Maverick

Chapter 28

The beautifully vibrant, ruby red wine frothed and glittered majestically from the bottle held by the young waitress, first filling my glass, then Dad's. He looked at me over the silver wine cooler, where the waitress had just replaced the bottle. His eyes, a perfect, unclouded blue, crinkled. I didn't know what we were celebrating. I don't think Dad did, either. I think that it was just a fruitless attempt to cheer me up. When he had told me this afternoon, over another endless mug of watery tea, I hadn't even bothered to ask if Maverick could join us. I knew that my dad needed this night, if anything just to keep him sane, make him believe that he was doing everything he could do to help me. Even though there was nothing he could do. Nothing anyone could do. I was beyond repair, having been glued back together one too many times, the hinges holding me together hanging loose.

Dad reached over the table and squeezed my hand tightly. "We should do this more often," he said. I murmured a reply I hoped sounded vaguely enthusiastic. The chatter swelling around us in the crowded eating area was quiet and unrelenting. I tried not to think about how empty this room was without Isaac there. Dad watched my face; I could tell by his eyes that he knew what I was thinking. "You miss him."

"No." However much I tried to hide it, my voice was weak and wavering. My eyes glistened. "I'm just worried about him." I thought about how he had blamed me for what happened to Hanna. How he had screamed my name down the bleak corridor when I left him. How he had told me he loved me. That echoed around my head incessantly.

"Reece! I'm in love with you."

"That's not a crime," Dad told me. "It's okay to be worried." He took a gulp of his wine. "You and Ezra have been friends for years, Reece."

"I know that."

My eyes wandered over to the crowd of families and couples enjoying a nice evening at the best bar in town, chatting amicably and unaware of the broken life of the young waiter who, just last month, had been here laughing and smiling and... free. The small, buttery-gold flames of the candles on the tables reflected up into their tanned faces, knives and forks clinked together musically as they ate. Ezra would have loved this. He always liked the weekend rush, the busy, late summer evenings. He would chat to the kids and make them laugh with his stupid, tragic jokes. Everyone loved Ezra. The one thing I would regret would be that somehow, I couldn't force myself to love him the way he so desperately wanted me to. But I couldn't go back. There was nothing I could do to change anything, now. It was all too late.

Dad's phone rang.

Even though the restaurant was still surging with clamour, the ringtone still sounded piercingly and unexpectedly into the evening. For a moment, Dad's eyes locked with mine, the pupils widened like a vortex, threatening to swallow me into the deep darkness. A cold sweat broke out on my forehead.

"Hello?" Dad's voice was strained and tight. His grubby fingernails drummed listlessly onto the table. "Sorry? I don't understand..." The wrinkles he had been trying to hide for months deepened across his eyes and forehead, intensifying where his eyes scrunched together. They flashed to me, silently horrified by what he was hearing, yet sad. Unmistakeably sad. "Sure. I'll be down there as soon as I can."

He hung up, slowly, not being able to control the shaking of his hands as the phone slipped out of his grip and onto the stony floor.

"Dad?" My voice was a timid whisper compared to how I was feeling. He opened his mouth to answer me, but instead his lip trembled and he let out a long, shaky breath. "Reece. I don't want you to panic, honey."