Tidal Patterns (Golden Shores Book 1) (4 page)

After a couple of years, he’d begun to understand his friend’s choices. Patricia, or Trish, had been working round the clock and so had Phil. Phil admitted to his friend that they barely got to see each other and he didn’t know what their end goal was in their life together. Selling their house gave them the means to buy the bar and the three-bedroom apartment above it. Downsizing meant working for themselves and the ability to spend more time together as a family.

He opened the door and walked back down to the open living room, kitchen, dining room space. Phil wasted no time, handing him a wallpaper scorer, putty knife, and a spray bottle of vinegar. The stench of vinegar nearly knocked him down.

“Did you dilute this?”

Phil shook his head. “Was I supposed to?”

“Do you have a sense of smell? How are you not wearing a mask?” he asked, covering his nose with his hand.

At that moment, Trish, Phil’s wife, walked by modeling a white mask, she waved hello, and continued on her way to open every window in the apartment.

“Oh you two are dramatic. Come on. Trish says the wallpaper has to go, so it has to go.”

“Show me the way, this is my specialty,” Mark replied.

Phil led the way through the small hallway to an open doorway off to the right. Charlie’s room had been wallpapered by the previous owners, and the owners before them, and so on and so forth. He had assured Phil he could cut through all the layers of history months ago. But he’d never found time to do it until he took the day off work. Now, as the little boy’s room began to resemble a tenement from his enthusiasm for removing the wallpaper, help became imperative.

“Okay, I’ll be in here,” he told Phil, turning back to nod his agreement to the task.

“Great, I’ll leave you to it. I’ve got to get to work downstairs and Trish is off to teach yoga. Call me if you need anything. I’ll be back with lunch and Charlie in a couple of hours.”

“Sounds good.”

Phil stepped out of the room and closed the door behind him. Mark turned around and got down to work. He covered all of Charlie’s furniture with drop cloths, opened the windows as far as he could, and began using the edge of the putty knife along one very obvious seam to try to pry it up. His investigation led him to discover four different wallpapers. The scorer pierced through the top layer of paper before he sprayed down the section with vinegar and lifting chunks of paper off the wall.

The monotony and physicality of his actions lulled him into a rhythm. He didn’t know how long he worked and didn’t even hear Phil’s return. He jumped when his buddy clapped a hand on his shoulder from behind.

“Wow, you’ve gotten a lot done in here,” Phil said as his eyes darted around the room.

Mark stepped back to survey his work. Along three walls, he’d removed everything down to the plaster. But on the fourth wall, he’d barely been able to cut through the first layer. He found it incredibly frustrating.

“Yeah, it’s slow work,” Mark replied, sighing as he dragged a hand through his hair. “But I’m getting there.”

“It’s time to stop for the day, I’m afraid.”

“Already? What time is it?”

“Lunchtime. And then Charlie has to take a nap. Trish picked him up from preschool and he’s already at the table.”

“I hate to leave it looking like this.”

He hated letting anyone down, especially the people who would never do that to him. Only a few of those existed, he reminded himself.

“You know where we live. You can come back. Or maybe I’ll surprise you and I’ll get it finished,” Phil teased, chuckling.

In a long friendship, they’d had plenty of time to learn each others strengths and weaknesses. Phil’s strength was his engaging personality. He could put anyone at ease and welcome them. Mark’s was determination and hard work. He’d never turned his back on a challenge or an opportunity.
So why am I dragging my feet on this one?

“Come on, you’re dripping with sweat and the entire apartment feels like a swamp. I want to get the air conditioning back on,” Phil told him.

He nodded his agreement and turned to close the two big picture windows and gather his tools. Wandering back down the hall to the bathroom, he soaped his arms up to his elbows. Tiny flecks of wallpaper clung to him but were easily washed away. He changed back into his work clothes and balled up the dirty shorts and shirt. By the time he made it back to the kitchen, Trish and Charlie were already seated at the table.

“Sit here! Sit here!” Charlie told Mark, waving wildly to the chair closest to his high chair.

“Okay, I will, thanks for saving me a seat buddy,” he said, giving the little boy a wink.

Charlie attempted to wink, but succeeded in blinking both eyes rapidly several times.

“How’s school going?” Mark asked, while Trish got up from the table and filled plates with sandwiches and chips. She put one in front of every man and Charlie’s eyes grew as round as saucers when he saw the salty snack on his plate.

“Yesss,” Charlie replied.

Mark chuckled. He’d never been around kids much, but he’d grown fond of his conversations with Charlie. The little boy took everything in life so seriously and earnestly; including snack food.

“Do you like your teachers?” he asked, trying again with a question he could answer easily. He remembered Charlie only gave one or two word answers.

“Yessss,” Charlie replied, nodding his head up and down.

“That’s good. School is a lot of fun,” he agreed.

“Thanks for coming over to help,” Trish interrupted. “We really appreciate it. I’m at my wits end with fixing up this old place. I don’t think it’ll ever be done. We’ve already been here for two years and it looks like it hasn’t been two months.”

“You have a lovely home. It takes time and there is always something that needs your time and money.”

“So, what’s been going on? Why did you have to go in early on your day off?” Phil asked, firing his questions without hesitation.

He turned to his buddy. He wouldn’t expect anything less from Phil than to immediately get to the point.

“Things are picking up over there and a new job is opening up.”

“That sounds exciting,” Trish replied enthusiastically.

“It’s not that exciting. But it is a promotion and would be a decent raise.”

“Those are good things. Why don’t you sound so convinced?” Phil asked.

“I just… I don’t know. I ran into this girl and I just started thinking and…” Mark trailed off.

