Page 34

New Contract

Calvin

A s a kid, I lived for this week. The week between Christmas and New Year is like days that don’t matter. They don’t exist. They’re not even ticks on the calendar.

Don’t get me wrong, Dad still ran the farm, so it wasn’t like we didn’t have things to do.

There’s always something to do. I’ve never once told my parents I was bored.

And no fucking way would I have ever said that to my grandfather—he would have come up with a chore so heinous that I’d still be able to smell it now.

But this month, I’ve made mounds of gifts, and they’re all adamant that the chairs are good. They need to sit in them longer and give me feedback before I go and make any more. The WaveRunner is tuned up, and the motor on the tender is purring better than the day it came off the factory line.

I could run over to the other side of the island and dig another hole. That’s the only thing that needs doing on this side of the island.

I push that thought away. Everyone else seems to be in full holiday mode.

Even Sam has stopped going up to the lookout as much as he normally does.

It’s true there’s no real reason to keep going up there.

No reason at all. If we haven’t seen a non-pirate ship in seven months, we’re not going to see one now.

Zane and Haley are playing checkers. Sam and Easton are playing fetch with Penny at the beach, and Dante’s taking his turn with the book, his feet sticking out of the top of the hammock.

“I’m going to go check on the boar traps,” I say.

“Didn’t you do that an hour ago?” Dante’s head pokes out of the hammock.

“No.”

“Yes, you did,” Zane says.

“I’m just taking a walk,” I shoot back.

“On this side of the island.” Haley holds up two of Zane’s checkers.

“Yes, on this side of the island.”

She’s worried that I’m going to wander off to Pomelo Beach. Which I haven’t done for a while, but soon we’re going to need some more fruit. And then... I can finish up.

I move the chicken tractor a few feet down the strip of land we’ve cleared between some trees.

They race around, clucking excitedly at the fresh dirt to dig in.

The little ones are getting big enough that I should make them a bigger pen.

Soon. But not today. I’d have a battle on my hands if I interrupted a do-nothing week.

I really used to like this. But now this do-nothing thing makes me anxious. Walking helps to clear my head, but doing—doing helps turn things off. I’ve never been one to relax without doing. Sitting on a beach and not moving? Not for me.

We’ve only made two traps. And they’re not that deep and don’t have any of the spikes that we first thought about putting in them. Not with Penny around. No, these would only catch the boars. It’s one of the reasons why I check them all the time.

The first one’s covered in its layer of palm fronds. But farther down the path, the second one’s open. The covering of fronds is partially gone.

“Holy shit, it worked,” I yell. Down in the pit is a boar. The thing landed right, so we didn’t need any spikes to finish it off after all.

“I can tend the fire,” I say to Dante.

“I’m good.” He looks up from a scrap of Sam’s wrapping paper.

“What are you doing?”

“Tomorrow’s New Year’s Day.”

“And I asked what are you doing?”

“It’s New Year’s.”

“And you’re writing your New Year’s resolutions?”

“Resolutions? That implies I have something I need to change. You fucking know I’m perfect, so no. But I always take the last day of the year to reflect on what I want to happen in the next.” Dante glares at me.

“So resolutions,” I say.

“No. I put it out into the universe what I want. And then I get it.”

“Well, fucker, why didn’t you tell the universe you wanted the yacht to be fixed when we still had it? Or a nice cargo captain to spot our fire? Or hell, I don’t know, plumbing? That would be fucking fantastic.”

“Because maybe I don’t want any of those things. Maybe I’m happy being perfect just the way I am. You, on the other hand, need to change your surroundings to be happy.”

“You’re telling me that you don’t want to eat in a Michelin-starred restaurant again? Or own a Michelin-starred restaurant?”

“Fuck no. That shit is toxic. I’m the best. I don’t need another owner of a tire company telling me I’m good enough.”

Like some sort of fucking Beetlejuice, Rockwell strolls out onto the beach. “What about a tire company?”

“Calvin thinks I need a Michelin star to have a good sense of self-worth.”

“Not what I said, but whatever.”

“It is what you said. That I would wish for validation from a company that makes tires.”

“It’s a crock. Still, my grandfather would have sold his kidney to have come up with the idea.

” Easton sits on a stump next to Dante. “But yeah, fuck ’em.

I’ve eaten in Michelin-starred restaurants that don’t come anywhere near to what you make, on a beach with almost nothing.

” Easton nods in a I’ve-said-my-piece way.

“I just don’t need validation like that in my life.

When I was a kid, I just wanted my blockhead uncle to throw me some damn scraps.

‘Good job, Dante. You’re nothing like your dad.

You work hard. Your mom’s proud of you. I’m proud of you,’ or whatever shit it was I wished for.

I came home from whatever fucking job he had me working one day.

I was like thirteen. I was crying and my mom found me.

She told me, ‘You don’t need him or me to tell you you’re amazing, Dante.

I mean, I need to say it more. Because you’re better than all of us.

But the only way you’re going to know it for sure is if you believe it.

I believe it. Do you?’ And that was fucking it.

I don’t need anyone to tell me I’m great.

Because I already know I’m a fucking special snowflake.

And a Michelin-starred chef? No fucking way.

They work themselves into drug overdoses and ulcers.

