Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 95173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 95173 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 476(@200wpm)___ 381(@250wpm)___ 317(@300wpm)
“He does not look skinny,” my brother says, and now it’s his turn to smirk at me. “He looks exactly as he did when we saw him last.” He stands there now, putting his chin in his hand. “Actually, Mom, he does look skinnier.”
“Fuck you,” I mouth to him over my mother’s head, and he laughs at me.
“Where is Dad?” I ask them. They got here today for the season opener tomorrow. A day I usually enjoy, but now I dread it. I wonder if she is going to be there. For the past few home games, I’ve opted to sit in the press box instead of with Matthew in the lodge with his family. No matter how many times I told myself not to look, I did anyway, but I never saw her.
“He’s outside wondering why you don’t have a garden,” my brother says, and I just shake my head. My mother lets go of me and walks ahead of me straight to the kitchen.
“What is that smell?” I ask, following her into the kitchen and then looking at the four pots on the stove and the fan going as steam comes out of all four pots.
“I’m making some food for you for when I’m not here,” my mother says, going to the stove and stirring something, then replacing the cover on it.
“For a year,” my brother says, going to the counter and taking a piece of bread that she cut up. “And for a village.” He pops the piece in his mouth.
“You,” she says, pointing at my brother. “Get away from that bread. It’s for dinner.”
“Mom, there are seven other loaves right there,” he says, pointing at the bread cooling on the rack.
“I need to go to the store and pick up a couple of things,” she says, taking off her apron and putting it on the counter. “Christos, drive me.”
“Mom, you know that we can have everything delivered. It’s the city,” he says, groaning and then she gives him one look. The same look she gave us when we were in high school that used to make us stop in our tracks. He holds up his hand. “Fine, fine. Let’s go.” He looks at me and holds his hand out for my car keys.
“Go see your father.” She grabs my face and brings it down to her, turning and kissing me on the cheek. “I’ll be back soon, and we can eat all together.”
She picks up her purse and smiles up at my brother as he puts his arm around her shoulders. I turn and walk out to the terrace, seeing him sitting on the couch. His black hair now a salt and pepper color, and he turns to look at me, his face beaming with a smile. “Markos,” he says, getting up, and he’s almost as tall as me. “How are you doing?” he says, hugging me and then squeezing my shoulder. He’s wearing jeans and a long-sleeved polo shirt.
“I’m good,” I tell him, looking down and not at his eyes, knowing he would probably see everything that I haven’t told him. There is just something about my father; he knows just by looking at us if we need help or not.
“Come sit with me,” he says, turning to go back to the couch. I walk with him and take off my hat, throwing it on the table and running my hands through my hair. “What’s wrong?” he asks, and I look over at him, seeing him sitting there with his ankle on his knee.
“What do you mean?” I ask him, mimicking his stance and turning to him.
“You look …” He starts to say it, and I just laugh. “You look like …”
“Shit.” I fill in the words for him. I knew he would see it. I even tried to hide it, and I thought it was going to be okay, but I knew he would take one look at me and see.
“Not shit,” he says. “But …”
I take a deep inhale and hold the breath for a minute before exhaling. “I fell in love,” I tell him. My stomach starts to hurt again, and my chest feels a sudden pressure. His face fills with happiness, and I put my hand up. “Before you start making plans, it’s over.”
“What?” he asks, shocked. “Why?”
“She doesn’t do relationships.” I tell him the reason that I keep repeating over and over in my mind. “She just isn’t that girl.”
“But you fell in love with her?” He looks at me, and I nod my head. “How did you feel?”
“What do you mean?” I ask him, confused by the question.
“How do you know you’re in love with her?” I now lean forward and put my elbows on my knees, letting my hands fall between my legs.
“She just made everything so much better,” I say. “Her smile, her sassiness …” I start to smile and laugh, thinking about it. “She made everything an adventure; she made waking up that much better.”