by Jamie Shaw
“Hailey.” She hangs my name like a threat in the air, and I push past it.
“His name is Mike,” I say. “He’s Danica’s ex-boyfriend.”
“WHAT?” my brother shouts, pieces of chewed dinner roll flying out of his mouth. He latches on to my shoulders, his eyes huge behind chunky black glasses. “MIKE?! ARE YOU SERIOUS?!”
I turn away from him as my aunt Tilly asks, “Mike the drummer?” She looks at Danica, who clenches her fists on the table. “Mike from high school?”
“Hailey stole him from me,” Danica accuses, and my mom’s worried eyes find me while my brother’s grin threatens to stretch right off his face. His hands are flattened on the table, and I swear to God he’s bouncing in his seat.
My aunt Tilly, still with her face pulled at Danica, says, “You broke that poor boy’s heart . . .”
“You stole her boyfriend?” my mom asks with measurable horror.
I shake my head in spite of the guilt I still feel over what happened. I know Mike says he would have broken up with Danica with or without me, but that doesn’t change the fact that he fell in love with me while he was with her.
“They were broken up,” I tell my mom, and myself.
Danica overhears me and presses her hands against the table, leaning forward to better scream in my face. “You made him fall in love with you!”
My brother squeals giddily, and my uncle groans and rubs a line between his eyes. “Is this why you wanted to go to Mayfield?” he asks Danica, and her face transforms into a mask of vulnerability.
“I love him, Daddy!”
My uncle rubs his eyes, and Danica points a finger at me.
“She slept with him behind my back!”
With my face blushing beet-red, I say, “Never while you were together . . .”
My dad’s cheeks flush to match mine, and my brother throws his head back and laughs hysterically.
“Dad,” Danica pleads, “I don’t want her living with me. I can’t see them together.” Tears flood her eyes, and I can’t tell if they’re real or forced, but her father’s face softens, and I know what’s coming.
This is the moment. This is the moment when he tells me he won’t support me any longer, and that I’ll have to move back home with my parents. I won’t, of course—I’ll move in with Mike. But school will have to wait, and so will the dream I’ve had since Oliver Twist.
“Hailey,” he says, his deep voice drying my throat, “isn’t there some kind of . . . girl code or something, about dating a family member’s boyfriend?”
Unable to deny it, I nod my head. “Yes.” I look at Danica, at the angry tears in her eyes, and I say what I’ve been wanting to say since the moment I realized I’d fallen for her boyfriend. “I’m sorry. I never meant to fall in love with him.”
My dad nods and smacks his hand against the table. “Well, there you have it,” he says, a simple man with a simple solution. I almost hate saying what I need to say next.
“I’m not going to stop seeing him though . . .” I look from my dad’s disappointed expression to my uncle’s. “I’m sorry about the way things happened—I never meant to fall for Dani’s ex—but I’m not giving him up. I tried, and it felt like I’d ripped my heart out of my chest.” My eyes swing to my mom, to the sympathetic look she’s giving me. “He’s the sweetest, kindest, most amazing man I’ve ever met. He loves me more than anyone could ever deserve, and I want to spend the rest of my life with him.”
It’s a big thing to say. And I realize that as I’m saying it. And every word of it is true.
“I want her gone,” Danica cries while her mom rubs her back. “I just want her out of my life. I want her gone so I can move on.”
My uncle sighs heavily as he stares at what’s left of the turkey at the center of the table. He stares, and he stares. “We’ll talk about it after dinner,” he decides.
“What’s there to talk about?” Danica shrieks, and my uncle’s voice hardens.
“Danica, we’ll discuss it after dinner.”
“There’s nothing to discuss! She’s horrible, Daddy! She ruined my life!”
My uncle Rick groans and sets his fork back on his plate for the second time. “That boy called you a thousand times after you broke up. You haven’t mentioned him for years. Why would you want him back now?”
I hold my tongue, but my brother doesn’t.
