Effortless With You

by Lizzy Charles

  I freeze, not knowing what to say. My relationship with my parents isn’t like his. He wouldn’t understand it. I mean, how am I supposed to complain about Mom controlling my life when he has such a different perspective?

  Justin watches me. “That’s okay. We’ve got the whole summer.”

  I shrug.

  “So, what’s it like dating Zach?” He asks instead. “I bet you’ve never felt so appreciated.” His sarcasm can’t be missed.

  “Seriously, you follow up your story with that?”

  “Aw, come on. It’s got to be awesome to listen to him talk about his lacrosse stick constantly.” He snickers at his implication.

  “It’s not like that.”

  “It’s Zach. I don’t care what you think, kid. But it’s like that.”

  I actually huff. Kid? My blood pressure rises. I want to throw my iPod at his face. “Thanks,” I say with as much confidence as I can fake.

  “For what?”

  “For reminding me why I despise you.”

  He chuckles while I reach over to turn on the radio, flipping it to my favorite music station. I turn the volume up and settle back into my seat. I can feel his eyes on me. He chuckles again.

  I hate that chuckle.

  Justin relents, leaving me to my thoughts and my top-40 music.

  Lacrosse stick.

  No. Zach isn’t like that. He likes to make out but he never hinted at more than that. My legs grow antsy. Is he hoping for it, though? He’s a year older than me. Maybe that’s his goal? A hole carves out in my stomach.

  Marissa lost her virginity on a beach during spring break in Panama City. She kept saying how fun it was to fool around and that it’s essential to do before seventeen. “A girl needs experience before she finds the one so she can do it right.” I totally agreed at the time. But now that hole has doubled into a huge pit. She’d made it sound so casual and free.

  Can I do that with Zach? Immediately I taste bile in the back of my throat. I swallow it.

  No. That’s something I can never give him. I’m not ready for it. I couldn’t be that girl even if I tried. I sigh and Justin glances my way. I sink down in my seat.

  My face heats. Not even in theory am I ready for sex.

  ***

  The universe is kind to me. My first few days back on the job are uneventful. I manage to stay on my feet and the ladder. Alex welcomes me like an eager younger brother, claiming me as his partner for the entire project at the association.

  The association is larger than I’d expected. Seventeen single-family homes with extensive landscaping strategically positioned around a community pool, park, and tennis court. Alex explains that these homes are considered a pioneer in home associations in the Twin Cities. Each home is at least three thousand square feet and, unlike the association where I live, each home’s exterior and floor plan are completely unique.

  BMWs, Porsches, and Escalades decorate many of the driveways. Luxury living. I picture myself spilling a bucket of paint in one of the beautifully landscaped gardens below. My lack of gracefulness does not accompany “luxury” well.

  Thankfully, we don’t start with paint. Alex scores one of the power washers and some scrapers to restart my education. He meticulously shows me how to power wash and follow up with the scraper, scraping away any loose paint that the wash did not remove. Once I am proclaimed proficient, Alex leads us in a rotation between power washing and scraping so our arms won’t get too tired and we won’t get too bored.

  I enjoy power washing. Blasting away old paint is as satisfying as picking off nail polish. I love the loud, constant hum from the air-compressor supply. It leaves me alone with my thoughts and sometimes, when I’m lucky, the sound will take them away as well. Whenever I get tired, I play the William Tell Overture. It may as well be a power-washing anthem. I forgot how much I enjoy classical music. The songs used to be part of my morning pre-game ritual. They relax me like nothing else.

  Alex and I prep ten houses in three days. At the end of each day, I climb back into Justin’s truck and pull my hat down over my eyes. Justin, as exhausted as I am, seems to get my message and leaves me to myself on the drive home. He listens to ethereal rock music that’s strangely beautiful and always lulls me to sleep. It seems that as long as I work hard, Justin is willing to leave me alone. After two pleasant drives, I start to hope that maybe Justin is finally done bothering me and we can maintain this casual, professional relationship.

