Persist: Paint the Scars Gold

Chapter Five

After the quickest everything shower I've ever taken, I ran down the stairs, yelling to anyone that could hear that I'd be back. My boots loudly slapped the the concrete of the driveway as I ran down it, headed straight for the house across the street. I was panting when I reached the front door, knocking and ringing the doorbell both before I had time to think about my actions or how late it was. I didn't stop until the door swung open to show Mr. Avery wearing just pajama bottoms and sleep in his eyes. "Rey, what's going on?" A yawn punctuated his question and he rubbed his eyes, almost as if he thought my feral presence was part of a dream.

"I need to see Sam. It's urgent," my voice was ragged as I caught my breath. I rubbed my face with my hands, wiping away the water that dripped from my wet hair.

"He's not home. None of the boys are. What's so urgent?" He sounded instantly more awake and opened the door wider, inviting me in with a swing of his heavily tattooed arm. I stepped into the foyer, with it's familiar architecture so similar to my own home. But while my house was was Mom called "modern", Sam's was full of dark woods and rich, inviting colors.

"Where is Sam? I need to find him. I have to talk to him right now."

"Did you try calling him? He was going to some party after the football game, didn't really give ol' dad the details."

Had I tried calling him? Of course not! I walked into their sitting room and sank onto the leather couch, wishing it would swallow me whole. "No."

"Want some tea? Maybe a towel? An old man is a poor replacement as company, but you're welcome to wait for him here."

"Thank you, Mr. Avery. Both would be nice." I pulled my hood up and shrank back into the couch.

I tried not to eavesdrop on his phone call while he put the kettle on, but it was hard to ignore the volume of his voice.

You need to get home, now. Your girlfriend blew into the house like a damn hurricane looking for you... no, Samuel, listen to me... and that's exactly what I told you not to do... damn it, son. Send me the address.

Girlfriend? I blushed at the idea that things had not been nearly as private as I'd thought they were. Had I really been so deluded so think others didn't know what we'd been up to, just because we hadn't put titles on it?

A few minutes later, Sam's dad joined me in the sitting room with two cups of tea and a towel draped over his shoulder. "My youngest seems to have fallen prey to a few victory keg stands. I'm going to pick him up."

I took the offered towel and lowered by hood, twisting my soggy curls on top of my head. I took the mug and wrapped my hands around it, trying to find comfort in the warmth, smiling after the first sip. Earl Grey with a spoon of honey, the same that Sam always made for me. "Can I come with you?"

Mr. Avery sat in the arm chair across from me and enjoyed a long draught of his drink. "Of course. He seems... remorseful, though it could also just be whiskey blues. Do with that what you will."

We finished our tea in relative silence before Mr. Avery pulled on a hoodie and led me to the garage. I climbed into the back seat out of instinct, not realizing how ridiculous it seemed to have a man in pajamas playing Driving Miss Daisy.

When the engine turned over, the radio roared to life with a familiar deathcore song. He was quick to turn down the volume and swap to a classic rock station.

"Leave it! I like this band."

"A girl after my own heart."

It took us about 20 minutes to pull up to the party, and we'd screamed and growled our way through a few songs in that time. I felt a pang of sadness as he turned down the music and slipped back into Dad Mode. At first, the sadness felt like missed opportunity, but then it faded to jealousy. For the first time in years, I felt like I had a father again, and it stung to know the feeling was so fleeting.