I Hate You

by Madden-Mills, Ilsa

  But she’s worth fighting for.

  Wherever she is, I kiss my fingers and send them up into the crowd. For her.

  My name jumps onto the board as the third-fastest wide receiver of the day and the fifth-fastest overall. I stare up at the lights of the stadium, emotion tight in my chest.

  I’m going to find her.

  And this time I know what to say. I’m not going to be afraid. Maybe she’s given up on me, but I’m not letting her go.

  32

  “Goodness, you’re up early for spring break,” Ma murmurs as I make my way into the kitchen wearing old joggers and a baggy Waylon shirt. “It’s six AM, dear. I thought you’d sleep in after that late flight.”

  “Couldn’t sleep,” I mumble as I walk over to the coffee table and pour a cup. Fuck carbs, I think as I throw in a heavy dose of cream and stir.

  “You look pale.”

  I nod. I flew out of Jackson late Friday night and arrived last night around eleven. My body nearly collapsed when I walked in the door and Pop, Ma, and Mattie all ran over to throw their arms around me. They acted like I was a celebrity who’s been in hiding for months. Ma fawned over me, running her hands over my face and hair, Pop picked me up and swung me around, and then Mattie got his turn. Through the laugher and their questions, I fought back tears. I’ve missed them so much more than I realized.

  I take a seat at our small table in the breakfast nook and stare down at the worn scratches and dents on the table. One is from when Mattie threw a butter knife at me over who got the last piece of pie, another from a plate Ma dropped and shattered on the wood when I told her I was accepting the full-ride to Waylon. There’s even a Sharpie mark I made when I was a kid, drawing a picture for Pop to hang in his office a few blocks over. It’s still up on the wall there, stick figures of me, Mattie, Paulie, and my parents.

  She sits down across from me and clears her throat. She’s freshly showered and dressed in her usual slacks and nice blouse, hair coiffed, makeup on. Pop’s probably already gone. Running a small business never stops—even on the weekend. Plus, he’s putting Mattie through law school. That isn’t cheap.

  “I’m worried about you. Is it…is it that boy in Mississippi? I thought you might bring him home so I could check his teeth or at least get a detailed history of his background.”

  “He lost his parents when he was ten. They were drug addicts. He grew up with family who never paid him any attention. No one ever told him they loved him—” I stop and duck my head with my elbows on the table. I don’t want to go there and think about him, not now. It’s too fresh. It was hard enough to go into our psych class, knowing he was there when I took my new seat in the back. I’d gone to Dr. Cartwright beforehand and told him he had to move me, and after taking in my face, he did so on the spot, no questions. Maybe he knew. I’m sure he’s watched us all semester and knew there was a relationship there.

  As soon as class was over, I left from the upper exit, leaving Blaze on the lower level. It wasn’t hard. Plus, he was wearing the boot, and he couldn’t exactly chase after me. I ignored all the texts he sent me and deleted every voice mail he left. I spent three nights at the library, in a far corner away from anyone, not coming home until late. I figured he’d show up at my house, and he did once he was cleared to drive, according to Penelope.

  “Oh. Well, why didn’t he come with you?”

  I reach out and take a slice of homemade coffee cake she’s set out for me.

  She sets her cup on a saucer. “Fine. You don’t want to talk about him. Good, good. You’ve come to your senses. I’m planning a dinner tonight. Paulie and his wife are coming with their kids. He’s dying to see you. It’ll be all of us together. Joey P has confirmed too. Took the liberty of setting it up, so don’t be mad. Such a good boy. Runs his dad’s construction company since he passed—”

  I stand and walk away, moving through the small den, taking in the tasteful yet worn furnishings in our small house. It’s a warm home, filled with pictures of me, Mattie, Paulie, his wife, and their kids. It’s a good place, but I can’t with Ma right now.

  I step out onto the screened-in porch to see the sun rising up. Sitting on the flowered patio couch, I tug my legs under me and sip my coffee.

  Ma follows me out. “Dear, don’t be upset about Joey—”

  I can’t get away from her. Maybe, just maybe, I don’t want to this time. “I know Pop cheated on you. Why did you stay with him?”

  The words are out and hang between us.

  She inhales a breath, shuffles forward, and plops down in a matching chair across from me.

