is please, please, don’t say that friend word. Please.
She doesn’t. She just hugs me back, and relief washes through me.
- - -
It’s near ten PM, the harbor’s quiet. Lynn is glued to Dad’s side.
We pause at the back of her boat.
“Why don’t you two watch a movie together or something,” Dad offers.
I open my mouth to protest, but realize this is his very polite way of asking me to stay off his boat for a while, so he can be with Lynn. Right. The friends with benefits thing.
I’ll probably crash on the floor in Amber’s boat rather than risk going home too early. Spending some time alone with her sounds pretty damn perfect.
“Amber!” Someone calls from the top of the ramp.
“Sure, Dad. See you in the morning.” I turn away from him to see who called her name. Kent. Of course. Who else would be stalking her?
Amber’s eyes float to mine as our parents quickly make their way to Dad’s boat.
“What do I do?” she asks.
I really don’t want to share her with Captain America, but what the hell am I supposed to say? “Whatever. I don’t care.” I don’t know how it comes out, and I don’t know that I care. Stupid prick has really crappy timing.
She slumps and walks up the ramp. I head into her mom’s boat. It’s way smaller than dad’s, and the steps leading down inside are even steeper. This boat also has more clutter, but knowing Lynn the small bit I do, I’m not surprised. Her egg-shaped table isn’t dissimilar from Dad’s, and I sit, having not the faintest idea what to do with myself. I wonder what Amber and Kent are talking about?
I shake my head and rub my hands over my face. It really doesn’t matter. Shouldn’t matter.
“Hey, Antony?” Amber calls.
“Yeah.”
Her legs step into the boat first. I wish she’d pause, just for a few minutes.
“Kent’s joining us for a movie.”
As soon as I can see her whole body, Kent’s feet appear as he makes his way down the steep stairs behind Amber.
“Great.” I wonder if both catch the sarcasm in my voice.
Amber looks very pointedly at me, her lips are pressed together, but she’s trying to look relaxed. “You said you didn’t care. So here we are.”
I try to hold in a smile. Amber’s trying to play games here. I’m sort of surprised, and also sort of flattered, because this means she likes me. Or is starting to.
The couch in here IS the seat around the table. There’s a small flat screen that pulls away from the wall, and she slides in a movie. Amber sits in the one small chair to take off her boots. Bare legs. Pretty feet. I jerk my head from her direction and stare at the TV.
“How’s it going?” Kent asks me.
“Good.” I nod.
We’re both trying way too hard to look relaxed, which means he’s as strung up as I am. And right now both of us probably want to stare at Amber, but maybe not while the other one is staring at Amber. Awkward is sort of a lame description for this moment, but there it is.
“Okay.” She stands up. “Help me get the table lowered, so it’s like a coffee table, and then we’ll have somewhere for our feet.”
“I can help.” Kent stands up. “I’ve done it before.” His gaze points on me for a sec before he crouches down next to Amber.
There’s no way I’m staying in this boat with Mr. Goody-boy.
“You two enjoy the movie. I’m going to take off for a bit.” I stand.
Amber’s breath catches, and her eyes look wide. “You’re… leaving?”
“Yep.” I start to the door. Either that or I’m going to make an ass out of myself in some ridiculous show to outdo a guy that I should be able to run circles around. And I know it makes me sound arrogant, but come on.
“I wouldn’t go back to your boat, you know…”
“I’m fine. Thanks.” I give her one last subtle wave before walking up and out of her boat. I don’t bother to say anything to stupid Kent.
Amber’s eyes are wide, and her mouth is open. She was playing something by inviting him down, and I’m not into it. The thing I like about Amber is that she’s not the playing games kind of girl.
It kills me to leave them alone in there, but sitting with both of them? Not going to happen.
Nothing’s open this time of night, so I climb in Dad’s car and start it to get some heat going. I reach into the back pocket of the passenger’s seat and pull out my iPad. Right now I’m in desperate need of distraction.
I read over the pages I’ve written from my South African boy. By the time I reach the end of what I’ve got down the other day, I’m in the groove and start typing as fast as I can on the odd keyboard. Minutes, hours…time doesn’t exist when I’m writing. Just my thoughts, my fingers working as fast and as hard as they can to get the words down.
The frustration of Amber mixes with the hurt of Mom, and it's all pouring out from the thoughts of a little boy on the outskirts of Johannesburg.