Running Through the Words, 12

Twelve.

“Let me take care of dinner tonight,” Nol requests.

Despite the air conditioning, one can tell it’s a humid Saturday morning: the air is hazy and the sunshine is strong. Lucy has just loaded the coffee maker and turned it on. She busies herself with mug acquisition and the fixings for breakfast: granola, strawberries, and milk. Magnolia, dressed in lightweight sleep shorts and an overly large tee, sits at the kitchen counter and stifles yet another yawn. She didn’t get into Lake Caywood until after ten o’clock last night. It’s obvious she’s tired. Dark smudges linger under her eyes and her shoulders are slumped. Lucy wants to tell her to go back to bed for another hour or two, but that would defeat the purpose of arriving yesterday in order to get up early today, so what Lucy says instead is, “Kathryn and I are actually doing a girls’ outing—shopping and a late lunch—so how about you feed Bas? Cook for him, take him out for dinner… I don’t care. Just make sure he eats something.”

“Is he not eating? The way you say that makes me think he isn’t.”

“No, he is… He’s just not eating well.”

“Like… he’s eating unhealthy stuff?”

“Like… he picks at his meals and doesn’t eat much. He looks skinny to me.”

Nol dumps some granola into a bowl and slices two strawberries on top of it. “Are you worried about him? Should I be worried about him?”

“At this point? No. Neither one of us should be worried. But I am slightly concerned he’s taking on too much right now. Emotionally, I mean. It can’t be easy for him to watch Bert go through this. To see him this weak. And scared. And, you know, Bas doesn’t want to talk about how any of that is affecting him. He just wants to do. He wants to keep showing up and taking care of Bert and, I don’t know… I think it can’t be good for his mental health. I actually suggested he get in touch with Ria, the therapist he saw after his accident, but…”

“He refused?”

“He said he’d think about it,” Lucy amends, “which I took to mean ‘no.’”

Nol sighs and shovels a spoonful of granola into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. “You know,” she muses after a substantial silence, “‘concerned’ is just a synonym for ‘worried.’ You said you’re not worried, but you are concerned, and they’re essentially the same thing.” She smiles glumly and mashes a strawberry with her spoon, turning the milk a pale shade of pink. “I’ll see if I can get him to open up. Maybe we’ll have a night of sibling bonding at the Tavern.”

“He’d probably benefit from that. Thank you, Nol.”

🍁

Bas ‘n’ Lucy ‘n’ Bert.

The childhood mantra comes back to Lucy now, running circles in her head and spiraling to the core of her thoughts. She is concerned about Sebastian, yes, but she also understands why he’s moving at a hundred miles per hour one hundred percent of the time. It’s for the same reason she’s fixated her energy on worrying about him: so she doesn’t need to focus on her own feelings regarding Bert’s health.

Bas ‘n’ Lucy ‘n’ Bert.

It’s true that she’s always been a part of the equation, but she’s not oblivious to the equations within that equation. The Bas ‘n’ Lucy piece of it, for example. What the two of them have—the physical, sexual chemistry that sizzles her senses and leaves her lips feeling as though they’ve been singed after even the softest kiss—is very different from what the boys share… but what they have together is no less powerful.

There had been those college years when Lucy was almost completely subtracted from the equation. At that point in time, the formula had consisted of Bas ‘n’ Bert, Bert ‘n’ Bas. And that’s still the ratio that takes precedence each time the members of Flannel Lobster pack their bags, board the bus, and head out on tour, dividing their time between unfamiliar stages and hotel rooms that all look alike. They’ve explored the world together, and witnessed things Lucy can only begin to imagine… and she doesn’t pretend to understand the complex brotherhood that they share, but she knows it is powerful.

She knows, too, that Sebastian feels more than he’s probably aware of right now.

And if she’s being honest, Lucy feels more than she’d like to acknowledge as well. Because that’s the final quotient. The Lucy ‘n’ Bert aspect of the equation. It may appear to lack the strength of the other dynamics, but it has its own history. Its own power. And Lucy is hurting too.

“What are you thinking about over there?” Kathryn asks now, putting on her right turn signal and claiming a parking spot not far from the entrance to Creative, Inc. It’s a glorified art supply store, carrying everything from paints and canvases to decorative homegoods, and the only place Lucy really needs to spend money today. She has a list and she’s hoping to purchase everything on it; with the proper materials, Penelope the clown will come to fruition.

She sighs and climbs out of the car, looping her purse over her shoulder. “I’m thinking about Bert and the Pink Pumpkin Plunge and how I can design a fat suit that will allow him to easily pee if he needs to. And, I mean, all the other emotions that go along with thinking about Bert these days.”

“How’s he doing?”

“As well as can be expected, I guess. On the days that he feels alright, he’s the old, boyish Bert. But on the days when he’s sick…? It’s just hard to see him like that. He’s not someone you ever really think of as being down and out, you know? He’s always so…” She shrugs, not bothering to conclude the sentence.

“Vibrant?” Kathryn prompts. “Happy-go-lucky? Perpetually childlike?”

Lucy laughs. “Yes. He is definitely all of those things. And he is also so excited about this clown costume. I want it to be perfect for him. I get the impression it’s his light at the end of the tunnel. As of right now, his last chemo treatment is scheduled for the Wednesday before Halloween, so if everything goes as planned, the Pink Pumpkin Plunge should be a celebration of sorts. Plus, I mean… Halloween is his favorite holiday.”