  There’s a long silence, and when I look up, she’s staring at the floor. Her face is pale.

  “You have no right to ask me personal questions about my marriage.”

  “But you get to tell me every move to make? You get to arrange a dinner with some guy I’ve never even had the slightest attraction—”

  “You’re my daughter,” she says quietly. “I only want you to be happy, and you’re clearly not. Haven’t we given you everything you’ve ever wanted, Charm?”

  “I want to know why you stayed with him,” I say. Regardless of her meddling, we’ve needed this conversation—or at least I do.

  She gets a faraway look on her face and sighs. “Your dad and I, we love each other. He made some mistakes early on, but we go on. He knows it was wrong, and we had some rocky times that I tried to hide from you, but we love each other. Love is give and take, Charm. I forgave him, and he hasn’t done that in a long time.”

  Interesting. “How do you know?”

  She runs her finger over the rim of her glass. “I just do. You think I never thought about leaving him when I found out? I did, but in the end, he begged me to stay. He loves me, loves what we’ve built. He’s my whole world, and he treats me like I’m the best thing he’s ever had. And I am! Look at this wonderful family we made for you.” Her tone is low but exasperated, and I pause.

  We do have a wonderful family. I can’t deny that.

  “Is this why things didn’t work out with you and that hillbilly? Did he cheat on you?”

  “Ma, stop calling him that, and no, he didn’t…yet.” I set my coffee cup on the end table and look at her.

  Her eyes widen, and realization dawns in her gaze. “Charm…you think…you think just because your dad…” Her voice trails off.

  “He’s a lot like Pop—handsome, charismatic, everybody wants him. I don’t understand why he’d want someone like me forever.”

  Emotions flit over her face: regret, remorse, and then fear. She stands up and comes over to sit next to me. “Don’t do that. Don’t be afraid to love. Please. You’ll never be happy if you don’t give people a chance. Me and your dad aren’t perfect, I know, but that is us, just us, not you. Please don’t…” Her voice breaks, and for the first time since I drove away for freshman year at Waylon, I see tears in my mom’s eyes. They spill over, and I suck in a breath.

  “You deserve happiness, deserve it so much, and I know I get a little out of hand and push you, but I never ever want you to look at me and Pop and think all relationships are bad. Use what you know about us—the good times, the times we laugh—use it and listen to that voice inside you, the one that knows you’re a smart girl with so much to offer, more than me at seventeen and pregnant. Don’t let my mistakes ruin your future, Charm, please.” More tears slide down her face and my insides crumble. She’s strong, the backbone of our family, and I’m making her cry.

  “Ma,” I whisper. “You didn’t make a mistake…you got Paulie and me and Mattie…” But my voice cracks and I can’t finish.

  “I’m not strong like you, Charm. I’m not. I never went to college. I got married and had a baby before I was eighteen, and I don’t regret any of it, not for a second, even the bad times with your dad. We were so young, don’t you see? He was only nineteen with a wife and a baby and a business. We grew up together while we were married and that’s hard and sometimes people make mistakes. Bu
t don’t you doubt for a minute that we don’t love each other. But you…you’ve got the whole world in the palm of your hand. You’re going to have everything, and you’re going to love someone someday, and he’ll be the right one because you’ve got fire in you I don’t. He’ll see it, he will, I swear. You got the best of us, baby girl.” Her arms engulf me and she squeezes me tight, her shoulders moving as she tries not to cry and fails.

  She feels good in my arms, holding me with such care, and I think it’s how good moms do it. I don’t even realize I’m crying too, and we weep together, women who love deep and hard and strong. We never give up, we don’t.

  But I did.

  “I’m sorry, Ma. I don’t know what’s really between you and Pop. I haven’t walked in your shoes, but if there’s one thing I do know, it’s that I couldn’t have asked for a better home to grow up in. You and Pop did a good job. You’ve given me so much more than some kids get.”

  “Just promise me you’ll live your life with an open heart, okay?” she says. “Don’t lose faith in love, please. Your journey will be different from mine.”

  I close my eyes and nod. “I want to. I want to trust, and I was close, but he…he never said—” I stop, thinking, finally seeing the truth.

  He doesn’t have to tell me he loves me. Because my soul knows he does. It’s in his eyes. Always has been.

  “What’s all the blubbering about out here?”

