Page 2 of Gaming with the Gargoyle in Hallow's Cove
“Surprise!” Gwen says. “I’m going to be your sister!”
I blink, and the phrase that we say when we roll a critical failure plops into my head. “Guess I’ll just die.” Obviously I won’t, but fuck if it doesn’t feel like it.
“Wow! I’m so shocked!” I say, because honestly, that is the best I can muster.
“I know, it’s a little fast, but we are just so in love,” Preston says. “And I’m sorry we didn’t say anything, I wanted it to be a surprise.”
“Yes, in love and a little bit knocked up…” Gwen says with a sheepish grin.
Oh… cool. So they are on the super fast track to ruining my life.
“Which brings me to the second surprise—the bigger one.” Preston holds out his hand and drops keys into my hand. They have a keychain on them that reads “Gargoyle’s Games.”
“What’s this?”
“Preston bought us the old fire station so we can open the game shop we always talked about… I mean if you want to… after you graduate of course…”
“Gwennie wasn’t sure you’d want to, but I told her you absolutely would.” Preston smiles down at her and Gwen looks less confident by the second, her eyes darting from me to Preston. She clings to him, like he’s her lifeline, and maybe I’m just biased, but she doesn’t look like a woman who is in love. She looks… desperate. She’s had a really rough time lately, with her dad getting really sick and dying so when her letters were shorter I figured that was the reason… but perhaps it was also whatever was going on with Preston.
“Wow, that’s awesome, that’s what we’ve always talked about!” I meet my brother’s eyes, my heart shattered in front of me, and try to muster a bit of genuine gratitude. “Thanks, man, really.”
“Of course, it’s the least I could do for my little bro! And anyway, I’ll be in the city a lot, and this way you can keep an eye on my little lady for me! I know I’ll be so nervous being away from her so much, but I’ll feel so much better knowing she has you here to keep her protected.” He steels his gaze and I get the distinct impression he is not just talking about physical safety.
“We’ll get to be family and hang out all the time!” Gwen says, grabbing my hand and bouncing. “You’ll have to help me figure out how to decorate it, Preston is doing the house, because it turns out I am not good at it. I can’t wait to have your help!”
Again, the excitement doesn’t reach her eyes. Instead, it’s like she’s pleading with me to make this okay, like she needs to see the upsides where she can, and it’s breaking my heart. I don’t know what the fuck I can do about any of this, but I’ll do whatever she needs. Because that’s what I always do… I take care of Gwen.
“Of course, but Gwen, you’re really good at that stuff, but I’m happy to just confirm whatever you think. It’ll be great.” I say. Because in a sick, fucked up way, all of my dreams are coming true… Gwen will be my family… and we’ll have our game store… and it’s all horribly wrong.
Chapter one
Gwen
Whatisitaboutbeing in your childhood home that transports you back to being a whiny middle-schooler? I’ve sat at my mothers kitchen table more times than I can count since I moved out. And yet every time, I sit in that chair, the same one that I sat in to do my homework, was told to clear my plate from, and suddenly I’m twelve again. It doesn’t matter how adult the problem or the subject, somehow the magical mother-pressure of that room forces me into a juvenile place.
“Really Gwyneth, I don’t like you in that big house alone. You should have some sort of dog or have you given any more thought to dating? It’s not like you have any obligation to be in mourning…”
My mother sits across from me, her face a mask of innocent inquiry, but I’m not the least bit surprised that we’ve ended up here once again. The gorgeous but dated Victorian we’d inherited from his and Gabe’s dad bought together is simply another convenient excuse to bring up the subject. I’m not about to tell her that I don’t sleep there at all… because it is creepy being there alone. I’d be in big trouble if I ever suggestedshethink about dating again, because, as far as my mother is concerned, she has fulfilled her purpose in marriage through me and my sister. Whereas because my husband’s life ended before I was able to pop out a baby or two, it’s somehow less valid than her own.
“No mother, I haven’t. I wouldn’t know where to begin. And it’s a small town, who would I date that I don’t already know? Or, for that matter, doesn’t already hate me?”
The really unfortunate thing about my late husband Preston is that it turns out he wasn’t just an asshole to me… he was kind of an asshole to everyone. When we started dating, he was just some stuck up rich kid that summered in Hallow’s Cove, but after we married, he moved into his father’s vacation home and started ruffling feathers. As things went on, folks around town talked to me less and less, gave me dirty looks, and would even ignore me when I spoke to them. I’d wanted to divorce him for years, but he technically owned the game store I run with my best friend, Gabe, so I’d felt stuck. No one deserves death, but his did kind of solve my situation for me.
“Listen,” my mother begins, reaching across the table to place her hand on mine. “I’ve been thinking. I wonder if Gabriel might be scaring away any potential suitors.”
“Suitors? Mother, are you preparing to sell me off for a couple of cows? And anyway, if Gabe is scaring anybody else, then they don’t belong in my life. He’s my best friend and my business partner. We are a package deal.”
“That’s the thing, I wonder if the fact that you’re such a package deal is perhaps part of the problem. Maybe if he didn’t sleep in the shop every day, looking quite so intimidating?”
I roll my eyes, “I’m pretty sure half the people that come in the shop don’t even realize that he’s not a statue. They just think he’s a decoration, albeit an eccentric one sometimes.” I try not to smirk thinking about how last winter, Gabe would pick silly poses for us to find when we woke up. More often than not, it was a game between us trying to figure out what he’d done the night before. “If we should be worrying about anyone alone at night, it should be Gabe.”
In my pocket, my phone vibrates, it’s my text service that messages when the sun has set. Seconds later, like clockwork, it vibrates again.
Gabe: Good morning, good evening, good night. How goes the battle?
I try to hide my smile from my mother. Gabe must have seen my message about going to visit her.
About as well as you might expect. I’ve received new marching orders.