“Rex mentioned something about the fundraiser last week. He’s typically not a kid who plans ahead, you know? But he’s already talking about what he and his friends are going to wear when they jump in the lake. Something to do with Marvel Comics. I think he’s just excited to play a role in supporting Bert.”

“He is seriously the sweetest kid, Kathryn. I checked in on him this morning at the shop before heading over to your place. He told me not to worry and to ‘have a good time with my mom. She could really use a friend.’ What’d he mean by that?”

Kathryn exhales slowly and tucks a clump of frizzy hair behind her ear. “Oh, jeez… Did he really say that?” She directs her gaze at the ceiling and blinks several times. At first, Lucy mistakes the gesture for an eye roll, but it takes only a second to realize her friend is trying not to cry. “Hey,” she coos softly, placing a hand on Kathryn’s back. “What’s going on?”

“Well… to make a very long story incredibly short… I told Will that I want a divorce.”

“You did?”

“I did. Two weeks ago.”

Perhaps what Lucy should feel upon hearing this announcement is intense sadness for her friend—and there is some of that because Will Edwards has been a part of Kathryn’s life for more than two decades—but mostly what she feels is joy. Massive amounts of joy. Rather than cheer, however, Lucy provides a comforting hug and a sympathetic sigh. “How long have the boys known? Today was the first day Rex hinted at anything…”

“We told the kids last night.” And then she corrects, “I told the kids last night. Will sat there and pouted, playing the victim like he does, and miraculously managed to begin every single sentence with ‘Your mother.’ ‘Your mother thinks it would be best…’ ‘Your mother has decided…’ ‘Your mother told me…’ He can be such an asshole sometimes.”

Lucy would argue that Will’s actually an asshole all of the time, but she keeps this to herself.

“So I’m moving out and the boys are thinking about who’d they’d like to live with and everything is pretty much a shitshow right now. And it sucks.”

“Hold on. You’re moving out? Where are you going?”

“Do you remember my coworker Lucas? His father’s a realtor and he found a little three-bedroom, one-bathroom rancher for me to rent. It’s over near the Marina—not too far from Bert’s place, actually—and I’m able to move in as early as next weekend. If you and Bas aren’t doing anything and wouldn’t mind hauling a load or two from the house to the rental, I’d really appreciate it.”

“As far as I know, we’re both available.”

“I hate to ask Bas for more help. He’s already devoting so much time to Rex and his driving.”

“Honestly, Kathryn? I think he enjoys it.”

“I don’t see how… Riding shotgun with that boy behind the wheel is downright terrifying. I was having heart palpitations before we even got out of the driveway. And when we hit downtown traffic? Yikes. My foot was a permanent fixture on that invisible brake…”

Lucy stifles a laugh. “To hear Rex tell it, you’re not the world’s greatest passenger.”

“That little shit,” Kathryn grumbles goodnaturedly. Then she veers her cart down an aisle cluttered with mirrors and wall art, continuing, “Seriously, though… I will owe Bas if he can successfully teach my kid to parallel park. For real.”

Although the occurrence isn’t new by any means, Lucy still hasn’t grown accustomed to hearing Kathryn offer words of praise regarding Sebastian. In high school, she’d disliked him. In college, she’d despised him. The word “hate” was frequently employed when speaking about him and if she felt obliged to use his name, she spoke the three syllables as if they carried a bitter, sour taste. Like a chewed-up tablet of aspirin.

The animosity had stemmed from her loyalty to Lucy, of course:

• Bas’s actions had confused Lucy, so Kathryn had developed a strong distaste for Bas.

• Bas had hurt Lucy, so Kathryn vehemently loathed him.

And then Bas had returned to Lake Caywood, broken and battered and spiritless after the hellacious accident that nearly claimed his life, and somehow he and Lucy had reconciled their misunderstanding. And somewhere along the way, Kathryn had allowed herself to see the side of Sebastian that had always been Lucy’s kryptonite. And amazingly, he had managed to win her over.

Although Bas had never disliked Kathryn with the same level of passion she felt for him, he had also never been a fan. To this day, he is still wary around her, admitting to Lucy that she makes him feel as if he’s walking on eggshells. “That she’s always quietly judging me, just waiting for me to fuck up again.” But he’s kind to her. Mostly because he’s kind to everyone, but also because Kathryn is largely responsible for the success of Flannel Lobster. Had she not asked them to open for The Bedsheet Ninjas all those years ago, the band’s talent would have likely remained undiscovered.

Lucy follows a step behind Kathryn, pausing to examine the price tag on a row of vertical hooks that could be used to hang mugs in her pottery shop. If it were ten dollars cheaper, she might add it to the cart, but she resists the urge and strides after her friend instead. “I know I’ve said this before,” she begins, companionably bumping her elbow against Kathryn’s, “but I’m gonna say it again: I am so happy—”

“I know, I know,” Kathryn groans, glancing away and attempting to hide her smile. “You’re so happy I’ve finally come to my senses and have an appreciation for Bas. I get it. I was wrong, you were right. Now… what sorts of supplies do we need for this clown costume? Where’s your list?”