The Road Home

by Erin Zak

  “Ten years.” Sounds about right. “And you teach?”

  “Freshman and sophomore English.”

  “That sounds—”

  “Horrifying.”

  Lila’s description takes her by surprise. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “It’s horrifying. They’re all so hormonal.” She smiles after Gwendolyn laughs. “It’s fun, though. I enjoy it.”

  “How do you like coaching with that lady?” She points to her mother, who is engaged in conversation. Thankfully. Otherwise, she’s sure her mother wouldn’t approve of anything happening.

  “You want my honest answer?”

  “Why would I want you to lie?”

  “She’s incredible. Best teacher I have ever had. Best coach. Best everything.”

  “Best mom, too?” Gwendolyn wants to kick herself. She was doing so well. Sometimes she loves not having a filter, and other times, as she realizes everyone at the table has gone silent, including her mother, she hates her lack of one. The happiness on Lila’s face is gone, replaced with sadness, fear, and, is that hostility?

  “Yes, actually.” Her tone is matter of fact. She scoots her chair out, stands, and leaves.

  Gwendolyn wants to smack herself. After a few seconds of uncomfortable silence, she chases Lila. When she finally catches her, she’s waiting to cross the street. “Lila, wait!”

  “No, Gwendolyn. Don’t. It’s not…” She looks over her shoulder, and she’s crying.

  Goddammit. “Stop, don’t leave.”

  “Why? So you can berate me some more? You have no idea who I am. You know nothing about me. I know you’ve never asked or cared, but Jesus fucking Christ, you could be a little nicer. I did not ask for anything from your parents. Not one thing. Ever.”

  Gwendolyn’s heart is lodged in her throat. How is it possible for beauty to be amplified by anger and tears?

  “I’m leaving. Go back inside.” She looks at the road and checks each way. “By the way, you need to seriously consider that you aren’t the only person who exists with feelings, which also includes your mom.”

  Gwendolyn swallows hard. She wants to speak but can’t. If she opens her mouth, she’s going to cry. She’s going to have a breakdown right in the middle of the sidewalk on Main Street.

  That.

  Cannot.

  Happen.

  She watches Lila cross the street: her long legs, heels clicking on the pavement, the wind blowing her black, polka dot dress. She is so striking, so well-spoken, so everything Gwendolyn has wanted in another person. And yet, there she goes. And Gwendolyn knows she shouldn’t, and won’t, do a thing about it.

  Chapter Six

  Saying good-bye to Samantha is way harder than Gwendolyn thought. They see each other all the time, so why would it be hard to watch her go? Possibly because she is Gwendolyn’s crutch this weekend, and when Samantha reminds her that she has to leave early, it hits like a pile of bricks. She has no recollection of that conversation. It doesn’t piss her off so much as it makes her nervous. Taking a child’s safety blanket away in the middle of a narrowly averted crisis is not a great idea. After dropping her off at the South Shore Line train station, Gwendolyn sits in the rental car and cries like the big fucking child she is because keeping up the facade without someone to lean on is going to be damn near impossible.

  Now, Gwendolyn opens the door to the gym as slowly and quietly as possible and sneaks in. The green and white lines along the wooden floor of the volleyball court bring back so many memories. She breathes in the smell of the wood, freshly stained and varnished, and crosses her arms. The scrimmage teams on either side of the net all get in serve position. She’s been reading articles about a few of the girls in the local newspaper for the past few years. She likes to keep an eye on the team if for no other reason than to have something to talk about if forced to have a conversation with her mother.

  And because she misses volleyball so much. She played on a beach league last summer with Samantha but never joined this summer. It was too much to do that, memorize lines, and keep up with auditions.

  She wants to kick herself now because all the sacrifice did nothing.

  “Okay, ladies, time out. I need to see the sixth rotation.” Her mother stands and moves toward the court. “Ready position, please. Stop standing around like a bunch of assholes.” Gwendolyn chuckles. Her mother is harsh, but the girls all crouch into ready position in unison, even the front row players.

