One Week Hating You

by Roya Carmen

  His face falls and his eyes glaze over. He looks broken, like I’ve punched him in the gut. “I can’t believe that’s how you’ve seen me all these years… a horny jerk.”

  I smile. “Pretty much.”

  “God, it was so much more than that,” he says. “You know it was.”

  I think about our dads then. “Well, I know we were both going through a lot—”

  “A lot,” Blake snaps. “A lot? Both our dads were killed, taken from us in the flash of a second. I’d say that’s more than a lot.”

  February 17th. It’s a date which will stay with me forever. Our dads, best friends and fishing buddies, were off on an annual ice fishing trip, something they looked forward to every year. It was no one’s fault, they were just at the wrong place at the wrong time. The roads were icy, and a semi hit them straight on. We were told they were killed instantly, but that wasn’t much consolation.

  Both our families were devastated and while our mothers and siblings turned to each other for support, Blake and I closed into ourselves. I cried and journaled a lot. I spent a lot of time in my room. Mandy tried to connect with me, but I just couldn’t talk about it. Every time I did, it hurt so much. I just wanted to pretend it didn’t happen, like he was just gone on a long trip. Yet everything reminded me of him; Seinfeld, fishing, chocolate ice cream, country music, his favorite coffee cup still sitting in the cupboard, and the daily paper. He used to love to read the paper first thing in the morning and do the crosswords – he’d always be asking me for answers. The lawnmower, parked beside the shed out back made me cry once. Tim had taken over the lawn mowing duties and every time I watched him mow the lawn, my heart would break a little. And the Scrabble game sitting on the bookshelf in the living room, abandoned. Scrabble used to be our thing. That’s when I searched for an escape. That’s when I started looking into colleges, anywhere. Anywhere but home.

  Blake handled the tragedy a different way all together, by drinking and drowning his sorrows in the beds of local tramps. Okay, maybe it was only one bed. Maybe it was two… or ten. I really don’t know. All I know is that he wasn’t sleeping in my bed.

  “I’m sorry, Maeve,” he says again, and I can tell that he genuinely means it, that this has been nagging him for a long time. “You just reminded me of the whole thing. Your whole family did. My family too. We were all practically glued to each other before, and then…”

  “Marilyn and Brian only grew closer,” I point out.

  “Yes, they did… and we… we grew apart. I think we were just too young to process it all.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  He turns to me again, and his eyes are so dark and full of pain. “Every time I looked at your beautiful face, it hurt.”

  “Me too,” I tell him. “Even when I looked at Mandy. I abandoned her too, I guess.”

  “You did,” he says. “You have no idea how much she missed you when you went away to college.”

  I’d never really thought about Mandy. I was so selfish, so self-centered. All that mattered was escaping, and getting away from the pain and memories. Between the tragedy and Blake’s behavior, I couldn’t get away fast enough.

  And when I met Peter in college, he was nothing like my family back home. Nothing about him reminded me of my past. He was a new door, the promise of a new life, a new me.

  “I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “I’m sorry I ran away.”

  “Don’t be,” he tells me. “I might have run away too if I’d had somewhere to go.”

  We fall into silence and watch the kids play. They remind me of Blake and me when we were young. We’d have so much fun just running around, playing silly games and getting dirty.

  The person I was then seems so out of reach now. Blake was right – I’ve changed so much.

  “I got another email from Peter,” I tell him. I’m not sure why I’m sharing this with him right now. I suppose I am because he’s part of ‘the plan’.

  He jerks around. “Really? What did he say?” Blake might try to act aloof but it’s obvious that he cares about my relationship with Peter.

  “The usual… he’s sorry and wants to start over. I don’t think he wants anything too serious. He wants casual.”

  Blake laughs. “I’m sure that went over well with you. You’re not the no-strings-attached type.”

  I snicker. “Well, no, not when it comes to him,” I admit. “We’ve shared seven years. We almost got married for crying out loud. How can he expect us to go back to the beginning?”

  “Uh-huh…” Blake says.

