A Crowe's Song Page 11

  From the moment Drew had taken the cup from my hand, I felt like a fool, an absolute idiot. A stupid girl. But I didn’t understand what had caused it, because it wasn’t like he’d snatched the cup away or stormed off. Hell, he was even smiling. Which meant it had to be the alcohol. That was the only thing that could explain it, considering I’d never had these feelings any other time in my life. However, this wasn’t my first time drinking either.

  Drew practically skipped down the stairs with a full cup in one hand and what appeared to be a bottle of beer in the other. The sight was enough to calm me down, slightly. It didn’t put a lid on my absurd thoughts and emotions, but at least it turned them down to a simmer.

  Doing my best to act natural, I quickly busied myself with mixing my drink. To my surprise, there was a little more left in the flask than I thought, which made for a much stronger drink than the previous cocktails I’d enjoyed tonight. I wasn’t entirely sure if that would turn out to be a good or bad thing. It would either loosen me up or wind me tighter.

  Only time would tell.

  “I have to admit, Kenny, you surprise me. You don’t seem like someone who would own a flask…or drink hard liquor. I guess I expected you to be into the fruity drinks, the ones with the umbrellas.” Not only did his voice sound like a smile, but his steps were also slow and casual, reassuring me that I had no reason to be insecure.

  I kept pace next to him as we continued our stroll. “You have to remember that I just graduated high school. Which means high school parties. And where do teenagers get alcohol? Wherever they can—most of the time, their parents’ cabinets. I enjoy wine coolers, some beer in a pinch, and rum and Coke.” The more I talked, the less insecure I felt.

  “Okay, I get that, but who even owns a flask these days?” The way his voice lilted at the end nearly had me spewing my drink in laughter.

  “Well, I knew I would be here by myself for a week, and I am underage, so I got one for times like tonight—when I want a drink but don’t want to stay cooped up inside to have one. Plus, I got it for dirt cheap off the discount rack.”

  Drew’s laughter bellowed out, washing over me like waves of comforting warmth.

  “I realize I just made it sound like I party a lot…but I swear, I don’t.”

  “Oh, yeah? Could’ve fooled me.” His teasing tone kept the air light around us.

  He probably couldn’t see me, but I rolled my eyes anyway. “No, for real, though, I don’t. My grandfather’s a recovering alcoholic—ten years sober—so I know how destructive it is. My mom doesn’t touch the stuff, not even wine.”

  “Then why do you?”

  I slowed to look at him, needing to see his face to understand the motive behind his question. He didn’t sound judgmental; regardless, my own guilty conscience made me question it anyway. And with his compassionate stare, he told me everything I wanted to know. The lack of crow’s feet proved there was no intent to ridicule me, and his smooth forehead, slack jaw, and easy eyes solidified in my mind that his only motive was simple interest.

  It gave me enough reassurance to continue with our walk and conversation. “I’m eighteen, Drew. Surely you can understand why a teenager would sneak a drink from time to time. Or have you been out of high school too long to remember?”

  “Trust me, I get it. But I wasn’t asking why someone your age would drink. I wanted to know why someone with your history would. If your grandfather struggled with his addiction to alcohol, why would you start drinking so young, knowing what it could lead to?”

  “Probably because I’m somewhat disconnected from the reality of it. I mean, my mom doesn’t drink, but she grew up around the ugly side of it, whereas I never saw that. By the time my grandfather showed up in my life, he was sober. I think that’s one of the reasons I have such a hard time connecting the man my mom has talked about with the man I’ve known for the last five years.”

  “So the grandpa you know isn’t anything like your mom described him to be?” Drew was quiet for a second after I shook my head, and then he asked, “Could she have exaggerated some of it? Maybe she was simply trying to spare you whatever hurt he had caused her when she was young.”

