“At least not yet. I give it a week,” I said.
“A week before what?” she asked.
“A week before you’re begging me to go out with you,” I said. I linked my fingers behind my head and leaned back in my chair. I was hoping that the arrogant smirk on my face would camouflage my nervousness.
“Is that right?” She raised one eyebrow and grinned.
“I’m counting on it.”
“You’ve got your work cut out for you then, I’m sort of an emotional cripple,” she said. Hurt flashed across her eyes, before the forced smile masked it. And I knew in that second that I wanted to know her more. I wanted to know where that flash of pain came from, and how to take it away. I wanted to make it better. In that brief moment of vulnerability, I knew she was a girl I could love. That I wanted to love, and I held my breath waiting to see what she’d say next, because I wasn’t sure I had words.
The waiter, M-A-Double-X, according to his nametag, had perfect timing, and I motioned for Quinn to go ahead with her order.
“Okay, I’m gonna have the Spanish Fly Burger,” she said. I raised a curious eyebrow at the name. What the hell had I gotten myself into?
“What can I get you?” Maxx asked me, but his eyes were still locked on Quinn’s.
“He’ll have the Double Bypass Burger,” Quinn interjected.
Maxx made a mental note of it, smiled at Quinn once more, and walked away.
“Double Bypass? Seriously?”
Quinn nodded with a wicked grin. “Seriously.”
“My great-aunt just died during heart surgery,” I said.
Quinn eyes grew wide and she chomped down on her straws. Two of them. “Crap—”
“I’m kidding. Lighten up, woman,” I said as I cracked a smile.
Quinn reached across the table and swatted at my arm. “You’re an ass!”
“I’ve been called worse once or twice.”
The Double Bypass Burger, it turned out, was loaded with more cheese, fried eggs and bacon than a breakfast buffet, and was served between two grilled cheese sandwiches in place of hamburger buns, and I ate until I wasn’t sure how I was going to dislodge myself from the tiny metal chair and cram myself back into Quinn’s tiny car.
“So, thank you for lunch,” she said. She pulled her car into the space next to mine back in the school parking lot.
“Absolutely. Hey, if you don’t have plans tomorrow, we can do it again—”
She checked her watch and cut me off. “Crap! Carter! I’m sorry, I completely forgot, I’ve got to go!”
I reached for the door handle, suddenly unable to remove myself from her car fast enough. “Oh, okay.”
Carter? I should’ve known we were in the friend zone, but for some reason, I failed to pick up on that vibe back at the restaurant.
“My brother, Carter, I’m supposed to meet him at the airport. He’s in from Stanford.”
“Gotcha,” I said, and my relief was palpable.
“But really, I’d like to hang out again, I had a great time.”
“Even for an emotional cripple?”
She smirked shyly, and I saw a whole different side of her in that single expression. I changed my mind from back at the restaurant—this was the face I would have done anything to get to know more of.
“Absolutely,” I said.
“So, what’s been going on?”
“So much. For starters, the woman that I’m staying with, Amalea, she’s just…I can’t even tell you, Ben. She’s amazing. She took me to this coastal town and this man on the side of the road, he taught me how to make pesto! Not like the crappy kind I make at home where I would always put too much oil, this was something special. Anyway, he taught me right there, on the street. And Amalea, she promised she’d show me how to make her famous sfogliatelle before I leave. She’s never shown anyone outside of her family, but she trusts me. Me! With the recipe.” Even through the phone, across time zones and thousands of miles, I can feel Quinn glowing in the way that she does when she is genuinely excited about something.
“It sounds incredible,” I say. I take a bite of my less-than-mediocre microwavable dinner and try to imagine what she’s experiencing.
“I wish you could be here to see it all.”
“Me—” There’s a knock at the door. “Hang on, baby. Come in!” I call.
The knob turns and Carter peers around the half-open door. “Hey, buddy, Shayna and I are on our way out of town. Last chance to tag along.”
I cover the phone. “No thanks, man, I’ll be fine here.”