  “But with someone new…” I say playfully, “I might not mind a little casual sex.”

  He cocks a brow in surprise. “Really?!”

  “Well, it’s been a while,” I tell him in that same flirty tone.

  He smiles. “Has it?”

  I jerk my gaze away. I can only play this flirting game so long – I’m not very good at it.

  His eyes linger on me, and he reaches for the bottle of sunblock. I watch him intently as he squeezes a large drop on his fingers. He reaches for my face. “Your nose is getting red,” he says with a mischievous smile. If this is flirting, we’re both not very good at it. He’s probably a lot better at it with other women. He rubs my nose gently and I laugh. Then he reaches for my rogue curl and pulls at it – the man just can’t help himself.

  “You’re annoying,” I say.

  He laughs. “I know. I annoy you on purpose.”

  His gaze clings to me, and his laughter fades. As he slowly leans in to me and closes the distance between us, my heart pounds, anticipating his kiss, his touch. I think about the kids who aren’t far, yet I still want him to kiss me. I stare at his sensual full lips… kissable lips.

  His mouth brushes my cheek as he reaches his arm around my back and slides his hand down to my ass. What in the heavens is he doing?

  He grabs my phone, and with that cocky grin of his, he says, “We need another picture,” he says. “Gotta keep driving the ex-fiancé insanely jealous. That’s the plan right? You gotta keep on top of this, Freckles.”

  I smile. What a tease. I tear the phone from his hands, and take a selfie of the two of us. I study the photo – this might be my favorite one of us. His hair is a matted mess, and his beard is getting really scruffy. I look fresh-faced without makeup, and my hair looks wild. It always looks pretty nice when I swim in the lake, and the freezing water probably helped seal the follicles. Maybe Blake is right. Perhaps I should wear my hair natural more often.

  My heart skips a beat when the kids make a sudden reappearance. “Check out this cool stick,” Jake says. “Can I keep it?”

  I study the stick. It’s grey driftwood, and gnarled like an old man’s hands. It’s covered with markings, which I recognize as the work of some kind of tree insect. “Sure, why not.”

  He smiles wide, over the moon. That’s what I love about children – they find pleasure in such small things. As adults, most of us forget to do that.

  “We’ll get going soon, kids,” Blake tells them.

  Jake and Maddie pout, and my heart sinks a little. I want to stay here all day too.

  As Blake and the kids get the canoe ready to go, I stay back and pee in the woods. I can’t remember the last time I did that, but when nature calls... I’m crouching, in a not so ladylike fashion, and I don’t have toilet paper, so I grab a large red leaf. If Peter could see me now he’d probably be thinking that he dodged a bullet.

  I run back to the canoe, put on my life jacket, and we’re off, back to our little home on wheels. We enjoy the scenery again on the way back, and the kids are ecstatic when we spot an otter. I try to snap a photo with my phone, but it just looks like an indistinguishable blob in the water.

  14

  WE GO FOR A NICE LONG HIKE in the afternoon. We’re all very quiet. The kids explore; insects, weird sticks and rocks, and they’re on the hunt for wildlife. We spot a few squirrels and birds, but nothing more exciting. We hear what sounds like an owl, bu
t Maddie insists that it can’t be since owls sleep during the day.

  I like hiking because it gives me time to reflect. Away from the stimuli of my regular life, sheltered by the tall trees, surrounded by nothing but nature. On this particular hike, my mind is full of Blake and our conversation. I’ve misjudged him all these years. All this time, I thought that he dumped me because I was square, but I should have known there was more to it. We’d known each other forever. He would have never broken up with me for such a superficial reason.

  When we get back to camp, I’m unsettled by the realization that for the past few hours, my mind was filled with thoughts of one man. And it wasn’t Peter Walker.

  * * *

  “These are amazing,” I tell Blake. We’re eating salmon and shrimp grilled skewers, and a white sauce pasta. “When did you learn to cook like this?”

  He grins. “Well, I’m a pro at the grill, but I wouldn’t exactly call myself a chef. The skewers were bought pre-made.”

