Page 37 of Pity Party
Miranda starts picking at her fingernails, not the least bit concerned with Tilly’s anger. “If Roger’s there, I will not attend.” Ah, I see the issue now. Roger and Miranda are like oil and vinegar. Whatever event they’re talking about, I would have to agree with Miranda. If Roger’s there, she shouldn’t be in the same state. Working with the two of them is bad enough.
“What’s this for?” I ask.
Tilly hardly spares me a look. “Wishes for Waves, Hi, Gray.”
I finally bring the drink to my lips and am surprised by the taste of scotch. It burns my mouth unpleasantly when I was expecting refreshing tea. I splatter the table as I choke it out. Greg is laughing right as Tommy comes out with the other twin. I really need to learn to tell them apart. He sits down, a scowl on his face. “Jesus, Gray, it’s barely noon!”
Greg is doubled over now, slapping a hand on the table. Like my mess summoned her, Henrietta appears, sans kid, with a rag. “It was Greg’s drink. He made it after the second hour of you two bickering.” Her tone is not amused as she swipes up the puddle.
“Thanks for spoiling my fun,” Greg pouts. But after a second of watching her clean, he rises with an eye roll. “Let me,” he says and takes over the task.
Tilly and Miranda are still glaring at each other. Still coughing a bit, I clear my throat. “How many volunteers do you need?”
“Another two or three,” she says, her eyes not leaving Miranda’s. “We have ten kids that are coming from all over the country to learn to surf. Kids that have been through shit. Kids that have never seen the ocean. We need experienced bodies in the water, and others to make lunch and cart them around.”
I perk up. I’ve heard nothing about this, and it’s obviously been in the works for a while. “Wait a second, kids?” I say with a hand up. “Are they going to be with guardians?”
Waving a hand, Tilly finally breaks her stare with a sigh. “Yes, Gray. We have one guardian for each. And before you ask, we have waivers and we upped our insurance. Everything’s taken care of.”
“By who?” I ask because I can’t help myself. This is something I would normally handle.
“Me.” With the look of incredulousness I give her, she lolls her head back. “Do you really think I’m incapable?”
Do I? Maybe a little bit. She was a surf bum hiding out at a bar in Costa Rica for ten years. Doesn’t exactly scream business positive. “Of course not. But isn’t that under my list of duties?” At that, the table tenses up. Greg and Tommy both suddenly find watching TJ slink through the bushes along the edge of the yard completely interesting. I think TJ is going to be shooting us with his Nerf gun soon, but I turn my attention to Miranda; she won’t beat around the bush.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you can’t help, Gray. You’re a damn felon, and these are at-risk kids.”
Ah. I rise from my seat. “I see.”
Henrietta is out of her chair next. “We would love to have you there, but Miranda is right. We thought it best not to include you in this.” It makes more sense now. Why they were here, and I wasn’t called. Usually, I’m included in everything. “No problem. I should probably get out of your hair then.”
A round of protests pops from each of their mouths, but I’m already making my way toward the patio’s French doors. When I get there, one of the twins is holding his hands up, tears in his eyes. “Excuse me,” I say awkwardly because I’m about as uncomfortable as I’ve ever been. It feels like a betrayal of the highest kind. I’m not dangerous. Not in any sense of the word. I have my own son that I take excellent care of.
But do I? He’s not currently in my care because it would be too dangerous. The little voice in my head makes my temples throb. Stepping around the small infant, I hear my name being called behind me. Tilly catches up, swooping her son into her arms before grabbing onto mine. “Grayson, wait.”
“I need to be getting home,” I say stoically.
Her grip tightens on my upper arm as the kid in hers starts wailing. “Tommy!” she yells over her shoulder, her voice laced with concern. I’m obviously the furthest thing from her mind right now. I have no idea what’s going on, but the kid in her arms continues his crying, his sobs more panicked than before. Tommy comes running over, along with every other person in the group. When Tommy is there, he takes the boy. “Hey, Drew,” his tone is soft and calming. “Did you get lost again?”
Fuck me. I’m such an asshole. The tiny boy nods, rubbing his tear-saturated eyes. “You’re in the kitchen, bud.” He takes the young boy’s hand and puts it on the back of one of the chairs. “Feel that?” Drew nods, sniffling as he does.
Tilly is rubbing Drew’s back right as TJ and Matty arrive. Tommy kneels down, and both boys start trying to hand him toys. “Itsa Nerf, Drewbee.”
Matty has a stuffed tiger. “Here, bub,” he says. Drew feels the softness on his skin and cuddles it close. Henrietta holds out a sippy cup of chocolate milk. “Baby, it’s okay to be scared. We’re here.”
Coos sound from around the room as my head swims. Even Miranda is here, tapping her foot impatiently, but a look of pure worry etched on her face. It must not be the first time this has happened. To make matters worse, Henrietta meets my eyes. “Whenever you’re lost, we’re here.” She smiles, and I know the words are for me.
I do feel lost. Lost without my son. Lost without my pride. Lost knowing I’m forever going to be labeled as someone to be avoided. A dangerous man.
With the boys taking over, each sneaking sips of Drew’s treat, the adults all let out a collective sigh. “Sorry,” Tilly says.
I shake my head. She should not be apologizing. This is my fault. If I had known he was confused, I would never have been so cold to the boy. It probably made the situation far worse. He’s confused, and I treated him like a stranger? “It’s fine,” I manage to say.
“No, it’s not, Gray.” Miranda’s no longer worried. She looks pissed. “When a kid is crying, you pick them the fuck up. Even I know that.”
“Andy—”
I’m shaking my head again. “She’s right. I’m sorry.”
