Junk

by Komal Kant

  If she was a tourist then she was the worst one yet. Not only was she obnoxious as hell, she was also real attractive. 5’5”—trim, little frame, tiny waist, wide hips, and lips so full that I wondered what it would feel like to kiss them.

  Unfortunately, her attitude killed the dream. From the way she talked and dressed, she was clearly from a big city. Since Chicago was the closest, that would be my guess.

  If she was gonna stick around, she’d be a problem. There was no way someone like her could fit in here, even if it was for a short time.

  Everyone in Pine Bluffs knew everyone’s business.

  The sheriff was your friend’s uncle. The postman was your neighbor. The cashier was your high school sweetheart.

  And I—well, I was junk.

  THE DIRT ROAD THAT LED to my grandmother’s house was so dilapidated and uneven, I was sure my car was going to fall apart.

  The surrounding landscape remained mostly unfamiliar to me. After my parents and I had left for Chicago, we’d never returned, so my memories of the town were non-existent.

  It was a beautiful property; the large willow trees swayed in the summer breeze as I inched my car up the dusty road. There was a beauty about it that had been lost long ago in the brick and mortar buildings of the city.

  I could see why my grandmother had never left. The downside to that was I didn’t know her very well.

  And now she was gone.

  The unfortunate circumstances that had brought three quarters of my family out here to Middle-of-Nowhere, Wisconsin was due to my grandmother passing away. My mom had arrived here a few days earlier to begin funeral arrangements, and while my dad had decided not to come due to personal reasons, my brother and I had wanted to support our mom.

  Our mom…

  Who was currently lounging in the front yard on a ratty old couch, with what suspiciously looked like an alcoholic beverage in her hand and a pineapple atop her wispy, blonde head.

  “This is exactly why you’re like this,” I told my shoeless brother.

  He flashed me a white smile in return, unfazed.

  Mostly because seeing our mom with a pineapple on her head wasn’t too outside of the box and also because it was somewhat tame compared to her long, pencil skirt—as in, it was a skirt with colored pencils on it—and what could only be described as a rainbow moo-moo top.

  The front yard looked like senior citizen’s living room, what with the coffee table, foot stool, brass antique lamp, and the ugly couch all sitting outside. No doubt my mom was emptying the house of all my grandma’s possessions.

  As we pulled up, a young blond man sauntered out of the house just as my mom set her drink down on a side table and jumped to her feet.

  “My babies! You made it!”

  “Unfortunately,” I muttered under my breath, getting out of the car to be greeted by a huge hug.

  My mom always smelled like a unique combination of lavender and cloves. The lavender was lovely; the cloves were gaggy.

  “What’s wrong, babe?” she asked, taking a step back and scrutinizing me with eyes that were the exact same as mine—a hazel of blues, greens, and browns.

  “Don’t ask,” I grumbled, moving around to the back of the car to retrieve my suitcase from the trunk.

  “Drew?” she asked, turning gleaming eyes onto my brother. “Have you been tormenting your sister so beyond repair that she now has to spend the better part of her old age in therapy?”

  “If only I could take credit for that, but no,” Drew quipped with a smirk. “A bearded man robbed her uselessly expensive shirt after a quickie in the diner.”

  I was seconds away from robbing my brother’s life.

  My mom shot me an incredulous look as I returned to where they stood with my bag. “Sounds like your sister. Always the troublemaker.”

  Ha, how about never?

  “Mom, stop. He was just a jerk and, whatever, he can go suck it,” I told her, throwing my hands up. “He deserves a lifetime in prison, that’s what.”

  The attractive man standing outside the front of the house let out a laugh.

  I raised a brow at him in question.

  He grinned in response and pointed to my boob area. “You’ve got a stain on your shirt.”

  “No kidding.” I looked him up and down in dismay. Why did the men dress like they’d just come off a wrangler ad and then rolled in a mud puddle? “Who are you?”

  “Cole. Cole Welsecky. I’m your neighbor,” he said good-naturedly.

