Pet Peeves

by Amelia C. Adams

  He pulled out his phone and texted for the shuttle. He received an almost immediate reply, and then he punched out a text to Kerry. Shuttle will be here in twenty minutes. Have a safe trip. He wanted to say more, so much more, but there just weren’t any words.

  ***

  Kerry’s hands trembled as she pulled shirts off hangers and shoved them into her suitcase. The first thing she’d done was go online and book a ticket. The flight didn’t leave for three hours, but like she’d told Jamal, she needed to be at the airport. That felt like she was doing something, like she wasn’t quite so helpless. She texted Andie to tell her when she’d be there and that she’d grab a taxi at the airport, and then she started packing like crazy.

  She smelled a little bit like kittens and goats, so she changed her clothes, shoving the dirty ones into the corner of one suitcase. Then she looked under the bed and all around for anything she might have missed. Satisfied that she had everything, she raced down the stairs just in time to see the shuttle pull up in front.

  “Is there any way I can just . . . leave?” she said to the girl at the checkout counter. “My mother has an emergency, and I really need to get out of here.”

  “Of course,” the girl said. “I have your credit card on file, and I’ll call if I have any questions.”

  “Thank you,” Kerry said, grateful that she didn’t have to go through some ridiculous checkout routine. She settled into the shuttle, thanked the driver for coming so quickly, and then was left with her thoughts for the length of the drive to the airport.

  If her mother had just spoken with her on the phone, she could have set her mind at ease. But she was convinced that Andie was playing a trick on her and wouldn’t let her hold the phone to her ear. Kerry closed her eyes, willing her mother to know somehow that she was on her way.

  She never knew what to expect with her mother. Sometimes she was just a little overprotective and clingy, like she had been the day Kerry had flown here. And sometimes she didn’t know what was going on, but this? This was worse than anything that had happened before. If she’d realized that her mother’s health had deteriorated this much, she never would have left.

  Had there been signs and symptoms that she’d overlooked? Had she been so busy with work that she hadn’t been as attentive as she should have been? Or had her mother really gone downhill so fast in just the last couple of days? Tears ran down her cheeks. If her mother had been doing this badly for a while and Kerry had missed it, she’d never forgive herself. No career, no raise, no recognition was worth it. If she’d let her mother down, nothing in the world was worth it.

  And then there was Jamal. Stupid, stupid, stupid . . . She never should have made herself so vulnerable. There was a reason why she didn’t open up—it hurt. It hurt a lot. It had hurt when her father left when she was ten, and it hurt in every relationship since. Even Andie, as close as they were, hadn’t worked through all her layers yet. No one had.

  For just a little while, though, she’d thought Jamal had a chance. He was everything she’d ever wanted—intelligent, funny, as good-looking as heck—until that moment. That horrible moment when she’d felt his arms stiffen and he pulled away. She should have demanded to know why. She shouldn’t have given him space or whatever it was she thought she was doing. Protecting herself, that’s what it was. But maybe she didn’t want to protect herself anymore. Maybe she wanted to find someone who would do the protecting for her . . . or show her there was really nothing to fear after all.

  She dug in her bag for a tissue and wiped her eyes. She couldn’t deal with this. Not right now. She needed to put Jamal on the back burner and focus on getting home, seeing her mother, and making sure everything was all right. And finding a way to thank Andie for everything she’d done—it was a super-human effort that needed to be rewarded. Then she’d think about Jamal, but she’d likely be saying goodbye to him in her mind and moving on. There just wasn’t a way to make this work, especially if they shut down whenever things got complicated.

  It would be best if she just filed him away in that box of memories in her mind that she never intended to open again.

  Chapter Nine

  “You didn’t come see me the other day like you promised you would,” Jaclyn said, pointing a finger in the center of Jamal’s chest.

  “I know, but I’m here now. Does that count?”

