Chapter Twenty-Five

Addie

“Fishing, then?” I say to Cliff’s dad as he and his mom disappear into the kitchen to talk. I’m a little disappointed, but I get it. Mother and son have things to talk about. It’s sweet, really, that they’re close.

“Sure,” he says. “Let’s go see what we’ve got in the garage, shall we?”

I follow him out, and the questions come before I can stop them. “So how much do you guys know about me?” The questions have been eating me alive. I want to know if they’ve heard every last sordid detail, if they’ve even seen the naked pictures of me that I swear everyone has seen by now.

“I know that Cliff thinks highly of you,” his dad says, surprising me.

“That’s not what I meant,” I say, and his dad lifts a hand to cut me off as we stop in front of the garage.

“Look,” he says as he reaches up and takes a fishing pole off a rack overhead before handing it to me. “I was young and stupid once. Granted, it was before the internet.” He gives me a wry smile that tells me he knows everything.

I hang my head, hating myself. “So you do know.” Which means Cliff’s mom knows. She’s probably telling him he should find someone better than me to waste time with. That’s what any good mother would tell her son, I’m sure.

“I know, but I don’t care,” Cliff’s father says, and I look up at him as he hands me a tackle box. “You trusted the wrong person. How could anyone hold that against you?” he asks, and I feel my shoulders lift in a miserable and silent I don’t know. He continues on. “Look, it doesn’t say anything about you. It speaks volumes to the character of the person who did it to you. But all it says about you is that you’re trusting. That is not, nor could I ever consider it, a flaw.”

“I guess,” I say as he takes down another pole and grabs another tackle box. “Does Robin see it the same way?” I ask as we walk out of the garage toward the dock. “Or is she going to tell him to spend his time with someone less…”

“Trusting?” he replies, and I nod.

“That’s nicer than I was going to be,” I say, and he laughs. Looking up at him in shock, I see him struggling to calm down.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “You’re just so young. This really will blow over, okay? I know it seems like the end of the world now, but it will pass. One day you might even look back and laugh or tell your kids about the crazy things that you did when you were young.”

“Thank you,” I say as we step on the dock. “That makes me feel better.” And it does. Because he’d also said he did some stupid stuff as a kid, but he’s obviously not suffering right now.

“Well, I’m glad,” he says, “I’d rather see you smiling. Now, I propose a contest. He or she who catches the bigger fish doesn’t have to clean them.”

“Oh, you’re on,” I say, and he laughs. We cast our lines into the water.

“Tell me about Cliff,” I say, and his father is quick to respond.

“What do you want to know?” he asks, reeling a bit to keep his line taut.

I think a moment before speaking. “Was he always so intense?” I ask, unable to help myself.

“Yeah,” his father says. “He’s always been observant and quiet.”

“You’re not kidding,” I say, thinking about how little Cliff actually says. But everything he needs to convey is. Even when he’s not using words, he’s pretty good about letting everyone know what’s on his mind. That or I’ve just gotten good at reading him.

“I was actually worried,” his father says as I place my pole in the pole holder and cross my legs to get more comfortable on the wooden dock, “that he’d never find a woman willing to put up with his silence.”

“I like it,” I muse. “I know he’s never just talking to fill the time. He speaks when something important is on his mind.” I’ve never been a fan of small talk. I reel in and recast my line, trying a different spot.

His father does the same, taking a spot off the end of the dock. We sit in silence a while, each waiting for a nibble on our lines while we just enjoy the crisp air and the pretty water. The lake gives way to thick trees and pretty greens before mountains slope away from the bank.

It’s picture-perfect, the kind of place I’d love to wake to every morning. It’s amazing how, not all that long ago, I’d wanted to wake up to the bustle of the city. Now I want nothing more than the quiet. Maybe I’d just never known what I was missing.

I feel a bite and jerk my pole back, before reeling in the fish. His father is quick to grab the net and gently scoop the fish out of the water. It’s a nice bass, at least nine inches long. We slip it into the basket, and I put another worm on my hook and cast again.

“Nice one,” his father says, and I tell him I’m going to make sure to catch us all dinner.

“You better quit slacking,” I tease, and he’s quick to smile.

“Hey, you go ahead and do this. I’m going to nap.” He feigns snoring, and I glance over my shoulder at the house.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” I ask, curious.

“You,” his father says, and I glance at him. He arches an eyebrow at me in a manner that’s all Cliff. “What do you think they’re discussing?”

“That Cliff should see someone who’s not going to outfish him,” I joke, but there’s an uncomfortable ring of truth beyond the humor. I do worry his mother is going to warn him against me, especially now that I know they know about my naked pictures and all the drama in my life.

“I doubt it,” he says thoughtfully, staring at the house. “I bet she’s telling him he’d better not let you go.” He winks at me, and I can’t help but worry. “Look,” he says, and I look at him as he speaks. “Even if she didn’t like you—which she does; trust me, you’d know it if she didn’t—do you really think anyone could sway Cliff away from something he really wants?”

Well, no.

I shake my head, and he laughs.

“Shh,” I reprimand him. “You’re going to scare away the fish.”

He’s quick to quiet down, and we return to fishing in a companionable silence once more. I find myself thinking about my dad. I miss him. And I feel like these two men would get along really well. Because Cliff’s dad reminds me of my dad. They’re both so easygoing and friendly, and quick to humor.

I miss my dad. And my mom. It feels like it’s been forever since I got to talk to them, but I don’t want to drag them into the shitstorm that is my life right now. And I don’t want to face them right now, knowing they’ve also seen the naked pictures of me.

They’re likely disappointed in me, and I don’t want to see that in their eyes when they look at me.

“Do you think my parents are disappointed in me?” I ask, the words practically bursting out of me.

He doesn’t answer for a moment. “I’m not really sure,” he says finally, “You’d have to ask them. But I can’t imagine they would be.”

“Thank you,” I say, the words burning like fire in my throat.