It wasn’t long before there was a knock on the door. Lottie made her way down the hall and opened it. Beth stood there with a six pack of beer.
“You know I’m not going to be doing any drinking.” Lottie shook her head.
“Well, I brought it just in case. I’m gonna miss you.” Beth puffed her lip out.
“I’m gonna miss you, too. I don’t even know how long I’ll be gone. I just can’t be here right now.” Lottie sighed and walked into the kitchen, slumping down onto the recliner. “Part of me doesn’t want to go home. I still haven’t told my parents.”
Beth sat on the couch, placing the six pack on the counter, pulling one out, and cracking it open. She held it out to Lottie. “One won’t hurt.”
Lottie took it and chugged it back. It was nice and cold. She sighed and smiled.
“See. Better already.” Beth blew her a kiss.
“Do you ever think about moving back home?”
“To Florida?”
“Duh.”
“Fuck no. I couldn’t handle living within a three-state radius of my mother. She’d drive me crazy.”
“I never thought I’d be moving back to Michigan. I feel like a loser, returning with my tail tucked between my legs to live with Mommy and Daddy.”
“Then don’t go.” Beth leaned in close to Lottie. “At least don’t think about it as moving back. Think of it as a vacation. And for God’s sake, take a flight. That’s a long-ass drive for you with a dog. And leave Pickles with me. You can take some time to clear your head knowing he’s being loved on. You don’t want to make a pregnant chick sick with worry over your safety, do you?”
“I’ll be fine. I’ll stop for the night and rest. I promise.”
“No, you won’t. I know you; you’ll drive straight through, and I’ll be worried sick that you’ll fall asleep at the wheel. I mean, did you even book ahead with a hotel that takes dogs?”
Lottie pursed her lips and stared down at her feet.
“I knew it! See! And before you say you want to save money by driving, a hotel room and gas would cost you as much as a plane ticket. Especially since Michael and I are going to buy your ticket for you.”
Lottie shook her head and opened her mouth to speak, but Beth shot over and covered Lottie’s mouth with her hand.
“I love you, and I’m buying you a plane ticket and watching Pickles. When you’re ready to come home, you just let me know, and we’ll get your ticket back here. There’s no rush. If you decide to move for good, you’ll need to come back pack up all your stuff and clear this place out anyway. Save yourself all that fucking driving.”
Lottie buried her face in her hands. Tears poured from her eyes. “I don’t deserve a friend like you.”
“Yes, you do, honey. You deserve everything. You’re an amazing person who just happened to step in a big pile of shit named David. And I’m gonna help you hose it off. You’ll be okay. You’ll see.”
Lottie wiped her face and wrapped her arms around Beth.
“Don’t squeeze too tight or I’ll have to pee.” Beth hugged her, rubbing her back.
Lottie chuckled and sat back in her chair, taking another sip of her beer. “I guess since I’m not driving, I don’t have to worry about how much I drink.”
“You don’t leave until tomorrow afternoon. I plan on getting you drunk so I can finally take advantage of you.” Beth waggled her eyebrows.
Lottie shook her head. “It’ll take a lot more than one beer, lady.”
“That’s why I brought six. Now before you get too drunk, let’s get all Pickles’ things loaded into my car and make sure you give me the spare key to your house so I can water your plants and check your mail.”
“You know I already know I’m coming back to dead plants, right?”
“Stop that! The cactus in my bathroom has been alive for a year. I say your plants have a fifty percent chance of making it.”
***
Lottie’s eyes fluttered open as Beth tapped her shoulder.
“Lot, get your ass up and give me a hug goodbye. I gotta get to work. I have two classrooms to clean.” Beth leaned over and kissed Lottie on her head.
Lottie sat up and hugged Beth, who sat on the edge of her bed.
“Michael forwarded your flight confirmation to your email. He’s going to pick you up in two hours to drive you to Dallas. I wish I could take you.”
“I wish you could too. Thank you, Beth.”
