26. Langdon
Twenty Six
Langdon
I have never looked forward to Sunday dinner more than I have since Delia blew into town. I’m anxious that she hated every single song on the iPod I gave her. And I’ve convinced myself that giving it to her was the lamest thing to do.
Mom shuffles us all into the car and I sit in silence for the short ride there. It occurs to me that we live close enough that I could walk to Delia’s if I wanted to. If I cut through the trails in the backyard it would take me right into Heath’s back field. I wonder if Delia knows where I live. Why would she? Weekends are torture. All I want are Viv days and Sundays so I can talk to her.
The game she plays in the cafeteria leaves me so horny that I might go cross-eyed from the intensity. She watches me with those green eyes and I try not to look away but the way she looks at me leaves me breathless and aroused. She always wins too. I always look away first. It feels like being naked in front of the whole school when she looks at me like that. A couple times I’ve looked away first, just to check that I actually had clothes on.
Mom glances at me in the rearview mirror. “Penny for your thoughts,” she says.
Umm, not on your life, Mom. “No thoughts. Just zoned out,” I say as she pulls onto Lands End.
“Mmhmm, sure,” she says.
The table’s set when we get inside. Anderson runs to the living room and marvels at the new puzzle waiting for him.
“This’ll take at least three Sundays.”
Delia’s laugh flips my stomach. I turn to peek in the living room. “Well, we had to think of something to keep you coming over,” she says.
Anderson grins at her before lunging and wrapping his arms around her. “Fresh,” he says. I roll my eyes at the term.
Delia shoots me a confused look. I shrug. I don’t know where he picked it up either but every time he wants to say cool or yeah or ok, he says fresh instead. It’s ridiculous and stupid if you ask me.
Heath’s thick hand slaps my shoulder, sending me lurching forward unexpectedly.
“How’s life, kid?” he asks.
I grin. “Can’t complain. Work’s good. School’s good and dinner smells good.”
“Such a self-starter. Working’s good for the soul. Every kid should be required to work in high school.”
I catch Delia rolling her eyes and I wonder if he’s given her the same spiel. “Anyway, what’s for dinner?”
Heath smiles broadly at me. “Roasted chicken with mashed potatoes and whatever your mother brought.”
I nod. “Cool.”
“Actually, I could use you in the kitchen,” he says.
Mom and Dad sit around Anderson and before I follow Heath, I see Delia kneel on one side of the table while Anderson begins flipping puzzle pieces over.
Heath’s full of it tonight. Cracking jokes, smiling, and giving out his big belly laughs that I haven’t heard in a long time. The banter between us flows easily as I toss Mom’s green beans in the oven to warm up. He’s chopping vegetables for a salad. Delia is leaning against the doorway watching us.
“Have you heard this one? What rock group has four men who can’t sing?”
“Uh…” I blink and try to think on my feet. “I don’t know.” I shrug.
“Mount Rushmore,” he says deadpan. Delia snorts from the edge of the kitchen.
“Tough crowd,” Heath says. “What about this one? Why couldn’t the bicycle stand up by itself?”
He stares at me waiting and again, I can’t come up with anything intelligent.
“It was too tired,” he says and tosses the rest of the vegetables into the salad bowl.
“You never talk to me like you do with him,” Delia cuts in before I can snicker, that one was pretty good. Heath looks at her with an eyebrow arched. “Why don’t you talk to me?” she asks.
I feel like an intruder. I try to slide toward the dining room to give them some privacy but Heath holds up a hand, gesturing to me to stop.
“I talk to you.”
Delia’s eyes flash hurt as she shakes her head. “No you don’t. Not like that.”
“I have a different relationship with Langdon. You can’t compare the two,” he says.
I try not to stare but I can’t help the way my gaze fixates on Delia. Her cheeks are flushed and she looks like she’s getting mad. Or embarrassed.
“We don’t have a relationship at all do we?” she snaps.
“Who’s fault is that?” Heath barks back.
My mom steps next to me and coughs.
“Are you implying that it’s my fault? Cause it’s hard to know you should have a relationship with someone who you don’t know exists!”
“Heath. Let’s step outside, get some fresh air,” Mom says.
“No. I will not be shamed or disrespected in my own house. Delia, go to your room.”
“Heath—” my mom says. Delia looks shocked. Her eyes well with tears.
“I mean it,” Heath says. “My house. My rules.”
Delia pushes off the wall and storms down the hall and up the stairs.
