Flock (The Ravenhood #1)(33)

“She had this way about her, a way I’m envious of sometimes. She could make something out of nothing, made ordinary days spectacular.” I study Sean as he nods. “You remind me of her in that way.”

He winks. “It’s all about the company we keep.”

“Don’t credit me for being the fun one. We both know I’m not. I’m a ‘stay-in-the-lines’ kind of girl and you’re, well, you’re the red crayon.”

He kicks back and shrugs. “Don’t be so hard on yourself. Nothing wrong with being responsible and taking care of the people you love.”

“It’s insanely boring,” I take another swig of my drink. “My friend Christy saved me from being a total introvert.” I dart my eyes down. “I’ve never wanted to be the center of attention, you know? But I always envied those people who could make ordinary days, extraordinary. Like you, and Christy, and my mom.”

“You have it in you.”

I shake my head. “No, I don’t. I’m just meant to be a fan of those who do. Anyway, what about your parents? Tell me about the restaurant.”

“I’ll do one better; I’ll take you there sometime soon. I want them to meet you.”

“I’d love that.”

“They’re my idols—both of them. Good people with strong opinions, big hearts, all about family and loyalty, married for over thirty years. They work side by side every single day. They live out in the open, fight out in the open, and make up out in the open.”

“They love each other out in the open, huh? Maybe that’s why you’re so openly affectionate with me?”

“Probably.”

“Well, those are good idols to have,” I drawl, my fourth mouthful of drink going down a lot smoother. “This isn’t so bad. Maybe I’m a whiskey girl.”

“Easy, killer.” He peels at his beer label. “You don’t talk much about your dad.”

“That’s because I have no idea who the man is. I really have no clue why he wants me to be in his life at all. Appearances are deceiving. I may be here, but he’s not. Half of the weeks I’ve been here, he stays in Charlotte. After nineteen years, he’s still a mystery to me. An iceberg. It’s pretty bad when you can’t see any humanity in the man responsible for half your created life. When I got here—and although I was pissed about it—I tried to keep an open mind, but it’s proven pointless. If I had to choose one word to describe him and our relationship, it would be evasive.”

He nods and takes another sip of his beer.

“And your mother?”

“Absent,” I say softly, shaking off the threatening emotion and muster up a smile. “Painfully so, as of the last six months.”

He turns my hand over on the table and runs the pads of his fingers on the inside of my palm. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s life. I’m all grown up now. Mom did her job. Dad at least helped pay some of the bills. I really have no reason to complain.” But it’s hurt that seeps into me as I recall a time where I felt like my mother’s priority.

“I miss her,” I admit as I pull my hand away and shake my head. “They say she was born in a directionless generation. I honestly have to agree with that assessment. For years, she lived this big abundant life, always looking for more, wanting more and never really carrying any of her grand plans out. I admired her so much, and something—something—must have happened along the way. I still can’t figure it out. It’s like she forgot who she was and just…gave up.”

“She’s what, in her early or mid-forties?” Sean asks.

I nod. “She had me when she was my age. I guess you could say we grew up together.”

He shrugs. “So, she’s close to halftime. She’s probably trying to figure out how she wants to live out the second half.”

“Probably,” I rub at my nose to try and stop the budding burn. “I just wish she would let me help her figure it out.”

“That’s not your job.”

“I know.”

He gently nudges me. “Doesn’t make it any easier though, does it?”

“No.”

He doesn’t offer me anything more. He just sits there with me, letting me grieve, his touch reassuring as he squeezes my hand.

“So, besides your parents, who is your hero?” I ask, taking another sip of my drink.

“If I had to name one, Dave Chappelle.”

I rack my brain. “The comedian?”

“Yep.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s fucking brilliant and real. He uses his platform in an incredible way, and his genius shines through. He says the shit many are too afraid to say and then tosses in some insight here and there that will stun you, make you think. He walked away from fifty million dollars, refusing to sell his soul in a way so many others would.”

“That’s so far from any answer I thought you would give.”

“Yeah, well, he’s flawed too, and he makes no apologies about it.”

My phone buzzes with an incoming message from Christy and Sean nods toward it. “Look up some of his stand-up on your little computer when you get home.”

“Maybe I will.”