Craft

by Adriana Locke

  “Yeah,” I groan.

  “I have one question for you.”

  “Okay.”

  “Who did you meet first?”

  “I’ve known Mariah longer,” I admit. “But, like, I haven’t. I mean, we work together, so I’ve known her like that. But not like that, if you feel me.”

  “I have something to tell you and you probably aren’t going to like it.”

  “Is the only hospital you know all male? Because that won’t work for me,” I tell her. “I need some action even if I’m crazy.”

  She laughs again, but softer this time. “You like Mariah.”

  The snort comes before I can stop it. “Of course I like her. There’s not much not to like. Except the way she razzes me. And refuses to sleep with me. And I would never tell her this, but her mint chocolate chip icing isn’t my favorite.”

  “Lance.”

  “You sound like Mom when you do that,” I note, a wobble in my tone. My throat goes dry as I listen to my sister.

  “Is the guilt you feel because you are messing with both ladies at the same time?”

  “I’ve never felt this way before,” I say through the cotton in my throat. “I’ve fucked three, four women at the same time. I mean, not at the same time because I’m not sure I even have the energy for that, but I’d try if it—”

  “Lance.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Listen to yourself. I’ve never heard you like this. Ever.”

  I slip over the arm of the chair and land haphazardly across it. “That makes two of us,” I say straight-faced.

  “Break things off with app girl and see where they go with the other.”

  “Mariah?”

  “Yes, Mariah. Just see what happens. What can it hurt?”

  “Oh, ya know,” I say, letting my head fall backwards. “Just everything.”

  She rambles on about taking a risk and opening myself up. Then the conversation ventures into how losing our parents made us close ourselves off from the world and how she understands that but maybe it’s not the right thing to do.

  “So, is the Ice Queen thawing?” I snicker.

  “Go to Hell, Lance.”

  Sitting up, I get positioned correctly in the chair. My temple throbs with every move I make. The more I think about the rest of the conversation I want to have with her, the worse it gets.

  My pulse beats in my ears. My heart pounds against my ribcage. I finally get to my feet and start the pacing again because I have to rid myself of some of this stupid, worthless energy.

  “What if I know I’m not what she wants,” I say, choosing my words carefully.

  “Have you asked her that? Girls get upset when guys assume they know what we want. Except chocolate. It’s a freebie.”

  “I’m being serious here.”

  “Me too,” she sighs. “Fine. Why do you think you aren’t what she wants?”

  I pace. “Okay, I probably am what she wants. I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Oh, my God.”

  “But what if I can’t give her what she wants? If I pursue her knowing that, does that make me a dick?”

  “You are a dick,” she points out. “But in this case specifically, I guess it matters why you think you can’t give her whatever this is.”

  “What if …” My breath is shaky as I try to pull my thoughts together and not sound like a pussy. “What if I know what kind of girl she is and what she’s going to want and I can’t give that to her?”

  “Lance, listen to me. A relationship is like a contract, okay? Contracts are amended all the time. Let’s say you two start something today. You start it based on the current situation. However, a year from now, things might change. They do change. It’s life. You just amend your contract.”

  My nostrils flare as I exhale. “But isn’t it a waste of everyone’s time if I know there’s a needed amendment that I won’t sign?”

  “Do you have a crystal ball?”

  “Yeah, I do,” I groan. “I know where this would lead. I purposefully stay away from women I think I might actually like outside of bed because I don’t want to do this again.”

  “She was an asshole, Lance.”

  “Nah, she wasn’t. Her conditions were understandable.” I start to think of Britt, the only girl I’ve ever dated, but shove it out of my mind. “I bend over backwards not to go there and yet here I am. Feeling guilt and I haven’t even fucked either one of them.”

  Papers rustle again. I wonder if she’s listening to me and working at the same time. Wouldn’t surprise me, but it’s annoying too. I’m dying here and she’s letting me.

  “Are you listening to me?” I ask.

