See Me(159)

Travis nodded, holding his beer. “It wasn’t so bad,” he said. “I think Matt even enjoyed it.”

Joe glanced at Matt, who lay flattened in a lawn chair off to the side of the deck, a cold rag over his head. Even his belly – Matt had always been on the pudgy side – seemed to sag.

“I can see that.”

“Was it heavy?”

“Like an Egyptian sarcophagus!” Matt croaked. “One of those gold ones that only cranes can move!”

Joe laughed. “Can the kids get in?”

“Not yet. I just filled it, and the water will take a little while to heat up. The sun will help, though.”

“The sun will heat it within minutes!” Matt moaned. “Within seconds!”

Joe grinned. Laird and the three of them had gone to school together since kindergarten.

“Tough day, Matt?”

Matt removed the rag and scowled at Joe. “You have no idea. And thanks for showing up on time.”

“Travis said to be here at five. If I had known you needed help, I would have come earlier.”

Matt slowly shifted his gaze to Travis. He really hated his friend sometimes.

“How’s Tina doing?” Travis said, changing the subject. “Is Megan getting any sleep?”

Megan was chatting with Allison at the table on the far end of the deck, and Joe glanced briefly in her direction. “Some. Tina’s cough is gone and she’s been able to sleep through the night again, but sometimes I just think that Megan isn’t wired to sleep. At least, not since she became a mom. She gets up even if Tina hasn’t made a peep. It’s like the quiet wakes her up.”

“She’s a good mom,” Travis said. “She always has been.”

Joe turned to Matt. “Where’s Liz?” he asked.

“She should be here any minute,” Matt answered, his voice floating up as if from the dead. “She spent the day with her parents.”

“Lovely,” Joe commented.

“Be nice. They’re good people.”

“I seem to recall you saying that if you had to sit through one more of your father-in-law’s stories about his prostate cancer or listen to your mother-in-law fret about Henry getting fired again – even though it wasn’t his fault – you were going to stick your head in the oven.”

Matt struggled to sit up. “I never said that!”

“Yes, you did.” Joe winked as Matt’s wife, Liz, rounded the corner of the house with Ben toddling just in front of her. “But don’t worry. I won’t say a word.”

Matt’s eyes darted nervously from Liz to Joe and back again, checking to see if she’d heard.

“Hey, y’all!” Liz called out with a friendly wave, leading little Ben by the hand. She made a beeline for Megan and Allison. Ben broke away and toddled toward the other kids in the yard.

Joe saw Matt sigh in relief. He grinned and lowered his voice. “So… Matt’s in-laws. Is that how you conned him into coming here?”

“I might have mentioned it,” Travis smirked.

Joe laughed.

“What are you guys saying?” Matt called out suspiciously.

“Nothing,” they said in unison.



Later, with the sun down and the food eaten, Moby curled up at Travis’s feet. As he listened to the sound of the kids splashing away in the spa, Travis felt a wave of satisfaction wash over him. This was his favorite kind of evening, whiled away to the sound of shared laughter and familiar banter. One minute Allison was talking to Joe; the next minute she was chatting with Liz and then Laird or Matt; and so on for everyone seated around the outdoor table. No pretenses, no attempts to impress, no one trying to show anyone up. His life, he sometimes thought, resembled a beer commercial, and for the most part, he was content simply to ride the current of good feeling.

Every now and then, one of the wives would get up to check on the kids. Laird, Joe, and Matt, on the other hand, reserved their child-rearing duties at times like these to periodically raising their voices in hopes of calming down the kids or preventing them from teasing or accidentally hurting one another. Sure, one of the kids would throw a tantrum now and then, but most problems were solved with a quick kiss on a scraped knee or a hug that was as tender to watch from a distance as it must have been for the kid to receive.

Travis looked around the table, pleased that his childhood friends not only had become good husbands and fathers, but were still a part of his life. It didn’t always turn out that way. At thirty-two, he knew that life was sometimes a gamble, and he’d survived more than his share of accidents and falls, some of which should have inflicted far more serious bodily injury than they had. But it wasn’t just that. Life was unpredictable. Others he’d known growing up had already died in car accidents, been married and divorced, found themselves addicted to drugs or booze, or simply moved away from this tiny town, their faces already blurring in his memory. What were the odds that the four of them – who’d known one another since kindergarten – would find themselves in their early thirties still spending weekends together? Pretty small, he thought. But somehow, after hanging together through all the adolescent acne and girl troubles and pressure from their parents, then heading off to four different colleges with differing career goals, they had each, one by one, moved back here to Beaufort. They were more like family than friends, right down to coded expressions and shared experiences that no outsiders could ever fully understand.