Page 59 of Big Stick Energy
“Just don’t expect anything from your father, okay? We’ve seen this play already. We already know how it ends.”
That is depressingly true. But I’m tired of talking about it, so I change the subject. And when I hang up a minute later, I’m hoping that things have calmed down inside Casa Tremaine.
But no. The first thing I hear is Eric hollering. “Mom, this isnotokay! It’s not healthy for you to be so upset.”
“You have norightto tell me how to feel! You’re living the life Danny never got. What didyouever lose?”
“Plenty!” he shouts. “And so did Maribel! But shemoved on. You have to let her.”
When his mother replies, her voice is full of anguish. “I just can’t bear it! Danny was thelove of her life, and it’s disrespectful of her to pretend otherwise.”
“Patty!” his father gasps.
“Whoa, Mom,” Eric says. “You need help.”
“You will notspeakto me like that in my own house!”
There’s a deep silence, and I forget to breathe.
“You’re right,” Eric says ominously. “I won’t.”
“Eric, your girlfriend is waiting for you,” his father says, obviously hoping to turn down the temperature.
“She’d happily wait another minute,” Eric snaps. “If she knew I needed to get all my things from upstairs and get the hell out of here for good.”
Oh shit.
I try the door to the Porsche and find it open. I sit down in the passenger seat. Five minutes later, Eric emerges from the house with his suitcase and mine, too. His face is bright red, and he stomps to the back of the car and puts the luggage inside without a word.
Then he climbs behind the wheel and starts the car. “Sorry,” he mutters.
“It’s okay.” Although nothing is okay—not for the Tremaine family. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” His body is tense as he backs out of the drive. “I knew it might be like this. I just hoped…” He shakes his head. “I’ll get you to the hotel in time for your class.”
Oh, heck.I’d forgotten all about the lecture I need to Zoom into. A glance at my watch says it won’t be a problem, though. There’s still plenty of time. “We’re good. Don’t worry about a thing.”
Maybe that’s impossible, though, because Eric’s hands are white-knuckled on the wheel as he steers the car up the winding north shore roads.
I’m trying to think of a soothing topic of conversation when he pulls into a gas station in Salem. Which doesn’t seem weird until I remember that we’re driving an electric car, which he charged in his dad’s garage last night. “Darcy, I’m sorry. But you need to drive.”
“Drive…thiscar?” I squeak.
He nods and puts his face in his hands. “I’m having a migraine aura. There’s a black spot in the center of my vision.”
“Oh no,” I whisper. “That sounds serious.”
He shakes his head. “It’s really not. But I can’t really drive if the car in front of me isn’t visible.”
“Okay,” I say quickly. “Okay.” I undo my seat belt, while he does the same.
We meet as we circle the hood of the car, and he stops, putting a hand on my shoulder. His gray eyes are squinty. “Sorry for all the drama, Darcy.”
My heart gives an empathetic squeeze. “What did I tell you about other people’s family drama? It’s like a mosquito at a nudist colony—a little annoying, but at least it’s not bitingyou.”
He coughs out a laugh, and then we switch sides of the car. This involves him moving the passenger seat backward by about a yard, and me moving the driver’s seat up the same amount. “Okay, um, what do I do?”
He slits his eyes at me. “Wait, youdodrive?”
