Page 19 of The Leaving Kind

Two hours later, Victor was stuffing his fridge with salads, side dishes, and snacks. Tez had finished tidying the house—it hadn’t been that bad—had unstacked and arranged the patio furniture, and had charcoal going in the grill. The smell of smoke and old barbecues had Victor’s stomach rumbling. He had little idea what he’d fed himself over the past few days. Hopefully not cat food.

“Hello, the house!”

Victor shut the fridge door, wiped his hands, and went to greet his son.

Both of their children more resembled Tereza than Victor, with their tall stature, golden skin, and dark curls. But they had Victor’s eyes, Sage’s a grayer blue, and always startling by contrast. Victor pulled him into a hug, surprised, even ten years after the fact, at how small he felt in Sage’s embrace.

“Hello, my boy.”

“Hey, Dad.” Sage clapped his back, the signal their hug should probably end soon.

Chuckling, Victor let him go and turned to hug Sage’s girlfriend, Ashni. She was, thankfully, shorter than he was, beautifully curvy, and had the glossiest black hair Victor had ever seen outside of a magazine. She was also an absolute dear. She had a smile that encouraged everyone else to be happy, even if they didn’t know why. Perched on her hip, his chubby little legs kicking back and forth, was his grandson, Billy. He was a perfect combination of Sage and Ashni, all smooth, dusky skin, dark curls, and a huge smile.

“Hello, number one grandson!” Victor said, ducking a little to stroke the boy’s cheek. Then he leaned in to kiss Ashni’s cheek. “And number two daughter.”

Chuckling, she kissed him back.

“Come in, come in.” He hustled them into the hall. “Cori isn’t here yet, but Tez has the grill going, and I’ve made enough food to keep us through the apocalypse.”

Tires crunched on gravel, and Victor glanced over Ashni’s shoulder. “Speak of the devil, here she is.” He turned a smile to Billy. “And she has balloons for you!”

He was vaguely aware he sounded mildly ridiculous, but fathers and grandfathers were supposed to. One of the aspects of being a parent he’d always loved was the license to let go and be embarrassing. To give in to the hugeness of his emotions during worthy moments.

A moment later, Cori and her phalanx of balloons joined the huddle in the hallway and another round of hugs and kisses ensued. She’d brought along her best friend, Raya. Cori and Raya had been friends since high school, and Victor sometimes wondered whether they were the generational equivalent of him and Tereza. Cori always offered oblique responses to his equally slanted questions about the relationship, though, so he left it alone.

He hugged her as hard as he had Sage, and she clapped him on the back when it was time for him to let go.

Another pair of gray-blue eyes, these a bluer gray, met his. Tez had never understood how both of her children had won such an unlikely genetic lottery, though with Cori’s slightly fairer complexion, the color was less of a surprise.

“You smell like you’ve spent the week inside a wine bottle, Dad,” she murmured. “Everything okay?”

“I’m fine.”

She had a hand on his arm and didn’t seem inclined to let go. “It’s been a while since you last took a deep dive.”

Oh, his oldest child. Not always sensible, but oh so wise. Cori took after her mother there.

Victor made his mouth smile. “I finally tossed Tholo out on his behind.”

Her smile echoed his for a second before spreading wide. “Good.” She squeezed his arm and let go. “Call me if you need to talk about it.”

“Of course.” He never would. It was a parent’s duty to be there for their children, not the other way around. But he loved Cori for the offer. How had he ever produced such kind people? Must be Tez’s genes. He’d given his kids eyes in various shades of blue, and she had given them everything worthwhile.

Curling an arm around his daughter’s waist, Victor guided her into the house. “So, tell me about your latest project.” After college, she’d taken a job with a landscape architecture firm in New Jersey that dealt with city parks and infrastructure. He loved hearing her enthusiasm for the work and only hoped Sage would eventually enjoy publishing as much. Perhaps when he graduated from the slush pile to actual editing, he’d have a better time.

The afternoon continued to pass pleasantly, and it was only as the evening cooled and Victor trod the path to the garage in search of wood for the firepit that he remembered fully his encounter with the landscaping guy. Cam? Cameron? Victor couldn’t recall exactly how he’d introduced himself, but his memory of the man’s face was clear. The way his features refused to be plain, even while unremarkable. The concern in his eyes and the care he’d taken with Victor every time he’d been here.

The blue tarp, flapping gently at the corners in the early evening breeze.

For no reason whatsoever, he wondered how Cam would fit into his family, into the close-knit group of loved ones currently gathered on the patio. As he stacked cut wood into his arms, he reasoned his thoughts likely hinged on the fact that Cam had obviously had as little to do with his life this week as Victor had. That time weighed heavily on him—and that Cam had not sought solace at the bottom of a wine bottle. Instead, he’d turned his attention toward helping a stranger.

Victor studied the tarp, still held down by six flat rocks despite the ferocity of Thursday’s storm, and wondered if he’d ever see him again. His guardian angel. He also wondered whether he’d like that.

He was wondering why he was doing all this wondering when Sage called from the side of the garage. “Need a hand?”

Victor held out his armful of wood for Sage to take. “Here.”

Sage took the wood but didn’t move. “You all right, Dad?”