  “Hmmm. I really shouldn’t talk to you just to teach you a lesson, but I suppose it’s better late than never.” She moved to the side and let him enter the house. She had a tray of cookies and a pot of tea sitting ready in the center of her table, and he grinned.

  “You’re debating whether or not to let me in, but you already have the tea and cookies ready?”

  “I’m an old woman, Jamal, and my ways and means are not to be questioned.” She waved him toward a chair. Surprisingly, he didn’t have to move a rabbit before he could sit.

  “Where are all the bunnies?” he asked, looking around and noticing that they were gone.

  “In the back room watching Bugs Bunny. I limit them to one hour a week so they won’t get addled from all the screen time, but it’s their favorite hour of the week.” She poured them each a cup of tea, then settled back in her chair. “I know why you’re here, but I don’t know why you’re here.”

  Jamal looked at her over the edge of his teacup. “I don’t follow.”

  “I know you’re here about your young lady friend, but I don’t know why you’re here. You know what you should do—you don’t need me.”

  “Oh, you’re wrong.” Jamal set his cup on the table. “I need you badly. I’ve never been so messed up in the head.”

  “Proof number one that you’re in love,” Jaclyn replied. “Go on.”

  Jamal took a deep breath, trying to organize his thoughts. “So, I met her, and we got off on the wrong foot because of a misunderstanding, so we didn’t really get along at first, but then I started to see her in a new light, and I guess she saw me that way too, and we got along great. And then we had a little . . . well, it wasn’t an argument, but I told her she needed to let go of some stuff, and she was sort of miffed, but we got over that, and then I made her really mad, and now she’s gone.”

  Jaclyn nodded. Then she said, “I hope you realize I’m only nodding because it seemed like the polite thing to do. I really have no idea what you just said.”

  “What I said . . . what I said was that I think I fell for this girl, and I messed everything up.”

  “Yes, that part did come through loud and clear. You’re confused, young man. Eat a cookie.”

  He obediently reached out and took one.

  “Now, let’s walk through this together, shall we? Just how did you mess everything up?”

  “I should have told her how I felt. Instead, I pulled away and shut her out.”

  Jaclyn shook her head. “Oh, if I had a nickel for every time I heard that one. I should actually charge people for my advice, you know that? Then I would have a nickel, but I think a nickel isn’t nearly enough for the agony you all put me through.” She gave the ceiling an exaggerated look of patience. “And she’s gone now?”

  “Yes. She left in a hurry last night—she needed to get home to her mother.”

  “And here you sit, eating cookies with me and drinking my tea.”

  That sounded almost like an accusation. Jamal was about to remind her that she’d voluntarily put the food out herself, but she went on.

  “I don’t understand why you didn’t go too.”

  “She wanted to take the shuttle—she didn’t want me to go.”

  “I’m not talking about the shuttle. I’m talking about going home.”

  “Going home with her?” Jamal spluttered. “If she didn’t even want me to take her to the airport, why would she want me to go home with her?”

  “I didn’t say ‘with her.’” Jaclyn sipped her tea, looking as complacent as a Buddha.

  “You mean I should go after her?”

  Jaclyn didn’t r
eply. She just took another sip.

  “But . . . how do I just show up on her doorstep when she made it clear that we’re finished? That would be like trespassing. An invasion. I can’t do that to her.”

  Jaclyn sipped.

  Jamal ran his hands through his hair. “I need to let her go. She has other things she needs to be doing, and I’m not in those plans. She has a mother to care for, a career to manage, a whole life to live. And I’m . . . I have no desire to live in a city. None whatsoever. This is where I belong—on the ranch, where things are quiet . . . well, mostly quiet. Okay, they’re never quiet, but this kind of chaos, I can handle.”

  Jaclyn took a bite of cookie.

  “But you know what, I told Kerry that she needed to let go of her pet peeves, and if I’m not willing to work past my issues, I’m a hypocrite. And I’ve always tried hard not to be a hypocrite. I need to push past the things that are holding me back and stop living afraid.” He paused. “That’s it, right? That’s what you wanted me to discover on my own?”

