The Day That Saved Us

by Mindy Hayes

  “I just…” She exhales and turns her gaze on me. “I thought you’d given up on us. I thought we agreed that’s what was best. We were on track to becoming us again.”

  And I thought all you needed was time. My voice cracks. “You once said we would always come back to each other.”

  Her mouth sets into a line. “That was different. That was before.”

  “Before what? Before our parents ruined it all?” I’m so tired of that excuse.

  “Pretty much.” I know the attitude in her eyes isn’t aimed at me, but it feels like it.

  “Stop,” I snap. “Stop blaming them. It’s an excuse, and we both know it. That was two years ago. It’s water under the bridge. They’ve moved on. My mom moved on. I’ve moved on. Why can’t you?”

  Her eyes cut me. “So, what they did is excusable now?”

  “No,” I retort. “Of course not. But at some point you have to stop holding it against everyone. Do I agree with what they did? No. Do I wish it never happened? Yes. But it did. And they’re married now, and they’re happy, and my mom is happy, and I just want to be happy with you. We have to stop letting this come between us.”

  She clenches her teeth the way she does when she’s trying not to cry.

  “You can’t let what happened that summer define us. We’re more than that summer.”

  “I wish that were true,” she whispers.

  I know this will end with me losing again, so I stop before it gets that far. Once I return to my back, the Christmas tree is no longer magical from underneath. I never want this to be a tradition. I feel trapped by the low hanging branches and bright ornaments. I’m about to get up when Peyton speaks. “Tyler and I started dating again.”

  If I thought the night couldn’t have gone further down hill, I was wrong. I didn’t even know they started to hang out again. Last thing I heard, she’d seen him once on campus, and he not only ignored her, but turned in the opposite direction just so he wouldn’t have to talk to her. Granted, that was a year ago. Clearly, anything can happen in a year, but I hoped she was past him, that he was a memory we would talk about someday.

  “Remember those few summers when I dated that one guy?” she’d ask. “What was his name?”

  And I’d say, “Travis? Tommy? Who cares? He was a tool.”

  And Peyton would laugh and say, “Yeah. What did I see in him?”

  I feel the dream collapsing to rubble and a new one rises from the ashes.

  “You remember my friend, Brodee? Brodee, you know my husband, Tyler?” And then I’ll puke all over his leather Sperrys. He’s not even on a boat. Why is he wearing those? He’ll only have to get news Sperrys; I’ll have to get a new dream. But it’ll be worth it to see the look of disgust on his face.

  “Brodee?” Peyton pulls me from my trance.

  I haven’t said a word to her in a few minutes. What does she want me to say? Either way, I lose. I can pretend to be happy and then head straight to my bedroom to cry like a girl. Or I can pour my eyes out in front of her and beg her to reconsider. One will hurt my core. The other will damage my pride.

  I choose neither option. “Tyler, huh?” My voice remains indifferent, even with its greatest efforts to shatter.

  “We ran into each other at a party a few weeks back and got to talking. We kind of just…fell back into place.”

  “You can do so much better than him.”

  I don’t pretend to be happy. I don’t begin to sob like a baby in front of her. I get up and walk away. She doesn’t call for me. I don’t expect her to.

  PEYTON WENT TO Asheville to spend Christmas with Tyler and his family, which is a catch twenty-two. She won’t get to be a buffer on Christmas day when I have to spend half of the day with our parents. On the plus side, I don’t have to spend the day with Tyler, and I’ll be in Boston with Brooke before I have to deal with either of them again.

  As I open presents with my mom and Carter, I find myself wishing I’d asked Brooke to stay for the holidays. There’s a feeling of incompleteness—if that’s even a word. If she were here, I wonder if our family would feel whole.

  “Why do we have to spend half the day with them,” Carter asks once the last present is opened, lounging back on the couch in his traditional Christmas pajama pants and hoodie that Mom got us this year. “They have each other. What are you supposed to do with the rest of your day, Mom?”

  “Enjoy a quiet, relaxing evening without hearing: What’s there to eat in this house? When’s dinner? Do we have any snacks? Will you make some brownies?” She mimics Carter so well, and winks at him.

