by Kelly Myers
So I put my phone down and instead focus on getting dressed. I pull on a loose-fitting black jeans and a bright blue sweater. Then I head out to grab some treats for my grandma.
A few hours later, Zach pulls up outside my apartment. I can’t help but smile when I see his truck. It’s not that big since it’s clearly for function and not swagger. It has a few dents here and there, but is mostly in good shape.
I hop up into the cab and place my bag of groceries on my feet.
“Hi,” Zach says. “Are you totally impressed by my manly vehicle?”
I place my hand to my forehead like a girl in an old movie. “I’m positively swooning.”
Zach’s laugh mingles with the purr of the engine as he navigates the truck towards Lakeshore Drive.
We chat for the first ten minutes or so. I tell him what groceries I got for Deborah – fancy olives and artisanal bread, and he tells me about the architect he grabbed lunch with. They work together for most of his projects, and the architect has become a friend.
“I know you’re probably shocked I have a friend with a real job.” Zach speaks in a joking tone, but there’s something sharp and steely beneath his words. He’s testing me in some way, trying to gauge what I really think of him.
I stare straight ahead at the line of cars on the highway. “I’m sure we’ve both changed in 10 years.”
“Maybe you have more than me.”
I turn towards him, my eyes wide. I have no idea what he’s talking about, but the slick taste of fear coats my mouth. He’s still dealing. He’s still enmeshed in the seedy underbelly of Torrins.
Zach glances at me out of the corner of his eye and clears his voice. “I just meant you don’t seem to talk to anyone back home or visit often.”
“I visit my grandmother every month.” I wonder if he recognizes how furious I am. If he can hear the lethal tone in my voice. My fists are clenched tightly on top of my thighs.
“What about your mom?” The question is fired like a shot, and as soon as it’s out there, it hangs between us in the cab of the truck. Zach keeps his eyes on the road, and I do everything I can to stay calm. Even so, my eyes narrow, and I press my lips together so hard that my cheeks hurt.
To my surprise, Zach reaches over and touches my forearm, just for a second. “If you’re going to try to jump out of the moving vehicle, let me know so I can slow down.”
“I’m considering it.” I cross my arms over my chest, and his hand returns to the wheel.
“But then who will bring your grandma her nice olives?” He gives me a little smile and a wink. I hate how easily he can turn on the charm when he wants to get out of trouble.
“Look, I’m sorry I brought it up,” Zach says. “Won’t happen again.”
I jiggle my knee. “Ok.”
I turn to look out the window. Gone is the giddy feeling of banter and camaraderie. I don’t even feel the tingling sensation of lust I’ve been feeling since Friday.
Nothing kills a good mood like my mother, Claire Dobbs. I try to push her to the side. My mind races to come up with something light and witty to say. Some joke, anything, even something corny, but I draw a blank. I never could joke about my mother. Everything about her, from the guy who left her pregnant at sixteen, to the wrinkles that formed around her green eyes, so similar to mine, when she was barely in her twenties.
My heart starts to race when I see the exit for Torrins. When I go back each month to visit my grandmother, it’s all on my own terms. I control how I get there and the duration of my visit.
This is different. I’m being carried back to this place by someone who knows way too much about what I went through in Torrins.
“Turn around,” I say. “I changed my mind.”
Zach throws me a startled look, but keeps his composure. “Bea, we’re on the highway, I can’t turn around.”
He changes lanes as if he still intends to take the exit, and I slam my hand down on the dashboard.
I suck in my breath and shake my head as horrible memories bombard me. I remember cleaning the apartment the morning after my mom went on a bender. She would be snoring on the couch, and I would creep about the living room, picking up the empty cans. I remember Finn’s awful smirk whenever I came home, and he was dropping off products for my mom to sell. I cringe as I recall the way he used to call me “sweetheart.”
I look over at Zach, and it’s too much. He weaves in and out of the memories too. Most of my memories of Zach are good, but they’re all too brief. He always left, a sheepish look on his face, as his dad summoned him. He always left to do the same bad things my mom was doing, and he never actually solved any of my problems.
Now he’s just creating problems for me.
Zach must read the panic and fury in my face. He murmurs a curse before looking over his shoulder and switching back to the center lane. A car honks, but Zach barely winces. He just keeps driving, right past the exit.
He waits until the sign for Torrins is far behind us before he speaks. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.”
He takes the next exit and pulls over into a parking lot for a fast food place. He turns to look at me. I chew on my lip and stare at my knees. Now that we’ve stopped moving, I’m embarrassed. I haven’t been so dramatic about my past in years.
Zach doesn’t seem judgmental though.
“Do you need water?” He asks. “Or to just breathe for a minute.”
I curl my lip and give him a glare. “I’m not having a panic attack, Zach, I’m just annoyed.”
He lets out a huff of laughter at my saucy response, and I think I see a glimpse of relief in his eyes. He would rather I’m annoyed at him than sad. “Right, my bad, I shouldn’t have pushed it.”
“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” I say before he can ask any more questions. His eyes are so filled with kindness, and his chest looks so big and warm, if he keeps asking me things, I might just start crying and curl up against him for comfort. Which would be pathetic. I hate crying in public.