  I looked to my left and saw empty fields. I looked to my right and saw empty fields again.

  He laughed at my confusion. “If you head back in the direction of the town, about five miles to the east, there’s a four-acre estate that my family lives on. We also own the bed and breakfast in town.”

  “An estate, how fancy,” I remarked, wondering if they were the Hiltons of Pine Bluffs or something.

  “You and Cole used to play together as kids. Drew was still a baby back then,” explained Mom, slinging one of my bags over her small shoulder. “They lived out on the other side of town back then, closer to where my grandparents’ house was.”

  This time, my gaze lingered on Cole a little longer. Surely if I had some friends in this town during my childhood they’d be a little more fashionable, right?

  “Interesting,” I said with a frown.

  Cole gave Drew a once over, noticed his bare feet, and stuck his hand out in greeting. “Nice shoes, man.”

  This seemed to amuse Drew, who shook his hand with gusto. “They’re almost as couture as Blair’s stolen blouse.”

  Everyone laughed at that. Everyone except me, of course.

  “I should’ve left you back at the pit stop in Bozemanboro,” I shot at him.

  Drew glanced at Mom, yawning and stretching his long arms over his head. “You got a room ready for me, Mom? It was such a long, tiring drive. I might need a power nap.”

  “Oh, yeah, it must’ve been so tiring for you to be chauffeured here,” I snapped at him.

  “Of course, Drew dear,” Mom said, ignoring me and waving us in the direction of the house. “C’mon inside, guys. Let me show you around first.”

  My brother traipsed after her, while I lingered in the front yard, taking everything in. The wide front porch with its swing. The faded white shutters on the windows. The row of trees that appeared to wind around to the back of the property.

  Even as I stood here, trying to recall the years I spent here, nothing but echoes greeted me, a hollow place in my mind of a past I couldn’t quite remember.

  There was the clearing of a throat, and I cast a sideways glance to find Cole studying me with keen interest.

  He was cute, I had to admit. Medium height, short dark blond hair, and blue eyes as clear as a lake—I bet he got a lot of women hot and bothered. Not me, of course. I wasn’t here for that kind of thing.

  “After you, ma’am.” He winked at me, motioning at the rundown house.

  Rolling my eyes in return, I made my way across the yard and up the porch steps, all the while well aware that Cole was probably staring at my ass.

  His charms weren’t going to work on me. In Chicago, men were always on their game with their flashy cars, fat wallets, and sharp, crisp suits. Cole was good eye candy, but dating wasn’t on my radar.

  Stepping through the peeling, French-inspired door, I once again tried to throw my mind backwards into the past. I should remember—but I didn’t.

  The interior of the house was quaint. The remaining furniture and décor that hadn’t made its way outside was old-fashioned. My eyes caught sight of pictures of my family sitting up on the mantle, the most recent one of me was from when I’d graduated from college a few years ago.

  While most things in the house had grown dusty, the framed pictures gleamed, as though an ailing old woman had tended to them with love, even in the end of her days.

  An odd feeling stirred within me.

  It was strange seeing myself in this house when
I barely knew my grandmother.

  “Let me give you two a quick tour,” Mom told us, leading us to the left, away from the main entrance.

  Cole stayed downstairs while Mom gave us the grand tour, which was brief, but dizzying, mostly due to the out-of-this-world décor present in the house.

  For example, one corner of the living room had a marble statue of an umbrella that was so tall, it towered over my brother, while the opposite corner had a huge cactus with needles so transparent, I almost ended up poking myself in the eye while inspecting it.

  The kitchen was bright blue and sunny yellow, capturing us in a perpetual summer’s day. That was nothing compared to the first-floor bathroom, though.

  The walls and floor were designed to give off the impression that you were underwater, with a mural of fish and coral, as well as a giant shark with a hungry smile right by the toilet. It was safe to say I would not be using that particular bathroom.

  At least this somewhat explained where my mom got her eclectic, A.K.A. weird, sense of style from. Back in Chicago, she was a successful interior designer, having found a niche in the market for clients who had more unique tastes.

