Put It Out There. D. Graham R.
Long story.
I called the insurance company, but they wouldn’t talk to me because my name wasn’t on the policy. After a long, sleepless night, I broke down and told my granddad that I potentially screwed up badly. He called the adjustor in a panic. Fortunately, the company confirmed that the cheque had been received, so I relaxed about everything. Other than the fact that the corporate retreat booking asked for their money back, things seemed to be working out fine.
Trevor’s dad lined up all the different trades to come in to do the repairs and renovations. Most of the plumbers, electricians, and framers were guys who volunteered for him at Search and Rescue. Only the plumbing had been worked on by the end of the week, though, because for the first four days, the industrial fans were set up day and night to dry out everything behind the plaster. I hadn’t really slept much since it happened.
Since the guys all helped with the cleanup after the flood, the barbecue at Trevor’s house had basically turned into a bunch of guys sitting around a bonfire drinking beer and eating hamburgers at midnight. I didn’t go because I would have been the only female and I needed to be up early to make breakfast for the few remaining guests. On the bright side, the flood meant that the meeting with the real-estate agent had to be postponed, indefinitely.
On Saturday, after working a long shift at the front desk while my granddad ran errands, I got dressed in jeans and a white sleeveless top. Sophie had come over on Friday night to help me pick out the outfit and straighten my hair. She was definitely more excited about my pseudo-date with Steve than I was. Nervous was a better word to describe what I was.
At eight o’clock, I grabbed my purse and a cardigan and headed down the hall. The plywood sheets that acted as temporary floorboards bounced under each of my footsteps. When I pushed aside the plastic sheeting Jim had hung to keep the renovation dust contained to the first-floor hallway, I saw Trevor leaning his elbows on the lobby desk, dressed for the party in black jeans, a black T-shirt, and motorcycle boots. He smiled and stood up straight when I walked in. “Hey. Do you need a ride?”
“Uh, Steve is picking me up. Thanks anyway.”
He narrowed his eyes, feigning a parental-type serious lecture face, which was obviously why he came by. “Steve Rawlings—the younger brother of Giselle Rawlings, third-string tennis player, and student council nerd—no offence.”
I shot him an irritated glare to make it clear I wasn’t in the mood for his ribbing, and he could spare me the impending lecture.
“You’ll be happy to know I couldn’t find any dirt on him. I tried, but he’s squeaky clean.”
“You didn’t seriously ask around, did you?”
“Yeah, I did.”
I shoved his shoulder as I walked past him. “You’re not my brother. Stop acting like you are.”
He seemed offended that I didn’t appreciate his surveillance work and his tone changed. “I’m just making sure you’re safe.”
I stopped and spun around. “You’re going to be at the party with us, remember? How much safer can I be?”
He smirked. “Well, unless you want me to tag along on all your dates, he’d better be a nice guy who treats you right.”
My own dad wouldn’t have even been so nosey. Trevor was only two years older than me, and I didn’t appreciate his attitude. With a snarky tone that I usually only reserved for my mom, I said, “Why don’t you worry about your own life and leave me out of it? Thanks anyway.” At first I felt guilty for being rude, but after he grinned at me in a self-satisfied way, I stormed out. Fortunately, Steve had already arrived in a white Ford Explorer. He hopped out and met me at the passenger-side door. I waited for him to open the door, but he didn’t move.
He looked confused. “Doesn’t your dad want to meet me first?”
“My dad’s dead,” I said, way too abruptly because I was still flustered by Trevor’s meddling. Once I heard my own words, tears built up along my eyelashes. “Shit.” I bit my lip to try to prevent the downpour.
Steve’s face drained of all colour and his weight shifted as if he might fall down. “I’m so sorry, I can’t believe I said that. I knew your dad was—I mean, I know that’s why you were gone for a year. I blanked. I’m such an idiot. Sorry,” he murmured. “Does your mom want to meet me?”
I grimaced and blinked slowly, which made the tears drip over the edge of my eyelashes. “My mom doesn’t live with me. She’s still in Vancouver.”
Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. He pressed his lips together as if he didn’t want to say anything else that might make things even worse. I turned my head to look back at Trevor. He was about five feet away and obviously heard the whole thing. As soon as he saw I was crying, he walked over, wrapped his arms around me, and pulled my head into his chest. His protectiveness made me cry harder. He hugged me for a while, then leaned his head down to whisper, “Your grandpa will want to meet your date. I’ll go get him.”
Trevor went back into the Inn and I wiped my palms across my cheeks. “Sorry,” I sputtered.
“No, I’m sorry,” Steve said quickly. “I don’t know what I was thinking. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
The new Derian wasn’t supposed to break down in tears every time someone mentioned her dad. First attempt didn’t go that well.
My granddad rushed out the front door of the Inn and waved his arms around eagerly. “Here I am. Let’s meet this young man who’s taking Derian to a party.”
I had to smile a little because my granddad looked cute with his white wispy hair flipping up on top of his head as he hustled to greet Steve. They shook hands and Steve answered a few questions. Trevor stood near the Inn door and gave me a look to see if I was okay. I mustered a smile and mouthed, Thank you.
I hugged my granddad and waved at Trevor, then got into the Explorer. Steve closed my door and jogged around the back to the driver’s side. We didn’t talk as we pulled out onto the highway and headed to Squamish. I could feel him glance over at me repeatedly. The reason I wasn’t prepared for Steve to pick me up for a real date was because I tried to pretend it wasn’t a real date. As far as I was concerned, we were going out as friends. I should have psyched myself and briefed my granddad to play the role of my absent parents.
“You look nice,” he finally broke the silence.
“Thanks.” I studied him with more attention. He had on jeans and a white dress shirt rolled at the sleeves. His blond hair was pushed back off his face in a different style than he wore at school. It suited him better. “I like your hair like that.”
He blinked exaggeratedly, embarrassed. “My sister forced me to let her do it. I wouldn’t normally admit to something like that, but she’s going to be at the party and I can pretty much guarantee she’s going to find a way to tell you that she styled it for me.”
“It looks cute, but I’ll tell her it doesn’t if you want me to.”
He smiled at my offer to back him up. “If you really do like it, I might wear it this way sometimes.”
I inhaled deeply and rubbed my palms along my thighs. I tried to remind myself there was nothing to be nervous about. He was just my friend who I goofed around with at student council meetings. I grew up around Trevor and Murphy and I hung out with Doug and his friends all the time. A guy was a guy. A date didn’t change that. Only, it kind of felt like it did.
“Are you okay?” He looked seriously concerned.
“I get a bit uncomfortable driving on the highway ever since my dad’s accident. If you drive the speed limit I’ll feel better.”
“Oh.