After eating dinner, my father usually retreated to his study. He loved to read books and could get lost in them for hours. Right before he disappeared into the room, though, he confirmed our plans to go fishing in the morning in the next town over. It was our thing, we'd never really went to catch fish, we just went to be together. He'd sit in the small row boat with his latest book and I'd lay on his chest just enjoying being next to him. I loved rising and falling with his breathing and, no matter how uncomfortably hot it got, he'd never ask me to move. "You're coming too, right, Lucas?" Daddy waited for an answer. "Well, what time are you leaving?" He cast his eyes downward, "My alarm clock is still in a box somewhere and--" We never made formal plans when it came to our fishing days; we just went. "Lucas, how about you just spend the night?" I offered. "No! I mean... Well, it's just... why are you guys being so nice to me? We just met." My daddy chuckled from the doorway, "Son, in this house you're given the benefit of the doubt. We'll love you and look out for you as long as you give us reason to."
Lucas never acted the same after that simple declaration. He was much more relaxed and he never doubted his place in our small family again. It seemed to be just what he needed to hear. I remember hearing him tell my father later that evening, when he thought I had run out to grab the mail, that he'd never had a best friend before and he didn't intend on losing his first one.
"It's getting late, Chicken, and I want to speak with Lucas' mother before he spends the night --just to make sure it's OK," he turned to Lucas, "And I venture to guess you haven't called her all day to let her know you're OK, huh huh?" he joking accused poking at his chest, about to tickle his sides. Lucas grinned, looking guilty. "Come on, guys, let's walk over to Lucas' so he can get his overnight stuff and a change of clothes for tomorrow."
Even the North Carolina night was sultry. My black tank top and jean shorts were hugging my body and they felt nauseatingly sticky. My father walked out of the front door first and I ran towards him and jumped on his back laughing. After we got to the end of the driveway, I slid down his back and walked between him and Lucas. "Lucas, tell me three things that no one knows about you," I casually asked, filling the comfortable silence that had fallen between the three of us. "Well," he paused thinking, "there's so much." I grabbed my father's hand out of instinct as we walked, and didn't notice when Lucas looked down and smiled as I grabbed his, too. Even though Lucas was only thirteen, he was tall and naturally strong. I swung our arms alternating back and forth and everything just felt perfect. He was right, I didn't know anything about him, but for some reason it didn't matter. I'd never let anyone into my heart since my mom died, and here it'd been less than 24-hours and I would have been devastated if he said he couldn't be friends with me any longer. As quickly as it upset me, I pushed it out of my mind. "Sooo, tell us!" I squeezed his hand for a second before relaxing my grip again as encouragement. "I'll tell you three things if you both tell me three things," he challenged. I groaned, "Fine! Come on, spill!" "You're more talkative than you were earlier," he said in mock annoyance. My eyes widened, "And you were nicer!" I laughed and walked into his shoulder with mine. After a few moments of silence, he deadpanned, "You know those things at the food court in the mall? They're twisted and covered in big chunks of salt?" My father and I both turned towards him like he were insane, "Pretzels?" We asked in unison. "Yeah! I've never been able to pronounce that word," he said as if confused. Daddy and I looked at each other though the corner of our eyes, then back to Lucas. I heard my dad crack first. Soon we had to stop walking because we were laughing so hard. "It's not funny!" "Say it!" "No." "Come on, you can't tell us that, then not try to pronounce it for us!" "No. It's embarrassing." My face turned bright red as my dad revealed a secret about me, "Chicken, here, used to stand on the coffee table and sing into a hairbrush." "DADDY!" I was mortified. How could he say that? "If he's going to be your best friend, I think he should know." He sucked in his lips biting a smile. "What's your middle name?" I asked suddenly. "Nope!" Lucas looked amused, "That's the one thing I'll never tell you." I dropped the hands I was holding and crossed my arms, "Fine, I didn't want to be your friend anyway," I said sternly, "Daddy, I think we can turn around and go home now." We all knew I was joking, especially because I made no attempt to turn around and kept walking towards Lucas' house. "Peyt, come on, don't be like that." I smiled. No one had ever called me 'Peyt' other than my mom and it sounded sincere coming from Lucas. I could sense my father shift a little when he heard the name. I uncrossed my arms and looked at the chipping polish on one of my hands. "My mom called me Peyt," I declared absentmindedly. "I'm sorry, I didn't--" I shook my head, "No, I liked when you said it just now. I'll reserve the name just for you, Best Friend." I heard my father exhale. I could tell he was expecting me to react differently.
"Lucas, I thought you said you lived just down the street... We've been walking for awhile now..." Lucas stopped in his tracks and groaned. "We passed it a few blocks back. I'm sorry." Laughing, we turned around. "And you thought not being able to say 'pretzel' was embarrassing," I teased, "--you'll never live this down, Scott." He stuck out his tongue and wiggled it at me. "Never!" I cackled evilly and ran ahead of the two.