  “I can’t say for sure, because it’s not like she’s said much about him. My mom is a woman of very few words when it comes to her past. If my suspicions are correct and my grandfather was abusive, then I totally understand why she wouldn’t want to bring it up, which is why I’ve never pushed for more than she’s willing to tell me.”

  “Oh, you said that you struggled to picture the man your mom talked about because he’s nothing like the man you know now, so I just assumed that meant she’d told you things.”

  I shrugged, realizing how convoluted and confusing this likely all sounded. “I’ve been able to put some pieces together over the last several years, based on what little she’s told me as well as conversations I’ve overheard, and that’s the picture that doesn’t match up to the person I know.”

  Drew remained by my side, intently listening as I spilled my family’s secrets.

  “This is what I know: until his stroke five years ago, my mom hadn’t seen her dad since she was fifteen. That’s when my grandmother left and took my mom with her. I also know she left because my grandfather was—as my mom put it—a mean drunk. And what I’ve gathered, based on things I’ve overheard, is that my grandmother didn’t simply leave…she ran away. Snuck off in the middle of the night so that he would never find them.

  “My mom had also made it known that they didn’t have much after they left, and my grandmother busted her ass to provide for my mom. But after my grandfather came to stay with us, I learned that he had a lot of money. So the fact that my grandmother ran away with barely two pennies to rub together, along with hearing he was a mean drunk, makes me assume he was abusive. I’m just not sure of the extent…like, if he took it out on my mom too.”

  “But you said he’s in your life now?”

  My grandfather hadn’t been a prevalent topic of conversation since I was thirteen, and even then, there wasn’t much to talk about. The few friends I’d had at the time were only mildly curious about the man who’d shown up out of nowhere, and after that, he was simply part of my life. Other than asking why he lived with us, no one had any reason to question him or his past. Which was why Drew’s unintentional interrogation knocked me slightly off-kilter.

  “Uh…yeah. He moved in with us after his stroke and has been there ever since.” A few moments of quiet left me dying to fill in the space with more details. “That’s how I found the diary. When it was decided that he would live with us, my mom and I went to his place to clean it out, which apparently, wasn’t the same house she had lived in. And that’s why I don’t know for sure if the diary even belonged to my grandmother.”

  Drew turned to me with one eyebrow arched in question. “How does that make sense?”

  “It’s unrealistic to assume he lived alone for twenty years. There were things in the attic that my mom had never seen before—things that definitely wouldn’t have belonged to a man. So, he more than likely had been living with at least one other woman, and therefore, the diary could’ve been hers.”

  Slowly putting one foot in front of the other, he pulled his lips to one side and hummed to himself. It didn’t take a psychic to know that he was considering what I’d told him. However, I couldn’t be sure if he doubted it or was just plain confused. And the longer he hummed, the more paranoid I became.

  Luckily, he put me out of my misery by asking, “Didn’t you say your grandmother died the same night you were born?”

  I nodded, unsure where he was headed with this.

  “There’s an ancient Indian belief that death and birth are timed so precisely that when a person takes their last breath as the dying, they take their very next breath as a newborn. And there’s no way to interrupt the cycle—you’ll die when it’s your time, not a second too soon, and the same goes with being born.” Even though he told me an interesting piece of
information, he still sounded impressed by his own factoid.

  “Where’d you learn that?”

  With a smile on his face, he said, “I spent last summer being indoctrinated into a tribe.”

  “Are you serious? You really did that?”

  Realizing that I’d stopped dead in my tracks, he turned, caught whatever shocked expression I wore on my face, and laughed. “No. I read it in a book somewhere.”

  Not wanting him to recognize the heat in my cheeks, I playfully slapped his arm and called him an “asshole” under my breath. Which only made him laugh even harder.

  Deciding two could play this game, I turned on my heel and started walking back the way we came. We weren’t too far from The Feeder, and I was technically heading in the opposite direction of my cabin, but that was all right. I wasn’t serious about leaving him anyway. If I played it right, he’d follow me in three…

  Two…

  One…

  “Wait, Kenny, don’t go.” Drew caught up to me in a couple strides of his long legs. “I was only teasing.”

