Preppy: The Life & Death of Samuel Clearwater, Part Two
Page 54

She looked around the empty cemetery. “No...should I have seen him?” she asked slowly. Her focus dropped from my face to the grass stains on my jeans. “Are you okay?”
I held out my hand with my palm facing her. “Hang on. Gimme a sec, Doc.” With my head still thundering I shut my eyes tightly and then open them again, sure enough Dre was still there, but since I was going crazy and all I didn’t trust my own vision and needed more evidence. “I’m going to ask you a question and I just need you to answer it for me okay?” I took a step forward and Doc flashed me a small white toothed smile, doing a shit job of hiding the concern etched into her black corneas.
“Okay...” she said hesitantly.
“Just tell me the truth, Doc...are you really here right now?” I asked still not believing that my girl was finally home with me.
Dre looked down to her feet as if she were checking out to see where ‘here’ was. “Yeah, I mean. I think so.”
“Just stay right there,” I ordered, not wanting to get my hopes up before I had solid evidence. I held out my arms straight, locking my elbows in a very frankenstein-esque stance. I moved forward slowly and didn’t stop until I smelled the lavender of her shampoo and my hands were resting on her shoulders. I squeezed my fingers, her soft skin was warm and very much alive beneath my touch.
“You really are here,” I whispered, tipping up her chin so I could get a better look at the freckles on her nose.
“I’m really here,” she said as if she really couldn’t believe it herself.
“You’re really here,” I said again, interrupting her and giving her shoulders another squeeze.
“Satisfied?” she asked, her eyes locking onto mine. The air around us grew thick and charged. Suddenly, touching her shoulders wasn’t enough.
When it came to Dre it would NEVER be enough.
“Fuck no. Not even close,” I admitted, resting my forehead against hers. “What time is it?” I asked.
“It’s time. Everyone’s starting to show up at the house, even Kevin’s coming,” she said, pulling me by the hand. I still wasn’t sure if the kid was my brother but he was enough of a delinquent to definitely give me reason to believe it was a possibility. “I have to go pick up my dad from the airport, but I’ll be back. You sure you want to do this? Meeting the parents is kind of a big deal you know,” she said, biting on her bright red lip.
“It is. And I’m totally sorry I can’t introduce you to my parents but I don’t know who my real dad is, King killed my stepdad, and my mother is a super cunt.”
“Duly noted.”
I nodded and she smiled brightly. I held onto her hand and let her lead me through the same cemetery I’d chased her through years ago. I didn’t know where we were going, just that she had something to show me, but I decided that Dre could be dragging me through the gates back to hell and I wouldn’t of cared.
I’d follow my wife anywhere.
“Oh, I almost forgot, you’ll need this,: she said tossing me something soft. I knew what it was before I opened my hand. “I think it’s time,” Dre said.
I unfolded my palm and ran my thumb over the pink and yellow plaid of the bow tie in my hand. I smiled.
It was definitely fucking time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

DRE My father twisted around in the passenger seat and with his mouth slightly agape he ran a palm over the the supple black leather in one slow appreciative motion of admiration like he was inspecting a stud horse. “You sure I can’t keep it? I mean, it’s not like he’d ever let you drive it. You’re a terrible driver. Remember when you ran over Mrs. Stephens cat?” My dad teased with a wink.
“Excuse me?” I asked, raising my voice several octaves in mock offense. “If you remember I’d JUST gotten my driver’s license that week! And not for nothing but I’ll have you know that cat was suicidal.”
“A suicidal cat?” my father asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“What else would you call it?” I lightly smacked the wheel. “That cat was mean as hell. And not to mention a hundred years old. And what black cat darts out across an unlit road in the middle of the night?”
“A suicidal one,” my father deadpanned, but his straight face only lasted for a beat before his smile reappeared and he began to laugh, low and loud. It was a sound I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed until right then.
It had been way too long.
“So OLD MAN, unless you want me to drive your side of the car into the causeway rails I suggest you be nice to your daughter about her driving skills,” I teased back. “And NO you can’t keep it,” I said, patting the dashboard. “You did a great job on her, Dad. He’ll love it and I promise that she’ll be in good hands.”
My father’s laughter finally subsided. “I sure hope so, darling.”
“He’ll love her,” I assured him again, but when I glanced over to him I realized that it wasn’t just the car he was talking about.
“Not as much as I do,” my dad said, his eyes welling up with tears.
“No,” I said, feeling my chest tighten and my throat start to close. “No,” I repeated, pointing accusingly at him while trying to focus my attention out of the front windshield so I wouldn’t miss our turn. “You are not allowed to make me cry. This is a happy trip.” After finding the road and making the turn I risked glancing back at my father. “We’ve cried enough tears haven’t we?” I asked, sniffling back my own tears.
My father cleared his throat. “That we have. That we have.” I turned into the driveway but instead of parking in front of the garage next to the other cars I’d prearranged with Mr. Ronson a few houses down from the house to use his driveway so Preppy wouldn’t see his surprise before it was time. My stomach flipped wondering what his response would be.
“He’s not like other guys,” I explained to my dad for the seventh time since we’ve been in the car together. Earlier Ray and I picked him up at the airport in King’s truck before she dropped both of us off at the auto-transport center to receive the car and make sure it survived the journey. I had held my breath through the entire inspection, but luckily, she was good to go.