Jason must have surmised all of this, because he points to the drywall. “We need to completely remove those two panels, put in new drywall, and then paint the whole room a fresh coat of—”
“A nice soft gray. I’ve already picked the paint, it’s in my car. I have some for the bedroom too, and the bathroom as well,” I tell him.
His eyebrows shoot up, like he’s surprised I’m putting any kind of thought into this.
“Oh, don’t act like you’re shocked. I’ve always been good following through on projects. If this means I’m one step closer to going home, then I’m going all in.”
Walking to the damaged wall, I run my hand over the holes, and then select a sledgehammer from Jason’s toolbox on the floor.
“Do you even know how to use that thing?” Jason asks me.
While I fully anticipate hiring a decorator for the new apartment, because I can afford it, I did do all the hanging and handiwork in my first place, and my current upgrade of an apartment. I didn’t have a dad or a boyfriend, sheesh I barely had friends who would help me stuff my things into a cab and carry them up the three flights of stairs. If a lightbulb needed changing, a sink needed fixing, a hole needed patching, I’m the one who did it.
“It looks pretty self-explanatory, plus I have a lot of anger I need to take out. Should be fun.” I wink at him before turning and ramming the tool into the wall.
Chunks of sawdust, bits of particle and all sorts of other things fly into the air, and subsequently, into my eyes. Coughing as if I’ll never reach my next breath, I blink against the burning in my eyes. My entire body feels like it’s been flung into a desert; I can’t see, the entire world is dry and I’m about to pass out.
“Come here.” Strong hands grab me by the shoulders, and the next moment I feel water drench my face.
The relief is staggering, so much so that I cling to the only thing keeping me upright—Jason. I feel wind on my face, and as I rapidly blink my eyes against the debris inside them, his breath blowing the matter out is soothing and calming.
After another minute, I’ve regained the use of my faculties, but lean against him still, allowing him to blow gently into my eyes. His mouth is in a circle, his whole face concentrated on helping me, on making sure I’m okay. Somewhere inside my chest, my heart bows and bends, stretching the muscle I’ve not used for a long time.
See, my love with Perry is an intellectual one, it’s all from the brain. I know he’s a good man; I understand that I’m better when I’m with him; the explanation of why we should be together is one of fact and reasonable conclusion.
With Jason? It’s all instinct. All heart. No logic and no rational thought; our souls love each other on a level that is kismet. There will never be a time that my heart won’t belong to him, and it knows it.
That’s why I’ve been trying to fight it for so long.
“Are you okay?” he asks, genuine concern marking his features.
I stare up at him in a daze, blinking slowly, wondering how our mouths got to be just inches from each other.
“I am now.” My voice is thin, since his arms are still wrapped around me.
Jason releases me abruptly. “Well, guess that answers my question about how much you know when it comes to demolition and construction. Next time you decide to pick up a tool, moron, put on some safety goggles. I don’t need to come to your rescue again.”
His voice is so harsh and unrelenting, it pierces the heart that just yearned for him. I’m embarrassed, my cheeks flaming red, because I just made myself look so naive and inexperienced. Meanwhile, I was the one who got out and lived on a grander scale than him. And in two seconds, I’d accomplished making myself look like a total idiot.
“You’re an ass,” I mumble, grabbing the goggles he just tossed at me and putting them on.
For the next two hours, we work in silence. I bust up the wall, my arms wobbling by the end of the destruction of one panel. But hell, does it feel good. Smashing that wood over and over again, picturing all the fucked-up things that happened in this town … it’s kind of therapeutic.
Jason clears the other panel in half the time I did, and then disappears, until I hear him on the roof. When I’m done, I walk to my car, pulling the water bottle and granola bar from my passenger seat as I watch Jason scale down the roof like a ninja.
“Roof is done. We’ll need to get those new panels of drywall up tonight, and then tomorrow come back to paint. I can refinish the floors, which will take some time, and then ordering new windows will take about a week. Then it’s just the … inside touches.”
Inside touches is code for girly shit, which he apparently has deemed my area of expertise.
“Well, where is the drywall?” I ask.
Jason snorts. “I have to go pick some up. Here’s the deal. You grab us lunch, and I’ll head to the Home Depot in Wachot.”
He climbs into his truck and starts it, clearly intent on heading to the home supply store two towns over.
“What do you want to eat?” I scramble, panicking.
Not that I want to buy him lunch, but I want to keep him in a good mood. The more we tackle at the house, the quicker I get to sell my half to him and get the hell back to New York.
He leans out the window, one elbow on the door, a sly smile on those full lips.
“If you don’t remember my sandwich order, then you never really knew me at all.”
13
Jason
By the time I get back with the two pieces of drywall and the floor refinishing machine I rented from Home Depot, Savannah is setting up a picnic of sorts.
She has two sandwiches from Rounding Home, unwrapped and sitting on their mounds of paper. Tiny containers of oil and vinegar, mayonnaise, hot peppers, and relish sit in the middle. There is a fountain drink of sweet tea in her place, while I have a Mountain Dew in mine.
