That Day, Karen Deen [early readers .txt] 📗

“She loved you like a son. She would have understood. Anyway, enough mushy shit. What are we doing today?” Seth gets up, walking over and grabbing the sliding doors that lead out onto the deck, pulling them back.

“Oh, what are we doing today? I didn’t realize we were spending the day together. No wonder you can’t get a woman. You know it’s polite to ask them on a date before you just show up at their house.” Stepping out on the deck behind him, I take in a big breath of the salty air. Nothing beats it.

“Enough of the dating jokes, I don’t see you with any girl hanging around either. Hmm, maybe we should sign you up to the dating site. Oh wait, is that how you know about it? You’re already on there, aren’t you? I can picture your profile now. Desperate builder seeks a woman to nail with my hammer.” We both just look at each other and burst out laughing.

He rubs a hand over his face and says, “Sorry, that was bad, like, so bad. Not even worth a one-star rating as a joke, it was that dismal.” No wonder our mothers just rolled their eyes at us constantly when we were younger.

I shake my head at him. “Besides that being the most ridiculous comment I’ve ever heard from you, I wish to confirm I am not, nor have I ever been, on a dating site. Although I don’t see a problem with them, if I was looking. We aren’t getting any younger, you know.”

“What the fuck, speak for yourself. We aren’t even forty yet. That’s still young in my eyes.” Then he stalls, looking at me weirdly. “However, let’s rewind to the comment ‘if I was looking’. Is there something you need to share?”

“No, why?” I walk to the edge of the deck and lean my elbows on the railing, looking out to the ocean like it holds the answers to whatever I’m looking for.

“I call bullshit. Why aren’t you looking? It’s not like you have a girlfriend. Any man in his thirties who is single is looking. No one wants to die a lonely old man. So again, anything you want to share?”

I avoid his eyes, afraid he’ll see the truth of the matter. “Did you fall and bump your head last night when you were drunk? Because you aren’t making any sense today. Now, let’s get out of here and go for a ride. With the alcohol I can smell coming out in your sweat, you get to ride with me. At least it will shut you up for a while.” Moving back inside to get changed into jeans and boots, I can still hear him sniggering behind me. At least once he has a helmet on and with the noise of the motorbike, I won’t be able to hear a thing.

After a long ride, I’m excited to let loose in the water.

“You coming for a surf?”

Seth just rolls his eyes at me. Stupid question, but I asked anyway so he’ll gets the hint that he needs to leave because I want to get down to the waves.

“Not my fault you’re useless and can’t stay up on a board. Maybe you should sign up for those little kiddie surfing lessons.” As I pick up my truck keys off the counter, Seth just glares at me.

“If after thirty-eight years I haven’t managed to stand up once, I doubt it’s going to happen now. I’m going home to crash early, I need to catch up on last night’s sleep before an early-morning date tomorrow with old Mr. Pembrooke’s Volvo. He will keep fixing that thing until he dies and then take it to the grave with him, I’m sure. But I don’t have the heart to tell him that it’s a piece of crap. So, I keep fixing it. Charge him half what it costs me and send him on his way. He’s friends with my dad, so I figure I’m doing it for Pa.”

As he walks out past me through the doorway, I give him a pat on the head. “What a good little boy you are. Gold star for you, Seth Wallace.”

“Ugh, go surf, will you. I can’t take much more of your shit today,” he grumbles, walking to his perfectly restored Mustang. Bright yellow with the black stripe straight up the middle of the hood and over the roof to the trunk. A vintage classic car that he loves more than anything in this world. Well, apparently, except Liza. She still holds number-one spot, even though she doesn’t know it.

“You love me, you know you do. You just aren’t man enough to admit our bromance is real,” I yell to him as he starts the Mustang and revs it louder every time I try to talk.

Now that there is a real friend. One who can take your crap and give it back just as good.

I missed him when I was away, and the short visits when I made it home just weren’t enough to get all my banter out. I’m sure making up for it now.

Standing in the parking lot, stripping down my wetsuit, I try not to look too obvious that I want to know if she’s watching. When she said it that first night, it felt good to know there was something there, that she felt the same as I had. Yet I’ve spent nearly four hours in total today in the surf and haven’t seen her once. I don’t know what to think.

Is it just coincidence, is she avoiding me, has something happened?

I know I need to back off, but I’m finding it difficult.

Although I know there is one thing I have plenty of, and that’s patience. I can wait her out. I might not like it, but I can wait for her to make the first move.

Last night I broke my own rule and called her. This time I need to see if