  We unfurl our bodies and look up. Mattie stands at the back door, one foot in, one out. Tall and skinny in pj pants and a headful of dark ruffled hair, he’s still got a sleepy look on his face.

  He scratches his unshaven jaw. “Ah, I get it—you two got your period, didn’t you? Damn, I guess this means I’m going to the market for cupcakes and tampons.”

  I laugh and wipe my face. “Morning. In case I didn’t tell you last night, I’ve missed you. How are you enjoying living at home at twenty-five?” I grin. I bet he’s in hell.

  “Miss you too, sis. Your accent is fucked by the way. I can’t even tell where you’re from anymore.”

  “No cussing, Mattie. God’s listening,” Ma admonishes, but there’s no heat there.

  He grimaces. “Fine. Scoot over on that couch and let me sit down. Enjoy my good looks and charming personality. You two look like you need it.”

  We both move over, and Ma pats the seat between us. “Sit down. I want to hear about this girl you’ve been texting with.”

  He groans. “Ma, don’t read my texts. You might see some shit you don’t want to.”

  She waves him off. “Pfft. Is she one of those snobby girls from downtown? What’s her family name?”

  Mattie and I look at each other and burst out laughing.

  * * *

  Later that night, the house is full of people talking and laughing, my older brother and his wife and kids, along with Joey P. I felt too bad to ask Ma to call him and cancel at the last minute, and he sits across from me, a handsome man with short sandy hair and smiling eyes. Mattie keeps kneeing me under the table and grinning every time Joey asks me a question. I return the favor and stomp on his feet with my heels. He winces, and then we start all over again.

  We’re in our dining room, and Ma has pulled out all the stops for me: a roast with potatoes and carrots, gravy, and sourdough rolls—all my favorites.

  Mattie stands up. “Anybody else want more bread?”

  “Me,” Paulie says.

  Mattie comes back into the dining room.

  “Where’s the bread?” I ask.

  He has this bemused look on his face as he looks around the room. “Uh, never made it to the kitchen.” He clears his throat and gives me a long look. “There’s a guy at the door. Name’s Blaze. Wants to see Charisma.”

  OMG.

  “You didn’t invite him in? What’s wrong with you? I raised you better,” Ma huffs. She throws her napkin down and starts to stand—

  “No, I’ll get it.” I stand up and walk down the hall to the foyer.

  My heart pounds as I stand at the front door and take him in.

  He hasn’t seen me yet.

  He leans against one of the columns, hands in his pockets, head down. His boot is on, but it looks easier on him, as if he’s used to it. There are shadows under his eyes, and I figure they match mine.

  “Thought you’d still be at the Combine,” I say as I step out onto the porch.

  His head rises, blue eyes glittering as he takes me in, drifting over my hair and red lipstick. I take the perusal, glad I’m in skinny jeans, a fitted black shirt, and heels.

  He can’t seem to find his voice. After a long moment, he finally does. “Charm, you’re so beautiful. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.” He rakes a hand through his hair and shakes himself. “Uh, the Combine ended earlier today.”

  “Shouldn’t you be on your way back to Waylon?”

  “All I wanted was to see you.”

  I keep a few feet between us as I move in closer. “How did you get my address?”

  “Penelope gave it up. Had to beg for it.”

  I run my eyes over the boot. “How was Indianapolis?”

  He looks away from me, taking in the shrubbery in the front, the ones Ma planted years ago. She takes special care with them and it shows.

  “You’re the only one I wanted to tell, Charm. I ran and kicked ass. I took this stupid boot off and just took a chance.”

  Paulie and Mattie appear at the door and step outside. “Just checking in,” Mattie says as he comes out and stands next to me.

  Blaze straightens his stance and runs his eyes over them, trying to get a read on them, I assume.

  I point them out in turn. “Blaze, meet my brothers. This one’s Paul. He married the nice girl down the street, had two babies, and helps Pop. He’s the favorite, but don’t tell Ma we know.”

  Paulie grins, the expression an exact replica of our father’s. “Smartass.”

  I nod my head at Mattie. “This one’s Matthew. He loves to give me a hard time about everything. He still lives at home and hates it,” I add with a smirk.

  “Looked you up online, Townsend,” Mattie says. “Not bad. You look good, though if you don’t play baseball, you’re shit out of luck. We’re Yankees fans.”

