by Alison Ryan
Mike showed up at six o’clock on the nose. I was setting the dining room table, a place where we usually only ate on holidays. When I opened the screen door to let him in, his cologne hit me pretty hard. He probably saw the reaction on my face.
“I spilled it. All over myself,” he said. “Rooster jumped on me at the worst moment and I didn’t have time to jump in the shower. Is it that bad?”
I tried to conceal how painfully strong it was, “Not at all. Just surprised me.”
He was so nervous. He had on a polo shirt and khakis with topsiders. I was pretty sure it was the exact outfit I had seen him in at the bar the night we went to collect my mother. He also had definitely shaved.
It was a lot of effort for a simple dinner.
We hadn’t been too complicated with the food. It was spaghetti and meatballs with garlic bread. A gallon of vanilla ice cream (“Mike’s not a huge chocolate fan”) sat in our freezer. Grandma had gathered the strength to stand in the kitchen and stir the sauce while Mom went upstairs to get dressed.
As soon as Mike walked into the kitchen Grandma smiled possibly the biggest smile I had seen in all my life of seeing her smiles. She put out her arms and Mike slid right into them, picking her tiny little body up and gently swinging her around. She laughed as he set her back down.
“My sweet boy,” she said. “This is just about the best thing to happen all summer, having you back at my house.”
I could tell he was alarmed at her condition. His eyes were wet for a moment but he suddenly shook it off and grinned, “Bet you didn’t think you’d see me in here again.”
“I only prayed for it all the time,” Grandma said. She wouldn’t let go of him. “You know how much we love you here.”
He nodded. I stood there, suddenly not knowing what to do with myself.
“Addie,” Grandma said, “why don’t you pour some drinks. What would you like, Mike? We have some wine.”
“Oh, a Coke is fine. Or water. Whatever you’ve got,” he said.
We sat at the kitchen table waiting for Mom to come back downstairs. Everything was ready, I had just pulled the garlic bread out of the oven. Grandma and Mike were laughing about some incident at the bar from a couple years ago, a story that had been going around the whole town. The one thing I had learned since living here is that word traveled fast and far in the Rut.
Mom walked in just as he was finishing up. We all stopped to look at her. Her hair was up in a French twist. She had makeup on, a little too much rouge, but it was still striking. She had traded in her juvenile wardrobe for a floral sundress that I didn’t even know she owned. It was a periwinkle color that made her skin look tan. I had never seen her look so beautiful.
“Hi, Mike.” She leaned against the door frame of the kitchen. “I didn’t hear you come in.”
I could tell she was nervous. She was tapping her finger against her leg. She always did that when she was anxious. But I had never seen her anxious around any man. They were usually the ones who were nervous around my mother.
“Hey, Naomi.” He couldn’t stop staring at her.
“About time you came down,” Grandma said. “We’re a hungry crew. I love that dress, sweetheart.”
Mom feigned sheepishness like Oh this old thing? She walked over to Mike and leaned over him to take his plate.
“Sorry to keep you waiting, Mike,” she said. “I’ll make you a plate.”
It was like someone had taken over my mother and replaced her with someone else. For the entire dinner she refreshed his drink, my drink, all of our plates. She laughed this charming, sweet laugh. She and Mike talked about their disastrous junior prom, where I guess he had gotten his truck stuck in mud in the middle of a field around the time he was supposed to be bringing her home. They ended up sleeping in the truck that night and they both got in a whole heap of trouble. It was quite the scandal at the time, but now they were sitting at a kitchen table, eighteen years later, laughing about it with Grandma. Time made things funnier I guess.
I didn’t talk much. I was more there to observe and collect information. I learned many things that night. I learned my mother had once been a lot like me; hopelessly in love with a boy from the Rut.
I washed the dishes that night while Grandma went back to the living room sofa to sleep. It was apparent that she would no longer be going upstairs to her bedroom. It was too much, those stairs. I made sure she was comfortable, and she was snoring before I had even reached the kitchen.