“Don’t mention it. That’s what friends are for.” Beth gave Lottie another squeeze and walked out the bedroom door. “C’mon, Pickles. Time to go to Aunt Beth’s.”
“Bye, Pickles!” Lottie called. She listened to the door close and suddenly felt extra lonely. Normally, she enjoyed her alone time, but she hadn’t recently. To keep busy, she hopped up and got in the shower. No point in being a loser and also the stinky person on the flight—and there was always one, wasn’t there? The last time she flew from Detroit to Dallas, there was a man who smelled of ass, armpits, and onions so bad that she could barely stand to breathe.
Lottie put her toiletries away as she finished getting ready, wheeled all her things to the front door, and peeked out the window every thirty seconds, waiting for Michael. Did he forget? Was he going to be late? He knew how much she hated being late, and being late to the airport was about the worst it could get. She didn’t want to have to rush through security and scramble to her gate. Maybe she should have chosen shoes that she could slide on more easily. But she hated when she wore any shoes besides her tennis shoes on airplanes. It was like her feet swelled up and her toes were mashed together, and she would wiggle them desperately, wanting to free them from an iron maiden.
Where was Michael? Lottie pulled out her cell and looked at the time. He was two minutes late. How long should she wait before she sent him a text? Five minutes? Ten? Definitely not any longer than ten. She paced back and forth between the window and the door. Anxiety bubbled up inside of her like a lava lamp.
She pulled out her phone to text him at the nine-minute mark when she couldn’t stand it any longer. Just before she hit “send,” he pulled into the driveway. She quickly erased the message and shoved the phone back in her purse, grabbed her suitcase, and headed out the door.
Michael put her bag in the back of his truck and drove her the three and a half hours to Dallas. The ride was quiet but not awkward. Michael turned the radio on, made a little small talk, but didn’t bombard her with it the whole way. She never liked small talk. It only served to remind her of how bad she was at it.
Once they arrived at the airport, Michael got her bag out of the truck and gave her a hug. “You know everyone is behind you, Lottie. Beth isn’t your only friend, you know?”
“I know. Thanks, Michael.” Lottie grabbed her bag, pulled up the handle, and wheeled it into the airport. She checked in at the kiosk, handed over her bag, and headed through security. She made her way to the gate, where she had time to sit and relax before it was time to board.
She looked around at all the people who were to be her fellow passengers, trying to will some of them not to sit anywhere near her. Those included everyone who looked like they should be purchasing two seats and those that look like they hadn’t bathed in, well, ever.
She never could figure out why so many young women wore their pajamas on flights. It always struck her as funny that there was so much fuss made over the people of Walmart when the people of United Air were much worse. It just made her wish she lived in a bygone era when people dressed nice for air travel. Suits, dresses, ties, white gloves and pearls. She had never been a fan of cigarette smoke, but she would almost trade some for the horrible smell of tuna-tinged crotch-cheese that seemed to accompany flights in the modern era.
Lottie boarded the plane and was unfortunate enough to sit next to a large woman wearing purple polyester pants. Her large legs spilled under the arm rest and onto Lottie’s seat, making her wish she hadn’t worn shorts. The woman smiled at her, and Lottie did her best
not to show the disdain she felt as the woman’s large, moist polyester leg rubbed against her bare skin. She tucked her purse in between the moist blubber and her leg.
She did her best to make polite conversation with the large, foul-breathed woman on the aisle seat who never stopped chatting the whole way. She did her best to ignore her, reading the horrible inflight magazine over and over to try to drop a hint that she didn’t want to chat. The man in the window seat slept the whole time. She was jealous of him. What she wouldn’t give to be able to sleep on a flight. She’d never been able to, and it wasn’t because someone always seemed to want to chat with her. Anxiety was her constant companion on flights. David used to laugh at her and remind her that air travel was safer than riding in a car, but did that really matter to someone who hated the feeling of your stomach dropping out during turbulence or the thought of plummeting to the ground at any given moment?
