The Highland Fling(13)
Disrespectful.
Irresponsible.
Hurtful.
All words Da used when I confronted him about my decision. And as he spouted off his distaste for the mere notion of me leaving, I saw pain in his eyes. Raw and real.
I asked him for his truth, why he was so hurt about me leaving—truly hurt.
He masked up, shut down, and reminded me of what we’d lost already as a family.
Guess who won out regarding what I did with my life? All I can say is, it’s not my idea to stay in Corsekelly as the town’s repairman, going from house to house replacing faucets, cleaning gutters, and even cutting the grass. But that’s what Da wanted. And after everything that happened . . . well, let’s just say I owe him. I’ll leave it at that.
“Don’t you raise your voice with me,” he says, shifting on the sofa and wincing at the same time.
A few months ago, Da stopped working at the coffee shop, leaving all the work to Maw. He insisted on taking a much-deserved break after thirty years of serving coffee to the locals and tourists. But Maw couldn’t keep up with the demand of baking and serving customers. The coffee shop has languished without him.
“I’m not raising my voice,” I say, my voice rising. “I’m just trying to understand all of this.” I look my da dead in the eyes. “Are you sick and you’re not telling me?”
“No,” he says gruffly, standing from the sofa and making his way to the kitchen, where Maw hands him a plate. “We just want to take some time off, and we don’t need to clear that decision with you.”
I run my tongue over my teeth, corralling my anger. “That’s fair, but I’d appreciate you respecting me enough to inform me about your plans. I’m your son, after all.”
As the tension builds between me and Da, Maw hurries over and presses a plate into my hand. “Sit, eat, and we’ll tell you all about the trip.”
Keeping my eyes on Da, I take the plate and find a seat at the table in the kitchenette.
Shaky hands.
Unhealthy skin.
Sunken eyes.
Whatever they’re about to tell me, I know there’s so much more that they’re not going to give away.
“About damn time,” Lachlan, one of my two best friends, says as I push through the semicrowded pub. “Leith and I are starting to get sick of staring at each other.”
“Surprising, given how narcissistic you both are.” I take a seat at the high-top table they’re sharing.
Leith and Lachlan Murdach.
Identical twins and proud owners of Bubbles Linen Basket, the town’s launderette. They’re also becoming incredibly famous online for the personal-training videos they post every Sunday. Decked out in their kilts and nothing else, they use Scotland’s terrain to work out. Logs for bench pressing, stones for push-ups, hurdling fences for cardio—blurred under the kilts, of course. I saw the unedited version and nearly threw up in my mouth. They thought it would be funny to skip the underwear that day.
Another man’s jiggling boaby is something you can’t unsee.
“You seem extra irritated today,” Leith says, handing me a tumbler of whisky. “Does this have to do with the two Americans who came strolling into town today?”
I down my whisky and set the glass on the table, not giving them the satisfaction of my answer.
“I think it does,” Lachlan says. “Word on the street is they’re blonde and bonny.”
“Bonny” doesn’t even begin to describe it.
Bonnie.
Ice-blue eyes, unlike any I’d ever seen before, studied me, devoured me in one slow perusal. Platinum-blonde hair fell over her shoulders and past her plump breasts, which were barely secured by a towel.
And the arrogance she exuded—the woman was half-naked and using a broom as a weapon, but she was still proud, stubborn, determined. I wasn’t prepared for the wave of interest that wrapped around my limbs and sank into my bones. Nor was I ready for the headiness that flushed through my body when her eyes connected with mine.
But then she mentioned my parents’ imminent departure. I was quickly distracted from her beauty and was put on high alert. How could she know more about them than I did?
A stranger.
“Have you met them?” Leith asks, looking far too excited.
“One,” I say, wishing I hadn’t gulped all my whisky down.
“And . . .”
I shrug. “She wasn’t bad.”
Throwing his head back, Leith lets out an obnoxious laugh and shoves my shoulder. “Don’t buy it.”
Yeah, neither do I.
Ignoring him, I drag my hand over my face. “Did you know my parents are going to be gone for six months?”
“Figured as much,” Lachlan says. “That’s what was in the advert—didn’t you read it?”
Apparently not well enough.
“They’re headed to Europe,” I say. “Traveling around from country to country by train.” At least, that’s what they told me. I twist the empty tumbler between my hands, recalling the vague details I dragged out of them.
I can still feel the palpable silence in my parents’ house as we all ate together, the forks clanging on crockery plates, the heavy weight hovering above all of us, the unspoken truth of what’s really going on in our family. We’re falling apart. We’ve been falling apart for years, and no one is willing to step up and fix things.