Back in the day, we used to do this all the time. Sometimes, even in this very spot. As eighteen-year-olds who decided to move in together, we didn’t have much. A mattress on the floor, an old TV someone was throwing out that we picked up off the side of the road, a busted DVD player, and a lumpy blue leather couch. We had no kitchen table, no chairs, and little else.
Of course, we had a grand plan to buy all these things, but then Savannah had bolted, and I boarded this place up to rot.
“Glad to see you can at least remember one thing about me.” I tilt my head to the sandwich.
“A turkey, roast beef, and provolone with extra jalapeños, honey mustard, lettuce, and tomato on wheat bread,” she recites.
“And a tuna and white American for you, with extra oregano,” I say back.
We stare at each for a moment, and then I move to sit on the floor. Savannah looks uncomfortable, like how she’s set this up is a mistake. Honestly, I’m expecting her to grab hers and make some excuse about eating in her car while taking a phone call, but then she sits down.
I bite into my sandwich, realizing I’m hungrier than I thought I was. She does the same, looking anywhere but at me.
“So, you really did it, huh?” I start in, attempting to make conversation.
We’ve done nothing but pick each other apart or stare in miserable silence since she came back to Hale, and if I am going to try to make anything happen—even a friendship—I am going to have to wave a white flag … somewhat.
“What?” Those big hazel orbs blink up at me.
“Your writing, you really turned it into something. Not that I watch the show; I still don’t have cable. But people around here rave about it.” I try to pay her a compliment.
Savannah chuckles. “Of course, you don’t have cable.”
I shrug. “I catch games at Buddy’s, and everything else, well, I don’t really need to see.”
“What the heck do you do with all of your other time, then?” She cocks her head to the side, curious.
“Work,” I say simply.
Savannah looks skeptical. “At The Whistlestop? What, with Beau? I’m
sorry, I just … I never pegged you as the guy who would settle into Hale’s fix-it man role.”
What she doesn’t say is that when she knew me, I had the biggest dreams of all. Starting pitcher for the Texas major league team. Endorsement deals. Hall of fame career. Those had been my goals, and I’d never been the guy to settle. I’d been a cocky little shit, unaware of how much the baseball system can chew you up and spit you out. Until it happened to me.
And now, she thinks I’m some bum who borrows jobs from people who know I need money. It couldn’t be further from the truth, but I’m not about to brag on my accomplishments when she thinks so low of me.
“Something like that. So, you’re all Hollywood now?” I turn the subject back to her.
Those hazel eyes give me one last searching look and then turn to amusement. “Not quite. Yes, I have an agent, and I make a salary I never dreamed I would, but I’m not Hollywood. No one knows who the writers are, they just create the show and it’s magic but get little of the credit. I’m more than fine with it that way, I just want to dream up stories.”
“You always did,” I say softly, remembering how she’d always be scribbling on napkins at the diner or errant pieces of notebook paper in class.
“I’m living my dream.” She sighs dreamily, but I see the reservation there, too.
“And the boyfriend? You’re … happy?” It’s like taking a knife to the gut to say those words.
She avoids eye contact. “Very. He’s good for me.”
Good for me, not to me. I don’t miss the word choice.
“Well then, I’m happy for you. It’s probably a good thing you didn’t stay here, with me. We were a bunch of hooligan teens, thinking we could live here and fix it up.”
I chew a bite, trying to let the lightness of my voice invade my black soul, but it’s not working. Apparently, you can’t always fake it till you make it.
Savannah looks around the tiny home. “Yeah, we sure were full of ourselves. But there was something so innocent and exciting about it. We really thought we were going to make it.”
“I would have bet money on it, darling.”
Her intake of breath is so sharp, I’m expecting to see frostbite on her lips.
I haven’t used the endearment since she’s been back, and it just slipped out. I wouldn’t have used it on purpose, but being here, talking about what we were supposed to be, has me all kinds of messed up.
She doesn’t say anything, and so I press my luck, furthering the issue. “Listen, Savvy, I never apologized for that week. I was so blind with what happened with the injury that I couldn’t see past myself. I shouldn’t have said those things, I should have been at the funeral. Your mom meant—”
“No.” The word is so hard it feels like a smack. “I’m not talking about this.”
And just like that, she gets up, retreating from the house. I hear the BMW’s engine start, and then the gravel spray as she peels out.
I should have known. It was the reason she left Hale, so I should have known that she hasn’t dealt with it in the ten years we’ve been apart. Her mother was her world, June Reese was everyone’s world.
After cleaning up the food, I put up both pieces of drywall and refinish the bedroom floors, working late into the night to keep my mind off of everything I shouldn’t have said.
14
Savannah
I’m about to throw a pint of chocolate chip cookie dough into my basket when I hear my name down the aisle.
“Sav!”
Turning to see who else is in the grocery store—I knew I should have come at seven a.m. when they opened or right before they closed to avoid seeing anyone I knew—I see my sister Lori, her three kids, and Hope.
Well, I can’t necessarily bolt now; it would only make me appear worse than most of my siblings thought I already was. Especially Lori.
“Hey.” I give them a little wave, and we meet in the middle of the aisle.
