Girl Love Happens Boxed Set: Books 0-2

by T. B. Markinson

  “Are you kidding me? You just got me out of mowing my grandparents’ lawn for the next eight weeks. I should be thanking you.” He stood on his tippy-toes and bent over slightly, making me wonder if he always bowed in such an awkward manner or only when coming down from whatever substance he was on.

  I laughed. “Glad to be of service, then. Wish I didn’t have a pounding headache.” Of course, I suspected the headache was a result of being hungover, dehydrated, and being trapped in this lunatic asylum with my mother of all people.

  He scrunched his nose. “What’d the doc say?”

  “Haven’t seen him yet.”

  “You’re joking. They led you back here ages before me.”

  “Maybe they forgot.”

  “Have you called your mom, Cuddy?” my mother asked.

  He shook his head.

  “I’m sure she’ll want to know.”

  Cuddy smiled awkwardly.

  “Is there anyone else we should call? A girlfriend?”

  He laughed. “I’m a bachelor.”

  “How is it possible that a good-looking boy like you is unattached?” Mom blushed like a schoolgirl.

  Was she hitting on a hobbit? Dad asking for a divorce had rattled her, but this—I couldn’t even process what was going on. Brain damaged or not.

  Cuddy practically squirmed in his shoes and searched my face. “Uh…” He broke into nervous laughter. “My grandmother says the same thing.”

  Did Cuddy think my mom was my grandmother? I bit down on my lip.

  Mom, unperturbed, pressed on. “She sounds like a smart lady.”

  “Ms. Ferber.” A man in a white coat strolled in, medical chart in hand.

  “Yes,” I said.

  “How’s the head?”

  “Okay, I guess.”

  He peered through unwieldy eyebrows, and he looked to be about eighty years old. “Let’s give you a look-see. Check under the hood and kick the tires, so to speak.”

  Maybe my mom was right. I should see Dr. Willet.

  ***

  “I told you I was fine.” I grumbled in Gemma’s ear as my mom checked me out of the facility. “And now she’s here.” I jerked my chin at Mom, who was yucking it up with the front desk witch like they’d known each other for years.

  Someone tapped my shoulder.

  “How you feeling?” Bernie tilted her head to the left and gave me a concerned smile.

  “You two are still here?”

  Jenny nodded. “Dude, this place is crazy. There was this chick running around screaming about how gummy bears ate her nose.”

  “We met her.” Gemma held my arm firmly as if telling me to zip it.

  “You okay? Shaken but not permanently stirred?” Jenny laughed.

  “Has anyone heard of bedside manner?” I sneered.

  “Bed rest,” Gemma said, ignoring my commentary.

  “That’s it? Bed rest?” Bernie sounded suspicious of the staff’s abilities. For once we were on the same page, but she’d have to put a gun to my head to get me to verbalize it.

  “I told you all I wanted to do was go to bed. Now all of your nights were ruined because of me.” Not to mention I’d been permanently traumatized seeing my mother flirt with Cuddy.

  “Tegan?” Mom stood off to the side of the exit with her new beau and motioned for me to join her.

  I sighed. “Gotta go. See you two in a couple of weeks when we move into our summer apartment.” I gave each one a quick hug. “Thanks for staying.”

  Jenny and Bernie smiled.

  “Are we taking Gemma home, too?” Mom smiled sweetly.

  “She lives in the same room as me,” I said through gritted teeth. “Are we taking the hobbit home?”

  “I figured it’s the least we can do, considering you broke his arm.”

  I was about to say something, but Gemma tugged the back of my shirt.

  As it turned out, Cuddy lived in our dorm.

  “How come we never met?” I peered into the back seat after hearing his address. Out of the back window, I glimpsed the early morning sun on the horizon.

  “Who knows? Fate works in mysterious ways.”

  Gemma and I sang a couple of lines from U2’s song of the same name, Gem’s favorite.

  Mom rolled her eyes and gripped the steering wheel as if strangling it.

  Before saying goodbye in the dorm lobby, Cuddy handed me a piece of paper. “Call me next semester. I can teach you how to properly cross a road.”

  “Yeah, right. You need to learn how not to run over women and children.” I tucked the paper into my purse.