  “Yes. I’m listening to you. You’re basically talking to yourself.”

  “I’m just trying to explain myself. Am I not being a better man by not holding her up so that someone else can give her a fabulous life with all the trimmings. But not Jonah. Fuck Jonah.”

  “Who’s Jonah?”

  “Never mind,” I sigh. “I think I’ve answered my own question.”

  Looking at my reflection, I realize how much I look like my father. Same hair, same eyebrows, same slightly crooked nose. I never wanted to be him, like Walker did. But I always admired how he ran his shit.

  He was at every baseball game, mud-bog, cross-country race we entered. He’d stay up all night and help us with geometry, teaching it to himself as he taught us. More than that, he loved our mother. You could see it when you looked at him. My friends’ parents got divorced or separated and I never once worried about that. My parents would be together until the day they died; and they were.

  That part of my father, the man, that’s who I always aspired to be. Someone to teach my kids right from wrong, to make a difference somehow by putting out these little humans into the world who were an asset to society. To someday be in Goodman’s and hearing someone brag about one of my kids or grandkids without knowing I was in there. I wanted to be that guy. And that’s the guy I’ll probably never be.

  “I think you take a chance, Lance. If she likes you, she deserves the opportunity to decide whether or not you’re good enough for her.”

  I’m not.

  “Blaire, I gotta go.”

  “You okay? Honestly. Don’t blow smoke up my ass because I’ll call Machlan.”

  “I’m fine. I promise. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  “Do that. Love you.”

  “You too, Sis. Bye.”

  Ending the call, I hold the phone in my hand. Opening the app is more because of loneliness than sex this time.

  Nerdy Nurse: Fun Fact—the term boy has been used since 1154 AD to describe a male. It’s believed that the word is derived from boia, which means servant.

  Me: And here I thought it came from boa constrictor. Like our cocks.

  Nerdy Nurse: What are you doing tonight?

  Me: Just got home.

  Nerdy Nurse: Hot date?

  A grin tilts my lips as I think of Mariah and our non-date date. Whether it was or wasn’t, she was hot. So that’s a yes.

  Me: Maybe the hottest ever, actually.

  Nerdy Nurse: I guess I have something to live up to, huh?

  My fingers race across the keys. I don’t even realize what I’ve typed out until I hit send and the words are printed on my screen.

  Me: Actually, I’m probably not going to be using this app much longer.

  There’s a long, probably deliberate, pause and I hope I haven’t hurt her feelings.

  Me: I do wish we would’ve gotten to meet though. I think we could’ve hit it off. I mean, I haven’t had a conversation this good without an orgasm for, well, maybe ever.

  Nerdy Nurse: I get it. I thought maybe I could figure out how to have a one-night stand on here, but I suck.

  Me: You didn’t tell me you sucked. On second thought …

  Nerdy Nurse: Ha, ha, ha. Maybe I’ll meet someone in real life who will sweep me off my feet.

  Me: Don’t date doctors though. I
’ve heard bad things about them.

  Nerdy Nurse: They’re on my ‘no go’ list.

  A thought crosses my mind and I toy with it for a moment. Going back and forth, I finally decide to take a chance.

  Me: Now that sex is firmly off the table because although you do suck, you can’t fuck, maybe some time we could meet for dinner. Just so we can put a face to a name.

  There’s another weird pause. Her chat bubble takes forever to start dancing to let me know she’s typing. I hold my breath, still unsure as to whether or not this is a good idea.

  Nerdy Nurse: I have a friend I need to check on in the morning, but I’m open after that. If you want to grab lunch somewhere?

  Me: Noon-ish?

  Nerdy Nurse: Perfect. Where?

  Nothing too fancy, nothing too fast-food. My brain sorts through locations until I remember Peaches.

  Me: Peaches? It’s in Merom.

  Nerdy Nurse: That works.

  Me: See you then.

  Eleven

  Lance

  When the church bells ring on Sunday morning you can hear them all the way from the high school on the other side of Linton. You can really hear them when you have a migraine brewing and they ring out as you’re walking up the sidewalk.