“Of course,” Zach says. “But you know it’s not your fault. You had a rough upbringing, we both did, but there’s nothing we can do to change it.”
“I wouldn’t change it.” I shrug. “It made me who I am. But that doesn’t mean I have to be all kumbaya and talk about it during a candlelit trust circle, ok?”
Zach holds up his hands and gives me that mocking smile that makes my stomach flip. “I promise, no trust circles.”
I nod and tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. I realize that he’s waiting for me to decide what to do. I’ve put us in an awkward situation with my miniature meltdown. But I’m not going to visit my grandma, not today.
“I can take a cab back to the city,” I say. “I don’t want to waste your time on a return trip.”
“No way.” Zach shakes his head. “I think I owe you an early dinner.”
“Really, you don’t have to,” I say.
But Zach is already pulling out. “We’ll go to Ivington, it’s only a few minutes away.”
Ivington is one of the more well-off suburbs. It’s one of those towns with an adorable Main Street that seems custom-made for cute perfect families.
“I didn’t figure you were the type to lunch in Ivington,” I say. My heart has stopped racing, and I’m feeling more relaxed. When Zach is removed from the context of Torrins, I can relax with him.
“I built a house there a while ago,” Zach says. “It’s nice, very idyllic.”
I lean back against the seat and smile. “Yeah. Idyllic.”
After all the memories of Torrins, I could definitely use something idyllic.
Chapter Eleven
Zach parks right off the Main Street. I hop out of the truck, and he leads me towards a little café. It’s cozy inside, with sturdy wooden tables and comfortable armchairs.
Since he already had lunch, he orders a coffee and a muffin, but I’m ravenous all of a sudden, so I get a turkey sandwich with tomato soup.
We settle down n
ear a window. The cold air outside has covered the edge of the glass pane with a ring of condensation, but it’s nice and warm inside.
Once I have a few bites of my sandwich, I’m recovered enough to keep my composure.
“Sorry for the freak-out,” I say. “I don’t like to think too much about the past.”
“It surprised me,” Zach admits. “I always thought of you as fearless.”
I nearly choke on my soup. “Zach, I was terrified of everything, especially back then.”
He shrugs and grips his cup of coffee. “I dunno, I guess you didn’t show it.”
“You know as well as I do how risky it is to show fear where we come from.” I give him a wry look and turn my attention back to my sandwich.
I still don’t want to go into the details, but I’m not as hesitant to discuss my issues with Torrins. At the dinner on Friday, I wanted to scream every time we danced around the subject, but now I don’t mind. He saw me freeze up in the car. Emotions I’m used to keeping under lock and key are not out in the open, but strangely enough, I don’t really mind.
I’m not about to start delving into some sob story with him or anything, but I figure he deserves my honesty after he watched me nearly have a breakdown just because he offered to drive me to visit my grandmother.
“I’m sorry you were so scared,” Zach says. He looks at me like he means it.
“It’s not your fault.” I meet his eyes, and the intensity in his dark gaze makes the hair on my arm stand up. “It was never your fault.”
I try to come up with something light to say after that. Some joke or teasing comment, but I can’t. It doesn’t matter anyway. I’m comfortable just sitting in a peaceful quiet while I finish my meal.
When I’m done, I glance out the window. The day is cold, but it’s bright and clear, and we both have thick coats.
“Should we go for a walk?” I ask.
“Sure.” Zach stands and pulls my chair out while I rise. It strikes me as old-fashioned. Despite his casual exterior and background, he’s still more of a gentleman than some of the trust fund kids I met in college.
“I wanna see the house you built,” I say.
I’m delighted to see a bashful expression take over his face. He scuffs his feet.
“Come on, be a bit of a show-off for me.” I shove my shoulder against his, and he grins at the playful contact.
“If you’re impressed by my work, will you reward me?” His voice is low and sultry and leaves me in no doubt of what kind of reward he is interested in.
“Perhaps.” I tip my small nose up in the air and give him a haugthy side-eye. “But don’t get too excited: I have very high standards when it comes to home design.”
“Oh, I would expect nothing less.”
He opens the door for me, and we stroll out onto the sidewalk. I zip my coat up to my chin, and I’m about to bury my hands into my deep pockets when he grabs my fingertips.
I glance up at him, but his face is certain and confident. He’s not the least bit hesitant as he engulfs my hand in his.
I know I should pull away. We’re acting like a couple when we’re not.
The thing is, his hand feels good. It’s so solid and warm, and I can feel the roughness of his calluses, yet I know how gentle his fingers can be.
So I let him lead me off Main Street and down a pretty avenue lined with tall maple trees. The branches are bare and there are patches of snow in the yards, but I imagine in summer, the grass and leaves must be a lovely deep green. I can see that several of the houses have gardens. Some of the houses are brick and others are clapboard, and all of them look so cozy and warm. They’re the kind of houses you imagine have a big Christmas tree every year that the dad went and picked out with the kids.
Most of what I know about normal families, I read about in books, but I know part of me craves that kind of life. A big kitchen with a table where the kids do their homework. Family dinner every night where we talk about our days. My friends come from families like that, and they talk about it as if it’s so boring and mundane. But if I had that kind of family, I would never take it for granted. Not once.