“He got a big recording contract with the biggest label there is,” he volunteers with his mouth full of stuffing. It might as well be popcorn, with the way he’s shoving it into his mouth and watching the show. “He’s famous now.”
My uncle and aunt frown at Danica, and she completely falls apart. “That has nothing to do with it,” she sobs, but her parents continue studying her.
I hate that I can’t tell if her tears are genuine or not. I don’t know whether to feel sorry or angry. I wish I could fix her—this broken thing that she grew into.
“Hailey,” my uncle finally says, and I tear my eyes from Danica, holding a deep breath in preparation for what’s coming. “You’re going to need to move out.”
“I understand,” I say, avoiding the looks my parents are giving me. I can’t bear to see the disappointment on their faces. I hope one day they’ll understand. They loved the farm, and they never left it. I love Mike, and I’ll never leave him.
Their happiness is a place, but mine is a drummer with warmth in his eyes and sparks in his smile.
“I’ll make some calls,” my uncle adds, “and see if I can get you into the dorms.”
My heart hurtles over a beat as I stare at him, wondering if I really heard what I think I just heard, and Danica’s anger slices across the table.
“What? No! Dad! She doesn’t deserve it!”
“I’m sorry you’re upset, honey,” my uncle Rick says, and Danica’s hands start shaking. “But you two are adults, and you’ll have to work it out. I’m not going to pull anyone out of school over some boy.”
“You’re just going to keep paying for her to finish? After what she did to me?” Danica yells, and the unmoved look on my uncle Rick’s face confirms it. I don’t know what to think, or what to feel, so I sit there with my heart pounding violently against my ribs.
“I HATE YOU!” Danica screams at me, pushing her chair back viciously as she rises to her feet. “I FUCKING HATE YOU!”
“Danica,” her mom pleads, but Danica storms from the room. She leaves us sitting there in awkward silence, with everyone looking from me to my uncle and back again.
He sighs, and then he picks up his fork for the third time and holds it as he contemplates his food. His eyes drift to my plate, and he calmly says, “Eat your turkey, Hailey.”
I pick up my fork. And for the first time in eight years, I eat my turkey.
Chapter 51
During one family dinner when I was a teenager, two of our horses broke out of their stables to get their freak on literally right outside of our dining room window, and that family dinner was still not as awkward as this one. The conversation turns to weather, business, school—all sorts of normal, safe things . . . while my mentally unstable cousin sits upstairs in her room probably planning how she’s going to disfigure and dismember me without getting caught.
I hand-wash the china after dinner, and my brother dries the dishes, mostly, I suspect, so that I don’t get butcher-knifed in the back while I’m standing at the sink. He asks me if Mike and I will get married, and he points out that if we do, Mike will be his big brother. I tell him not to get his hopes up since I’m pretty sure Danica is upstairs taking out a hit on me as we speak.
I wash dishes until there’s nothing left to wash. And then I wipe down the counters. And then I sweep the floors. And then . . . I hide like a coward in the powder room. Sitting on the closed toilet, I pull my phone out and text Rowan and Dee and tell them what happened.
Dee: OH MY GOD HELL YES
Rowan: YAY!!!!
Me: I feel sick.
Dee: What’s the evil bitch doing now?
Me: Probably plotting my death. I need to get out of here. Any chance you guys are close to Downingtown?
Dee: No. We’re up near Fairview.
Rowan: Hold on, I’m texting Leti and Kale. I think they’re at Kale and Kit’s parents’ place.
I chew on my thumbnail and tap my foot against the stone floor for just a few seconds before another text comes through.
Leti: We’re on our way. What’s the address?
I’m about to type the address when a knock sounds against the door, and I clutch my phone to my chest.
“Hailey?” my mom asks, and I stop white-knuckling the device in my hands. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Are you sure? You’ve been in there a while . . .”
“Be right out.”
“Okay . . .”
Her footsteps fade away, and I send the address to Leti as quickly as I can. When he tells me he’ll be here in about twenty minutes, I decide that’s twenty minutes too long.