  Last night consisted of a lot of tossing and even more turning. This guilty conscience thing is shit. No matter what I told myself to make it stop, it didn’t. When I finally opened my eyes for good, I thought about hitting snooze but didn’t want to deal with Nana. And it wouldn’t hurt to have a bonus point with the Lord when I go to meet Nerdy Nurse.

  I shouldn’t meet her. There’s really no point. There’s something about her I want to see, to put a face with the name of the woman I’ve had a running conversation with all this time. A woman I’ve spent hours wondering about, and whose image I’ve been jacking off to. Maybe we’ll meet and hate each other in person and I can write her off. That would be simpler.

  On that note, I should be writing off Mariah too, but I can’t.

  Maybe I can hit the altar this morning.

  “Morning,” I say to the pastor, not making eye contact so he doesn’t stop me. Not the most courteous thing I’ve ever done, but I’m sure I’ll top it before the day is out.

  Winding my way through the parishioners of Holy Hills, I nod and bid greetings whenever necessary. None of it registers. My mind isn’t here. Turns out that having a conscience is a real thing. Having something riding on it isn’t nearly as fun as having someone riding on your cock.

  Nana and my brothers are sitting in their usual spot in the front right corner. Peck and our grandmother sit one row behind Machlan and Walker. Sienna sits in my old spot. I guess Walker felt like it was safer for me to sit next to Sienna than Machlan. I’m kind of perturbed by that.

  “Hey,” I say, slipping into my seat. I look straight ahead and hope they all have hangovers and don’t feel chatty.

  “Good morning,” Sienna almost sings.

  “It’s too early, Slugger,” I groan. “Let’s take it down a notch, okay?”

  Machlan’s head pops around Walker. “Late night?”

  “Yeah, for all the wrong reasons.”

  “But she was absolutely lovely,” Nana pipes in. “Just lovely, Lance. I hope she’ll come by today. Sienna will love her. Or maybe you’ve met her already?”

  Their eyes are all on me. Even Cross knows something is up when he struts in and sinks into the pew in front of us. I refuse to look at them, not even Nana because my mouth wants to say a string of words she loathes. Also words not welcome in a house of God, but I’m not really sure who I’m more afraid of.

  “No, Nana,” Sienna chirps, staring at me. “I haven’t met her. What’s she like?”

  “Nana, let’s do this later,” I mutter. The rip at my temple starts up again right behind my left eye.

  “Nope. Let’s do it now,” Sienna goads.

  “Is this the leggy nurse? Peck asks. “If so, I vote to hear about it now.”

  I glare at him over my shoulder. “Seriously. We are in a church, for crying out loud. Have some respect for the man upstairs.”

  “Oh, like you give a damn—” Machlan’s response is thwarted by Nana’s swift hand. “Like you care,” he corrects himself. “If I remember correctly, our conversation just last week in this very pew was highly un-Christ-like.”

  “I don’t know what I’m going to do with you boys.” Nana shakes her head. “I’m going to go say hello to the pastor.”

  We wait until she’s out of earshot before continuing the conversation. It’s Sienna who speaks first.

  “You know she’s going to add your names to the prayer list.”

  “Good. I need it,” I grumble. “I’m going to hell. My ticket is punched and I didn’t get to do anything fun for it.”

  “What the hell is going on with you?” Walker asks, lacing his fingers with Sienna’s. “You’re acting like someone Lance’d you.”

  My brothers snicker. All of them except Walker. He rests his and Sienna’s linked hands on his lap and watches me in a way only he can.

  He has no idea why I refuse to get into a relationship, but he does know how it feels to avoid them. He fought love hard with Sienna but she broke him down. I can’t let Mariah do that to me.

  “Ah, did Lance get his heart broken?” Machlan chimes in.

  I narrow my eyes. “No. I did not. You can’t get your heart broken when you don’t let it get involved.”