  It isn’t until the third night when I finally collapse into bed that I have a nagging feeling of disappointment. I toss and turn, trying to find a comfortable position. I’m exhausted. Why can’t I fall asleep?

  The disappointment answers me. Isn’t the real question why isn’t Justin being annoying anymore?

  Justin hadn’t done anything on the drive that morning to bother me, other than occasionally glancing my way. I turn to the window, looking out at the tree I climbed down just two weeks before. Am I not interesting to him anymore? My heart sinks deep into my chest, hiding away.

  Why did he stop? I ache with a sense of loss.

  I take a deep breath, accepting what my instincts know to be true. Somewhere, deep inside me, I enjoy having this annoying relationship with Justin. Whenever he pisses me off, at least I know I’m noticed. And now Justin is bored with me and I’m left with a hole in place of his attention. Attention I never wanted in the first place.

  I close my eyes and visualize this new void inside of me. I don’t need to fill it with something else. I just need it to go away. I watch the void get smaller, a trick Mom explained to me enthusiastically after one of her therapy sessions. I never asked for clarification but I knew that whatever void she was trying to shrink was something I had made.

  I curl up into a ball. I take slow breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth, allowing each breath to leave my body with a piece of this void. My heart beat slows as I watch the void disappear.

  As I drift in and out of sleep, I think about Justin’s charming smile and rolling laugh. I visualize his strong forearms and washboard abs. He’s gorgeous. I forgive myself for my stupidity. I’m only human after all. Any girl would feel this way if she was stuck spending the summer with Justin. Isn’t that what I want? Just to be like every other girl?

  A tear rolls down my cheek.

  I catch one last fleeting message from my heart as I drift to sleep.

  When exactly did my life goal become being ordinary?

  ***

  BZZZZZ. I wake up covered in sweat. My head hurts. Talk about fitful sleep.

  As my head’s fog drifts away, I remember the ache I felt the night before. I search for the void and am thankful I can’t feel it anymore. My muscles relax. I’m so thankful that morning brought reason. I don’t need Justin to make me feel complete. I take a moment, standing up straight and adjusting my swept bangs.

  I don’t need him.

  Why would I need him?

  Why would I want him?

  I pull out my phone and find Zach’s number. I have a great boyfriend.

  I thumb the call button as it highlights his name but then catch the time. Six twenty-eight. Somehow, no matter how much I know Zach likes me, I can’t picture him wanting to get a call from me this early.

  My phone vibrates.

  Justin: Get your butt out here. Or would you rather I come in?

  What the hell? Twenty-eight minutes early. I text back as I press the puffy part under my eyes with a cold rag.

  Me: Learn how to read a clock.

  Justin: Either come out or your Mom can drive you.

  Never. I can’t face Mom’s smug look when I explain why I missed my ride. Or worse, be stuck in traffic with her. I throw clothes on and brush my teeth in the kitchen as I shove some random protein bars and crackers in my bag. It’ll have to do.

  I yank open the passenger door with as much annoyance as I can portray. I throw my light bag under the seat and heave myself up into the truck. “If I end up in the hospital
today, it’s on you.”

  He smirks. “I think you’ll survive.” He looks at me out of the corner of his eyes and then rolls them in a dramatic fashion. He laughs to himself. My chest heats.

  “Why are you so early?”

  “Better than late.”

  I fake a yawn. “Pretty sure I’d prefer late.”

  “Then Zach’s perfect for you, huh?”

  I open my mouth to retort but no words come out. My snappy comeback is tangled up in emotions. He is so annoying. But he is bothering me. Why did my heart grow warm when he laughed? And, more importantly, was he going to do it again?

  I must have a stumped look on my face because he actually does laugh again. My heart skips a beat.

  “What? Nothing to dish out this morning?”

  My tongue finally finds words. “No. I’m just wondering if it is worth it.”

  Justin turns toward me. “Oh trust me, what you have to say is always worth it.”

  I bite the inside of my lip as my heart flips. No. I push the flips aside. I’m not going to allow myself to misinterpret what Justin means.