  He laughed and wandered toward the B wing.

  “He seems like an interesting boy.” Mom’s eyes followed Cuddy.

  Gemma stepped back a foot.

  “By interesting, do you mean weird?” I asked.

  Mom started to speak but seemed to swallow a nasty retort. She turned to Gemma. “When are you moving out?” Mom stared at her like she was Charles Manson.

  “Today.” Gemma glanced at the wall clock, which read 6:00 a.m. “My parents should be here in an hour or so to help.”

  “Good. Tegan and I should be gone by then.” With that, Mom pressed the elevator button, the door opening immediately.

  Neither of us followed.

  She huffed, craning her head outside the elevator. “Tegan, you coming? I know Gemma prefers the stairs.”

  “Come on,” I pulled on Gem’s arm, getting us out of my mother’s earshot.

  “That’s okay. I’ll take the stairs and head to Jenny’s to help her pack. I know she wanted an early start. All my stuff is boxed up.” Gemma took another step away.

  “Please don’t.”

  “It’s okay, Teeg,” she whispered.

  “But I want to say goodbye properly,” I whined. “Last night was supposed to be magical.”

  “Such is life.” Gemma registered my annoyance with her response. “Hey, we’ll only be apart for two weeks. Fourteen days. I waited nineteen years to find you. Fourteen days will be a breeze.”

  The elevator door started to close, but Mom stopped it. “Tegan, come on.”

  “See you upstairs, then?”

  Gemma nodded.

  I walked to the elevator with heavy legs. The ride up passed in complete silence.

  When we entered the room, Mom squawked, “Why aren’t your things ready?”

  “Because I was in the hospital all night. I got this, though.” I motioned with my hands that everything was under control. “You can go, and I’ll meet you at home this afternoon.”

  She shook her head adamantly. “No. Let’s get this done.” She pushed up the sleeves of her denim shirt. “Why don’t you change into fresh clothes? Preferably not bloodstained.”

  It was the first sensible thing she’d said since arriving at the hospital.

  For twenty minutes, she shoved my things into one of three cardboard boxes or my suitcase. I watched the door like a hawk, wishing Gem would show. She, however, had all her things neatly packed, sitting on her stripped mattress, which my mom noticed with a bloodless smirk. Did she suspect Gemma and I had been sharing a bed? But how? From me holding Gemma’s hand in the hospital? The unfortunate no-sperm slip? Possibly because it was clear Gem had no intention of sleeping in her bed the previous night? I wasn’t about to tell my mom that Gem had probably planned to crash at Bernie’s because of our lover’s spat.

  I collapsed on my bed, exhausted with a dull pain in my head.

  Finally, the jingle of keys snagged our attention to the door. Gemma, along with her parents, entered the room.

  “I thought you got lost,” I said with meaning only for Gemma.

  She smiled shyly. “I had a feeling they’d show up early, so I waited outside after saying goodbye to Jenny.”

  Ava approached with concern in her eyes. “How are you? Gemma told us about your night.”

  I rubbed the back of my head. “I’m all
right, considering.” I rallied some. “You excited for your vacation?”

  She bobbed her head, not ruffling a hair in her bun. “We all are. It’ll be nice to be a whole family if for only a couple of weeks.” She turned to a young girl barely visible behind Cormac’s girth. “You haven’t met Bridget, the baby in the family.”

  “Hi, Bridget.” I waved.

  She turned bright red but smiled. Bridget, only thirteen, was at the age when even a hello induced heart-thudding panic.

  “She’s a bit shy,” Ava whispered behind her hand.

  “Do you remember my mother, Sally?” I motioned to my mom, who was doing her best to act civilized.

  “Of course. You must be so relieved Tegan wasn’t seriously injured.”

  “Bridget, grab a box.” Cormac motioned he’d carry the biggest one. “Gemma, is this all of it?” He peered around the room.

  “Yep. Not much can fit in here.” Gemma’s lips curled up, and I wondered if she was remembering all the times we’d bumped into each other. Naked. As if to knock herself out of our memories, she added, “Most is in storage for when I get back.”

