A Hundred Ways to Love

by Ellie Wade

  I haven’t really hung out with Liam since that night. He’s been busy working the farm and traveling to buy cows or something. I’m still not well versed in the life of a rancher. I’m not sure exactly what he’s doing, but it requires him to be away from the ranch a lot. But I have been able to see him a few times. We’ve waved and exchanged pleasantries, and I’ve brought him out some cold sweet tea on a couple of occasions.

  I think I’m just happy because we’re friends again, and unlike my friends from New York, Liam’s as real as they come.

  As Mimi always says, “That boy has a heart of gold.”

  If being on the ranch offers me anything, it’s time to think. Self-reflection has become my full-time job, and truthfully, I need it.

  I’ve made peace with the fact that the relationships I built in the city weren’t what I thought they were. I’d rather have one real friend than a hundred fake ones. A true friend, one like Liam, knows all my imperfections and loves me anyway. And, Lord knows, I’ve got my fair share of imperfections.

  There’s a knock on the front door. I close the Southern Living magazine I was reading. It’s desperate times for entertainment here. There isn’t much I want to do at Mimi’s, so learning how to make the perfect lattice pie crust for an apple pie is as good as it gets at the moment.

  Opening the door, I find Liam.

  “Hey,” I greet him.

  Seeing him standing outside the door on Mimi’s front porch brings back so many memories of finding him in this exact spot over a span of years during my childhood. I can picture him in his muddy shorts, holding a frog, when he didn’t have most of his front teeth. I can remember him here at the age of eight, holding fishing poles with his hair sticking up in random spots. There was the summer he greeted me with a giant bag of cotton candy he had gotten at the carnival. I remember him then holding the huge bag of fluffed sugar at the age of twelve when his nose was a little too big for his face. I remember them all because my friendship with Liam was the best thing about my childhood.

  And he’s here now—a handsome grown man with a college degree, a ranch, and his own business. So much has changed, and yet he still wears a wide grin as he holds up a brown mystery bag.

  “What’s in the bag?” I say slowly with a chuckle.

  He bites his bottom lip before saying with a sneaky grin, “One word: Pablo’s.”

  I gasp, bringing my hands up to my mouth. “Pablo’s Tacos!”

  “The one and only, just the way you like them—with extra onions and cilantro.”

  “Oh my gosh! I can’t believe Pablo’s is still around, and I can’t believe you remember little details like that.” I shake my head, my lips turning up in a grin.

  “Like what? That you love your onions and cilantro with a side of taco?”

  I chuckle. “Yeah, like that.”

  He presses his lips together and thoughtfully peers at me. “I remember everything about you, Leni.”

  There’s a familiar pressure in my chest. I haven’t felt it in so long, but every time I have, I’ve been in Liam’s presence. It makes me pause because I don’t want it to be there, yet when Liam’s involved, sometimes, I don’t have a choice.

  Don’t freak out. You need a friend.

  I remind myself of the fact that having a real friend is important. Right now, I need Liam more than I need to run.

  “You okay?” Liam’s voice breaks my thoughts.

  I shake my head. “Yeah, just thinking.”

  His gaze is apprehensive. “Good. Well, I don’t know if you remember, but the last time we ate Pablo’s together, we were at the drive-in.”

  “Yes! Watching that horrible movie about—what was it? Robots taking over and stealing our lives?”

  He laughs. “That was it. I don’t even remember the title, but even at thirteen, I knew it was shit.”

  “Remember the robot ball where they were all waltzing very awkwardly?” I giggle.

  “How could I forget? Dumbest scene ever.” He shakes his head. “Well, anyway, I was thinking it might be fun to go to the drive-in, watch a movie, and eat some tacos? What do you say?”

  “Um, yeah. But”—I look back toward the kitchen—“Mimi’s been in there, cooking something up, for a while now. I should probably eat dinner here.”

  From out of nowhere, Mimi shows up behind me. “Don’t you worry yourself. You go on and have fun.”

