See Dot Smile

Out and In

I'm not sure if it's the power of the kiss that compels him, or the fact that I really do hold his hand at the table until he's ready. But he goes through with it. 

And it goes really well.

His mother bursts into prideful tears and pelts him with lipstick coated kisses. Tiff says something along the lines of, "Duh, no kidding." His father takes his time with it. It feels like a long time, which makes everyone nervous. Then he stands up from the table, pulls Bud out of his chair and hugs him for a solid two minutes. This sends Bonnie into another crying fit and has me fighting back tears, too. Tiff lets out a Beaumont growl and goes back to eating her watermelon salad, like none of this is earth shattering.

Bud's dad stands back and takes his son's tear-stained face in his hands. "I'm sorry, Buddy," he says. "For everything." He kisses Bud on the forehead and leaves the room.

He comes back moments later with a bottle of mysterious brown liquid, no doubt from the billiard room collection, and five shot glasses. He pours everyone a drink, even Tiff who's giddy at the chance to throw back a shot, even if it's with her dorky parents.

Mr. Beaumont holds his glass up. "To starting over," he says.

My insides tighten at the familiar phrase. I take the shot, wince over the burning sensation, then embrace the slow rolling warmth in my torso. The same one I felt the day I touched Bud's perfect face, and I knew there was something deliciously special about our connection.

I'm fine to drive after one shot, chased by a slab of flourless chocolate cake and a cup of coffee, but I decide to walk the beach for a while before I head home.

I don't realize how far I've walked until I'm coming up on Hamilton's Cove. The patio is dark and quiet, and I wander up to the gate and let myself in. I don't bother outsmarting the lights. I head to the edge, along the deep end, and sit down. With my shoes off, I slide my bare feet into the cold water and wriggle my toes.

A crush of heartache hits me, and I reach for my phone in my back pocket. I snap a photo of my immersed feet and pull up my text thread with Joshua. It must go back years. With stretches of daily messages to month long hiatuses.

Recent playfulness. And apologies.

I attached the photo of my feet to the message.

Dot: Thinking of you...

I hit send and he replies before I have time to put my phone back in my pocket.

Joshua: Ditto.

He attaches a photo of his outstretched legs on the back porch swing.

I burst into tears.

* * * * * 

The next day at lunch I almost have a heart attack because everyone has gotten Bud something for his eighteenth birthday, even though I told them not to.

Tom and Marcus bought him some high-end hair products, which Marcus boldly applies to Bud's blond tips himself. Joshua and Ali give him a gift card to a vintage tape store a few towns over. It has a massive collection of cassette tapes, VHS, and vinyl. Kendall must have shopped there too, because he gives Bud a stack of old Cosmo magazines from the eighties. This nearly pushes Bud to tears, but Lilliana is there to get him back online. She gives him a coupon for a foot rub which Bud decides to redeem on the spot. He throws his shoes and socks off and hops onto the table. I know Bud's feet are clean and perfect, like the rest of him, but even if they aren't, Lilliana isn't flinching as she massages them tenderly while the rest of us watch, trying not to laugh at how ridiculous it is. Even Ali can't hide the smile behind her eyeroll.

A sock covered toe nudges against my ankle and my stomach flips. I turn to Tom. He catches my eye and grins like the devil. "It's not me."

I steal a glance across the table and find Joshua's head turned toward the foot fetish show beside him. His eyes flit over to me for an instant.

And they smile. 

* * * * *