I clear my throat. “I can go check on her.”
“Like hell, you will,” Heath says. “Let’s eat.”
I look to my mom who looks absolutely mortified but also says nothing. She shakes her head in that I’m-so-disappointed-way at him before grabbing the plate of chicken off the counter and carrying it to the table.
At dinner, Anderson asks where Delia is and Heath looks him dead in the eyes and says she misbehaved and was sent to her room. Anderson immediately shuts up and doesn’t speak another word for the remainder of the meal—much like myself. Mom and Dad try to keep the conversation light but there’s enough tension in the room that you could suffocate.
I skip dessert. Very unlike me but enjoying something sweet doesn’t feel right. Anderson, Dad, and Heath are working on the puzzle. I nod upstairs to Mom. She hands me a plate quietly and shoos me away before anyone can notice.
Upstairs, I crack her door open slowly. She’s fidgeting with a CD on her bed.
“What’s that?” I ask and hold a dinner plate out to her as a peace offering—hopefully.
She doesn’t look at me but I can tell she’s been crying. I set the plate on her dresser and sit on the window seat across from her bed.
Looking up at me, CD still clutched in her hand she asks, “ What’s the Olivia playlist?” My eyes widen with embarrassment. I didn’t realize I left that one on the iPod. I thought I deleted it.
“Nothing.” I shake my head.
“Tell me? An ex-girlfriend? I mean the songs are so sad.”
I shake my head at her. “What’s in your hand? I haven’t seen a CD in like… ever… besides my mom’s car a million years ago.”
Delia glances down at it and smiles. “It’s a mix CD. Look,” she says holding it up.
I hop off the window seat and sit next to her on the bed.
It’s labeled in girly writing. Tori Amos, Pearl Jam…
“Who the hell is Sophie B. Hawkins?” I ask.
Delia shrugs. “I don’t know, but my mom clearly wrote this so she must have made it.”
“Can you play it?”
She nods. “Yup, her CD player is this bad boy,” she says then pats the bulky radio-looking thing on the nightstand.
“Well let’s listen.”
I snatch the CD from her hand and fiddle with the cover until I figure out how to pop open the CD hatch.
“I think it goes this way,” I say and put the CD in, labeled side up before closing the lid again. Delia turns up the volume and some lady starts warbling about only hearing what she wants to and talking too much. Alternative girl folk. My least favorite genre.
Delia flops back on the bed and stares at the ceiling. I follow suit. We listen to the music for a bit .
“My brains been caught up in a shit spiral all day. Is she okay? Why’d she leave? Did she leave or is there something more sinister going on—kinda thoughts. And then you show up and Heath’s all…grandfatherly with you and he barely speaks to me.” She sits up and jumps off the bed. “I mean…I live here—with him. I’m his granddaughter for fudge sake but he doesn’t even try to get to know me.”
“That sucks.”
She paces the room. I sit up and stare at her.
“Yeah sorry. My brain’s on rapid fire I guess.”
“I can fix that,” I say.
“Ha! Ok, how?” she asks. Her green eyes ablaze as she stares at me.
“I’ll be your distraction.”
Delia raises an eyebrow and bites her bottom lip. “I’m listening,” she says.
I reach for her hand, which she gives, but I’m nervous in her room alone as I pull her to the bed, my hand tugging her down. Her soft warm chest pressed against mine, her breath moving us in unison as she pins me with her gaze.
Her hands move on their own, trailing up my arms to my shoulders and over my chest. Her eyes are greener than I’ve ever seen, like their backlit—shining from the inside out. I feel like I’m coming unglued. A moan slips out of me.
Her nostrils flare. We’re moving to the beat of our frantic breaths. The song playing is so cheesy, rain sounds and some woman crooning about being a lover .
“Don’t fall in love with me or I’ll have to kill you,” she whispers.
A grin pulls the corners of my mouth up. “I won’t. Now close your eyes.”
I flip us so that she’s under me. The bed squeaks. Briefly, I wonder if anyone outside can see in the window near her bed, but they’d have to be pretty far in the front yard, so I relax. Her lashes fan out on her cheeks. She’s so gorgeous. Everything feels right with her. Like the elemental companionship of light and air. We just fucking fit.
I lean down and kiss her. She’s like a piece of candy and I want every last taste. My eyes flick up from our kiss and look out the window. Outside is a squirrel drinking in the bird bath beneath the apple blossom tree in the moonlight, and it seems that all is right in the world at this specific moment.