The kitchen sink is in front of a window that looks out into the backyard. It wasn’t dark yet but the fireflies were out. Mom and Mike sat in the backyard, talking. How I wished I could have heard what they were saying. Their shoulders were touching. My mother laughed at something and then she undid her hair and let it fall down around her shoulders. Even I knew that was a move a girl did when she wanted to get the attention of a man. It made me smile, seeing her happy for a moment.
I noticed the clock on the microwave said 7:45. I ran upstairs to brush my teeth and try to do something with my hair. My own Rut boy would be here soon, and my stomach was in knots just thinking about it.
Being that my room was on the end of the house, I had a window that faced the front yard and one that faced the back. As I fiddled with my hair I spied on Mom and Mike out back. I was surprised they were still talking. I don’t know what I expected when I invited him. I figured, from Mom’s reaction, that he would come and eat and leave, never to be seen again. But there was something still there with him and Mom. It was so obvious to anyone watching. My mother had her share of boyfriends throughout my life. I never paid attention to any of them, knowing she would tire of them soon enough. I had witnessed her behavior around them and none of it matched what I was seeing tonight. I didn’t know what to think of that.
At eight o’clock I sat on the porch, waiting for the tell-tale rumbling of an old Ford pickup. The sky was darkening a bit and even from the front I could hear my mother’s melodic laughter.
I was content for a moment. I peeked inside through the living room window and could see Grandma sleeping, her chest rising and falling. I had dimmed the lights and hoped she had a nice long rest.
Ten minutes later, still no sign of Ryan. I was itching for him to get there. I hoped his father hadn’t stopped him or given him a hard time. Or maybe he had a last minute yard to mow or a million other things. If he didn’t come by eight-thirty, I’d call his house.
Just as I thought this, Mom and Mike walked around the side of the house. Both looked surprised to see me.
“What’s going on?” Mom asked, coming over to sit next to me on the steps. Mike stood in front of me, holding the keys to his truck.
“Ryan was supposed to pick me up at eight,” I said. “Maybe he forgot. I wish I knew where he lived so I could just make sure he’s okay. I was going to call him…” My voice trailed off.
“Ryan Kidson?” asked Mike.
“Yeah,” I said, shyly. “He told me he was going to come by tonight. Sometimes we just go on a drive.”
Mike smiled, “I remember those drives. Well, why don’t you call him real quick? I can drop you off at his house if it’s easier for him. I know where the Kidsons live.”
“You do?” I asked.
“Addie, this is the Rut. I pretty much know where everyone lives.”
I ran inside and picked up the phone. I had written his number on a piece of paper that now sat under a magnet on the fridge. It rang and rang but no one picked up, not even an answering machine.
I walked back out onto the porch where Mom and Mike still sat.
“No answer,” I said. My stomach hurt. I had a bad feeling.
“Well,” Mike looked at Mom and back at me. “How about we just drive by and see if his truck’s there? He doesn’t live that far from here. Maybe he had to stop somewhere on his way over.”
I didn’t want to feel like a stalker, but my intuition was telling me something was up. Ryan would call if he was running late. I knew he wou
ld.
“Okay,” I said. “Mom, you stay with Grandma?”
Mom nodded. She pulled me close to her and kissed my head, “Sure, baby. See you in a bit. Call me if you end up anywhere, okay?”
“Okay.” I walked towards Mike’s car. Behind me I could hear them talking, saying a hushed goodbye. I felt guilty it was so rushed. Part of me prayed Ryan’s truck would pull up right then and he would bound out of the driver’s side with some story about a flat tire or running into someone at the gas station. But as I shut the passenger side door of Mike’s car, I looked down the driveway and there were no headlights coming our way.
It was slightly awkward to be alone in the car with Mike.
He turned the radio on and rock and roll music blared loudly from the speakers, making me jump.
“Sorry,” he said turning the volume down. “I was jamming out to Whitesnake on the way here.”
“Whitesnake?” I asked.