The minute the words had left his lips, he regretted them. Mark picked up his sandwich and took a bite, glad to have an excuse but kicking himself for speaking. He felt Trish and Phil’s eyes on him but he remained steadfast in his focus on eating the sandwich.

“You met a girl? Who? And what does that have to do with a job?” Phil asked.

“She’s someone I rand into and it turns out she works over at the resort and she’s interested in this job too.”

“What’s she like?” Trish asked.

“She’s nice. She’s cute, bubbly.”

“Do you know her? Have you met her before?” Phil asked.

I feel like I know her. When I held her the other night, she fit perfectly against me. And again this morning.

“I’ve seen her around before,” he replied, without going into the details of their recent acquaintance. He cleared his throat. “She’s one of the event planners.”

“How long have I known you now?” Phil asked.

Mark groaned. At some point during every meal he’d been invited to at their home, Phil would wax poetic about their history together. It made him smile and squirm at the same time. They had been friends for a long time and their relationship had been one constant in his life.

“Since the beginning of time,” Mark replied.

“And he’s out,” Trish interrupted.

Mark turned to look and sure enough, Charlie’s head slumped onto his chest in the high chair. Mark had been that exhausted before, he knew the feeling. But surely no one had ever made it look so cute.

“I’m putting the baby to bed now.” She lifted Charlie out of his high chair with the ease of practice. The two year old laid his head against his mother’s shoulder and she turned to kiss him.

Mark’s breath caught watching the sweetness and effortlessness of the instinct that both mother and child took as their due. She walked over to Phil and he half-rose in his chair to kiss his sleeping son.

“Sleep tight buddy, you’re not a baby anymore, right? You’re a big boy now,” Phil whispered to the sleeping boy.

“He’ll always be my baby,” Trish replied. “Good night Uncle Mark.”

“Good night,” Mark said in a small voice. He’d never wanted kids. He’d never liked kids. But Charlie changed him.

Phil sat back down in his chair, finished his sandwich, and turned to look at Mark again.

“Sorry, what were we talking about?” he asked.

“You were going to try to make me cry,” Mark teased.

“No, you know I’m not. But we have a lot of history together. We’re almost brothers…” Phil trailed off.

Mark drank from his glass, the bubbles from the Coke tickling his nose. He usually avoided sugary drinks, but he didn’t care. He needed something to keep him from thinking about his poor little rich boy childhood. Being born to two people so utterly incapable of devoting themselves to anything besides their needs had been disastrous. He’d dropped them from his life the minute he could, when he’d gone off to college.

“You’ve known me a long time,” Mark agreed.

Phil nodded. “Okay. Am I allowed to have an opinion about your life then?”

His hands clenched into two fists. What did Phil mean by that? He tried to steel himself against whatever assault on his choices were coming his way, but it was hard to prepare to defend when he had no idea what was under attack.

“Sure,” Mark bit out.

“You need to ask this girl out.”

Mark sniggered and rolled his eyes.

“No, no. Don’t blow it off,” Phil continued waving his hands at Mark to grab his attention. “I’m serious. You came here and opened up to us about someone.”

“I wasn’t thinking about the ramifications,” Mark said, running a hand through his hair. He squirmed in his chair. He’d never realized before how uncomfortable the dining chairs were at Phil’s house. He cleared his throat. “I thought we were having a conversation and talking. You asked about my day and I answered.”

Phil nodded his head. “But you brought her up.”

Mark sighed and squirmed again. He couldn’t question the logic, he had brought her up in the conversation. Why? To let him know that he was trying to move on, even in a tiny way? To get permission from his friend that it was okay to start being interested in someone else again?

“Phil, look, I can’t,” Mark muttered.

“Why?” Phil asked, raising an eyebrow but never breaking eye contact.

“Because… It’s not the right…. because…” Mark stumbled over the words.

“You’re ready. Don’t say it’s too soon.”

“No, I wasn’t going to say that.” Mark shook his head. “I was going to say, because I might end up being her boss.”

“What do you mean?”

“The new job would make me her boss and Frank wants me to take it on,” Mark said, shrugging.

“So…what? Is it a lateral move? You don’t seem very excited about it.”

“No, no. It’s a promotion. The bump up in salary is decent and it’s less hours there, more delegation.”

“Jump on it. Why are you hesitating?”

“I just…I feel like if I take this, then I’m going to be a lifer there. And I don’t know that I want to be a lifer.”

“Huh, really?” Phil sat back in his chair, relaxing for the first time since Charlie had left.

“Yeah, you seem surprised.”

“I guess I assumed that was what you wanted. I mean, it’s not like you gave yourself a lot of choices when you dropped out.”

Mark bit his lip. He’d met Phil the second day of his catering job to help pay his way through college. Phil, a couple of years older and wiser, always seemed to be the cleverest, smartest, hardest working guy in the room. When Mark’s love of numbers and order and contracts rose him quickly up the ranks from staff to management, he’d watched as Phil settled even more into his studies and graduated a year early with honors. It hadn’t occurred to him to look practically at the cost of his education and what it was buying him until Phil, at two years older, had done it. He’d dropped out with only a year left to go.

“I could always go back,” Mark replied, crossing his arms over his chest for protection.

“Yeah, you could. But we both know you won’t. If you aren’t going to stay there forever, then what do you want to do?”

“I want to have a life.”

“And this won’t give you that? It sounds like you’d have more time.”

“I’ll probably apply for it. I’ll probably do it. I don’t know why I’m hesitating.”

Wouldn’t more time be appealing? Isn’t that reason enough?

Initially, nine years ago, he’d taken the job transfer to escape frigid winters and spend his free time at the beach. He’d worked hard to get to this point in his career, where he could delegate more and slow down and enjoy himself. What was wrong with him?