  “Then what the hell is this about?” Machlan counters. “You were up late. You apparently took a girl to Nana’s. You’re in here pussyfooting around.”

  “Sounds like you when Hadley broke your heart.” Cross tosses me a wink. “What do you think, Mach?”

  All heads whip to my youngest brother to see his reaction. He and Hadley, Cross’s sister, had an epic ending a while back. It’s not something any of us bring up. As a matter of fact, we kind of skirt around the issue of Hadley altogether.

  I’ve postulated that Hadley is the reason why Machlan is still single. It doesn’t make sense otherwise. He’s good-looking, a near reflection of me, and he owns a bar. He’s also not averse to love. What guy owning a bar who looks like me and wouldn’t mind being in a relationship is still single? A guy who is still torn up over a girl.

  “I think you can go to Hell.” Machlan doesn’t blink. Doesn’t flinch. Doesn’t even look Cross’s way. Cross says something loud enough for only him to hear and they go at it animatedly.

  “Need advice?” Sienna asks me softly. “I’m really good at it.”

  “Not really. I think I’m good.”

  Peck leans forward, his blond hair flopping against his forehead. “Can I say I’m disappointed this had nothing to do with the nurse?”

  I contemplate not saying anything to him, but consider that if I do, there’s a chance I’ll feel better. I thought I’d be over it this morning. Instead, I think I feel even more guilty.

  It’s stupid as hell. What do I have to feel guilty for? Why did my guilt button decide to turn on? Life without one is bliss. This? This is horrible.

  “Cousin,” I say to Peck. “You’ll be happy to know I’m meeting her later.”

  “For real?”

  “For real.”

  He studies me. “For whatever reason, I expected more of a reaction.”

  “Well, I’m meeting her to not fuck her.”

  “Wait,” Walker interjects as music begins to play. “Isn’t that counterproductive? You use the app so you can get laid, right? Or have I had it wrong all this time?”

  “Nope. You got it,” I sigh.

  Sienna’s eyes are wide as she tries to make sense of the senselessness. “I’m thoroughly confused, Lance.”

  “Join the club.”

  The choir starts singing and I bow my head and hope for some guidance.

  We’re standing around Daisy, Walker’s truck, when Nana walks up. She steadies herself on Machlan’s arm.

  “Who’s coming for dinner? I n
eed an idea of how many potatoes to peel.”

  “I thought you were making a roast?” I ask.

  “I was, but I forgot to get the meat out last night. It’s terrible getting old.”

  “You aren’t old,” Machlan tells her, resting his cheek on the side of her head. “You’re seasoned.”

  She laughs, patting him on the stomach. “You coming to eat?”

  “Do I ever miss a meal at your house?”

  “What about you kids, Walker?” she asks.

  “Sienna and I will be there.”

  “Peck?”

  “What are you making?” He slings an arm over the side of Walker’s truck. “If I bring stuff for a cheeseball, will you make it?”

  “I already have one in the fridge,” she tells him. “Better beat these boys over or there won’t be any left.” She kisses the side of Machlan’s face, squeezing his cheeks in her hand, before turning to me. “Walk me to my car, Lance.”

  Extending my elbow, she hooks her arm through it and guides me across the gravel. We walk quietly for a bit. She waves at the pastor and again at Ruby, the little old lady who runs the town library. It’s not until we’re at the door to her car that she gets down to business.

  “I’m sorry if I embarrassed you in front of your brothers,” she sighs. “I should’ve thought it over before I said anything about Mariah.”

  “It’s fine, Nana.”

  “I feel like a fool.” She flings her purse in the back of the car. “I know better than that. I’m slipping, I tell ya.”

  “You aren’t slipping.” Opening the door, I lean on it. “What’d you think of Mariah, Nana?”

  She nearly beams. “I liked her a lot. I think she’s sweet and pretty and I love the way she looks at you.”

  “What?” I ask, standing straight. “We’re not together.”

  “Well, you can call it what you will.”