Page 77 of Sunset Catchers

That is very sweet. It never crossed my mind before that men also met up with their best friends to play catching up.

Levi drives us to the first stop of our daily endeavor; a 150-year-old barn full of antiques. This was one of the dozens of thrift stores and antique shops to hit on my list. My urge to decorate and make everything pretty was perking up, and we were close to that point anyway. Anything missing after today would, hopefully, be rummaged on our upcoming road trip.

Inside the greyed-wood barn, we are greeted by the owners and tables filled with scuffed treasures. The old flooring creaks under our careful steps. My gaze peruses all of these items while Levi’s pursues me. “Look around Levi, we’re doing some shopping over here,” I say, when I’ve had enough of his fretting. I want to yell at him to Look away, I don’t want to be seen today!

He ignores me.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

I just want to cry for three months straight; nothing too intense. Levi’s stares at me so deeply; I’m worried I’ve said that last part out loud. He zeros in on the little creases I get under my eyes any time I don’t get enough sleep. Which is quite often because I do enjoy books more than I enjoy sleep. Although these specific creases are not an effect of an unputdownable novel.

These creases are gifted by another missed (ignored) call from my mom. Sometimes, seeing her name flash on my phone makes me angry; sometimes it makes me vastly sad.

I wish Junie was here this morning; I kind of need a hug right now.

Levi’s ringtone halts his staring. I watch him slip his phone out of his jeans pocket, glancing at the screen.

He looks toward me; “It’s my mom, can’t ignore the call. Do you mind?”

I can’t help it; my whole face falls at his words. I hide away from Levi, offering my attention to a copper vase with etched flowers and vines.

“I don’t mind,” I tell him. He swipes to answer.

“Hi, Mom.”

“Levi. How’s my sunshine boy doing?” Levi’s cheeks lift. I make a face so he knows I can hear both sides of the conversation. He bobs his head and walks back outside of the barn for some privacy while I continue walking between the tables.

It is a comfort to me to be amongst unwanted items and know that they might end up in a new home, loved by their new owners. Maybe even find their forever resting place on a shelf, a bedside table, or an entryway console.

These are my peers.

A lot of four glasses charm me with their sunflower motifs; they are dusty but would be perfect on the open oak shelf we’ve installed in the kitchen in my cottage. Levi appears back at my side, done with his call.

“Sorry about that.”

I wave his apology away. “I want to get these glasses,” I tell him.

“Pretty,” he says and picks them up. Once we’ve done our round of the main space in the barn, we head toward the back.

“Do you talk to your mom often?” I ask, considering if I could find a place for the cute wicker basket that caught my eye in the narrow, slanted hallway we are walking through.

“Every couple of days. And we see each other as much when I’m home in Toronto.”

Levi, apparently feeling bold this morning, throws the boomerang back to me. “Do you talk to your mom often?”

And since I’m feeling sad and deflated this morning, I answered him. “No,” I say with a sigh. “I don’t.” Levi, thinking for sure that is the extent of my reply, seems astounded when I keep talking. “We’re not very close. It’s been a few months since I’ve talked to her. A few years since I’ve even seen her.”

I decide that yes, I can make use of the wicker basket. I hang its handle in the crook of my elbow.

His only answer is a low, sad hum. I get it; it makes sense coming from a guy who just confessed to talking and seeing his mom on a regular basis. Of course, he’d think it’s abnormal to go no contact for so long.

“Do you wish you would talk more?”

“Yes. Very much so,” I sigh. “But, since our relationship is what it is, it’s best we keep our distance.” If I could rewrite my history, of course, I’d give myself a great relationship with my mother. It was never my wish to be estranged.

“Do you want to tell me about it?” My head snaps toward him, my brow line tense out of habit. For once, he doesn’t let my reaction deter him. “As little or as much as you want.”