  “I’m sure,” I throw in some sarcasm before putting my head phones on and looking out the window. As each car drives past, I search for reason.

  Justin is dating Jennifer, the perfect girl. He has no interest in me. Plus, I have Zach. I think of how Zach would lean in toward me while he spoke. It feels like sunshine when Zach turns his attention on me. I think of him pressing me into the corner booth and kissing me while his strong hands hold the small of my back. My stomach flips and I smile. My heart just needed to be realigned.

  I pull out my phone to type Zach an email. Too early to text. “Hey,” I write. “Just thinking of you. We should hang out tonight. Maybe go to a movie? I would have texted but I didn’t want to wake you. Hope you’re sleeping well!”

  I fumble with the keys as I consider how to sign the email. Texting is awesome because no signature is required. Email makes it trickier. A dash would seem too impersonal. But love, love you, or even luv u, can be misinterpreted. I settle for the cheesy “<3 Lucy.” Up until this moment I’d always rolled my eyes at the use of <3. But as I type it, I feel a growing appreciation for the cliché symbol.

  I push SEND and lean back in my seat. Moments later, my cell buzzes.

  Zach: Out running. Let’s grab dinner. I owe you—remember?

  Me: Absolutely. That’d be great.

  Zach: Awesome. Romano’s. Pick you up at 7.

  I smile, thinking of that romantic corner in Romano’s.

  “What’s with the silly grin?” Justin’s voice cuts into my thoughts. He is so nosy. I can approach this two ways: either refuse to acknowledge his question or brag about my date. I choose the shallower approach.

  “Just planning a date with Zach,” I say.

  Justin scrunches up his nose. “Oh, still seeing that guy?”

  “Um, yes. Not much has changed in the last week.” I mock his cackle.

  Justin won’t take his eyes off me, making me shift in place. “Didn’t I tell you not to see that guy? He’s not worth it.”

  Like hot water on dry ice, I steam. Why would I listen to him?

  I readjust myself in my seat so I can face him square on. If we crash, we crash.

  “You can’t tell me who to date. I make my own choices. Zach’s a great guy. I choose him.” I glare at Justin with venom. He needs to back off, now.

  His serious expression slowly becomes more relaxed. Hint taken.

  “So you go against the advice of a wiser, older man?” He laughs.

  My heart flips. That damn noise.

  Justin turns back to the road, leaning back in his seat with a huge smile on his face. His smug smile pushes me over the edge.

  “You are so full of yourself. Yup,” I taunt. “I said it. FULL OF YOURSELF. You aren’t God!” The adrenaline flies through my system. “What on earth would give me any incentive to listen to you? You are an egotistical, pompous ass!” The words are sweet relief flying off my tongue.

  “I am, am I?” He sucks in his cheeks, nodding slowly. “I assume this is not a random conclusion?”

  “Hell, no. It’s well studied, I assure you.”

  “So you’ve been studying me?” He chuckles and it vexes me despite the beauty of its roll. Maybe being around Justin is good? It’s a great reminder that we are not compatible.

  “I won’t dignify that with an answer, as I’m sure your head will explode.”

  “So you have?”

  “For real? You are seriously clueless. Listen to me. Get over yourself. You’re not royalty.”

  Justin studies the glare in my eye and his smile fades.

  Good. Comprehension.

  He shrugs. “At least I’m not as clueless as you, Lucy.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  Justin doesn’t talk to me the rest of the day which is great, because I can’t stand him. But I do find a white plastic bag filled with three water bottles and a breakfast sandwich at the bottom of my ladder before our morning break. His version of apologizing? That or he doesn’t want me to faint again. He also took care of lunch, buying the entire crew pizza. We downed eight pizzas in ten minutes.

  As Alex and I power wash, I occasionally sneak glimpses of Justin priming the house behind me. He usually spends the day listening to music, joking around with the crew. Today he paints iPod-free and only once squirted Emmanuel with a hose. He never glances in my direction. He doesn’t even say goodbye when I climb out of his truck at the end of the day.

