“Interesting subject matter. Why immigration?”
I softly chuckle. “As a boy who grew up on a cherry orchard, we had seasonal workers. Sometimes it was college kids from the area, but other times, we had families who’d traveled the states through their agricultural seasons, and I always wondered what it’d be like to be one of those kids. I had the unfair advantage of owning the farm. Well, my dad owned it, and I was grateful to be on the owner’s side of the story.”
My eyes land on my father. His head is bowed.
“Let me add that I worked that farm as well, and the year I wanted to use my dad’s old truck, he made me work extra for every time I asked. There were no handouts.”
The audience chuckles. I glance a few rows behind my parents to catch Britton’s eyes again. Every night I wanted Jack Scott’s truck, I had to justify it by working hard that day in the orchard or the accompanying factory. I woke up early to get in a run and a workout, plus batting practice, before earning my keep to get that truck at night for Britton and me.
Britton’s holding a piece of licorice up to her lips, and the corner of mine crooks up. Tempting vixen, she doesn’t even know what she’s doing to me, and I lose focus for a second. I wasn’t certain she would show, especially since she was cornered, but I’m so happy she’s here. I didn’t want to believe she’d go out with Gabe Carpenter, but I also didn’t take time to ask. I figured if I pressed in front of him and he was her man, she’d tell me in no uncertain terms. Still, I’m puzzled who her man is as she hasn’t told me more.
“Do you have any additional comments on your time with Oakland?”
My gaze returns to my father, who holds his head up, hanging on my answer.
“Other than it being some of the best times in my life, no.” I pause, sensing it’s not enough of an answer. “But also, I don’t think our lives need to be defined by a singular moment. It’s not that I played for them, and that was all I’d ever do. It’s not that I had an injury that ended my path. Our lives are a journey with multiple roads. You can take the path less traveled, turn back, start again, do a roundabout, or speed down the highway. It’s about choices. I played and loved it. I’m onto something new, loving it as well. As I said, I might have been older in the sport, but I’m not over. I still have a lot of life to live, and I’m looking forward to where I might go next.”
My eyes land on Ethan as he understands me best. He struggled himself, moving from job to job, working his way through restaurants but knowing he had a dream in his head. I glance over at Jess Carter, who also had a plan for success and was derailed from it. He had to circle back, as I said, but he’s been all the happier being home again. No two people’s road will be the same, and my dad has always had a hard time accepting that the one he wanted me to keep on came to a dead end.
The moderator takes a few questions from the audience before thanking me for my time as the film showings run on a tight schedule. I exit the stage to greet my family after a few unknown well-wishers come to shake my hand, thank me for being here, and welcome me home. A highlight of the film festival is those in the industry who are from the state of Michigan. The organizer of the event had a vision, as a Michigander himself, and he’s proud of the results for this area of the state.
I’m trying to make my way to Britton before losing sight of her. My parents have left as Mum was coughing again like she was choking, so Dad escorted her out of the theater.
“Gavin, come hang out with us,” Ethan says, catching me a final time before I can make it up the aisle where Britton disappeared. “It’s Thursday night, and we always meet at the Town Tavern in Elk Lake City.” I blink at him.
“Who is ‘we’?”
“I don’t think Gavin ever listens,” my sister Karyn states, shaking her head of dark, tight curls. She looks like an Irish dancer and could be a twin to our mother back when Mum was young and had hair. Talking about me in the third person reminds me of when we were younger. Karyn and I haven’t always gotten along in a typical older sister, younger brother manner, and she can be damn patronizing when she wants to be.
“Gavin hears just fine,” I snap. “Maybe I can meet you guys there later, but if not, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
The next day is more movie showings, but it’s typically family day with an emphasis on kid movies. I promised I’d spend the day with the guys boating, which includes Tom, Jess, Ethan, and some of the newer guys to the ‘we’ Ethan mentioned.
I pat Ethan on the shoulder. “Excuse me, guys.” Stepping away from him, I head up the aisle to the lobby, where I’m surprised to see Britton standing with my parents. Her hand is on my mother’s back, rubbing up and down her spine.
“Better?” Britton asks, and my eyes seek my dad’s, who is standing in front of Mum.
“What’s going on?”
“Oh, Gavin, lovie, that film was wonderful,” Mum says, her voice still rough. I look from Mum to Britton and back.
“You okay? What’s going on here?”
Mum dismisses me with a wave. “Something just went down the wrong pipe.”
My eyes meet Britton’s, who gives me a single headshake like she doesn’t believe Mum any more than I do.
“Let’s get you home,” Dad interjects. He hasn’t said a word about the film, and I’m dying to know his opinion, but I won’t ask. I can be as stubborn as him, as I learned from the master.
“Mum. Dad. Do you remember Britton McKay?” I ask, uncertain of their memory of this girl who once made a huge impression on me and took up my summer before I left for college.
“You own the tea shop in town, correct?” Dad questions as if clarifying the fact.
“Of course, I remember her,” Mum practically says at the same time, a hesitant smile crossing her lips.
“Sarah is one of my best customers,” Britton says proudly, still looking at Mum. She offers Mum a soft smile and the moment almost breaks me.
I’m stumped once more that my parents not only remember Britton but know her business, and they never mentioned it. No one has told me anything about Britton McKay.
But why would they? Britton’s question haunted me last night. As I sat on the couch in my rented condo, I stared out the window at a partial moon, recalling memory after memory of a girl and a boat on the water, and continued to wonder why no one has told me she was here and why it’s bothering me so much.
Three years. She’s been here almost three years, roughly the same amount of time since my injury. How could I not know she’s been here this whole time?
Britton’s eyes shift from Mum to me before her hand slips from Mum’s back.
“I should get going,” Britton says, but I reach out for her wrist. It’s not aggressive, but it is quick as I don’t want her to slip away from me yet.
“Have a drink with me?” I blurt, and Britton’s mouth falls open. Mum’s naked brows lift in surprise, but Dad’s eyes pinch.
“We need to catch up,” I say, defending my invitation and my actions.
“Is that what they call it?” Dad mutters as his first words to me. He didn’t dislike Britton, but he didn’t like her either. He thought she was a distraction I didn’t need before I left for college, and he had a few choice words about her during that summer. Words that almost brought us to blows.