His house is at the very end of the block. He points it out, and I stand stock still.
It’s a beautiful home. The house is tall and has a classic colonial structure, but it’s sleek. The dimensions are perfect. The house is painted a soft blue, almost grey, but it has a big red wooden door. And the roof is made of stone shingles. A roof like that is expensive and costs a lot. Zach has been downplaying his construction company. It’s clearly doing really well if they’re making houses like this.
“Well?” Zach is studying my face with the utmost attention, as if he wants to read my mind. “Do you like it?”
“It’s amazing.” I’m too impressed to play coy.
Zach grins as if he’s been waiting his entire life to hear my praise. “It’s one of my favorites.”
We turn, still hand in hand, and head back towards the Main Street.
“I’m going to ask you something personal, but please don’t bite my head off,” Zach says.
I give him a scathing look. I’m not that much of an emotional wreck. “I’ll try to keep my fangs retracted.”
“Are you ashamed of where you come from?”
I purse my lips. It’s not the first time I’ve heard this question. Most of the time, I’m asking it to myself. My instinct is to get defensive and deny it, but I can’t do that. Zach knows too much about me.
“I used to be.” I sigh and tip my head back to look at the bright blue sky. There’s not a single cloud. “Back in college, it felt like everyone had these wholesome perfect families, and I was embarrassed.”
I turn so I can look right at him. “I’m not anymore. The people who really matter care about me no matter what my background looks like.”
“Good.” Zach gives me a nod, but doesn’t say anything else.
“I want that wholesome life in my future though.” The words come pouring out of my mouth before I even realize it. All of a sudden, I’m desperate to share my most secret desires with Zach. “Living on a street like this, with generic kids who play soccer and maybe some dogs – I would love it. I would love every second.”
A sardonic shadow flashes in Zach’s eyes. “Not everyone who lives in these houses is happy.”
“I would be happy.” I speak with confidence because I know it’s true. I’ve wanted a certain life for too long to mess it up. I would pick the right person to share it with.
“You were always good at being happy,” Zach says.
I blink up at him in surprise. “Not as good as you.”
We’re almost to the truck, and the afternoon is quickly slipping away. I don’t want it to end. I feel like we’re frozen in a different life. Tomorrow I have to go to work like always, but for the last hour, it’s felt like I’ve stepped into an alternate universe.
“I’ll tell you a secret,” Zach says. He leans down so he’s almost whispering in my ear. “I want the whole cookie-cutter picket fence life too.”
I raise my eyebrows. He has to be joking, but his face is dead serious. “You would be bored in about five seconds.”
“No,” he says. “I wouldn’t.”
I shrug and grab the door to the truck. I feel his eyes on my back while I hop into the passenger seat. As he gets behind the wheel and revs the engine, I wonder if he’s going to explain. He seems so certain that he wouldn’t get bored, he must have a reason.
He doesn’t say anything though. He just points the truck back towards Chicago and turns on the radio.
A knot of gloom settles into my stomach. It’s not because of his company, or even because of how upset I got earlier at the idea of revisiting Torrins with him. It’s because the day is already over.
Chapter Twelve
On Tuesday, my grandmother calls me during my morning commute. I smile as I see her name. She knows my daily routine down to a T, so she sometimes calls between 7:30 and 8:00, while I’m
on the train towards the Merchandise Mart.
“Hi, grandma.” I cross my legs and lean back in my seat.
“Good morning, sweetheart.” My grandmother is bustling about her kitchen, I can hear her moving around and getting her breakfast together. “How are you?”
“I’m doing good,” I say. “I already have some surprises for you for my next visit.”
She doesn’t need to know that I got the special treats because of a visit that didn’t pan out. She’ll still get her nice olives.
“Oh, you spoil me,” she says.
I feel a twinge of guilt. I don’t spoil her. She deserves more from me. More of my time, more of my thoughts. Sometimes I moan about Torrins so much that I disregard all the good things from there, like Deborah. And Zach too, I suppose.
He wants to see me again tonight. He texted that he’ll be in the area and can bring over pizza. I didn’t even hesitate before responding that it sounded like a plan.
Something changed between us on Sunday. Before I was just attracted to him, but after spending the afternoon together, old emotions are rising to the surface. And there are new emotions as well. Zach has changed after all. He’s still got his caustic sense of humor and devil-may-care attitude, but he’s a bit more responsible. He has a schedule now with meetings, and he mentioned something about meeting with an accountant the other day. I fell for him as a kid, and now I’m falling for him again as an adult.
Call me a cynic, but I don’t have high hopes. I can’t really see a relationship going anywhere. But for now, I might as well enjoy what we have. It’s nice to have good company during the winter months. I have no doubt this will fizzle out by the time summer rolls around.
“What have you been up to?” my grandma asks.
“Nothing much, mostly work.” I pause. My grandmother cares about my life. She deserves more than rote answers. “Actually I caught up with this old friend from Torrins recently. Zach O’Malley.”
There’s silence on the line. For a minute, I think we’ve lost connection, even though the train is still above ground.