  Turning to the side and lifting my chin, I revealed the smile that stretched my lips, reassuring him that I, too, was only having fun. And just like that, the heaviness of our conversation about my grandfather dissipated. Gone. As if we’d spent the entire time discussing the life cycle of a frog. There was something easy about him that I couldn’t put my finger on. It was like he reminded me of someone, though I didn’t have a clue who. He held a familiarity I couldn’t place, and right now, I didn’t care if I ever understood the connection we had.

  I simply wanted to enjoy it.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, humor still swimming in his tone. “You didn’t seem to be very comfortable talking about your family, so I was trying to change the subject.”

  “It’s not that I was uncomfortable with it. I guess I’m just not used to anyone being interested in my life without a purpose. You typically get to know someone for a reason—be it friendship or something more romantic. And with you…” I grew lost in his intense stare, my words vanishing from my lips.

  “With me, what?” he whispered, pulling me deeper and deeper into the trance he’d put me under with nothing more than a look.

  Without realizing it, we’d both stopped walking and stood on the side of the dirt road, staring at each other, my hand in his. Light poured onto us from both directions; however, it didn’t seem to be as yellow as before. Now, it appeared whiter, like what you’d expect from a halogen bulb. And the more I concentrated on his eyes, losing myself in his stare, the brighter it became. If I’d been more aware of my surroundings, I might’ve questioned the possible presence of a UFO above us.

  Suddenly, the sound of a dirt bike revving its engine in the distance broke the spell. And just like that, the light returned to its natural yellow hue, the static in the air evaporated, and the heat in my cheeks came back with a vengeance.

  A blind man could recognize that Drew had been locked under the same trance, and now, he appeared just as stunned as I felt. Hopefully, that meant he couldn’t remember the conversation we’d been in the middle of either, because I didn’t care to make a fool of myself and admit that I’d just been in la-la land.

  “So, you were saying…” Dammit!

  I pulled my straw to my lips and sucked as slowly as possible, needing as much time as I could steal to remember what I was saying. But all I could focus on was his theory about death and birth. It was as if my brain couldn’t process anything before or after that.

  Evidently, Drew noticed my struggle and decided to help me along. “You said that everyone has a reason to get to know somebody, and then you said but with you… What were you going to say? What about me?”

  I recalled saying that, now that he’d refreshed my memory. However, I didn’t care to finish the thought, especially after staring lovingly into his eyes for what seemed like an eternity. “Who knows, it could’ve been anything. I don’t have a clue where I was going with that.”

  He didn’t buy my laugh and politely called me out on it. “I don’t know what motivation you think I have to get to know you, but I can assure you, you’re probably wrong. I just figured that since I’d spent the last couple of days telling you all about me and my family, it would be nice to know a few things about you as well.”

  “That’s exactly what I was trying to say.” I knew I’d been duped the second his lips curled at the corners. He’d done that on purpose, to fish out the truth and force me to finish my original thought. Regardless, I continued anyway. “We could be friends, but considering I’m only here for a week and we aren’t exactly neighbors, that wouldn’t be much of a friendship. And those same reasons go for anything romantic as well. Which means your interest in me is just that—unmotivated curiosity. So no, I wasn’t uncomfortable talking about myself. I’m just not sure what to make of it.”

  Drew was quiet for a moment, contemplating my accusation while resuming our leisurely stroll back to The Feeder. “What reason do people have to watch reality TV? Isn’t that kind of the same thing as getting to know someone?”

  “Yeah, I guess…but I’m assuming they do that for the entertainment value.”

  “Well, I’m not going to lie to you, Kenny, I find you rather entertaining. So maybe that’s my reason. Or—” He practically hopped and held up one finger, as if something brilliant had just come to him. “Maybe I simply enjoy your company, and I don’t want to risk running you off by spending the entire time together talking about myself. See, it seems I’m not as selflessly interested in you as you might think.”

