10. Eden

10

EDEN

The air conditioning hits my skin like a cold, soothing squeeze when Nate and I walk through the doors of Pittsburgh Pinz to meet Marsha and the Honey Rollers. Nate laughed when I explained this was duckpin bowling—a miniature version of the game with short lanes, short pins, and a fast pace. At least, Marsha insists on a fast pace. "Keep it movin," she yells if the Honey Rollers get too chatty.

There are four of us on a team, all local beekeepers. I was lucky to be invited. Last season, Marsha called me in to sub for Devesh, who had to miss a game because he was driving to Tennessee to fetch a box of queens for the group. This year, Ghita asked to move to a rolling sub and, well, here I am.

Marsha waves from our lane along the back wall, and I tug Nate's hand, not thinking. He weaves his fingers through mine like it's a habit, and I halt in my steps to stare down at our hands. Nate sees me looking and pulls his hand away in a fist, like he's covering a cough.

We approach the table, and Marsha has pitchers of water and beer. Nate reaches for the water, and I make a mental note to ask him more about that, since he said he's changed his habits with alcohol since that unfortunate night we met.

I don't know what I was thinking that night. Eila and I were at a party in Polish Hill. Our mother had recently asked for money, we didn't have it, and she called us ungrateful brats.

I was emotional. Nate wasn't the only one hiding from parent issues with alcohol. Am I doing the same sort of thing now, inviting him here? This feels different from our drunken hookup. He stood up for me with the police. Mom isn't even promising things will be better this time, and I'm letting her walk all over me like a young kid desperate for her affection.

Is that how Nate sees me? Like a damsel in need of rescue?

Marsha pours me a beer and slides the cup my way. "It's that new IPA from East End," she says, her Minnesota accent coming through above the music and crashing bowling balls. Even though they're tiny and the lanes are short, it's just as loud as any regular bowling alley. But I get to wear my own shoes, and all the balls are the same weight. I don't have to remember which one is mine, because they're all about four pounds.

I take a sip of the drink, acknowledging Marsha with my eyebrows. "Oh my gosh. This is brewed with Eila's hops, huh?"

Marsha nods. "I guess I'm up on your sister's business more than you."

I laugh and take another sip. "It's really good. I'm so proud of her."

Nate arches a brow, and I explain my sister grows hops on vacant lots around the city—only two lots so far, but she has plans to expand—and she sells them to a local brewery. "Want to taste?"

I bite my lip as soon as the question is out, but he smiles and pours an inch or so of beer from the pitcher. He takes a small sip, sniffs, then takes another. His eyes don't give anything away, but he smacks his lips together and gives the mug an appreciative glance.

"Damn. That was well worth the one-year chip."

My stomach sinks slightly, my breath locking in my chest. Did I really just push him off the wagon?

But he gives me a playful nudge, letting me know he's giving me crap. "It's good. I never met anyone who grows hops before."

I nod. "You saw her plants when you were over helping me today."

Marsha whistles and claps for Devesh, who rolled a strike and turns toward me, face etched with concern. "This guy was at your house? Something happen with the wall project?"

Nate shakes his head. I can't bring myself to tell Marsha my mom kicked over the quarantined hive, that the queen flew off and took her girls with her.

Nate and I quickly exchange an entire conversation with eyebrow movements, and he says, "Eden forgot one of her buckets of spare beeswax and when I dropped it off, she showed me her setup."

Marsha downs the rest of her beer and holds up a finger to Muriel, who is signaling for Marsha to take her turn. She leans forward, palms on the table. "When I get back, I'm gonna want to know your intentions with my protégé, mister."

She strides toward the lane and tosses a neat ball, pumping her fist while I flush and try not to make eye contact with Nate. Talk about mixed messages. I meant what I told him, though. I want to keep things professional, at least while he's my client.

He nudges me with his shoulder. I glance up at him, sipping his ice water, a smile in his eyes. "Just so you know," he whispers, mouth close to my ear, "my intention is to spend time with you, however you'll have me."

My stomach flips. I'm wearing dirty work shorts, and I'm sitting in a mini-bowling alley with a misfit group of urban beekeepers, and he wants to spend time with me?

He sets his water cup on the table and leans closer to me. "Maybe just the two of us." He holds up his hands. "Not that these guys aren't great. Nice roll, Marsh!"

My jaw hangs slack as Nate continues like he didn't just tell me he's interested in me. I know he asked me out, but then he saw me crying and watched my mother call the police on me. I keep waiting for him to take off running.

"She got her spare," he says. "Are you up next?"

I tuck my strays behind my ears and walk up to the lane, slapping Marsha a high five on the way. I wait for the green light to appear above the mini pins, and I throw the grapefruit-sized ball, knocking down six, which are attached to wires and get sucked into the ceiling. The dangling pins untangle and settle. As I wait for the green light to roll again, I glance over my shoulder and notice Nate laughing with Marsha. She pats him on the back.