They have to keep doing the same shit for years because they become the weird sausage guy or the queen of exotic cheese.

Fucking hate cheese. So no. No, no to all of that. ”

“What do you say yes to?” Haley asks. I hadn’t even heard her coming up behind me. She puts one hand on Easton’s shoulder and the other on Dante’s.

“I say yes to you, Sassy.”

She laughs. “That’s not what I mean, and you know it.”

“Right. In the new year, I say yes to creativity. I say yes to spontaneity. I say yes to fucking?—”

“Cheese,” Easton interrupts.

Haley laughs.

“I was just going to say fucking.” Dante pulls Haley onto his lap.

“Fucking is nice. But then so is cheese.”

“And how are we going to get cheese, Sassy?”

Haley’s eyes flick to the mountain.

“Goats?” Easton asks.

“No,” I say.

“Well, I say yes. Because I say yes to Sassy.”

“Keeping goats isn’t the same as moving the chicken tractor a couple of times a day,” I say. “We’d need a fence. Good fence. Those are wild goats.”

“I’m going to side with Green on this one,” Easton agrees. “The one close encounter I had with a goat on the mountain didn’t leave me wanting more.”

“We need pasture,” Haley says, like it’s easy enough to snap her fingers.

I inwardly groan. “You don’t need pasture. Goats make pastures. Goats could clear the Amazon rainforest with enough fencing and time.” Am I kicking myself inside? Yes, yes, I am.

“I’ll wash the dishes,” Haley says.

“No, I’ll do it.” I stand, grabbing the tub from under the counter and placing my bowl in it first. “Good dinner, Dante. I’d say Michelin-star-worthy.”

He shoots me the middle finger, and I smile as I take his plate.

“What’s up with Green, jumping up to do the dishes?

” Zane asks as he places his bowl in the tub.

It’s not that I don’t do the dishes a lot.

It’s that I tend to find something else that needs to be done.

But tonight... tonight, I’m trying to stay away from the hype.

I’ve always hated New Year’s Eve. The hats, the party where everyone pretends to be happy.

Or get so drunk they can’t stand. Then I end up driving them home.

Worse, the stupid countdown. Ten, nine, searching for someone to kiss, eight, seven.

It’s all a crock of bull, six, it’s just another night, another day. ..

“I can help,” Haley says, jumping up.

“I... I’ve got it.” I nod and head to the beach.

“What’s going on?” Haley’s trailing me, taking three steps to my one. “Hey, slow down.” She waves the dish towel at me.

“I’ve got it, Haley. You’ve got plans for tonight. Go and do them.”

“My plans include you.” She crosses her arms over her chest. And fuck. “I made hats.”

“I’m sure you did.” I keep walking to the rock where we wash the dishes.

“You don’t have to wear one. You don’t even have to say what you want out of the new year.”

I grunt and wash the first bowl.

“If we don’t celebrate the passage of time, are we even really living?”

I cock my head at her and raise my eyebrows. My hands are deep in scrubbing the fish stew off.

She wrinkles her nose. “That sounds like a barrel of bull. I know, I know. But it’s not. It’s the little moments that make a life. At least, I think it is.” Her shoulders slump.

“It’s hard for me.”

“Yeah, I know. I’m not sure why.”

“The little moments to me are the ones with my brother. Playing in the barn. Making cardboard mazes for kittens to run through. Having fights with hay when we were supposed to bring in the cows.”

“She hurt you.”

“No, I don’t give a fuck about her. He hurt me. The one person who my grandmother said would always have my back. My brother. She and her sister were inseparable. I’m just... It’s horrible, but I’m glad she died before...”

“That’s not horrible. Being upset with what your brother did is horrible.”

“I’m not upset. I’m changed. I’m a realist. That’s all. That mindset shit Dante was talking about? I’m not woo-woo. I can’t change my stripes.”

“What color were your stripes before your brother— Please,” she says, taking a clean dish from my hands. She dries it, sets it on the dry spot on the rock, and waits for the next dish. “You don’t have to say a thing. Just be with us. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

“Okay.” I can’t. Please? This girl fucking kills me. But there’s no fucking way I’m getting out of this without being hurt. Life—my life at least—doesn’t work that way.

“Can I put it on your head?” Haley’s holding a hat made out of three elephant leaves.

I glance around the circle. The rest of them are already wearing theirs. “Sure.” I’m an ass because I don’t bend down.

She smirks at me. Damn, she’s fucking cute in the twinkle lights of the driftwood Christmas tree. On her tiptoes, she reaches and manages to get it on my head. She takes my hand and then Sam’s on the other side of her. “Come on, join hands.”

I stare at Dante, who’s next to me, but take his hand.

When we’re all linked up, she nods. “On this last day of this year, let’s all take a moment to think about all the good we’ve had. All that we’ve overcome. Let’s close our eyes.”

It’s almost silent. The jungle chirps over the crashing waves on the beach behind us.

A whisper of Haley’s breath slips into my ear. “It’s going to be a good year.” She squeezes my hand three times, then she gently lets it go. But she’s wrong.

“Five, four, three, two, one,” they’re chanting.

A cork pops, and I open my eyes. Dante’s holding a bottle of champagne. The smokey vapor twists out from the top on the wind, slipping away from us into the jungle sky like Haley’s wish.