  “Right. See ya in two weeks, Tegan. Unless you want to come along?” Cormac widened his eyes hopefully.

  “Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely?” Ava said, meaning every word.

  “Now don’t try to steal my daughter,” Mom teased, tossing an arm around my shoulder.

  Cormac’s booming laugh was a relief. “My girls keep me plenty busy. Is everyone ready?”

  “Wait, Gem. I think you left some things in the shower.” I pulled her into the bathroom and closed the door. “Please don’t go,” I whispered.

  “Nice guilt trip.” Her voice was barely audible. She played with the drawstrings to my hoodie.

  “I’m sorry, but I couldn’t let you leave without a parting hug, at least. I won’t hear from you for days.” I pulled her into an embrace.

  Gemma surprised me by capturing my lips, briefly but full of emotion. “I’ll miss you.”

  I rested my forehead against hers. “I know. You better go before my mother tears the door down.”

  We exited, and my mom stood right outside, eyeing Gemma head to toe. “What? You didn’t forget anything after all?”

  “My mistake. Must be the head injury.” I tapped the side of my noodle.

  Mom suppressed a groan.

  “Have a safe trip.” I placed a hand on Gemma’s shoulder, trying to soak up her warmth.

  Cormac and Bridget filed out, each carrying a box. Gemma strapped on her Eddie Bauer bag and grabbed a carton.

  Ava carried the smallest box. “See you soon.” Her smile conveyed deep understanding as she glanced toward my mother, who looked as comforting as an injured momma bear guarding her cub.

  I stared at the closed door.

  Mom continued packing as I sunk down heavily on Gem’s bed. Moments later, she clapped her hands together. “I’m going to take the first load down. Stay here.”

  Did she think I’d chase after Gem?

  She left, leaving the door ajar.

  The room felt so empty without Gem’s stuff. Like it never happened.

  Minutes passed in total silence.

  Mom bumped the door out of her way with her bum, checking out all the corners in the room. Good grief, did she think Gemma had snuck back upstairs?

  Mom picked up the last box. “You ready?”

  “Yeah, I’ll be down in a minute. I just want to say goodbye.”

  “To the walls?” She shook her head. “You must have hit your head harder than you think. I’ll call Dr. Willet first thing on Monday.” She left.

  I stood in the middle of the bare room, saddened by the sight but not wanting to leave either. Secretly, I hoped Gemma had forgotten something or would come up with some excuse to pop back for a minute.

  After sixty painfully quiet seconds, I closed the door for the last time.

  Chapter Three

  My father’s voice boomed downstairs. I was one floor above in my bedroom on day two of bed rest or, as I liked to call it, house arrest. Yesterday, I hadn’t minded so much, sleeping the majority of the time.

  Craning my head, I tried to determine if everything was A-OK. I hadn’t seen my parents together since Dad had dropped the D-bomb.

  I decided to check things out. Screw Mom’s order to stay in bed. Someone had to make sure no one was hitting, kicking, or biting. Not in a million years did I think I’d have to referee my parents through a divorce.

  Hushed voices came from the kitchen.

  “Hi, Daddy.” I gave him a hug.

  “Hey, ladybug.” Dad pulled away and looked me over, one hand on each of my shoulders. “How’s the noggin?” He was in his pilot’s uniform.

  “Still attached. You coming or going?” It was our joke.

  “Just got back.”

  “She hit her head two days ago, and you just got back.” Mom twisted her wedding ring around her finger.

  “I’m sorry, ladybug, but someone has to pay the mortgage.” I was certain the words were meant for my mother.

  I slipped between the two and asked, “Where’d you fly from?”

  “Paris.”

  “Did you remember?”

  He pulled a bag out from his trousers. “Have I ever forgotten?”

  Inside the bag were chocolate coins from Pauline’s. According to my father, the chocolate shop was the best in Paris, if not the world, and he’d been bringing me these treats, wrapped in gold foil, since I was a kid.

  Mom grunted. “She doesn’t need chocolate.”

  I’d already unwrapped one and popped it into my mouth. In between bites, I said, “Yes I do. Chocolate is the best medicine.”

  “Don’t eat too many. Once you’re better, we’ll need to sweat off your freshman fifteen.”

