15. Dean - Coral, the War Horse

Dean - Coral, the War Horse

Chapter fifteen

I'm happy that it seems as though I successfully fibbed my way through that encounter with Mae, but I'm not a complete monster—and I actually feel bad for deceiving her in the first place.

But I'm not able to dwell on that much because loud thunder and lightning suddenly boom above me.

Coral and I are not lucky enough to make it back inside before the rain starts, and we get completely soaked.

"Jeez!" she says, shaking water from her hair.

"Let me get you a towel."

"Thanks."

I use one to pat myself off as well.

"Hey, Dyl?"

"Yeah?" I hear from his room.

"Okay. Just making sure you're inside. It's storming like crazy outside."

"Whatever."

"I swear, that's his favorite word," I whisper to Coral.

She just rolls her eyes and nods. "Hey, count your blessings. Soon he'll start using even more colorful language. Trust me. My sweet little Jerad went from responding to everything with ‘whatever,' to cussing up a storm in what felt like less than twenty-four hours."

"Dylan better not. I'll wash his mouth out with soap, just like my mama did to me."

"She did not."

I open my mouth widely. "I bet you can still see some of the bubbles."

We laugh together.

Then, she says she's going to get back to her house, but another loud crack of lightning indicates that that might not be the best idea.

"Why don't you just stick around here until the weather clears a bit?"

"That's probably smart."

"Are you hungry?"

She grips her stomach. "Starving."

"Okay, I'll whip something up for dinner."

"Can I do anything to help?"

"Nah, that's okay."

She gives me a funny look.

I don't respond. Instead, I go over to the freezer and pull out a pizza.

"Ah, okay. I trust you not to mess that up."

"I swear, you screw up one lasagna, and you never hear the end of it."

"You sprinkled the top with sugar!"

"I thought it was salt!"

"Well, yeah. That's obvious. But it doesn't make the mistake any less hilarious."

"Come on. You have to admit that it didn't taste that terrible."

"…if you like dessert pasta, sure."

I lightly fling a dish towel in her direction. I wish she could talk to Mae and ask her about the delicious Romanian food I recently made her.

"At least the lower layers were edible," she finally admits.

"Exactly! Thank you."

"But Lorraine still jokes about the day Dean made ‘pasghetti pie' for us."

I smile and nod. "She's still struggling with those darn s's, huh?"

"It's getting better. But I feel bad taking her to the speech therapist because it's so cute—"

"I'm sure. But you're doing the right thing. It's adorable while she's little…and less so when she's grown."

"Oh, Dr. Carpenter is fantastic, by the way. Thank you so much for the recommendation."

"No problem. I'm glad you like her. She really helped Dyl out with his stuttering as a kid."

I walk over and start preheating the oven.

"So, are we going to talk about whatever is going on between you and your pretty neighbor lady?" she asks.

"What do you mean?"

"Don't play dumb with me, boy. I know you far too well. You have a crush on her."

"Do not."

"Dean, please!"

I try to avoid the topic by getting out plates and putting them on the table.

"You can still hear me!" she yells, from across the room.

"Fine." I feel defeated and look up at her again. "Do I find Mae attractive? Yes."

"I knew it." She slaps her hands on her jeans.

"But…nothing is going on. It can't."

She comes closer and sits down on a chair. "That was going to be my next question. It seems like they know nothing about your plan for the condos."

"Well, that's probably because they don't."

"What? Dean!"

"I know, I know. It's terrible. But I wasn't anticipating liking her…uh, them, so much."

"So, what's the plan? You're going to keep being buddy-buddy with them until one day you walk over and announce, ‘Oops! Sorry, your place is mine now. Get out."

"I suppose that is technically kind of the current plan."

She's quiet for a second, resting her elbows on the table and her mouth against her clasped hands, but then says, "I don't like this."

I sit down next to her. "I don't either. But what else am I supposed to do?"

"I don't know. Find another location?"

"I don't think I'll find one as perfect as this. Plus, that would mean I bought this house for nothing."

"It's certainly not nothing if buying it meant meeting your soulmate and the future Mrs. Cornel."

I sigh. "Again, nothing can happen between us."

"Not unless you devise a new plan on a different chunk of land."

"I already said I can't do that."

"Why not?"

She's an amazing assistant, but she's never really had the head for business. Instead of thinking in terms of dollar signs, she sees life as some kind of unachievable fairytale.