  Blaze huffs out a laugh. “I’m actually pretty good at baseball. Could have gotten a scholarship for it if I’d wanted to.”

  “Of course you could have,” I murmur as they shake hands, my brothers and the man I love so much I’m finding it hard to breathe.

  “What’s going on out here?” It’s Ma.

  She walks out and frowns, her eyes running over Blaze, taking in the carefully pressed blue button-up shirt he’s got rolled up to his elbows, the long legs and the boot.

  He nods his head at her. “Nice to meet you, Mrs. Rossi.”

  She stills at his voice, and I wonder if she hears that darkness inside the gold, the deep tone that resonates and wraps around your heart.

  She murmurs a nice to meet you and just stares at us. I don’t know what she sees, maybe that I feel faint or that Blaze looks just as bad, his skin pale in the soft light from the porch.

  Pop comes out next. A handsome man with laughing brown eyes like mine, he is surprisingly somber. He doesn’t look at anyone but Blaze.

  “Heard you were the boyfriend. About time you got here. Frank Rossi.” He takes Blaze’s hand, and if the wince on Blaze’s face is anything to go by, he squeezes pretty hard.

  “Yes, sir. Finished the Combine and took the first flight out from Indianapolis to get here. Glad to meet you. I apologize if I interrupted dinner.” His face is carefully shuttered, but those eyes, they’re bright and emotional and—

  Joey P is next, sticking his head out the door with a questioning look on his face. “Who’s this?”

  Ma never takes her eyes off Blaze. “Joey, be a dear and get the tiramisu out of the fridge then help Susan get the dessert plates out?” Her tone brooks no argument, and he hops to it, shrugging and going back i
n the house.

  They make small talk with Blaze, asking questions about his flight, but all I can do is stare. Inside I’m flailing around like a chicken with its head cut off. He’s here—why?

  He looks at them when they speak, but he always comes back to me, that hesitant, searching look on his face.

  Pop gives me a look as if to ask what’s going on, but I’m not sure what he wants me to say. He huffs out a laugh and focuses back on Blaze. “Looks like Charm’s lost the ability to speak. Would you like to come in?”

  Ma steps forward. “No, not yet, dear. Maybe they need some time alone out here. We’re good people, but we can be a lot to take in.” She gives Blaze a small pat on the arm. “And you’re not a hillbilly. Sorry I said that to Charm.” She corrals everyone back inside.

  There’s a small smile on Blaze’s face and he softly says, “I like her.”

  “You’ll regret it later. She’ll be planning your life for you, arranging dates, pushing you to go to Mass, and guilt-tripping you into calling her every day.”

  “Ah, well, I never had that, so maybe I wouldn’t mind so much.”

  My eyes close briefly, and I open them to see he’s moved closer. We’re almost chest to chest. Just one little step and I could put my arms around his neck, reach up, and kiss him. “Why are you here, Blaze? You didn’t come all this way just to tell me about the Combine, although I am happy for you.”

  “I’m never going to let you out of my sight again, Charm.”

  “Oh.”

  A long sigh comes from him. His eyes burn, that emotion still brewing. He tilts my chin up and gives me a long look, his mind spinning, debating what to say judging by the conflict in his gaze. “There’s something I need to say. Emotional words are hard for me. Never got them growing up, and I learned to not think about them. Then I found football and did what I do best. Actions, applause—that’s what got me jacked up. Then you came along, a girl determined to keep me at arm’s length, when for the first time in my life, I wanted something besides football. I wanted to tell you that, but I shoved you away. Because no matter how many times I let myself think someone cares, there’s always this voice in the back of my head telling me I don’t get to have those things because people have always deserted me in some way. I’m not good at expressing myself. I know it, and I fight with it. That day in your room when I sang those songs to you, Charm…that’s me, telling you how I feel. When I can’t stop looking at you when you’re underneath me, that’s me telling you you’re the one. When I wrote those notes to you in class, that’s me saying more to you than I have ever said to anyone. It’s me when I see you on a date and I’m on a date and all I want to do is sing your song. I’m scared I won’t be worth your love. I’m scared of those big words because they mean so much to me. What if you leave me? What if I’m so fucked up that one day, you finally see it and walk away?”