"You're kidding me," I snarled as I looked up in time to see my father sauntering in the front door.
"God, you do wear sunscreen, right?" Xavier asked.
I looked down at the deeply delineated tan my hiking gear had left. "I don't worry too much about tan lines," I said and tugged the shirt over my head.
"You could at least worry about fading all those tattoos. They'll look even worse once they’re washed out."
I ground my teeth. "Is there something you want, Xavier?"
My father smiled wolfishly. "Don't let your mother know you forgot our plans."
"Shit." I had completely forgotten she wanted to meet at the beach house. It was lucky my own sappy thoughts had dragged me there.
"There you are!" Alice swept in the door in a long kaftan of bright turquoise. She had gained back the color in her face and some of the weight she had lost during chemotherapy. Her hair was thinning, but a wide band of bright, white silk covered it up.
I came around the kitchen island to fold her in a hug. "You look great," I said, careful not to squeeze her too hard.
"And you look pale, Penn," she said.
I snorted. "He says I'm sunburned, you say I'm pale. Can't you two ever agree on anything?"
Alice grinned. "Yes, we can. We've set a date for our wedding."
"He agreed to the drum circle and jumping the broom?" I asked, jabbing a thumb at my father.
Xavier tugged down his tailored suit coat. "I'm only going to say this once, Penn; you're going to respect your mother's choices, and you're going to be nice about it."
"Or what?" I snapped.
We squared off, but my mother stepped between us with an impatient sigh. "You two are so alike, so stubborn and quick to mouth off. It's a wonder we ever have any decent conversations."
My mouth went dry, and I turned away to get another glass of water. Ending up like my father was exactly what I was afraid of. I knew I had the same quick temper, the same tendency to work too hard and play too hard.
It was probably lucky that Corsica had taken off when she did, or I probably would have ended up hurting her. I wouldn't have meant to, but I could imagine it happening.
Like the mornings after when my father was so sorry, so crushed with contrition that he could hardly speak.
Then I remembered that I had already hurt Corsica and, because of that, I would probably never see her again. What did it matter, then, who I ended up being like? I was going to end up being alone and I needed to get used to it.
"Speaking of conversations, have you talked to Corsica yet?"
I jumped, still not fond of my mother's near magic perceptions. "Why would I talk to Corsica? She ran off all wounded and probably wouldn't even answer the phone if I called."
The strange wrong number I had gotten the afternoon before sprung to mind again. Like an idiot, I had assumed it was her and had even called her name. The person hung up after only a few seconds, but the embarrassment had lasted. First her song haunted my entire three-day trek and now I was hoping strange phone calls were her?
Alice crossed her billowing sleeves with an irritated look. "Wounded? Corsica
has survived far worse wounds than you being a jerk at a society ball. She's a lot stronger than you think she is."
That's one of the things I love most about her, I thought. It was a good thing I bit my tongue, but I was afraid my mother had read that thought, too. Alice smiled and loosened her hands.
"The person you should worry about is you," she said, taking my fingers and squeezing them. "You're too tough on yourself. It's your father's stubborn pride. Ask him because Xavier knows the only person who suffered because of it was him."
My father tugged my mother away and brushed a kiss against her cheek. "It's true. I avoided Alice for too long because I was afraid she wouldn't forgive me. I couldn't stand the idea of her seeing how much that would hurt me."
"But you forgave him," I said. It was a fact that still amazed me, but I was beginning to see that my father really had changed.
"All it took was a little honesty," Alice said.