  “Hmm? I’m sorry—were you talking? I was just sitting here enjoying a little snack.” Jaclyn held up the remnant of her cookie and waved it at him.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know why you’re leaving this all on my lap.”

  “You don’t know why? I already told you why! You’re perfectly capable of answering your own questions. Everything you need is tucked up inside you. You’ve just got to trust it.”

  Jamal grabbed another cookie and chewed while he thought. “If I go and she sends me away, that would be pretty devastating. But at least I’d have a solid answer, and that’s better than leaving things unresolved like they are.”

  “You think better while you’re chewing. Have another cookie.”

  He took one. “If I don’t go, I’ll never have closure, and I really hate not having closure. I like knowing where I stand and what to expect. This would give me that finality that I need.” He looked up. “Do I have to go? I mean, couldn’t I call her?”

  Jaclyn looked at the ceiling again. “Oh, gracious,” she muttered. Then she looked back at him. “How many grand romantic gestures have you ever seen performed via a telephone? None. You need to be there. You need to show her. Telling her just isn’t the same.”

  “A grand romantic gesture, huh?”

  “Yes!” Jaclyn hit the arm of her chair so emphatically, it made a loud popping sound. “She needs that from you, Jamal. She needs proof. She needs to know that this wasn’t just a chance encounter on a ranch somewhere she may never come again.” She paused. “And the fairies think you’re being a little obtuse, not seeing that for yourself.”

  Jamal thought about it, and then he shook his head. “They’re right. I’m an idiot.”

  “They didn’t call you an idiot—they called you obtuse. Which is essentially the same thing, but they were trying to be polite about it.”

  “And I appreciate that, but I’m not sure I deserve it. See, her father left when she was a little girl. Of course she’s going to need me to prove that I’m not just a weekend romance. I never knew my dad—he left before I was born—so I should have figured it out sooner. I should have been more aware of her feelings.” Jamal ran a hand down his face. “Thanks, Jaclyn. And thanks to you too, fairies. I appreciate it.”

  Jaclyn beamed. “Aren’t you the sweetest thing? Hardly anyone thanks the fairies—it’s like they don’t believe they really exist. It means a lot to them to be acknowledged. I think you’ve made their whole day.”

  Jamal grinned. “Everyone needs validation for their good works. I’d better go—see you later.”

  She raised a hand in farewell. “Good luck, young man. Just remember to trust yourself—you know what to do.”

  ***

  Andie was waiting on the couch, looking worried and upset, and as soon as Kerry came in, she started to cry.

  “I’m so sorry to ruin your vacation,” she said. “But I didn’t know what else to do.”

  Kerry gave her a big hug. “You did exactly the right thing. Where’s Mom?”

  “In bed. The doctor came over and gave her a sedative—he’s a really nice man—and she fell asleep pretty quickly.”

  Kerry stepped down the hall and looked into her mother’s bedroom. The small lamp on the nightstand revealed her mother’s worn face, her chest rising and falling rhythmically, and a purple cast propped up on a pillow. A slight snore escaped with each breath.

  She went back into the living room and sat on the couch. “A purple cast?”

  Andie smiled. “She picked it out herself.”

  “I thought so.” Kerry pulled in a deep breath. “How long will she be asleep?”

  “The doctor said she’d most likely sleep until noon tomorrow, so you might as well see if you can get some rest too.”

  “I’ll try.” Kerry looked at her friend. “I owe you big time. You need to be thinking about what kind of reward you want.”

  Andie shook her head. “No. Absolutely not. This was my gift to you—you’ve done a lot for me, and it was time for me to repay the favor.”

  “We can argue about it later. For now, please just know how grateful I am.”

  “Okay.” Andie wiped her eyes. “So, tell me how things went with JJ.”

  Kerry sighed. “Well, for starters, he goes by Jamal now, which is why no one on the ranch knew who JJ was. I’d about decided that he was some kind of con man and was ready to give up. But then we met . . . I can’t remember what I’ve already told you.”