The kids, two boys and the baby strapped to Lori’s chest, look at me like I’m any other stranger. Back in the day, I thought I’d have about five kids before I was thirty. I wanted to be a mother so badly. But after everything that happened, and living with Perry in New York, now I wasn’t so sure.
But seeing them stare at me, feelings of guilt and sadness mix in my stomach to form a nauseating combination. I should know them. I should wake up with them on Christmas mornings and go to their school plays.
I could live in my blissfully ignorant bubble as long as I never thought about the people in this place. I could go through life ignoring my issues. But now that I’m here, it’s all laid out in front of my face, an insult to everything I’ve built. Because in reality, I have nothing. I’m a workaholic dating a workaholic, grinding to make more money and more money each year. I have friends that I don’t really like, and I’m constantly trying not to think about the past.
“How are you doing? Did you start work on the house today?” Hope asks, cheerful as ever.
“Yeah, I’m exhausted. Earned this whole pint of ice cream,” I joke.
“That’s Mommy’s favorite flavor, too!” one of the little boys says.
It kills me that I don’t remember his name.
I smile at him. “I know, we used to split whole cartons when we were kids. We would sneak them into the bedroom we shared.”
Lorelei looks at me in shock, clearly thinking prior to this moment I have no good memories of her.
“That’s right, we did.” The smallest of smiles forms on her lips. “We’re um … we’re getting the ingredients for chicken Parmesan for dinner. Would you … like to join us for dinner?”
It’s a big gesture she’s making here, but I’m so physically and emotionally drained, I know I won’t be good company.
“That’s really nice of you, but I’m just so tired. We replaced two panels of drywall today, my arms feel like jelly. I’ll probably shovel some of this ice cream in my face and then pass out. But … maybe sometime this week?”
Something about being back in that house with Jason, with him mentioning my mama, reminded me of how fleeting our time together is. Not just because I will leave to go back to New York, but because last time I left … I couldn’t say goodbye to one of them.
Honestly, I almost start tearing up in the grocery store.
God dammit, I just wanted to get home and eat my freaking ice cream and try not to cry. It’s been a shit day, my heart is in shambles, and the last thing I want to do is run into my family.
Families make you talk, especially mine. They want to hash shit out, talk about our feelings, and heal together. I used to want no part of that, and I was still hesitant.
When my mother died, I was angry at the entire world. I was furious at my siblings for getting more time with her than I ever would. I was pissed off that the universe took her from me, robbing me of a long life with, not to mention, my mother but my father, too.
The person I was most mad at, though, was myself. I’d nearly broken her heart when I told her I was moving out and into the tiny house with Jason. She thought we were rushing, that we were too young. I was also her last baby, and she wasn’t ready to let me go. I didn’t listen to any of it. I said things that came out of the mouth of someone young and inexperienced in the ways of life. At the time of her death, we’d barely been speaking.
I wanted to die when she died. My mama had been the best mother. Tough but fair, loving, and always willing to lend an ear. She made hundreds of Christmas cookies for neighbors during the holidays, rocked babies left up for adoption at the local hospital once a week, and always volunteered at our schools. June Reese was the epitome of southern class and comfort, and I wanted to be just like her.
When she passed suddenly, just six months after I graduated high school, I couldn’t handle it. Couple that with Jason’s breakdown, and I had no choice but to run.
I got out of Hale as fast as I could and never looked back. I never stopped grieving or blaming myself.
“That
’s fine.” Lori’s expression shutters, and I know I’ve lost any openness I’d earned from her.
I’d kick myself later, right now I am just so bone tired.
“Can you come over next week, though?” the other little boy asks me.
“You bet. I’ll cook. You guys like tacos?” I ask them, not bothering to clear with Lori.
“Yeah!” they cry in unison.
“You got it, then,” I tell them.
“Come on boys, we have to go to the deli.” Lori ushers them away. “See you later, Sav.”
At least she’s addressing me by name now.
“Sav, I need to talk to you about Mama.” Hope lingers behind, referring to my mother like she’s her own.
Just like Jason, Hope had been basically been taken in by my mom. She was the one who made sure both of them had hot meals on school nights, that if they didn’t have a place to sleep, the couch was made up for them. Mama was the one who drove Jason to his first agent’s meetings, and she’d been the one to take Hope to the gynecologist when it was time for her first visit.
Hope was as much a sister as my two blood ones, but she had a unique perspective. Maybe it’s why I listened to her, why I didn’t sprint away right there, leaving my cart full of groceries in the middle of the Piggly Wiggly.
I’m shaking like a leaf as I nod, because everything in me is fighting against the urge to scream that no, I don’t want to hear this.
“Every other Sunday, we go to visit her grave, obviously Daddy’s, too. And then we have a big family dinner. We’d love for you to join this week. I know how hard this is for you, but we’d all like to talk about it. We miss her so much, too, Sav. But it helps to be together.”
They probably all sent her, the angel among us, because she’d have the best shot.
I have to fight through the knot in my throat. “I’m glad you all get together to honor her. I really am, truly that’s not sarcasm. I just … I can’t, Hope.”
That's the Way I Loved You Page 6