  “You’ve been working so hard on dinner. I don’t want your food to go to waste,” I tell her.

  She dismissively waves her hand through the air and shakes her head. “You don’t have to worry about that. It won’t. My friend Ana from church broke her arm yesterday. I’m going to package up this meal and take it to her. I’m sure her family will enjoy it.”

  “Oh, that’s so nice. I’m positive they will love it. Okay. Well, if you’re sure?”

  “I’m sure.” She pushes me toward the door. “Go. Have fun.”

  I toss the magazine onto the sofa and follow Liam out to his truck after giving Mimi a hug.

  “I feel like Mimi is trying to get rid of me,” I kid. “She was so eager to get me out of the house,” I say to Liam as we walk toward his truck.

  “Well, can you blame her? Was that a Southern Living magazine I saw you holding?” He chuckles, getting into the truck.

  “Hey,” I protest, closing the passenger door of the vehicle and buckling my seat belt. “It’s not like she has a copy of Fifty Shades of Grey lying around. The pickings are slim.”

  “What’s the shades of gray?”

  “Fifty Shades of Grey? Like, the most popular romance novel of all time? You’ve never heard of it?”

  “Can’t say I have.”

  I shake my head and scoff under my breath.

  “What?” Liam asks.

  “This place is so sheltered—Elkwood, I mean.”

  “I don’t think it’s this place, Len. It’s me. I’m not much into the romance-novel scene.”

  I stare out the window as we pass miles of cornfields. “Yeah, well, they’re kind of a big deal—those books. There are movies and everything.”

  “Maybe one will be playing tonight?” he says.

  I laugh.

  How awkward would watching one of those movies with Liam be?

  “No. They’re all out on Blu-ray already. But, speaking of movies, I brought up that robot movie with my friends from college, and no one that I encountered had ever seen it before.”

  The truck slows as we approach our destination. “Yeah, well, I don’t think it was a real movie.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Anyone with money can make a movie, and you can pay any theater to show it. I think some Texan with a lot of cash decided to take his shot as a movie producer and failed.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. I had a friend in college who made this amateur scary movie, like Blair Witch–style. Then, he rented out the theater for its premiere.”

  “Did he sell tickets?” I wonder.

  “Oh, yeah. He almost filled the theater. Granted, many of the moviegoers wanted refunds.” Liam laughs. “I don’t think everyone who paid for tickets realized what they were paying for.”

  “Oh my gosh. That’s hilarious.”

  “It really was. It was a great night.”

  Liam pulls into the drive-in parking lot and backs up, so the bed of the truck is facing the screen. Being with Liam like this, as friends, is the most joy I’ve felt since being back. It’s nice to chat about stuff that doesn’t mean anything. It gives me a break from the heavy questions—like, What are you doing with your life? The sadness is still there, but hanging out with Liam is giving me a much-needed reprieve from dwelling on it.

  He sets up two camping chairs in the bed of the truck. In between the two chairs is a basket of goodies—chips, candy, and popcorn. He produces a cooler from the backseat of the truck and sets that in front of the chairs as well. Sometimes, it’s hard to hang out with Liam because he’s always this sweet and
over-the-top wonderful. He always has been. As much as I love the setup and can’t believe how perfect it is, it makes me feel guilty for all of the horrible things I’ve put him through in my life. I’m really trying not to focus on the past because what’s done is done, but then he goes and does something so thoughtful, and it fills me with remorse.

  “This is really sweet,” I tell him, my voice a whisper.

  He raises an eyebrow. “Then, why do you sound like that?”

  “Honestly?”

  He nods.

  “You being so nice to me makes me feel bad because I don’t deserve it, Liam. I don’t. I’ve been miserable toward you.”

  “None of that matters now. You have to get out of your head, Leni. You’re stuck in regrets, the past, and things you can’t change. I don’t care what was or wasn’t said when we were kids. We’re adults now, and we can make different choices. Right?”