  “The bedrooms are on the second floor,” Mom told us, leading us up the carpeted stairs. After showing Drew his room, which he immediately disappeared into, Mom led me to another room on the second floor that faced the front of the house.

  “Any sharks in here?” I asked, carefully stepping inside and casting a careful gaze across the floor.

  Luckily, it looked relatively normal, albeit a little old-fashioned with its wallpaper of orange flowers and white window shutters.

  “No, this used to be my room, actually,” Mom said with a wistful sigh, her eyes glistening as she gazed around the room, pausing at the ceiling. “My mother helped me paint the ceiling one day after I’d had a crappy day.”

  At those words, I paused to study the bright yellow ceiling that was already heralding a migraine.

  “Do you miss her?” I asked, glancing back down to study her profile.

  “All the time.” She gave me a forced smile. There was something missing in that smile. It wasn’t quite as cheerful as it normally was, and could I blame her? She’d just lost her mother.

  My chest tightened at the thought. I couldn’t imagine losing my own mom. She meant everything to me. Yet, her relationship with my grandma had been strange at times. One of my earlier memories was after we’d moved to Chicago and my mom would cry during every phone call she had with my grandmother.

  As much as I wanted to bring that up now, I knew it wasn’t the time or place.

  “Did you get everything organized for the funeral?” I asked instead, placing my bag down on the green carpeted floor.

  “Yes, barely. If it hadn’t been for Michelle Welsecky, Cole’s mother, I would never have managed it. Actually, the post-funeral service will be in their home. She was kind enough to offer and I couldn’t turn it down.”

  “Do they really live in an estate?” I asked in disbelief.

  Yes, I was judging someone based on their appearance, but I was more curious than anything else.

  “Yes, it’s beautiful,” Mom said with a nod. “They had it custom built a few years ago. They’ve really come up in the world.”

  “What do they do?”

  “Lots of things. Anyway, I’ll let you get changed. Maybe skip the expensive blouse this time.” Then she gave me a hazel wink. “Unless you’re trying to impress Cole.”

  “Definitely not,” I said with a frown. “I’m not here for that.”

  “It’s okay to have a little fun with someone for once, Blair.” She gave me a probing look that I didn’t appreciate. “It’s not healthy to bottle up your feelings for so long. You’re so young and what happened with-”

  Ugh. I didn’t want to get into this again. It was a conversation my mom brought up every now and then, trying to push me onto the dating scene, wanting me to be with someone.

  Hell, even my dad wanted me to have a boyfriend. You knew shit was serious when a dad wanted his only daughter to bring a guy home.

  “Mom, I seriously can’t talk about it right now,” I told her, trying to keep my feelings off my face. “I’m tired and hungry and almost killed Drew on the way over here.”

  Not only was my brother a pain, he was also a relentless converser of useless topics like Kombucha and the many properties of crystals.

  “You have all this sexual energy pent up inside.” Mom gave me a nudge as she moved for the door. “There’s nothing wrong with letting it out. Cole’s a good boy. He moved all your grandma’s furniture outside practically by himself.” Her eyes turned dreamy. “And he isn’t bad to look at either.”

  I shook my head at her. “Do I need to warn Dad that he has some Midwestern competition?”

  Mom laughed, pushing her messy, blonde hair out of her face. “Oh, please, honey, there’s no competition. Your dad’s a racehorse in the sack.”

  “Mom!” I shrieked, swatting at her as she stepped out of the way, laughing. “I do not want to know about your sex life with Dad. In fact, the more I believe that I was the product of Immaculate Conception, the happier I’ll be.”

  Mom laughed even harder at that, her face transforming into a younger version of itself. It was good to see her laugh, to see that she could still laugh after losing her mother so recently.

  “See you downstairs, my love.”

  After Mom left, I immediately fell back on the bed, relishing the peace and quiet. This town was definitely going to be an experience. My mom’s words about releasing my pent up sexual energy came back to me.