"And don't say it's all about money," she says, as if reading my mind.

"Well, it is."

"Ugh! That's your excuse for everything."

"That's because money is what makes the world go round."

"Pffft. Maybe in terms of commerce. But what's really important is love."

I mime throwing up.

She punches my shoulder. "Shush! I'm serious. And you have a chance for it. I can see it in your eyes when you look at her. It's the same glimmer Seamus gets when he looks at me."

"Are you sure that isn't flatulence from all of the Philly cheesesteaks you make him?"

She jokingly hits me again. I love making fun of her and her East Coast upbringing.

"I'm kidding. Of course, Seamus loves you."

"He better. I've popped out plenty of Seamus babies for him."

"I know that's right. Sometimes, it feels like I've paid you for more maternity time than actual working hours."

"Hey!"

"Kidding again." But she does have a lot of kids, especially for someone who isn't that much older than me. Lorraine is her fifth.

"Do you think you'll ever want more?"

"What?" The question takes me off guard.

"Kids."

"Oh! Uh…"

"There's no way you haven't thought about it after all of these years."

"No, I have. I just don't know. Maybe?"

"I'm sure Dyl would love some little siblings to boss around."

I cock my head to the side. "True."

"So?" She points to the house next door. "She still looks fertile to me."

"Eww. First of all, nobody looks fertile—"

"She does."

"Stop it. You're grossing me out."

Coral flings her arms in the air. "I'm sorry. I'm just saying."

"I know. And point taken."

The oven dings, so I go over to pop the pizza inside of it. When I come back, she's typing away on my laptop.

"Hey! How the heck did you know my password?"

"Really? How do you think I keep track of those self-made appointments you never tell me about so I don't double book you?" she responds, without pausing her fingers.

"Fair enough. What are you doing exactly?"

"I'm looking for other potential locations for Cornel Condominiums."

"Coral! They have to be here."

"No, they actually don't."

"But—"

"At least entertain the idea, please." She clutches her hands at her chest and pouts.

I just shrug. "Fine. If you can find somewhere that is even better than this—and I did say even better. Not almost as good. Better. Then, I'll consider it."

"Good."

I then sit back in my seat. "How is it that you always convince me to participate in your little schemes?"

"Because I'm very persuasive. And, if you don't want to admit it, I basically run your business."

"I guess. I'm starting to feel a whole new sympathy for Seamus." Even if he didn't want all of those kids, he would've had no hope against his wife's wishes.

She must not be listening to me because she does not have a comeback.

"Oh! Look at this place!"

"What am I looking at?"

"A plot of land. Well, multiple."

"It does look nice. But notice the asking price?"

"Yeah. I assume that's close to what this place and the one next door will cost you at the end of the day."

"Two million dollars! Are you nuts?" As I said, numbers mean very little to this woman.

"Well, I don't know."

"It's closer to $500,000."

"Oh."

"…yeah."

"So, this place is out?"

"I'd say so, yeah."

"Hmm." She spins the device so that the screen is toward her again. Then, she continues typing.

I leave her to it and go into Dylan's room to check on him.

"What are you up to?" I ask, when I open his door and find him scribbling away at his desk. It's summer, so I know he doesn't have schoolwork.

"Nothing." He quickly covers whatever is before him with his arms.

"Come on. Let me see."

He resists but eventually gives up.

It's a drawing of an old-time pirate ship.

"Dyl, this is really cool."

"It's nothing."

"What? No way. I had no idea you were this talented."

"It's not like your paintings or anything."

"That's not true. Both mediums take patience and some natural ability."

"Whatever."

I sit down on his bed. "No, it's not whatever. Are you interested in art?"

He hangs his head and shrugs his shoulders. "I guess."

"Well, why didn't you say anything?" It's not like I am some jock of a father who forces his kid to do sports or something.

"I don't know."

"If you want, we can see what art classes you can take in the fall."

"Okay, that'd be cool I guess." Which in his language is like a shout from a hilltop.

"Do you have any more? Of your drawings, I mean."

He then takes out a whole folder.

"Oh, wow!" I flip through the pages and am even more impressed with his abilities. And I stop on one of a young woman—who I can tell by the blue butterfly necklace is Mina. But I don't want to embarrass him by pointing that out, so I just move on.

"The pizza is ready!" Coral soon calls out to us.

"Come on. Let's go eat." I close the folder and put my arm around my son's shoulder. I'm amazed and so proud.