  “Still good,” I mumble between bites – I’m starved.

  The kids seem pretty hungry too… they’re munching away quietly, a telltale sign.

  Blake reaches for his tall glass of water. “So what’s the deal with Parker? Do you ever plan on replying to his messages?”

  I smile. I like that Blake cares. I want him to give a damn. Maybe there’s a small part of me who regrets letting him go all those years ago. We could have been married with a few munchkins by now. The thought of that almost makes me laugh.

  “I’m going to make him sweat a little longer.”

  A huge smile stretches across his face. “Good for you… the jerk deserves it.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not sure what the future holds for us, but for now, I’m still angry. It’s only been about two weeks.”

  Blake’s face falls. “You really see yourself with him again? Even after what he did to you?”

  I twirl my fork into my pasta. “Everyone deserves a second chance,” I tell him. “Seven years together is not nothing. You can’t just throw away a relationship like that. He just wasn’t ready for marriage, that’s all.”

  Blake lets out a long breath and stares down at his plate. He pokes at his pasta, rather furiously, and doesn’t utter another word.

  Neither do I. Subject closed.

  Look deep into nature, and then you will understand everything better. - Albert Einstein

  Dear Journal,

  I’d forgotten how much I love camping. I initially thought that being stuck in a small enclosed space with Blake for two days would prove a little stressful, but it’s actually been kind of nice.

  It’s taken me back, to ages ago, when we used to all go camping together; the Gallaghers and the Taylors. Our families were inseparable back then. Our dads would go fishing and birdwatching, and our moms would BBQ and gossip. Tim could always be found with his nose buried in a book, or playing with his cars in the dirt. Marilyn, Brian, Blake, Mandy and I would often ride our bikes to the lake, and we’d spend hours there. When we weren’t swimming, we’d be playing board games, or inventing our own games. One summer, we even attempted to build a tree house. I say ‘attempted’ because it ended up crashing down and almost killing Mandy. At night, we’d all gather around the fire, roast marshmallows, and Blake’s dad would tell ghost stories.

  This was just what I needed. Who needs a therapist when you have nature? There’s nothing like the cool crisp air, the sound of birds, the sight of an adorable chipmunk, or the stars at night. I love to walk under the shade of trees and study them closely; the leaves, the texture of the bark, the shape of their limbs, the roots at their bottoms, tangled in the ground, covered in moss. When we were kids, Tim and I used to be obsessed with trees. Back then, I could spot a tree and tell you exactly what kind it was. Now I’ve unfortunately forgotten everything, but for some reason, Tim still remembers. I love the sensation of walking under their canopy and feeling coddled, protected from the stresses of everyday life. When surrounded by nature, it feels like your life is on hold. It’s like you’ve hit the pause button.

  Blake has been kind of great, as much as it pains me to admit. He’s awesome with the kids and he’s a master at everything; fire building, cooking, fishing… he’s even great at telling ghost stories. Thank goodness for that because I’m pretty useless. I usually end up ripping off some horror flick I’ve watched recently. When I tried to pass off the story of The Conjuring as my own, Maddie was totally on to me.

  Speaking of the kids, it’s been great to spend some time with them. I don’t see them enough, and it fills me with guilt. I’m only two hours away but life is so crazy sometimes. If you don’t make something a priority, it falls by the wayside. Although I’m not completely at fault – Peter had a lot to do with it. He’s never been a big fan of Westbrooke – he’s a city boy, all the way. I never felt completely comfortable bringing him home. Unfortunately, he and my family have never really hit it off. And I was always trying to please him, so as the years passed, I saw my family less and less.

  Now it’s time to make my family a priority.

  Later, Journal.

  M

  The drive home is very quiet – we’re all pretty worn out. The kids are happy to be on their devices again, and Blake is content to stare at the road ahead. Meanwhile, I’m confused with jumbled thoughts. Do I really want to go back to Peter? To my life? Or do I want to stay here a little longer with my family? I haven’t even had a chance to see my brother yet.