  It had been a long time since I’d had sex. Years, actually. One day, I was a normal, independent woman ready to take on any man, and the next, my life was changed forever.

  Cole was cute in a country boy way, but I wasn’t sure if he was going to be the one I would give in to.

  With that thought in mind, I got changed out of my clothes and headed downstairs to see what the night’s plans were.

  To my surprise, Drew was hanging out in the living room with Mom and Cole.

  “I thought you were taking a nap after your tiring day of being chauffeured around,” I said to him, flopping down next to Mom on the floral-themed couch.

  The couch outside must have been from a different room because the living room looked mostly intact. Even the box-shaped TV with big knobs on the front remained.

  “I wouldn’t want to miss out on spending more time with my dear sister, would I?” Drew teased.

  I threw a cushion at him in response, which he dodged easily.

  Meanwhile, Cole was looking me up and down. “You clean up well, Blair.”

  I glanced down at my outfit. White jeans and a black, sleeveless silk top—nothing out of the ordinary.

  “Eyes up here,” I said, gesturing to my face.

  He shrugged in response. “I was only noticing your lack of coffee stain.”

  “Uh huh.” Rolling my eyes at him, I climbed into the passenger seat while my brother stretched out in the back.

  “So, I was just suggesting to your brother that we should grab something to eat at the local bar, The Fixed Bell,” Cole said with a hopeful, almost eager, smile. “On Fridays they have half-priced ciders.”

  “I don’t drink with people I don’t know,” I responded.

  “Oh, c’mon, Blair. We’ve known each other since we were kids.” He gave me a smile, one I bet he thought would get my knees weak.

  “So you say.” I narrowed my eyes at him, just so he knew his charms weren’t working on me.

  “Stop being rude, Blair,” Mom chided. “It’s good to socialize. Go and let off some steam.”

  “What about you?” I asked her, now noticing the dark circles under her eyes.

  “You guys go on without me.” She waved me off, running a hand through her flaxen hair. “I’m exhausted from sorting through your grandma’s clothes. Who knew a woman needed so many petticoats?”

  Cole
snickered at this, and I couldn’t help but smile. It was nice to see that even after the devastating week my mom had had, she was still able to joke about something.

  “Fine, I’ll go,” I said, turning back to an expectant Cole, “but don’t even think about serial killing me. I learned jujitsu in college and I will incapacitate you.”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it.” A broad smile spread across his face, showcasing deep dimples. “I like to save all that serious stuff for the second date.”

  Okay, fine, he was very cute and kind of funny. A meal with him at a bar couldn’t end too badly, could it?

  What was the worst that could happen?

  THE SECOND SHE STEPPED INTO the bar, my eyes shot to her.

  It was the way she strutted in, the sway of her hips in those tight jeans, that had my eyes running over the length of her body.

  It was her coal-black hair, the way it was pulled away from her heart-shaped face, showing off her graceful neck and every inch of her delicate features. It was her glossy and tan skin, enhanced by a small, pointed nose and plump, pink lips.

  If I lacked a little less self-control, my jaw would’ve hit the floor, but despite my restraint, that damn Goochee tourist was getting me heated in more ways than one.

  It was strange how some people were fated to cross paths eternally. Although, why mine was crossing with hers so much, I didn’t know.

  What was even stranger than seeing her again was that she’d come in with two guys—one who looked too much like her for him not to be her relation and the other who didn’t look enough like me to be mine.

  But he was—my dear ol’ baby brother, Cole. Walking in here with that stupid, cocky look plastered across his face, like he’d won the grand prize in a jackpot. I guess, in a way he had. Goochee Tourist was definitely something to look at.

  I was hidden away in the back-corner booth, drinking a piss weak beer from one of the local breweries, waiting on the always-late Harris and Edgars to show up.

  Edgars Monroe and I had an unusual origin story. Unusual in the sense that the first time Harris and I had met him in kindergarten, he’d called Harris a “dirty monkey N-word” and I’d proceeded to knock Edgars’ teeth out.