  “You love me,” he says. “You miss me when I’m not here.”

  “Of course, son. Every day.” She looks at me and subtly shakes her head. I laugh and don’t even attempt to make it subtle.

  “Laugh all you want, dipstick. She was grateful to be rid of you too,” he taunts as he walks toward the stairs. “Once we’re both married, she’ll be halfway to the Bahamas.”

  “Maybe, but she’ll take me with her,” I holler as he turns the corner upstairs.

  Mom chuckles and asks, “He doesn’t really think I’m grateful he’s gone, does he?” She’s genuinely worried. Carter is her baby.

  “Nah, you know Carter. He’s just being a pain in the butt. What are you going to do with the rest of your day?”

  “I thought I’d make some sugar cookies. Maybe take a bubble bath. Pop in Miracle on 34th Street. I haven’t seen that one this season yet.”

  I have to say, I agree with Carter. We shouldn’t have to leave her alone on Christmas. It’s hard to tell if she wants the peace and quiet or if she truthfully doesn’t want us to go. She’d never tell us not to. “You’ll really be okay?”

  “I’m fine, Brodee. It’s not like you two will be far. You’re next door. I think I can manage a few hours alone.”

  “You could come with us,” I offer, though I’m not sure it’s a good or bad idea.

  “No, no. I’m perfectly content staying home. Go. Go get ready and head over there. I’m going to clean up the kitchen from breakfast, so I can get it ready to bake. By the time you boys are done, you’ll have freshly baked sugar cookies to come home to.”

  I kiss her cheek. “I love you, Mom.”

  “Love you too, son.”

  THE AFTERNOON WAS going surprisingly well with Dad and Olivia. Better than it’s gone in years. Carter was on his best behavior, only making five snarky comments within the last couple hours as opposed to every other sentence. Then present time came.

  They’d splurged on gifts for us, which wasn’t the first time. Every Christmas since they’d became a couple they’ve bought us something that used to be financially out of reach. Not because my dad couldn’t afford it, but he felt spending that kind of money on presents was frivolous. Everything needed to be invested and saved for more important things like college and retirement.

  Carter used to be ecstatic about the extravagant gifts. The first year, Carter got a brand new Land Rover. My mom’s cars have never been that expensive. But Carter didn’t see what was happening then. He saw a new car and didn’t care about much else. It made him the top man on campus. The manipulation actually worked, buffered Dad’s mistakes for the meantime.

  When we open up a fourteen-day cruise for the family to Aruba, the bribe must finally register, or maybe it no longer cushions the past.

  “A cruise?” Carter asks, straight-faced.

  “Yeah.” Dad smiles a little sheepishly. He’s aware of the game he’s been playing, and he thought it could still work. We’re not children anymore. I almost step in before Carter blows, but Dad keeps talking. “I know it’ll be…different. But we thought it would be a good bonding experience right before Peyton gets married for all of us to go on a final family vacation.”

  “Do you two think you can just buy our allegiance?” Uh oh. “Do you think money and vacations and expensive gifts are going to make us choose sides in this irrelevant game of which parent we love more?”

>   My dad tries to interrupt him, but there’s no stopping Carter now.

  “We will never forgive you for what you did. Ever. I’ve tried to be civil because Mom asks it of us, but I’m tired of pretending I can stand you. We’re done. Take your cruise and shove it up your—”

  “Carter!” I interrupt. He throws the brochure in Dad’s face and heads for the front door.

  I spare a glance at him and Olivia. My dad looks guilty. Olivia is about to cry.

  “I’m sorry,” I say and follow Carter out. “We’ll be back.”

  I gently shut the door behind me. Carter is halfway across the Parkers’ driveway when he hears me coming. “I don’t want to hear it, Brodee.”

  “Well, too bad because you’re gonna listen. I get the anger. I get the bitterness. There are still moments when I wish I could punch the man in the face, but there’s a level of respect we still need to uphold.”

  Carter spins around and shoots his index finger at their house. “He doesn’t deserve our respect. He’s the epitome of disrespect. How can you even defend him?”