Once she landed and retrieved her luggage from the baggage claim, she searched in her purse for her phone to call an Uber to take her to the train station. She couldn’t find it.
Fuck!
She emptied the entire contents of her purse onto the airport floor. It wasn’t there. She knew she had it when she boarded the plane, but now it was gone. She searched the baggage terminal for the fat woman who sat next to her or the sleeping guy on the other side but could find neither. She was sure one of them had stolen her phone.
Fuck!
She asked an old couple who were sitting on a bench if she could use their cell to call her dad. Smiling, they handed it over. She dialed the number on the old flip phone and asked her dad to send an Uber for her, but he insisted on making the one-and-a-half-hour drive from Frankenmuth to Detroit to pick her up. He asked her a million questions on the phone. “Dad, I’m borrowing someone’s cell. Mine was stolen, and I need to give it back. I’ll explain everything when you get here.”
She hung up and handed it back to the old couple, thanking them over and over. Butterflies swirled in her stomach when she thought about exactly what she was going to say to her parents. They’d be surprised to see her, for sure, and probably happy, but it didn’t make her feel like any less of a failure that others would rejoice in the fact that her marriage was over.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Grant
Grant met Tiffany at The Plaza after her shift at Meers. She was seated in the entryway, staring at her phone. He paused a minute to swallow his stomach back down before approaching her.
“Grant!” She jumped up and kissed him on the cheek. He wiped it away and checked his fingers for signs of a bright red lipstick mark. Yup, it smeared his fingers. He fished a handkerchief from his pocket and rubbed his cheek until he was sure it was clean.
“Y’all ready?” The hostess smiled and led them to a quiet booth in the back. Grant was thankful for that. If he was going to get a drink thrown in his face, he’d like to be sheltered from as many prying eyes as he could.
His mind churned. He wasn’t sure when he should do it. How he should do it. What he should say. He decided to let her enjoy her meal first and then try his best to break up with her gently at the end. The silence between them was awkward. Grateful when the waitress appeared with chips and salsa, he happily ordered their drinks and began perusing the menu while stuffing chips into his mouth to avoid talking. Luckily, Tiffany began talking a mile a minute about her day at work and all the comments she’d gotten on her Instagram post from the wildlife refuge.
“Don’t you feel weird pretending you like doing something you don’t? Isn’t that lying to all your followers?” Grant shoved another chip in his mouth.
“I don’t think it’s lying. It’s telling a story. Are writers liars? It’s not like I have a genuine interest in these people. They’re my fans. Do you think there are any celebrities who care about their fans? They get an exciting story from me, and I get likes and comments from them. It’s a win-win.” Tiffany took a picture of her margarita as soon as the waitress set it in front of her. “Hashtag worth the calories.” She smiled before taking a big long sip and licking her lips.
She was on his nerves. And he decided to strike while the iron was hot. It was best to break up with her before she said something truly sweet and reminded him that she really was a good person. Or worse yet, when she was doing something that made him horny. She was definitely sexy, and he had a hard time resisting her in those moments.
Grant pursed his lips and was about to speak when the waitress returned. “Are we ready to order?”
“Could we have a few more minutes, please?” Grant thought it might be better to do it before they ordered in case Tiffany wanted to storm out now.
“I’m ready to order now.” Tiffany interrupted. “I’ll have the flautas salad.” She handed the waitress her menu. “Oh, and another margarita.”
Grant rubbed the back of his neck as he quickly glanced at the menu, ordering the first thing he saw. “The Santa Fe quesadilla, please.” He handed the waitress the menu. She nodded and left.
He shoved another chip in his mouth. He should have ordered a beer. Why didn’t he order a beer? And a shot of tequila. He gulped the chip down, which hadn’t been chewed nearly enough, and coughed on a sharp edge that stuck in his throat.
“Excuse me.” He grabbed his water and took a drink. Tiffany looked at him with knitted brows and a crinkled lip.