  Her mother moves around each one, checks their position, moves feet wider, in closer together, makes each girl squat lower. Gwendolyn is impressed at how low some of them get. She remembers being in such good shape. “Okay, I want ten push-ups. Then rotate once. Team Xena, you have the serve afterward.”

  When the ball is rolled to the middle hitter on the other side, Lila stands from the bench. “Take a deep breath, Rylee. Remember your footwork. Don’t rush it.” Rylee nods, smiles, and smacks the ball a couple times against the floor. She is tall and lanky, which reminds Gwendolyn of herself. All legs and arms. And when she tosses the ball high, does her jump-serve footwork, and hits an awesome serve, it makes Gwendolyn smile. Lila claps and does the famous Vale Park Lemur call. The whole team claps, actually, which is great to see.

  Gwendolyn walks to her mother’s bench and sits. She meant to be quiet, but the chair scoots, causing her mother to look back. The smile that springs to her lips makes her throat clench. She smiles in return, and her mother turns back to the game. She and Lila coach each side of the net. They work well together, which causes her jealousy to flare, but this time, it’s not as hot of a burn. She wonders if Lila’s blow up on Saturday had anything to do with that. The thought is fleeting because her mother crosses over and sits next to her.

  She smacks Gwendolyn’s thigh and squeezes. “Thank you for coming.”

  “They’re really good, Mom.” She smiles. “That Rylee kid…”

  “Reminds you of you, right?”

  She laughs. “Yeah, actually.”

  “Me, too. It’s kind of crazy.” She takes a deep breath.

  Gwendolyn watches the way her chest rises with the intake of air. She looks worn out, and as much as she wishes it surprised her, it really doesn’t. Going from coaching club volleyball to high school volleyball is a big shift. A couple nights a week becomes every day, three times a day, and she goes all out. Most of the time, she runs with the girls, too. Gwendolyn remembers every single 5K her mother ran during volleyball practice because she was the coach even then. Freshman year was quite possibly the most shocking to their relationship.

  “Miranda, are you kidding me with that hit?” her mother shouts as the ball slams into the net. “You are so late on your approach that I’ve filed a missing person report. Come on.”

  “I’m sorry, Coach.”

  “You never let up, do you?” Gwendolyn asks.

  “I can’t. Not this year.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Her mother stands quickly, and it seems to take the wind out of her. She steadies herself, but Gwendolyn’s worry already mounts.

  “Mom?”

  “Sweet Jesus, Miranda,” her mother says breathlessly as she strides to the setter’s position. “Do your approach right now.” She takes the volleyball and slaps her hand against it before tossing it in the air. When it reaches the peak, Miranda waits a half second too long to do her approach. And as the same words go through Gwendolyn’s mind, her mother says, “You’re starting late. You jump way too high to wait. You know this. One more time.” Another ball is tossed, and Miranda does exactly what she’s supposed to do. She jumps so high and hits the ball with so much force, it practically dents the floor when it hits the ten-foot line. “Awesome. Don’t forget that feeling. Okay?”

  Miranda is smiling so big, and the entire team is yelling at her. “Great job!”

  When her mother heads back over, she smiles and shrugs. “Her timing always needs tweaking. As a senior, she shouldn’t need the additional help, but…�
�� She pauses and rubs her forehead. “This whole team is young.”

  “Good thing you’re leading them. You’ve always been a fantastic coach.”

  Her mother looks at her. “That might be the nicest thing you’ve said to me. Maybe ever.”

  Gwendolyn laughs as she leans forward, elbows on her knees, and turns her attention to the scrimmage. “Don’t get used to it,” she says, and her mother laughs right along with her. As practice continues, she gets more and more into the game. She also keeps checking out Lila, who seems to have a great relationship with the girls. Not to mention she looks amazing in running shorts and a T-shirt and a messy bun.

  She’s sinking deeper and deeper into whatever is happening, which feels sort of good in a way she has never experienced. And it frightens the hell out of her.