  “I’m not defending him,” I amend. “I’m just saying it’s been long enough. We’re better than he is. Mom brought us up to be better. We don’t have to spend time with him or call him on the phone to chat. Hell, we don’t even have to like the man, but it wasn’t just Dad you spoke to like that. It was Olivia. And she deserves more respect than that. It’s time we stop going in there guns-a-blazing. It just makes things worse. Aren’t you tired of being angry all the time?”

  “You’re siding with them?” Carter staggers back. “You actually want to go on that B.S. family cruise?”

  “Heck no. I was going to respectfully decline. I’ll have to work anyway. I can’t take that kind of time off, but that’s beside the point. There are two ways we could’ve handled that. The way you just did, like an immature, thoughtless teenager. Or we can go in there, be men, and just say, no thanks, we’ll pass.”

  Carter crosses his arms over his chest. “So, I’m just supposed to accept what they did because it’s been long enough?”

  “No, I’m saying you need to stop being such a punk about it. It’s called deference.”

  “Huh?”

  “Read a dictionary every once in awhile.”

  Carter grunts. “When did you become such a grown-up?”

  I snicker. “I’m pretty sure it happens in spurts. That just happened to be one of those moments.” I point back at the house.

  “You really think I should apologize to them?”

  “Not for his sake, but for yours. The anger you’ve got going on will rot you from the inside. He doesn’t win just because you forgive him. You can still keep your distance without all the hate.”

  He sets his jaw. “I don’t forgive him. I’m not going on that cruise.”

  “Neither am I.”

  He nods at me like we shake on it, sealing the deal.

  I’m suddenly very grateful Brooke isn’t here. I barely introduced her to my dysfunctional family. That scene in there would’ve been a baptism by fire, and I highly doubt she’s ready to commit to that much crazy yet.

  AFTER CARTER AND I go back inside for him to apologize and say, thanks but no thanks, we head back home. Dad didn’t take the news very well, but I didn’t expect him to. Olivia seemed to expect it. In a way, she looked relieved. The cruise was probably his idea, and she was going along with it.

  When we walk in the front door, Mom is pulling a cookie sheet out of the oven. The house smells like sugar and warmth.

  “You’re back already?” There’s a mixture of a smile and a frown on her face. She’s happy to see us, but is obviously concerned as to why. “I thought you’d be at least another couple hours.”

  I shoot Carter a look. I don’t want Mom to know about his outburst. She worries enough about us.

  “We just wanted to be here with you,” Carter says as he hops up on the barstool. “They understood.”

  “Well, good. When these cool off, you two can help me frost and decorate them. Go get comfortable. I’m about to put on Miracle on 34th Street.”

  Carter groans. “The old or new one?” he asks as tries to sneak a cookie.

  She smacks his hand with her spatula. “The new one.”

  “Ouch.” Shaking his hand, he concedes, “Okay,” before jogging up the stairs.

  “What did he do?” she quietly asks when his bedroom door shuts.

  “Nothing for you to worry about. It’s been fixed. No stress.”

  Her eyes fill with tears. “I will worry. I’m your mother.”

  “I handled it, so you don’t have to worry. I think he’ll be okay.” I saw a change in his eyes when we talked in the driveway and even a little remorse when he apologized to Olivia and Nick. If nothing else, it’s a step.

  “SHE DOESN’T EAT Kit Kats right. It’s sinful.”

  “What?” Peyton asks. She heard me, but she thinks I’m crazy.

  “She eats them all wrong—just takes a big bite off the top, not breaking them apart as they were intended.”

  “Are you telling me you can’t be with this Brooke girl because she eats Kit Kats wrong?” Peyton is laughing now.

  “That’s precisely what I’m saying,” I tell her, trying to keep a straight face. “How can I be with someone who can’t take the time to break them apart? So lazy. So careless.” I crack and start to laugh.

  “You realize how silly that sounds, right? She’s beautiful. She’s obviously smart if she’s graduating with an engineering degree. She’s willing to put up with you, which is no easy feat. How are these things getting overlooked?”

  Because she’s not you.