After cautiously peeking into the sitting room and finding it Danica-free, I step in and announce that I’m leaving.
“What? Why?” my mom asks, but she’s frowning like she already knows.
My aunt Tilly frowns the same way. “But you just got here . . .”
“I’m not feeling well,” I tell them honestly, and my pragmatist father chimes in from where he’s sunken into a recliner.
“Didn’t Danica drive you?”
“A friend is picking me up,” I tell him. “He’ll be here in a few minutes. He’s already on his way.”
Everyone frowns at me in silence—especially my brokenhearted little brother who I know isn’t ready to say goodbye to me just yet—and my uncle stands up and motions for me to follow. “Let’s talk a minute before you go.”
My feet are heavy as I obediently follow him back to the kitchen, and he serves us both slices of pumpkin pie that sit untouched on a pair of porcelain plates.
“So,” he says, his eyes so like my mother’s. Sometimes, when I take notice of his fitted shirt and his pressed pants and his shiny shoes, it’s hard to imagine that he grew up on hand-me-downs and yard sales, just like my mother and just like me. All three of us were raised on the same plot of land, but I have a difficult time picturing him in a T-shirt with dirt under his fingernails.
He considers me for a moment, and then he goes to the fridge for a can of whipped cream. “I remember when you and Dani were little girls,” he says with his head in the fridge. “You both wanted to grow up and marry that mermaid’s boyfriend . . . the Disney one.”
“Eric,” I offer, and my uncle stands up from behind the fridge door.
“That’s the one,” he says, spraying dollops of cream on both our pumpkin pie slices. “One time, you two argued over him so bad that Dani started crying, and you hugged her and told her that you’d marry Simba instead.”
He smiles warmly at the memory, and I struggle in the wake of the emotions stirring inside me. Part of me misses being that close with Danica—misses the innocence of arguing over Disney princes—but was it always that way? Was I always so willing to give up my happily-ever-after for her?
I’m expecting my uncle to lecture me about fighting over a boy, to tell me how trivial it all is and how someday it won’t matter. But instead, he holds my gaze and says, “You’ve always been like a daughter to me, Hailey. I know we don’t see each other much anymore, but your happiness is very important to me and Tilly.”
A lump forms in my throat, and I couldn’t speak if I wanted to.
“I know that you and Danica have grown apart, but that doesn’t make you any less a part of our family. I see a lot of myself in you.”
“You do?” I ask in a quiet voice, and he stares down at our pie, finally realizing that we don’t have forks to eat with. He busies himself with getting them, but once again, neither of us moves to eat.
“The farm was always your mother’s dream, not mine,” he finally says. “She loved it. She loved rising with the sun. She loved helping with the livestock. She even loved driving the tractor into town and flipping off everyone who beeped at her along the way.”
“She still does that,” I say with a chuckle, and my uncle laughs.
“I didn’t mind all of it,” he tells me after a while. “But I didn’t love it like your mom did. She and your dad loved that town, but I loved the idea of finding new towns, bigger towns. My heart was never on that farm, and correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t think yours is either.”
I shake my head, and he nods his understanding.
“It was really hard for me when I went to college. My parents didn’t understand why I’d bother, and even though I had a scholarship, I couldn’t afford new clothes or anything like that. I used to eat canned vegetables in between classes because that was all I could afford to bring for lunch.”
I imagine a lanky kid, taller than my brother but with the same big eyes, trying to navigate a college campus with no clue what he was doing. I imagine him trying to thrive in a world he’d never been a part of, and I feel like we’d be friends.
“It was a long time ago, but sometimes it feels like just yesterday,” my uncle continues, and he takes a deep breath. “Your mom told me that you know about me bailing out the farm, and I’m sure you’ve wondered why I didn’t give your parents the deed.”
I don’t argue, and he nods in silent reply.
“It’s because it’s my childhood home too, Hailey. I love your father like my own brother, but he’s terrible with finances and always has been. He’s a farmer, not a businessman, and it’s important to me that the farm stays in our family, so I’m making sure it does.”