  “Not a lot. We mostly texted about your mom, not men. Go on.”

  “Okay. Well, we met, and yes, he’s good-looking and all that, and we had some great conversations, but when we kissed, he suddenly pulled away like he couldn’t stand me all of a sudden.”

  “Wait!” Andie sat up straight. “You kissed?”

  “Yeah. Twice. And I thought it was wonderful, but he didn’t.”

  “I don’t get that. How can kissing not be wonderful?”

  “I don’t know. But he’d hardly even look at me after that, and then I got the call to come home, so here I am.”

  “And you didn’t talk about it?”

  “No, because I’m not brave enough to stand up for myself and say what I really mean!” Kerry flopped over sideways and buried her face in a couch cushion. She didn’t have any cushions at her house—maybe that was another sign that she should move back in here with her mother. She needed cushions.

  “There has to be more to this story,” Andie said. “I can’t believe that he’d act so weird about kissing you. I mean, kissing’s a good thing, right?”

  “I always thought so, but I guess I was wrong.”

  “Do you want me to call him?”

  “No!” Kerry sat upright. “Please don’t. I think that would just make things worse, and they’re already pretty bad.”

  “I think I’m going to need a whole lot of details,” Andie said. “Hang on a second. There’s ice cream in the freezer—we need sustenance.”

  When they each had a big bowl, they curled up on the couches, and Andie began the interrogation. They talked about every single thing that had happened at the ranch, discussed every single nuance, and had to refill their bowls before they were done. By the time they were finished, dawn had started to streak the sky.

  “Well, this is what I think,” Andie said after she tried to fight off a yawn. “I think the two of you were getting along great, and that whatever happened was just another misunderstanding. And then because you had to leave so suddenly, you didn’t have a chance to get it all worked out. Why don’t you call him tomorrow? See if you can get a conversation going?”

  Kerry shook her head. “I don’t know. Phone calls are so . . . impersonal, aren’t they?”

  “They’re better than what we as a culture had before, which was semaphore flags. Come on—you need some sleep. Take your old room—I’ve been using the guest room.”

  Kerry shook her head. “I’m going to take the other half of Mom’s be
d so I’m there when she wakes up. And I’ll think about calling . . . but flags sound more fun.”

  Andie shook her head. “I think calling him is a no-brainer, but it’s your choice. Night.”

  Kerry tiptoed into her mother’s room and slipped under the comforter, hoping she wouldn’t topple the pillow that was propping up the broken wrist. She thought she wouldn’t sleep, but exhaustion overcame her, and she was out before she could even start her mental debate about whether or not to call Jamal. She did want to Google semaphore flags, though. That sounded interesting.

  ***

  “Kerry?”

  Kerry’s eyes flew open, and she smiled. “Hi, Mom.”

  “You came home?”

  “Yeah, I did.” Kerry sat up and rubbed her eyes. “How are you doing?”

  “I feel . . . pretty groggy.” Rue tried to sit up, but couldn’t. “I’m confused. What’s going on?”

  “What do you remember?”

  “I remember that I fell . . .” She looked down at her arm. “So it really did happen. I was hoping that I dreamed it.”

  “Yeah, it’s broken. Sorry about that.”

  “At least it’s purple.” Rue grinned. “Is that why you came back? Because I broke my arm?”

  Kerry wondered how to approach this. “Mom, do you know where I’ve been?”

  “Yes. You went to a ranch in Idaho. Didn’t you?”

  “That’s right.” A deep breath. “Andie called me yesterday. She said you thought I had died.”

  “She did?” Rue shook her head. “I don’t know . . . I don’t remember that.”

  “Dr. Burdick came over and gave you something to help you sleep. I’m going to call him in a minute and let him know that you’re awake.” She’d also be asking his opinion about what had happened. She felt so unprepared for this, even though she’d known for some time that it would get worse.