“Yeah. You know. ‘Here I Go Again.’ Tawny Kitaen? No?” he said.
“Yeah. I’ve heard of them. I’m just surprised you’re a fan.”
“Oh, I love hair metal. Really, I like all kinds of stuff.”
I didn’t say anything else as we drove. Normally, I would have loved to delve into the mind of Mike, but I was distracted by the pit in my stomach.
“So, Ryan Kidson.” Mike looked over at me, “He’s a good guy. You just meet him?”
“Yeah,” I said. “
“Just friends?” he asked.
I looked over at him, a little perturbed, “More than that. I think.”
Mike smiled, “I hate that part. Where you don’t know, for sure.”
I rolled my eyes, “I’m pretty sure I know. Or at least I thought I did.” I looked at him and decided to be honest, “Sometimes when things are really going well, I just wait for them to fall apart. It’s like I can’t enjoy them. And I have this terrible feeling right now.”
Mike frowned, “That’s so sad. You’re too young to be so cynical.”
We started slowing down as we came towards a neighborhood. Brookshire Estates the sign read. We made a right turn and suddenly there were ranch style homes all lined up, every single one exactly the same except for the siding and paint jobs.
So this is where Ryan Kidson lives.
“Forgive me if I drive slowly. I can’t remember exactly which one is his,” Mike said. “I used to be the assistant basketball coach and I gave him a ride home a couple times. His mom drives a maroon station wagon. And of course his truck is-“
“Blue.” I finished. “His truck is blue.”
We slowly went up the street. Ahead of us I could see a maroon station wagon. There was a Bush/Quayle sticker on the bumper. Next to it was a blue truck and behind the truck was a white Mercedes Benz. It stood out in a neighborhood full of used minivans and sedans.
“Is that it?” I asked. Mike stopped in front of the house next to it.
“Um. Yeah. It is.” I could tell he knew something he didn’t want to tell me.
“What should I do?” I asked. “They own a Mercedes?”
Mike shook his head, “They don’t, Addie. Only one family in the Rut drives a car like that. Or at least just one that would be affiliated with the Kidsons.”
He didn’t have to say it.
“Is that Rachel Lawson’s car?” I asked, my voice shaking.
Mike put the car in drive and we went by the house. Fortunately, no one was outside to see us go past.
“So?” I asked.
“Well, it’s definitely the Lawson’s car,” Mike admitted. “And it also happens to be the one Rachel drives.”
I leaned over. I could almost taste dinner in my throat. I was so sick over what was happening. Ryan Kidson stood me up. And it looked like he stood me up because Rachel Lawson had returned.
The bitch was back.
9
On the way home, poor Mike had to listen to me sob against the window. Normally I wouldn’t share such open grief and emotion but I couldn’t hold it in. I had never felt so stupid in my entire life. I immediately cursed myself for falling so hard for someone I truly barely knew. I hadn’t learned a single thing from Mom. The most important thing I knew was this: people you thought cared about you would discard you in a moment for their own benefit. I had been witness to it so many times over the years. Boyfriend after boyfriend, job after job. My one rule had always been that I should never see things how I wanted them to be. I needed to always see things how they actually were.
Because if I didn’t, this is what happened.
Mike drove much more quickly back to the house. I thought he must be so happy to be rid of this crazy teenage girl crying over a boy who was never really hers in the first place. But when we got to the house he told me to wait for a moment.
“Let me get your mom,” he said. “I know you don’t want to have to explain everything. Then you can go to your room and scream into a pillow or throw something or just feel how you need to feel. Okay, sweetheart?”
I looked up at him, his face concerned. He wasn’t annoyed with me at all. I saw understanding there, and sympathy. I had never had that from a man before. It felt good to know someone was on my side.
“Okay,” I said. “Thanks.”
As he walked away, I couldn’t help but hope that my mom would come out to the car and explain everything. That Ryan had called while I was gone. To tell me he was running late or couldn’t come because he was dealing with something unrelated to Rachel Lawson. Or that it was her, but he was carefully explaining to her that he had fallen for someone else.
