His voice soft
ened. “I think it’s wonderful that you took care of yourself as much as you did while you were off at college. I know it can’t have been easy, working a part-time job and still pulling top grades in all your classes. I’m really proud of you, sweetie.
“Now, if you need to spend the summer relaxing and doing nothing more strenuous than going swimming in the river, take the summer and relax a little. Have some fun. Okay?”
I smiled at him, wondering how I had gotten so lucky to have such wonderful parents. “Thanks, Dad,” I told him. “I really appreciate how understanding you’re being about this. I just don’t know where I want to go. Obviously, I want to do something with art, but I’m not sure what exactly. I thought about working for one of the big companies, going someplace like New York or, I don’t know, maybe Chicago. Or Austin. The point is, none of those places felt quite like coming home.”
Dad smiled at me. “I’m glad I was able to build a home that you want to come back to, after five years away,” he said.
“I am, too,” I told him quietly.
I hesitated, wanting again to bring up the matter of Trethan, but the last thing I wanted after such a good conversation with Dad was to ruin things by talking about Trethan and whatever problems he might still have. So instead, I hopped up off the sofa and went over to kiss Dad’s cheek. “I’m going to get dinner started, all right? I was thinking we could have that Cajun pasta dish that Mom always used to make.”
“That sounds great,” Dad said, smiling up at me. “Do you need any help?”
“No, I’ve got it,” I said. “Unless you’ve moved anything around in there since the last time I cooked?”
He shook his head, looking off into the distance for a moment. “I don’t cook all that much anymore,” he admitted, which I might have guessed at.
I silently promised to cook healthy meals for us all summer. It was the least I could do for him, considering how understanding he’d been about my finding a career. “You’re in for a treat, tonight,” I said. “Sandwiches and whatever else you’ve been living on are fine, but you could do with a real meal or two.” I glanced at my watch. “Should be ready in about an hour. Is that okay?”
“Sounds great,” he said.
I paused in the doorway and glanced back at him, watching him pick up his newspaper and resume his reading. I smiled and bounded into the kitchen.
Trethan could never be that kind of man, I realized. He wasn’t responsible enough or caring enough. He’d never be the kind of husband who could provide for me or provide for whatever children he might have. The thought made me sad. I tried to shake it off and focus on cooking, but it stuck there in the back of my mind, along with all the other thoughts about Trethan that I’d had since coming home.
Once, I would have thought Trethan and I could be something special, that we could work through all his issues and become something amazing. But the older I got, the more I realized how impossible that really was, no matter how much I wanted it.
Chapter Seven
Trethan
I had just finished dinner when someone pounded on my door. I went to answer it, wondering who the hell it could be. When I pulled it open, Brent stood there, looking pale and frantic, his eyes darting nervously behind him. It was rare to see him looking so fucked up.
“Hey, man,” he said, his words practically tripping over one another. “Is it cool if I just hang out here for a little while?”
I frowned at him, wondering what was going on, but I stepped back to let him in. “Of course, but tell me what’s up,” I said as I closed the door behind him. “You look like you’re wigging out.”
“It’s nothing,” he said, shaking his head. “Just, you know how it is in this line of work. Sometimes you meet people who aren’t the nicest or whatever. I just need a place to lay low for the night. Let things blow over.”
“What did you do?” I asked suspiciously as my chest tightened.
“I didn’t do anything,” he snapped. “Like I said, I met some fuckers who are kind of being douchebags, and I need a place to stay. I can go find someone else if you don’t want me here.”
“Hey, relax,” I said. He had to be seriously freaked out if he was this on edge, and I was more than a little concerned. Like he’d said, I knew the kind of people in his line of work — I used to deal drugs, too. There had been some rough characters out there, but I would have thought Brent had more sense than to get mixed up with them.
I wanted to say something more about it, but before I could, he sprawled out on the couch and changed the subject. “So, Vanessa’s back in town, huh?” he asked.
The last thing I wanted to talk to him about was Vanessa. If it was any other girl, it’d be fine, but Brent would see right through me if I lied and said I wasn’t still interested in her.
“Yeah, she’s back in town,” I said.
“Have you seen her yet?”
“I had dinner with her and her father last week,” I said.
“Really?” he asked, his eyebrows shooting toward his hairline. He threw a pillow at me. “The fuck, man. Why didn’t you tell me?”