“Is something wrong with you tonight? You’re acting weird.” Her lip remained crinkled.
Now was the best time to do it. She wasn’t looking at him with her lovey-eyes but with a tinge of disgust.
“Actually, yeah. Something is wrong. I don’t think we should see each other anymore.” Grant bit his lip.
“You’re breaking up with me?” Tiffany didn’t seem able to believe what was happening. She stared at him, unblinking.
“I think the gap in our ages is too much, and we don’t really have anything in common. I’m sorry, Tiffany. I think you’re a great person. We’re just not well-suited for each other.”
Tiffany took a long drink of her margarita while her eyes remained locked on him. She set it down and huffed. “This is some fucking bullshit. You’re never gonna find someone as hot as me.”
Grant pursed his lips and rubbed the back of his neck. He didn’t know what to say, so he nodded in agreement.
“You’re old,” Tiffany added, taking another sip of her margarita.
My point exactly.
He nodded in agreement once again.
“This is fucking bullshit.” Tiffany shook her head while she pulled out her phone and took a selfie with a pouting lip. “Hashtag dumped. You know, there are plenty of people in line to date me.”
“I’m sure there are.” Grant couldn’t believe she was looking down at her phone, posting her breakup selfie while she was talking to him.
After she finished posting her Insta breakup photo, she shoved her phone in her purse, stood, smoothed her clothes over her body, and scowled at him. “You were a big waste of my time.”
Grant waited for her to pick up the rest of her margarita and throw it in his face, but she just spun on her heel and stormed out of the restaurant. The waitress arrived with the second margarita.
“I’ll take that.” Grant took it from the waitress. “Would you mind changing that order to-go and bringing the check?”
“Sure thing.” The waitress gave him a pity grin and left.
He drank the margarita as he waited for the food and check, his fingers itched to pull out his phone and text Lottie right away, asking if he could come over and talk to her. He decided to drive by her place instead of texting. After the waitress brought him the check and food, he hopped in his truck and headed over to Lottie’s. Beth’s Jeep was there, and he didn’t want to say all he had to say in front of anyone else.
He didn’t feel like going to home to deal with Nana either. He didn’t have the energy to answer all her questions about the breakup. Too bad Nana didn’t have an Instagram account; she could have
read all about it for herself. Half of Altus and a good portion of Oklahoma were probably fully aware of the entire evening by now. He missed the days before social media. And the days before cell phones, for that matter. No one could truly get lost anymore, could they?
Grant weaved around town for a while before ending up at the Falcon Road Liquor store, where he grabbed a six pack then headed home. He slid in through the unlocked door and kicked off his shoes. Nana was asleep in the recliner. He covered her with the old orange and green afghan and made his way out onto the patio. He cracked open one of the beers, put his feet up, and thought about what he was going to say to Lottie. He still didn’t want to come between her and David, but with the way she’d been crying lately, he was sure that things there had to be over. No one cried that much when they’re happy about something.
***
Grant’s head pounded with the pulsing of his alarm clock. He’d had one too many beers. Normally he would have cursed the fact that he had to get up, but not today. He would take a handful of Nana’s aspirins and drink as much coffee as it took to make the headache go away. If it didn’t get rid of it, he didn’t care. Seeing Lottie’s face was going to be enough to get him through the day. Filled with a bubbling nervous energy, he bounded out of bed and flew into the bathroom to take a shower. He tried to calm himself down, but he was anxious to get ready, get to the school, and see her already. After carrying the weight of Tiffany around on his back, he was suddenly free to move about life the way he wanted. No more chains, no more stopping to post on Insta, no more of Nana heaping on the guilt of who Papa Joe thought would be perfect for him. He was finally free to follow his heart, and his heart was leading him straight to Lottie.
After trimming his beard, checking for nose hairs and boogers, and doing his best to make his hair look like he hadn’t spent too much time on it, he dressed and slid into the kitchen like Tom Cruise in Risky Business.
Easy Love Page 21