But that’s not what happened. Instead she came out and hugged me tight.
“I’m so sorry,” she said into my hair.
“I just want to go to bed.”
The next morning I slept until noon. It was Thursday and Grandma was going to visit Dr. Harrison to find out about hospice and what it entailed.
“You don’t have to go,” Mom said. “Actually, I would rather you didn’t. Shayla will be with me. Why don’t you just relax today?”
My mother was having a rare maternal moment. She was back in her cutoffs and baby tees, but her voice was soft.
“If you’re sure. I don’t want to let anyone down.” I said.
“Never. You stay home and veg out. Watch some MTV. Eat some ice cream.”
It sounded like the advice in YM magazine they gave you when someone broke your heart. But I didn’t crave junk food. I just wished I’d never met him in the first place.
They left for the hospital right after lunch, which I hadn’t bothered eating. I was still in my pajama shorts and an old Virginia is for Lovers t-shirt. Ironic.
I had been laying on the sofa for about twenty minutes watching the newest episode of Singled Out when someone tapped on the screen door.
“Coming,” I muttered, putting the remote on the coffee table and sauntering over to see who it was.
“Hey, girl!” McKenna bounced into the house. She was in her overalls again, and bare feet. A tiny tank top was underneath. She looked sunny and adorable.
“Hey.” I didn’t even pretend to be excited to see her.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, as I walked back to the sofa. I fell back onto it, not caring what I looked like.
“Boys are assholes.”
McKenna’s smile dropped and she sat next to my on the sofa, putting my legs in her lap.
“So you know.” she said. “I just found out last night. My mom said when she went to the grocery store last night she ran into Rachel Lawson with Jennifer and Courtney.”
“Yeah. I’m guessing Ryan wasn’t too far away,” I said. “He was supposed to show up here last night and he never did. Didn’t call. So, pathetically, I drove by his house and there was Rachel’s Mercedes Benz, all white and shiny in the driveway. And it didn’t look like it was going anywhere any time soon.”
McKenna’s mouth hung open in shock, “Are you serious? He didn’t even call? That’s not like Ryan. H
e’s never been that guy. What a dickwad!”
I nodded, “Yep. Major dickwad.”
McKenna stood up and started pacing.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Thinking.” She was like a bull going back and forth across the living room. “This is bullshit. It’s one thing for him to see her. It’s another thing for him to stand you up and humiliate you. Ugh! I’m so angry! She always wins! Ryan is such a pathetic idiot for letting her back into his life.”
I thought her words should make me feel better, but they really didn’t. They just reminded me that our short, romantic stint was over. That I really had been just a placeholder this entire time. Guys were truly capable of the most callous things.
“Where’s your grandma?” she suddenly asked.
“Doctor. Don’t worry, it was scheduled. She’s okay.”
McKenna exhaled, relieved, “Good. You know, Ryan knows what you’re going through. Which makes this even worse. I mean, this is something shitty Kyle Joel would do to a girl.”
I couldn’t help but smile, “So you can finally admit he’s shitty.”
“Yes. I can. And now I can admit all guys from the Rut are shitty.” She huffed, sitting back next to me on the couch.
“Well,” she said, “Now I’m even more excited to ask you what I came over to ask you.”
I sat up so she could move over. I grabbed a pillow and pulled it to my chest. I was so achy all over, I felt like I had the flu. Was this what stress did to a person?
“What are you going to ask me?”
She smiled, “How would you like to go on vacation with me and my parents?”
I hadn’t expected that.
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Go where?”
“Myrtle Beach. We go every year, and Rhiannon was going to go, but she can’t because of family stuff. And I don’t think she wants to leave Jackson for a week. But I would really love for you to come. I know with your grandma it might be tough, but it’s only a week. And now with this Ryan bullcrap, maybe it’s a good option for you. Nothing gets your mind off a boy like meeting another one at the beach. And the best part about boys at the beach is that you know it can’t last so you can just have fun.”