  “Yeah,” I agree.

  “Okay, then stop. You were once my best friend, and I’ve missed you. That’s all there is to it. None of the other stuff makes a difference now.” He opens the cooler and waves his hand in front of it, Vanna White–style, causing me to laugh.

  Then, I gasp when I see the contents. There are bottles of Grape Crush sitting atop ice. “Grape!”

  “Your favorite.” He grins.

  I think back to all the times that Liam and I argued over which was better—orange or grape soda. “Where’s the orange?” I ask.

  He smiles. “I always liked grape better, too. I just said orange to be different, to have something to argue with you about.”

  I shoot him a wink. “I told you grape was better.”

  We sit down in the chairs with our sodas and tacos. It’ll be a little while before the movie starts, as they wait until it’s completely dark.

  I take a big bite of a taco and hum in contentment as I roll my eyes back into my head. “Oh, yes.”

  “As good as you remember?” Liam asks.

  “Definitely. You know, as diverse as New York is and as many authentic Mexican food places as there are, I never found tacos that held a candle to Pablo’s.” I look around at all the parked cars and people setting up for their movie. “I’m surprised this place is still open. I feel like most of the drive-ins have closed down.”

  “Yeah, there’s not many left,” Liam agrees. “This one sure brings back memories though.”

  “It sure does. Mimi was so sweet. She would drive us and then just sit in the car and crochet. The audio from the movie blared so loudly through the speakers, so we could hear it in our chairs outside. That must have hurt her ears. I never thought about it back then. I wonder why she brought us every week.”

  “Because she loves you and knew you loved coming here,” Liam states.

  “Yeah.”

  Liam’s right. Mimi does love me. I’m so fortunate to have her. Truthfully, I don’t know where I’d be if I didn’t. Not everyone has a perfect, loving family. Many aren’t supported by the ones who should love them most. I’m not unique in that aspect of my life. But everyone needs at least one person to love them unconditionally, one person to show them that they are worthy of a good life. Mimi has always been that person for me. I have too many flaws to count, but everything that’s good in me is a direct result of Mimi’s love.

  I turn to Liam and can’t help but think that he’s my person, too—or he would’ve been had I not pushed him away. He was always there for me, just as he’s here for me now.

  “What?” He raises an eyebrow in question. “What are you thinking?”

  “Nothing.” I shrug.

  “No, you’re making your face. There’s something on your mind.”

  I grin. “What face?”

  “The one you make when you’re contemplating something important.”

  I tap him on his arm. “I do not make a face.”

  “Oh, but you do.” He chuckles. “What is it? Tell me.”

  “Fine. I was just thinking about how very much I love tacos.”

  My response elicits laughter from Liam, and the sound fills my soul with a contentment that I haven’t felt in so long.

  “I don’t know if I buy that, but I’ll accept it.” He gives me a wink.

  I want to tell Liam how thankful I am that he’s being so kind to me when I’ve done nothing to deserve it. I want to tell him how much I appreciate him hanging out with me when I’m such a downer. I want to tell him so many things, but I can’t. I have no idea what tomorrow will bring. My emotions are on a teeter-totter from hell. When they’re up, it’s awesome. But then they fall without warning, suddenly hitting the ground hard. As much as I want to hope that I’ll stay up here where life is good, I know the floor is just beneath me, bracing for my inevitable impact.

  What goes up must come down, and I will. I always do.

  I just don’t want to crush Liam in the process.

  eleven

  Leni

  Pain shoots through my fingers, and I cringe. “How do you do this without your hands aching?” I ask Mimi as I knead the ball of bread dough.

  Mimi has decided to teach me how to make her famous bread, reminding me that she won’t be here forever—a thought that I refuse to think about.

  “You get used to it.” She chuckles.

  I feel like a major wimp because my hands seriously hurt. “How is it that my grandmother is more badass than I am?” I shake my head with a laugh.