  Ignoring Mom’s comment, I ate another chocolate. I’d maybe gained a couple of pounds, five at the most. “How long are you in town for?”

  “Little under a week. I thought we’d go to your favorite Mexican restaurant tonight. Shall I pick you up at seven?” His salt and pepper hair was shaggier than usual, and he had bags under his eyes.

  “No, you shall not.” My mother punctuated each word by tapping her finger on the gray countertop. “She’s on bed rest. Doctor’s orders.”

  “He said until I feel better, and I do.” I peeled the foil on the third coin, the last I’d have today. I wanted to make a point that Mom couldn’t boss me around completely, but I didn’t want to blow through my loot in the process. I longed for the day when my parents weren’t financing my education because it gave Mom too much control over me, even though I was officially an adult.

  Dad closed one eye and pretended to hold a clipboard and pen. “Eyes: clear. Breathing: normal. Height: a bit on the short side.” He winked at me. “Weight: perfect. I do believe you’re ready for takeoff. And you know what they say; tamales will cure anything.” He about-faced and asked Mom, “You joining us tonight?”

  “Uh, I’m not sure.”

  Dad appraised her, and for once, she didn’t have a snappy comeback. “Think about it. I need to hit the hay before dinner.” He tapped his watch. “I’ll be back at 1900 hours.”

  ***

  The doorbell rang one minute before seven.

  “I’ll get it.” I ran for the front door with Mom right on my heels.

  Dad, in khakis and a plaid short-sleeve shirt, held a bouquet of white daisies. “For you, my lady.”

  I sniffed the flowers. “My favorite.”

  “Sally.” He nodded, and his voice was softer than it had been earlier.

  “Rick.” Mother’s tone matched her nervous blue eyes.

  “I’m going to put these in water.” I left my parents at the front door, not wanting to witness their I don’t know how to act awkwardness.

  By the time I returned, Mom said, “Ready?” She had her purse on her shoulder. I should have known when she put o
n a floral dress that she planned on joining us.

  Let the divorce games begin.

  ***

  Juan, the owner, rushed over when the three of us stepped inside.

  “The Ferbers. Welcome.” He eyed me. “Now who’s this, and where is your little daughter?” His words were heavily accented.

  “This is Tegan,” Mom said, not getting the joke.

  “What?” He put a finger on his bearded chin. “No, it can’t be. This is a young woman, not the girl who used to come here with you.” He held his hand waist high as if he hadn’t seen me since I was seven.

  Dad tossed an arm around my shoulder. “I can’t believe it either, but Tegan just finished her first year of college.”

  “Really?” He bumped my arm. “Dessert is on me.”

  Mom started to say something, but Dad cut her off. “Deal.”

  “Since this is a sort of celebration, I insist you put these on.” Juan pulled out three sombreros from behind the podium. In the past, I’d worn one when the staff presented me with a sparkler-topped cake and sang happy birthday in Spanish.

  “Tegan has a brain injury,” Mom declared as if she were the only person on the planet taking my accident seriously.

  Juan blinked. “What’s this? What happened?”

  “Nothing.” I took a sombrero from him. “Thanks.”

  Dad put his on with enthusiasm while Mom’s lips thinned. Juan plunked a hat on her head, not giving her the chance to refuse. “Say cheese.” He took a Polaroid, setting the undeveloped picture on the host stand. “Let’s find you a table.”

  We snaked through the large house-like establishment, climbing the stairs. Our booth had a view of the small pool and faux stone-cliff situated in the center that divers used to dazzle the guests. After setting the menus down, Juan retreated, saying a word here and there to tables as he made his way back downstairs.

  “I already know what I’m getting.” Dad set his menu aside. It was hard to take him seriously with a ridiculously large and fake colorful parrot sitting on a wire hoop above his head. Someone had dressed it in a Mexican soccer jersey.

  I placed my menu on top of his. “Let me guess, chimichangas?” He nodded. “I’m getting tamales, per usual.” I turned to my mom, who sat on my side of the booth against the wall. “You getting the taco salad minus the meat? The best part in my humble opinion.” I placed a hand on my chest.