He's so nice. I can admit that now that I'm not angry about having to take antibiotics. I was as much to blame for what happened. After all, I could have insisted we use a condom. I wasn't exactly sober when I pressed against him on the dance floor and whispered we should get out of there. We stumbled down the street to his house and had terrible sex, and I realize now I've been angrier with myself—and maybe my mom—than I ever was with him.

Nate gives me a thumbs up, and I smile, turning to face the lane. I'm certainly not angry now. No, I feel quite the opposite. I scoot to the left and roll, knocking down all the remaining pins for a spare. Marsha whistles alongside another whistle that's deeper, more resonant. Nate stands beside my mentor with his thumb and forefinger in his mouth, doing that sexy sort of whistle I never managed would be aimed at me.

But then my heart sinks when I see my mother sauntering toward our table with a weird expression on her face.

Nate stiffens. I slap an unenthusiastic low five to Devesh as he approaches to take his roll, and I make my way to the table. "Mom, what are you doing here?"

Marsha leans back, observing. Marsha's heard me vent about my mother a lot when we've been working together on beekeeping stuff. Marsha insists I need to find a skilled therapist, but I don't have health insurance, let alone anything leftover for a regular copay. If the drinks weren't cheap here at Pinz, I wouldn't even be able to join a bowling league.

Mom straightens her skirt and licks her lips, looking around with distaste. "I was in the neighborhood."

Obviously. I live around the corner, and she's bunking with me. I wonder which sister tipped her off about the bowling league. But then Mom notices Nate, and her demeanor changes. She rolls her shoulders. "I saw you at the house earlier. Big, strong hero come to rescue us from the bees, huh? Will you pour me a drink?" Mom flutters her lashes like a cartoon character, and bile rises in my chest.

Nate pours my mother a glass of water. She scoffs and shoves the cup to the side. "Eden, baby, I misplaced my house keys. I need you to lend me yours."

I breathe in and out through my nose. A locksmith is a great idea, but I'm not sure I'm allowed to do that as a renter. An urge to smack my mother bubbles inside my body, which I know is terrible, and I have to do something else with that anger. I close my eyes for a moment and think of calm memories, like pulling the bees from the picnic table at that wedding the other day. I felt proud and capable. Yes. That's the ticket. I'll channel that. "Mom, why don't I walk you home and let us both in. We can look for your keys in the morning."

She shakes her head. "No use." Her words are slurred, volume much too loud, even for a bowling alley. "I'm pretty sure they fell in the river today when I was on one of those tiki boats."

I clench my abs and turn toward Nate, who has his lips pressed tightly together. His fingers twitch on the table, and I wish he'd clasp my hand or something. "Um, when did you do a tiki boat ride? After you called the police about the bees?"

Mom rolls her eyes. "Don't be like that, Eden. They heard us screaming. They were in the neighborhood—because you don't live in a very good neighborhood. And if you must know, I was discussing a business opportunity with some investors. They took us on a ride."

Nate murmurs something under his breath, and I glance over my shoulder. It's my turn to bowl again. But I can't stay here with Mom like this, and I'm not going to give her my keys now that they're the only set to the house.

I reach for Mom's discarded water, chugging it down. Nate stands and leans over me, his mouth by my ear. "Can I talk to you for a minute?" He backs up without waiting for an answer. I gratefully step to the side with him and look up into his blue eyes. They almost glow in the dim light of the bowling alley. His lashes are so long and blond and curly. It's not fair for a man to have lashes like that. Eva would be jealous. She'd take his picture for her Insta posts.

"What can I do to help?" he says, and I return my focus to the situation at hand. I bite my lip and shake my head. I don't know.

Marsha taps her watch at me. I'm holding up the Honey Rollers. Nate takes my forearm gently in his hand, his thumb rubbing back and forth along my wrist. "Let me walk your mom home, and I'll bring your keys back here."

I want to puke at the thought of him alone with my mother. I can't imagine what she'd say, what she'd tell him about me. "Thank you, but that's not a good idea. She's?—"

Mom is currently trying to whisper something into Devesh's ear, and he's offering her water. Marsha taps her watch. "Keep it movin!"

Nate licks his lips. "What if I stood in for you so you can take your mom home and let her in?"

"You'd do that?" I ask, gratitude washing through my veins in a cooling tingle. I never considered a solution involving Nate, despite him spending his entire day helping me with the beeswax.

He shrugs. "I'd rather walk you home safely, but given the circumstances… it seems like the way."

"Oh, thank you." Without thinking, I stretch up on tiptoes and hug him, pressing my face against his neck and sniffing briefly before extracting myself.

"Mom, come on." My voice is very different directed at her. I ran out of patience, plowing toward resentment. I grab my mother's shoulder and give one final glance back toward Nate after he finishes his first roll to back slaps from Marsha and Muriel. "See you tomorrow morning? We'll pull out the rest of the honeycomb."

Nate gives me a thumbs up and a grin, and I head home, my mother teetering behind me, rattling on about my lousy neighborhood.