  It’s like Peyton can hear my thoughts through the phone. She’s immediately quiet, but not because she’s waiting for my response. Her silence is uncomfortable. Fix it, Brodee. “Oh, and she’s definitely not a morning person.”

  That gets a chuckle. “Yes, that’s a definite deal breaker.”

  I laugh with her. “You’d think so.”

  “I hear a ‘but’ in there…”

  “She’s the real deal, you know? So, I’m gonna try. We’re going to see where this goes.”

  “I think that’s a great idea.” Peyton’s voice is strained, but only a little. Anyone who doesn’t know her might not detect it, but I can. It’s off just enough. I also know that even if my new relationship bothers her, she’ll do nothing about it.

  So I ask, “How are things with Tyler?”

  She clears her throat. “We’re going strong. We just passed the one-year mark. Crazy, right? It’s weird to think it’s been that long already. I feel like I just bumped into him at that party.”

  “So, nothing’s changed?” I let that sink in, to make her think I’m asking something deeper. It’s cruel and immature, but I want to make her squirm. “He still the same Tyler we knew in Hatteras?”

  She grunts. “Just a grown up version. Did you know Rylie transferred to USC after her second semester to be with Tyler?”

  I nearly choke. “Whaaaaat?”

  “Yup. Apparently, after their month-long fling at the end of the summer she thought he was going to be the one.”

  “Ha. Imagine her disappointment when you came along.”

  “Oh, no. Tyler broke things off with her a year before we met back up. So, the poor thing transferred back to UNC soulmate-less.” Peyton pauses. “I do feel kind of bad for her though. I want to know what kind of support system she had that let her make that kind of a mistake. Following a boy to another college. That’s just poor decision-making skills.”

  “Did Tyler ask her to?”

  “Nope. At least not that he told me. He said one day she showed up on his doorstep. Surprise!”

  “Wow.” I snort. “That’s something.”

  “Yeah.” Peyton’s laughter fades along with mine.

  It was nice. For a moment it felt like we were us again, our banter covering up all the awkward bullcrap. I’m so tired of it. I want us back.
<
br />   There’s a soft knock on my bedroom door. None of my roommates would knock that quietly. I pull the phone away from my mouth and holler, “Yeah?”

  Brooke’s head peeks around and she lifts a small wave. “Hey.”

  I sit up on my bed. “Oh, hey!”

  “Is someone there?” Peyton asks.

  “Brooke just showed up. I gotta go. We’ll talk later.”

  “Oh, yeah. Okay. Sounds good.”

  “Bye, Pete.”

  I hang up and motion for her to come in. Brooke sits on the edge of my bed as I scoot forward, setting my feet on the floor beside her. I brush the hair from her green eyes, tucking it behind her ear, and kiss her. She smells like peppermint, as always. I’m not sure if it’s the stuff she puts in her hair or a perfume or what, but it’s becoming my favorite scent.

  “Who was that?” Because she doesn’t sound accusatory, only curious, I answer honestly. Not that I wouldn’t tell her the truth, but I feel comfortable being honest.

  “Oh, that was my friend, Peyton.”

  She motions to the frame I have on my nightstand. Her smile is faltering. “The beautiful, blonde one.”

  “That would be the one. But you can just call her Peyton. Most people do.” That gets Brooke to laugh. “We were just catching up. She was telling me about her boyfriend, and I was telling her about my girlfriend.”

  “Oh, yeah? You have a girlfriend? Should I be worried about her?” She shyly bites her bottom lip. It’s not coy or flirtatious, which makes the gesture cuter and more tempting.

  “Maybe. She’s kind of territorial, but she has this really cute dimple that makes it difficult to take her seriously.” I softly poke the little indentation in her right cheek.

  Brooke swats my hand away and bubbles with laughter. Her laughter is throaty and sexy. It’s the kind of sound that isn’t forced. It’s genuine and makes me feel like the funniest person alive. “Shut up.” Her hand covers her dimple as she flushes red.

  “Don’t cover it. It’s my favorite.” I remove her hand, kiss her palm, and then press my lips to her right cheek. The blush on her cheeks deepens.