“Is that Carter?” Quinn asks on the other end of the phone.
“Yep,” I confirm.
“Tell him I said hi,” she says.
“Your sister says hello,” I say.
Carter smiles and yells, “Merry Christmas, Quinnlette. Love you!” He turns his attention back to me. “You good then, man?” I nod and he backs out of the door and closes it behind him.
“Still haven’t changed your mind about going home?” Quinn asks.
“I am home. And you’ll be home soon.”
“That is true,” Quinn agrees with a laugh. “We should plan something for New Year’s Eve. I get in the day before.”
“Definitely. I’ll figure something out,” I say. “But you need to get some sleep, baby.”
Quinn yawns deeply in response. “You’re right. I miss you.”
“You too. Love you, baby.”
I end the call and then toss my dinner into the garbage. I’m not depressed, exactly. I’m just feeling pretty damn useless right now. And maybe I even regret not going home. A little. I don’t even know if I’d be welcome there, but sinking into the sofa in this empty house, it gets me that this is the first holiday that I’ve ever spent completely alone. Right now, I’d almost welcome the sight of my mom’s precision wrapped presents and strict holiday schedule. Just something to take up some space in the hollow feeling spreading inside me. Normally I dig the independence, but right now, independence feels a lot like loneliness.
My phone buzzing on my nightstand wakes me up from a deep sleep.
“What’d you forget?” I answer assuming it’s Quinn.
“Ben?” Caroline’s voice is completely unchanged from the last time I heard it. Or, since the day I met her, sophomore year, when we were just kids. And it’s the familiarity of her voice and sweet southern twang that feels so good right now, it’s like hearing your home language in a foreign country.
I rub my palm across my cheek. “Linney? Wow, it’s been a long time.”
Three beats pass before either one of us says anything more. Just seconds, but long enough for my mind to go all sorts of directions trying to figure out what it is that Caroline and I have to talk about at this hour, and something else inside me is so glad that she called, because at least that means someone needs something from me, even if it’s just a sympathetic ear.
“I know. I’m sorry to bother you. Can you talk?”
Can I isn’t the right question. Should I is a better one. Caroline has been calling for weeks, and I owe her a return phone call. After all the years we’ve known each other, to not show her the respect of answering her calls has been a total dick move.
“Absolutely, is everything okay?”
“Sort of. Not really,” Caroline stumbles over each word. “I mean, it is now.”
“Linney, what’s going on?” There’s something about her voice that makes me think this is much bigger than a bad day or a call to say she misses me.
“I’ve been trying to get ahold of you for a couple of weeks now. I didn’t know what to say on a message. Did you see my calls?”
“No, sorry,” I lie.
“Right. I just…”
I stretch my arm across the bed to hit the lamp on the table. “Linney, you can talk to me.” It’s never been this hard to pull words out of her.We always had the communication thing down.
“I know, it’s just weird now, I know you’re living with Quinn…”
Caroline mentioning Quinn’s name makes me pause. “I am,” I say.
“Is she there? Quinn, I mean.”
“No, no. She’s out of town for school. Why?”
“No reason. I just didn’t figure she’d be thrilled with you talking with me. I didn’t want to get you into trouble or anything.”
“Don’t worry about that, Linney. Quinn and I are doing great.” Even though she’s halfway around the world, and doesn’t really seem to need me the way she used to.
“Good. Okay. Glad to hear it.” Her words are short like she’s so distracted she’s trying to sound coherent.
“What’s going on? Caroline. Talk to me.” I readjust the pillow under me, still in a bit of a haze after being woken up.
“When was the last time you talked to your parents?”
I pull in a quick breath. “It’s been a while.” Did they put her up to this?
“Okay, so, this is probably really weird, but I was calling because I didn’t know if you’d be coming to see them for Christmas or not—”
“No, I’m not. What does that have to do with anything?” They definitely put her up to this. Mom couldn’t bother calling and inviting me herself, she was likely worried I’d show up with Quinn if I came home.