  * * *

  When Lila arrives at the Carter home, she’s already regretting saying okay to dinner. She protested at first, but Carol is persuasive. And it’s insanely difficult to continue saying no to a woman who has no idea how to take no for an answer. Lila chuckles when she thinks about it. She knows it’s going to be awkward. She knows she’s going to feel out of place. She knows Carol is going to try to make conversation, and David is going to try to lighten the mood. She’s already seen this episode of this really shitty television show, but she’s too invested to heed the spoiler alerts. Her hope that everything will be okay keeps her moving forward. She’s functioned this way for the past fifteen years, and she doesn’t plan on stopping now.

  After slipping her sandals off at the front door, she breathes in the smell of home cooking. She could pick Carol’s delicious pot roast and mashed potatoes out of a lineup. There is nothing better than the tender beef and amazing gravy. And she will swear that dreams are made of Carol’s mashed potatoes. Even after learning how to make them, Lila can never replicate the creamy goodness.

  Had she known about the mashed potatoes to begin with, she probably would have accepted without thinking twice.

  She makes a mental note to not tell Carol that. Ever.

  In the kitchen, Carol is sitting at the island, her head in her hands, and the sight takes Lila’s breath away. “Are you okay?”

  Her head lifts, and a smile lights up her face. “Oh, of course. Just a small headache.” She stands and busies herself at the chopping board. She takes lettuce from a colander and begins to tear it into bite-size pieces. “How are you, dear? Come help me with this salad.”

  Lila doesn’t believe the description of small for her headache, but she decides to not push the issue. She pulls a knife from the butcher block and begins chopping the red peppers, green onions, and tomatoes. “Practice was good this evening,” she says, making small talk so she doesn’t keep thinking about blond hair and blue eyes and the person those things are attached to and how she’s bound to make an appearance any second.

  “It was wonderful, yes. I am so proud of how the girls stepped up. Two seniors on the team. Good for next year, not so much this year.” She clears her throat. Lila knows what that means. “I keep meaning to talk to you about brunch.”

  “Look, Carol.” She pauses and lets out a sigh. “It’s really okay. I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “But I think it’s important.”

  “I know you do. And thank you. Seriously. But I don’t blame her at all for being jealous.” She shrugs, then looks at Carol, who is busy ripping lettuce. “You have been an amazing mom to me. And I’m forever grateful. I’d be jealous, too, if the roles were reversed.”

  She doesn’t respond, and Lila knows it’s because if she does, she’ll have to fight back tears. Any time Gwendolyn’s name comes up, she has to fight tears, which is why she is rarely mentioned, never discussed, and hardly any pictures exist around the house. Lila’s heart breaks because she can tell Carol is a mess inside. How could she not be?

  “And besides, we have more important things to worry about.”

  “Like?” Carol’s voice cracks. Lila takes comfort in knowing she was right about the tears.

  “Me not being able to get that fucking mashed potato recipe right.”

  She leans her head back and laughs her charming laugh Lila will always love.

  “Oh, Lila’s here!” David’s voice breaks through their laughter. He puts his arm around her shoulders and squeezes. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve missed our conversations about books. Have you had a chance to read Michelle Obama’s yet? It’s a good one. Oh!” He jumps back, releasing her and letting out a giddy squeal. “Did you read Margaret Atwood is planning a sequel to The Handmaid’s Tale?”

  She chuckles. “I did read that. I think I’m the one who forwarded you the link.”

  He smacks his hands together. “You’re right. My bad.”

  He’s a goofy guy, but he’s so nice. In the beginning, it was difficult to find things wrong with him. Not so much anymore, but it’s easier for her to sweep things under the rug since she’s been through so much with them. So very much. Including things she doesn’t feel comfortable thinking about. Being Carol’s best friend is sometimes the hardest position she’s ever been in. She loves her like a mother and as a best friend, so she would take a bullet for her, no questions asked.

  “I heard practice is going very well.” David takes a handful of red pepper slices and starts to munch. His salt and pepper hair is longer than normal, but it suits him. And the “totally hipster glasses” he picked out make him look as if he’s two seconds away from a midlife crisis.