  He’s acting like a child. I want to shake him. He deserves every word I said. And now he’s punishing me? I hate how his silence is worse than his taunting.

  Mom picks up on my agitation the moment I walk through the door. She stands at the counter, soaking bulbs in some new concoction while mud drips from her gardening boots onto the hardwood floor. Her look of concentration reminds me of a kid enthralled in their first science experiment. It would have been cute, except she is supposed to be a mom.

  Sadly, her concentration is not deep enough to miss me as I pass by.

  “How was your day, Lucinda?”

  I take a deep breath before turning around. A few nights ago, I begged Mom to stop treating me like a child. Her response was “Of course, Lucinda. I will never call you Lucy again.” She knows I hate my full name. By using Lucinda, she picks at the fresh scab. I take another deep breath. I am so not in the mood for this.

  I turn around to face her. “Fine.” I force myself to smile at her with all the pleasantries of a stranger. I can’t handle this if it doesn’t go smoothly. “How was yours?”

  “Great.” She motions to the table for me to sit with her. I opt to remain standing, leaning against the wall with my arms crossed. “What’s wrong?” she prods.

  “Nothing’s wrong. Why do you always assume something’s wrong, Mom?” I uncross my arms, attempting to appear casual. In control.

  She brings her hands together in front of her center as she breathes in slowly through her nose. Therapeutic breathing. I get lots of this.

  “Well,” she begins, “as your mother, I’m in tune. I know what that look in your eye means. What happened?”

  My blood seethes. She’s in tune? No way. “Maybe you’re just imagining this look so you have an excuse to talk to me?” I roll my eyes before I grab an apple to toss around. “Nothing’s wrong, okay? And even if there was, I wouldn’t dream of telling you.” My stomach ties in a knot. That was a total bitchy thing to say, but it’s the truth. She has no right to know everything going on in my life.

  “Lucinda, now that isn’t fair. I’m your mother. If something is wrong, I need to know.”

  “Nothing is wrong. And you don’t need to know my problems,” I snap back, harsher than I intended. I look at the door out of the corner of my eye. My exit isn’t far.

  Mom glares back at me before standing up and crossing the room where a vase with pink carnations and white lilies sits on the counter. “Fine.” She forces
a smile back at me. “These came for you today.” She pulls the card out and hands it to me. I quickly examine the envelope’s seal. It hasn’t been broken.

  “Thanks,” I say slowly, for both handing me the card and, for once, not violating my privacy.

  The card is embossed with roses bordering some scratchy, boy handwriting. “Lucy, I can’t wait for our date tonight. I’ll see you at 7. ~ Zach”

  See, Zach is a great boyfriend. I wish Justin was here so I can shove the flowers in his face.

  “Will you at least share who the flowers are from?” Mom asks as she wipes the mud off her boots and the floor.

  I opt for honesty, knowing that a refused answer would only land me in a situation where we would fight over whether I would be going on the date.

  “Zach.” I hand her the card. “My boyfriend,” I add for emphasis.

  “Oh,” she scans the card. “And where are you going?”

  “Romano’s.”

  Mom wanders over to her bowl of bulbs and garden potions. “Well, since you have been working at painting and are being accountable for your whereabouts, that should be fine.”

  I clench my jaw. I haven’t asked her permission, yet she feels obligated to give it. I don’t need her permission. Thankfully, reason comes to my rescue. She’s giving me permission. I take a deep breath, holding in my real response. If I fight this, I definitely won’t be sitting in a secluded corner with Zach and a plate of Chicken Marsala.

  This isn’t a battle worth winning. So I simply nod and make my exit.

  ***

  “Hey, Pretty.” Zach smiles at me and my stomach flips over.

  “Hey, you.” You? Is that really the best I can do? “Thanks for the flowers.”

  “No problem. I think I was due to send you some.” He winks at me. I catch Dad and Eric watching us pull away through the living-room window. Eric waves. I don’t wave back.

  “So, what did you do today? Pool time with Marissa?” Zach begins.