“I’m living with them. I mean, they’ve invited me to live with them for a while, and I moved in last month.”
“What? I don’t understand, how did that come about?”
“It’s a really long story. Basically, I needed somewhere safe to go, and my mom talked to your mom, who really misses you, by the way, we all do, really—”
“Wait, back up. Somewhere safe? Are you okay, Linney?” I’m now wide awake, sitting up in bed, heart slamming inside my chest. I feel like an asshole of a friend for ignoring her calls.
“I am now, like I said. Things just got a little crazy back home, and I needed to go somewhere new for a while. I hope I’m doing the right thing, I don’t even know anymore…”
“And you’re there, at my parent’s house now?”
“Yeah,” she says.
“I’ve got to let you go,” I say. I hoist myself out of bed and grab a pair of jeans and a wrinkled t-shirt off of the floor.
“Ben, I’m sorry. Does that upset you? Crap.” She sounds embarrassed, and that’s the last thing I want.
“No, no, it’s nothing like that. I just, I need to see if I can still get a flight out. I’m coming home.” I let the words tumble out of my mouth before I have the chance to think them through. I don’t pause to consider them as I pack, or as I fork over what little available credit I have on my credit card, or as I board the plane, or as I step onto the brick walkway that leads up to my parents’ house.
Because if I stopped to think about it, I might realize that this may not be the best idea I’ve ever had.
Because if I think too long about what I’m doing, I might lose sight of the one thing that is clearer than anything right now—and that’s that Linney needs someone.
Linney needs me.
Even though I’m exhausted, I take the steps up to the house two at a time, because, really, what’s the point in postponing the inevitable awkwardness? But once I reach the door, I’m not sure what to do. Do I knock? I still have a key, but I can’t just let myself in, can I? Shit.
The front door swings open and my dad stands there, eyes wide, jaw slack.
“Ben?” He says, as if he doesn’t recognize me, or can’t believe I’m really standing here. It’s only been a year, I haven’t changed. I mean, I have. Of course. But not in any way that counts. Right?
“What are you doing here, son?” He pulls me in for a hug. I don’t remember the last time he did that, and it’s awkward because it’s been so long, and because he’s my dad but I tower over him. I sort of had this vision that when I saw my parents, they’d be different. My stupid ego sort of let me think that they’d upset about me leaving, that they’d be frail or something ridiculous. But they’re not, because Dad, at least, looks good. Healthy. He smiles broadly and I can’t help but feel glad to be here, even if that nagging voice in the back of my head tells me it’s wrong.
“Hey, Pop,” I say. He pulls me in through the door and, though I notice that the exterior of the house has been painted a light gray rather than the taupe it was before and the stones leading up to the house have been replaced, inside, it feels like time has stood still. The photos on the walls are the same, a shot of me for every year I was in school, lined up with precision. The only thing that feels the least bit different is the scale. Everything seems a little smaller. The sofa not quite so overstuffed. The fireplace mantel not quite so high. It’s not because I’ve grown, I guess my perception has just changed. Maybe that’s what happens when you move away.
My dad stands across from me, staring. Smiling. “Couldn’t miss another holiday with us, could ya?” he asks.
“Something like that,” I say, grinning back at him.
“Well, we’re glad you’re here, son. Wish you would have called, I could have picked you up from the airport,” Dad says.
I shrug. “I didn’t want to put anyone out. I’ve got a rental.” Also, I didn’t know how long I’d be staying, or if shit would hit the fan as soon as I walked through the door, and I’d have to turn right back around and leave.
“How was your Thanksgiving? We missed hearing from you,” Dad says.
“Missed you too, Pop. It was good. Quinn cooked a big meal, all the trimmings.” I beam with pride.
“Good. Still wish you would have been here, though. Nothing like your mom’s cooking.”
I smile to oblige him. “Hey, is Ma around?”
Dad’s smile turns downward. “She is, yeah. She’s in the basement with…” He lets his gaze drift around the room.
