Sometime Soon - By Debra Doxer Page 0,40
be back in an hour for lunch.”
Wes starts to walk away without responding.
“Wes!” Ryan calls.
He halts reluctantly.
“One hour,” Ryan repeats.
“Fine,” he mumbles and trudges away.
Once Wes is out of earshot, I turn to Ryan. “Holy teenage angst.”
He pulls his sunglasses down his nose and out of the way so he can rub his eyes. “You have no idea.”
“What’s his story?”
“He was supposed to go hiking with some friends this afternoon. But I changed his plans for him. He’s not too happy with me at the moment.”
“Why did you do that?”
Ryan replaces his sunglasses and looks out at the ocean. “I found a pile of CDs in his room this morning. CDs he didn’t pay for.”
My eyes widen at him. “He stole them?”
“Shoplifting is turning into a hobby for him.”
“Oh,” I comment, not really knowing what else to say. “Does your dad know?”
“No, not yet. That’s actually the reason why he’s up here with me this summer. He was pulling this stuff at home, and he got caught. My dad made some kind of deal so that there wouldn’t be any charges, and he shipped Wes up to me for the summer. I guess I’m not really helping though.” Ryan smiles morosely because there’s obviously nothing funny about it.
“Your dad made him your responsibility? That’s a lot to take on.” I’m not inclined to like his father very much when I hear this.
Ryan responds with only a slight lift of one shoulder.
“What are you going to do?” I ask.
He’s still staring out at the water when he answers. “Tell my dad, I guess. Maybe they’ll send him to someone, a psychologist or something. Someone he can talk to.”
“That sounds like a good idea,” I comment inanely. I have no idea what one does with a fourteen-year-old shoplifter. “Is he trying to rebel or get attention maybe?”
“It’s definitely about getting attention. He’s left on his own a lot at home. My dad is retired. He wants to travel and play golf. In the past year, he and Carol, that’s Wes’s mother, have taken two cruises, gone on a golf vacation to Florida, travelled around Europe, and went to stay with Carol’s sister in New Mexico for nearly a month. They leave Wes with a nanny and take off to wherever they want. He’s basically raising himself.”
I look at Ryan, not sure what to say, feeling very differently about Wes, now.
“My dad had no business having another kid,” he continues after moment. “He did it for Carol. But she doesn’t really seem to be into the parenting thing.”
“How old were you when your mom died?” I ask.
“I was in my sophomore year of high school. She had breast cancer.”
“I’m sorry. That must have been really hard.”
He nods. “My dad met Carol a year later and they were married less than a year after that.” His resentment is apparent.
“Has Carol made an effort with you, or is this thing mutual?”
Ryan surprises me by laughing. “It’s that obvious, huh?”
I nod at him, feeling my mouth turn up at his reaction.
He thinks for a moment before responding. “She’s okay, I guess. She’s been nice enough to me. But my dad is seventeen years older than her. She went after him the minute she met him and found out he was a widower.”
“Would you rather he was still alone, missing your mom?”
“No, of course not. I just wish he’d met someone more appropriate. And I wish they would stay home more and take care of Wes.”
“That’s understandable. I feel badly for him.”
“Yeah. Me, too.”
“But at least he has a great older brother.”
Ryan turns to me, and I see his straight white teeth revealed in his smile. “How about your family?” he asks. “Are you close?”
“Yes,” I reply, “both figuratively and literally.”
He raises an eyebrow at me. “Did I just pick you up at your parents’ house?”
“No,” I laugh. “But we all live within ten minutes of each other. My sister and her fiancé live in the next town over from me, and my folks live one town over from them.”
“Your parents are still together then?”
“They’ve been married for over thirty years. My sister and I are toying with the idea of throwing them a big thirty-fifth anniversary party in a few years. That is, if my sister and mother are still speaking to each other.”
He offers me a questioning glance.
“The two of them planning my sister’s wedding together is not going smoothly,” I explain.
“Why is that?” he asks.
“My sister has opinions,” I respond without having to think