  “You got soft up there in the Big Apple, sweetie. You’ll toughen up after you’ve been here for a while,” she says as she works on the opposite counter, pounding some chicken breasts flat.

  “Mimi, what should I do with my life? I can’t just stay here forever.”

  “Of course you can. You’re always welcome here.”

  “I know that, but I’m not doing anything, you know? I have a fancy degree. I should be using it.” I start to pound the dough with my fists to get the air bubbles out because this kneading crap is killing my knuckles.

  “Why don’t we go into town for some dessert? We can stop off at the library beforehand, and you can do some job-searching on the internet. I’m sure there’s plenty you could be doing. Maybe you could teach some classes at a nearby community college,” she recommends as she dips the flattened chicken in a flour mixture.

  “Okay, that sounds great. Where are we going for dessert?”

  My appetite has tripled since I’ve been in Texas, and with the mention of dessert, I’m now craving something sweet. I can’t stop myself from eating; it’s a problem. Mimi’s cooking is the best thing in the world, but it’s also the devil.

  “Let’s go to Franny’s Kitchen,” Mimi suggests. “Do you remember Franny’s Kitchen?”

  “Oh my goodness … Franny’s Kitchen! Of course I remember. I think the French toast there is one of the most delicious things I’ve ever put in my mouth.”

  Mimi laughs. “You’ve been saying that a lot lately.”

  “Well, it’s true. A few more weeks of this, and I won’t fit into my clothes any longer.” I push out my belly and blow air into my cheeks. I dramatically pat my stomach.

  “You are many things, my love, but chubby isn’t one of them. In fact, you could stand to put on ten pounds or so. You got too skinny up there in New York. I don’t know what you were eating, but it wasn’t enough,” Mimi says.

  “I was eating plenty, and I’m perfectly healthy. I promise you, I don’t need to put on weight, though I have a feeling that whether or not I need to is irrelevant while living here. I think a weight gain is inevitable.” I tilt my head toward the bowl of dough.

  Mimi just shakes her head with a small grin.

  I portion out the dough and put them into bread pans before covering the loaf pans with a towel while they rise. After I wash my hands, I step behind Mimi and wrap my arms around her. “I promise to eat less bread.”

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because, now, I know how hard it is to make.”

  Mimi chuckles again. “You eat
all the bread you want, Leni girl. I don’t mind making more.” She wipes her floured hands against her apron. “Would you mind grabbing the mail?”

  “Sure.”

  I give Mimi one more squeeze and then make my way through the living room. I open the front door and gasp, bringing my hands to my mouth.

  “What is it?” Mimi calls from the kitchen.

  I can’t answer though because I’m utterly speechless.

  My chest fills with so much emotion that I can’t contain it all, and it escapes in the form of tears.

  Oh my gosh. Unbelievable.

  “Well, I’ll be,” Mimi says, now standing beside me. “I told ya, heart o’ gold.”

  She retreats back to the kitchen and leaves me staring at one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.

  Covering a large portion of the front porch are baskets stocked full of art supplies. I step outside and slowly walk around the treasures, my fingers swiping over everything. This is better than all the Christmas mornings I had as a child. I think anything I could possibly need is here—an easel, all types of paint, palettes, brushes, sketchpads, colored pencils, chalk, clay, tools, finishes, and canvases. It’s enough to fully stock an art studio. And it’s good stuff, too. These paintbrushes aren’t from the local craft store; these are the brushes professionals use. He had to have gotten all this somewhere outside of Elkwood, maybe in Austin.

  I look around for a card, and I find it in one of the baskets. It’s a simple card with a picture of a Texas skyline at sunset. Inside is a handwritten note.

  Be happy.

  —Liam

  I bring the card to my chest and hug it tight, pulling in a big breath of air. Tears continue to roll down my cheeks, but I don’t care to stop them. I can’t remember the last time I cried because I was so overcome with joy.

  Has there ever been a time?

  I sit cross-legged on the porch and go through each basket, reading the labels on each item.

  Oh my gosh, I have to paint!