  Do I want to start something with Blake? My body does, but my brain tells me it’s the worst idea ever. I close my eyes and imagine it for a few seconds. Memories of our brief encounter in the dark flood me with heat. God, that was hot. The sex would be mind-blowing, I’m sure, but I’d get attached and I’d want more. And it’s Blake we’re talking about here. I think the man might be allergic to commitment.

  And what would I do here if I stayed? My life is back in Burlington. Although… I don’t have a job anymore, and I don’t really have an apartment either. It’s Peter’s condo, and he covered most of the costs. I could have never afforded it on my own. I still have my friends though…

  Speaking of my friends, I check my phone, and I’m bombarded by messages. When it rains, it pours.

  Corrie’s message is the first one I jump to.

  Jacob is recovering well. As soon as he’s well enough, I’m giving him a piece of my mind. That bike of his is so stupid! Seriously, can you say mid-life crisis? How’s camping? Did you and hottie get inappropriate? Tell me you did!

  I laugh and tap away.

  Glad to hear Jacob is better… I was worried. FYI, Blake and I have been nothing but responsible. Lol!

  I don’t bother telling her about the flirting, the kiss, and the little rendezvous in the dark. She just would never let it go. She’s always digging for dirt.

  I eagerly read the next message. This one is from Kayla.

  Hey, lovely! How are you enjoying being back home? I know you’re surrounded by family, but don’t forget to take time for yourself, and time to enjoy the fresh air and the beauty surrounding you. Love, xoxo

  And then, a message from Gabbie, whom I haven’t heard from in forever.

  Hey girl, How’s life back home? I heard you were camping. Eli and I and the kids are thinking of going camping next summer. You’ll have to give me some tips. Cheers!

  Yay! A message from Tim.

  Hey Sis,

  You come home and you don’t bother to visit your little brother?! Wtf? You run off camping without saying hello? I forgive you… call me!

  There’s also a message from Marilyn, who surprisingly hasn’t messaged me yet.

  How are the kids? Can’t wait to see you all. Got a lot done here. Thank you!!! <3

  And finally, a message from Momma.

  You better get your little tush over here by tonight, and bring me back my grandbabies. We’re making molasses cookies tomorrow. :)

  I’m happy as a kid on Easter morning. Molasses cookies
are my favorite, and I used to love baking them and offering them as gifts to my friends. Blake used to love my molasses cookies.

  I smile over at him. He shoots me a tight grin.

  This weekend wasn’t so bad, after all.

  15

  THE SMELL OF MOLASSES and brown sugar fills the air. Momma is busy twirling around a wooden spoon in a giant bowl. I’ve set up the table exactly like I was taught as a child. This kind of feels like old times, with the exception of Tim and Daddy who used to always sneak over our shoulders and steal a dollop of dough. Momma would swat them, and I’d laugh. When she wasn’t looking, I’d sneak some dough too.

  It’s memories like these that make me miss my dad so much. I think about Blake. He used to be very close to his dad too. They’d go fishing all the time. I wonder how often he thinks about him, if his heart is still broken, if it has ever healed. Mine has, for the most part. It took years. Years away from this place. Every time I used to come back here, I’d be assaulted by memories of Daddy, and it would hurt so much. But it’s better now. I don’t know why exactly. It just is.

  I love the feel of the cookie dough in my hands as I shape it into a ball. It’s just like when Tim, Marilyn and I used to play with Play-Doh as kids.

  Momma and I work well together. She chatters about her friends, local people I probably should remember, but don’t. My mom can be a little gossip-y occasionally. That’s why everyone in this darn town knows all my business. Apparently Eloise Johnson’s daughter got knocked up – she’s only sixteen. She also tells me the Reynolds are getting a divorce. I’m not surprised. I used to babysit for them, and they were always fighting, even back then.

  Gossiping aside, I’m happy to be spending quality time with my Momma.

  “I’m going in for a shift later at the store,” she tells me. “Why don’t you come with me, for old times’ sake?”