I take a moment to consider all he’s telling me, and then I assure him, “I understand.”
“Do you?”
I nod, and he sighs in tired relief.
“I wanted to offer to pay for you to go to school a long time ago, but it wasn’t really my place. A man wants to be able to provide for his own family, but . . .” He stops himself and taps his fingers against the counter. “I’m rambling. Look, the point is that you don’t need to worry about me suddenly deciding to stop paying your tuition. And don’t tell me you weren’t worried, because I could see that you were.”
I frown, and my uncle frowns back.
“I can’t say that I approve of you dating my daughter’s ex-boyfriend, but . . .” He becomes conscious of his volume, lowering his voice. “I always liked him, and I can tell you really care about him.”
I nod, and my uncle nods too.
“You’re going to have to move out of the apartment you have with Danica. I doubt she’ll stick around there long anyway, now that Mike is out of the picture. But I don’t want you living with him—you need to focus on school, and I want you keeping your grades up.”
When I say nothing, he notices.
“Was that your plan?”
“It was a temporary plan,” I stammer, and my uncle considers me.
“Temporary is fine. Next semester, you’ll be in the dorms. Agreed?”
“Agreed,” I say, closing the distance between us and hugging him so he can’t see the relieved tears springing to my eyes.
My uncle’s shirt is crisp against my cheek as he pats my back. “I’m proud of you, Hailey. You’re going to accomplish great things.”
“Thank you,” I tell him, hoping he knows I’m thanking him for more than the compliment. I’m thanking him for being the first in our family to brave a new life, for being the first to go to college, for paving the way for me. I’m thanking him for loving me, for caring about me, for not forgetting about his family or his roots. I realize why he sees himself in me, because I can now see a bit of myself in him—I can see myself in twenty years, still caring deeply about the farm and the family that shaped me into who I am.
“You’re welcome,” he says, hugging me until I let him go.
In the sitting room, I hug my mom, and she assures me that she’s going to find a way
to fly me home for Christmas. I hug my dad, and he assures me that he won’t make Teacup into bacon even if she eats his very last shoe. I hug my uncle, and he assures me that he’ll get me into the dorms next semester. I hug my aunt, and she assures me that she’ll talk to Danica.
I hug my little brother, and he insists he’s coming along.
Luke begs and whines and negotiates with my parents, while I stare at the stairwell waiting for Danica to fly down it on her broomstick. I haven’t seen or heard from her since she told me she hated me at dinner, but seeing as how I’m still breathing, I know this isn’t over.
Desperate to leave while my lungs are still working, I tell my parents I’ll drive Luke the hour and a half back to my uncle’s house before it’s time for them to fly home on Saturday, and they finally agree to let him leave with me. He bounds up the stairs to the guest room to grab some clothes, and I stand by the front door, chewing on my lip and tapping my fingers against my leg and curling my toes in my tennis shoes.
There’s no way it can be this easy. Danica would sooner burn this whole house down than let me leave it unscathed. It’s not in her to lose. She doesn’t know how.
When I hear footsteps thundering down the upstairs hallway, my whole body tenses, but then Luke appears at the top of the stairs and jogs down them, flinging open the door to freedom. He steps onto the front porch, and I follow. The door closes behind me, and we take the stairs quickly. Leti isn’t here yet, but we don’t stop walking.
“Where are we going?” my brother asks, but I really have no idea. Away from here. Away from the front door.
“That way,” I say, pointing down the street. I pull out my phone and text Leti to meet us at the end of Danica’s road, and I’m sliding the phone back into my pants pocket when it finally happens—
“Leaving without saying goodbye?”
Danica’s voice cuts through me, and I turn around to see her walking down the sidewalk to where my brother and I have frozen in our tracks. My fight-or-flight kicks in, demanding that I flee, that I run as fast as I can. But Luke is standing beside me, and I’ve run for long enough.