The Wright Boss(71)

He curiously eyed the extra Blizzard.

"For my dad," I whispered.

"You used to come here a lot?"

"Over the summer, he would bring home extra super-large DQ Blizzards that would last me the whole summer. My mom hated it, but she'd sneak some of his ice cream when he wasn't looking."

"And, normally, you'd come and eat one of these alone?"

"Yeah, well, it was a reminder of happier times, you know? Before the … drugs and … and everything." I hiccuped over the last word and glanced away.

"I get it," he said, covering my hand. "I like knowing this side of you."

"Thanks for being here with me."

"I wouldn't have missed it. If you need me, I'm here."

I nodded my head and then returned to my Blizzard. Truly, there was no way I was going to finish it, but I couldn't bring it back to the apartment with all the memories it held. So, when Landon finished his cone, I dumped the rest of the Blizzards, and we headed out.

"I hope you know how to roller skate," I told him as we pulled into the parking lot.

He laughed. "Uh, I haven't skated in years."

"Just don't break your back."

"Too late for that."

We each rented a set of crappy skates and laced them up on a black, neon-green, and neon-pink carpeted bench that glowed in the black lights. A couple of regulars, middle schoolers, who could skate circles around everyone in the place, were already showing off to the shitty techno music blaring through the speakers. But the stale smell of burned popcorn, overloads of sugar, and cheap pizza, coupled with the feel of wheels under my feet, brought me to a different place. A different place.

It was as if I had been transported.

"I'm really not good at skating," Landon admitted as he eased onto his feet.

"Color me surprised. A Wright actually isn't good at something."

"We're bad at a lot of stuff."

"Well, I'll hold your hand, pretty boy. Come here."

He took my hands, and I skated backward like a pro, guiding him and getting him back into a rhythm. After we did a lap or two, he stopped thinking so hard about what his feet were doing and started enjoying himself. That meant I could show off, and it was fun. God, it was so fun.

"Where did you learn to skate like that?" Landon asked in awe.

I grinned as I weaved my feet back and forth. "My dad."

"Hank Martin roller-skated?" he asked practically uncomprehendingly.

"He was amazing. Grew up in an age where roller-skating was cheap, and all the cool kids did it. Showing off was my dad's pastime."

"Don't know anyone else like that," he said sarcastically.

I laughed, comfortable with the statement today. Most other days, I wouldn't appreciate the comparison to my father. "I do have a flair for the dramatic."

"I like that about you."

"What don't you like, Wright?"

He cocked his head to the side. "Nothing."



       
         
       
        

"Give me time."

"I've known you for a long time, Heidi. Not going to change how I feel now."

He took my hand and tugged me back around so that we could skate like a brand-new middle school couple showing off to our friends. It was strangely romantic in a completely unassuming way.

By the time the later afternoon birthday crowds started showing up, Landon and I decided to call it quits. Roller-skating wasn't the best thing for his back anyway. I could tell he was in some pain but didn't want to ruin my day with it.

I ordered him to return our shoes as I snagged us some pizza and a Coke. We ate like it was fine dining, laughing over how the cheese seemed to slide off the entire slice and the bottom had the consistency of cardboard. But it was delicious. And being with him like this was equally delicious.

"Where are we going next?" he asked as the sun was finally setting on the horizon. "Flips? For pool?"

"No," I said with a sigh. "Hank's."

Landon glanced over at me in confusion. "But Hank's was demolished."

"I know." I swiped at the tear in my eye at the mention that my father's beloved bar had been torn down by Wright Construction to put up high-end condominiums. And that I'd then gone and worked for the people who had done it.

I stopped the car in front of the condos, and Landon and I both slid out. I nodded my head at the small park across the street. It was deserted at this hour, and we easily found a park bench that faced the condos. As I faced the building that used to be my home away from home, where I'd spent more hours than my own home, tears poured out of my eyes. And I let them. I let myself feel all the pain.