  “Rylee is going to be a rock star if she keeps improving like she is.” Lila finishes the vegetables and begins to sprinkle them over the lettuce. Her stomach has been growling since she arrived. Enough of the small talk. Let’s fucking eat!

  “I was impressed with her, too.”

  Lila snaps her head up at the sound of Gwendolyn’s voice. She felt her presence almost immediately at practice earlier, but this time, she has no idea how long she’s been standing there in jean shorts and heather gray T-shirt. And no makeup. And her hair pulled up haphazardly. And Jesus Christ, she’s making it hard for Lila to form a coherent sentence.

  “I was telling Gwen,” Carol says, interrupting Lila’s thoughts. “She reminds me of her when she was in high school. All arms and legs.”

  Lila finally pulls her eyes away. Her hands are shaking as she puts the knife in the skin. She hopes the trembling isn’t noticeable. She’s sure it probably is. “Yeah, Rylee definitely has legs and arms.” She hears the words. She wants to smack herself. Snap out of it, Machowicz. “I mean, long legs and arms.”

  “She’s going to be very good.” Gwendolyn’s comment almost sounds like a compliment.

  Almost.

  Lila turns, leans against the counter, and smiles. “She is better than I was at that age.”

  “Hardly.” Carol wipes her hands on her apron before taking it off. “Dinner’s ready. What would everyone like to drink? Pinot noir or cab?”

  “I think we have some beer, too.” David swings open the refrigerator. “I have a few 3 Floyds left from the party. My secret stash.” He glances up at Gwendolyn, who waves him off.

  “Do you have any white?” She saunters to the island and picks at the vegetables. She is clearly more comfortable today than she was on Friday, but it might be an act, since, apparently, she’s a good actress. Not that Lila has watched her. A couple times apiece. Nope. Not her.

  “I have a sauv blanc.” Carol swings around to grab glasses, but Lila stops her.

  “I got it. Go sit down.” She catches the thankfulness in Carol’s eyes. Doing three practices a day and coming home to make dinner is hard work. She’s unstoppable, though, and Lila knows it.

  “Gwen, can you please help Lila. David, let the girls do this.” Carol grabs the bottle of pinot on the way to the table. “Get the wine key.”

  Lila watches them leave before she makes eye contact with Gwendolyn. “Will you take the pot roast?”

  “Oh no. I am not taking the pot roast. I’m taking th
e potatoes.”

  Lila tilts her head. “Excuse me?”

  “Those potatoes are the only reason I’m home.” She lunges for the potholders before Lila has a chance and grabs the potatoes from the stove. “You carry the pot roast.”

  Lila shakes her head, a laugh bubbling to the surface. “You come home after how many years and think you’re going to get first dibs on the potatoes?”

  Gwendolyn stops in her tracks. Lila fears she’s said too much, but when she turns and smiles, it practically causes her heart to stop.

  “Yes. That is correct.” She drops the words and heads to the dining room. All Lila can do is hope to God it wasn’t obvious she was holding her breath through the entire exchange.

  * * *

  “What are you so deep in thought over?”

  Lila glances at Carol as she continues to help with the dishes. Gwendolyn went out the second dinner was over. Her disappearance isn’t surprising as much as it is disconcerting. “Oh, y’know, life.”

  “Ha.” Carol pulls a pan from the drying rack. “You have never been a good liar. Spill.”

  “Ugh.”

  “Come on now. Spill.”

  Lila sighs as Carol moves on to the next item, the lid to the pan. “I’m a little worried about Gwendolyn.”

  “You have nothing to worry about.”

  “You say that, but she is very jealous. And she is not really letting up at all.”

  “She has always been a jealous person. She’s an only child. Even when we count you, and David and I do count you, she was already gone when you came into our life. She has no idea how to share.”

  “But…” Lila stops herself .

  “Yes?”

  “She forfeited her chance to be jealous when she decided to not come home for all these years. Don’t you think?”

  Carol nods. “You are right.”