  I couldn’t hold in the laughter any longer. His determination to prove me wrong amused me. It was like he’d taken offense to being a nice guy who simply wanted to get to know me without expecting anything in return. “Okay, you’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

  As we approached the front of the restaurant, Drew tipped his head back and finished off what was left in his beer bottle. “Wait for me over there while I take these to the trash,” he said, pointing to the side of the building where I assumed he’d parked his golf cart. He then took my cup and his empty bottle to the bin next to the steps and threw them away.

  “So, do you feel like you know enough about me now?” I asked as he slid onto the seat next to me.

  He hummed to himself as he turned the key in the ignition. “Not really. You didn’t tell me much, and to be honest, I’m not even sure I understand what little you did tell me. Based on what you said, it seems like your mom would hate your grandfather, yet she allowed him to move in with her. And I feel like there’s still so much to learn about your grandmother.”

  “I wouldn’t necessarily say that my mom hates my grandpa. After all, he is her dad, whether she likes it or not. Allowing him to live with us wasn’t an easy decision on her part. She wrestled with it for a while. But at the end of the day, her problem with him was no longer an issue, and considering he’d had a stroke, the likelihood of him falling off the wagon was slim to none.”

  My mom hadn’t discussed her decision with me—it wasn’t something a thirteen-year-old should have to worry about. The only reason I knew any of that was because I had overheard her crying to herself when she thought I was asleep. I would never forget the nights I’d spent sitting outside her door, listening to her whisper to herself, tears and pain filling every conflicted thought. At first, I had assumed she was on the phone with someone, but it didn’t take long to figure out who she was talking to—her guardian angel, my grandmother.

  “If your mom hadn’t seen him in twenty years, how did he know how to reach her when he had his stroke?”

  I realized how slow he was driving, clearly trying to stretch it out to keep me talking. And even though we had slipped back into discussing my family drama, I didn’t mind. I wasn’t ready for the night to be over just yet—then again, it seemed that I never wanted my time with Drew to come to an end. This wasn’t anything new.

  “Umm…I’m not entirely sure abo
ut that. From what I gather, they were trying to reach my grandmother and were somehow given my mom’s number. I guess they got ahold of someone who used to know her. I have no idea, but it was the hospital who called my mom, not him.” With everything else going on at that time, that had never been something I’d questioned too hard or thought much about.

  “I take it that means he didn’t know about you?”

  “Nope. But if your next question is about his reaction to me, save your breath. I wasn’t allowed to go to the hospital with my mom after she found out about the stroke. Not to mention, it wasn’t local, so it’s not like she went often anyway. And by the time I did meet him, my mom had already told him about me, so the element of surprise was gone.” I was amazed at how interesting he found all this. To me, it was nothing but a boring story.

  The cart came to a gradual stop in front of my cabin, yet neither of us made any move to end the night. Instead, he turned to me, inquisitiveness in his eyes, and asked, “That was five years ago, right? I take it that means he’s doing better now?”

  The most surprising part of this all had to be that I wasn’t bothered in the slightest by talking about it, despite the heaviness and deeply personal subject matter. Oddly enough, telling Drew about my sick grandfather and his abusive and alcoholic past offered me a sense of peace. He felt like a confidante, a safe place. And rather than question it too much, I decided to go with it and see where it led.

  “No, the stroke really messed him up. I obviously didn’t know him before that, but I think it’s safe to say he’s nothing more than a shell of the man he used to be. And over the last five years, he’s gotten progressively worse.”

  “Really? How so?”

  “Well, after the stroke, he developed early-onset dementia. Apparently, it’s not uncommon for that to happen. While it wasn’t too bad at the beginning—you wouldn’t have known it if someone didn’t tell you—it’s gotten pretty bad. I guess I look just like my grandmother, because he always thinks I’m her. He calls me by her name and everything.”