“With Caroline?” I ask. He raises his eyebrows, looking relieved that I already know.
“Yep. Just getting a few things set up down there for her. You could head on down, or you can wait up here with your old man.”
“Yeah, that’s fine, I’ll just wait,” I say. Dad takes a seat in his recliner and I follow suit, sitting on the sofa. “So, listen, what’s going on with Linney?”
Dad rubs his palms together and sighs. “I don’t know the whole story, Ben, and what I do know probably isn’t for me to tell. I’m sure she’ll tell you everything when she’s ready.”
“But, she’s okay, right?”
“I think she’ll be glad you’re here. She could use a friend,” Dad says.
“That’s exactly why I’m here.” So fast. Without thinking about anything but being here. And I know there are consequences to this decision that I haven’t even begun to piece together yet, but I’m pushing those thoughts away until I get a chance to do something here. Hopefully something good. Something that makes a difference. Or, maybe that’s just my arrogance thinking I have anything left to offer. Maybe I’ve done my fixing and now it’s over.
“You really came. Wow. I didn’t mention it to you, Mr. and Mrs. Shaw because I really didn’t think you were serious, Ben!” Caroline rushes to me from the doorway and falls into my arms. I kiss the top of her head and breathe in the familiar smell of honey from her hair.
Caroline looks the same. Same blond hair, long down her back. Same warm blush on her pale skin when she smiles at me. Oh, shit, was that friendly greeting out of bounds? It’s the first time I’ve let the question of how Quinn would react if she were here cross my mind.
I want to talk to Linney. I want to find out what made her leave Kentucky, her school, her friends, her parents. How it is that she ended up living in my parents basement. If someone hurt her and I need to hunt them down and beat the ever-loving shit out of them. But as I pull back, away from Caroline, I see my mom standing at the top of the stairs that lead up from the basement.
“We should give you a minute,” Caroline says, clasping her hands together and backing into the kitchen with my dad following close behind. “It’s good to see you, though, Ben.�
�� She flashes me one last smile before disappearing into the kitchen.
“Benjamin,” Mom says. Her mouth forms a tight line and I feel like I’m twelve years old all over again.
“How you doing, Ma?” I ask.
“You came for Christmas?” she asks. She peers around me, then out the window for a split second.
“I did. And to check on Linney.”
“Of course,” she says. “That’s nice of you. Guess I did something right raising you.”
“Ma…” She’s hit the ground running with her passive-aggressive remarks. I eye my small duffel bag that I dropped in the corner, debating how shitty it’d look it I picked up my crap and went back to LA right now. This couldn’t get any more uncomfortable than it is. At the same time I’m pondering that, my mom is looking out the window again, and it finally dawns on me what she’s doing. “She isn’t here, Ma. It’s just me.”
I see her shoulders fall, visibly relaxing at the news that Quinn didn’t make the trip with me, and it pisses me off.
“Well, that’s a Christmas gift in itself,” she says under her breath.
“I heard that. I can go, if you’d like.” I motion to the door. I mean it. I’ll happily grab my bag and leave now. Well, after I find out what’s wrong with Linney. And maybe Mom knows that. That I came for a reason, and I won’t leave until I’ve figured out what’s going on with Linney.
“Don’t leave,” Mom says. She absently runs her hand along the back of the sofa. “Are you two…broken up?”
“No,” I say, feeling anger bubble up and percolate in my chest. “Not at all.”
The disappointment on Mom’s face couldn’t be more clear if it were scrawled out in permanent marker or flashing on a neon sign.
“Quinn’s away. In Europe. For school.”
“Hmm,” Mom utters a non-committal, unimpressed noise. “But you’re here. And you’ll be staying here for the holiday?”
“If that’s alright”
“Of course, Benny,” she says. I cringe at the nickname, but she waves me over for a hug and I’m glad the initial shit-storm is over with. “We can talk about things after you settle in. Oh! And Caroline mentioned some shopping she needed to get done. Maybe you can take her into town?”
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