Chapter 8
Confessions In The Condom Aisle
Walker cleaned my kitchen before he left, and once he was gone, the silence was deafening.
I’m used to being on my own, but getting a glimpse of what it might be like to share my space with another person made the emptiness hit harder than usual.
It had me second-guessing if I’d made the right decision.
Until now, I haven’t known anything other than being single.
What happens when I finally experience what it’s like on the other side, only to lose it when this charade ends?
There’s a real possibility that no one else would willingly step into the mess that is my life.
At least with Walker, I can hold on to pieces of the truth. A real relationship would put everything out in the open, exposing all my flaws and fears. For now, I’m choosing to live in the moment, taking in everything Walker is willing to teach me and dealing with the consequences later.
After feeding the animals, I’m anxious to get out of the house but not ready for Earl’s barrage of questions, so I set off toward my parents’ across town. It’s a thirty-minute walk if I move fast enough to avoid any passersby who might try to strike up a conversation.
To pass the time, I muster the courage to message the girls back.
Backroads & Bad Decisions Group Chat
Birdie: Sorry for the short reply earlier. Walker made breakfast.
My thumb hovers over send, wincing when I press it. My text doesn’t outright say he stayed over, but it’s enough to gauge their reaction.
Charlie: Oh. My. God. I was right. You’re totally fucking him.
Briar: Will you please refrain from referencing my brother and fucking in the same sentence?
Wren: Does this mean you’re together?
Birdie: It does.
There’s no turning back now.
Charlie: Did I mention I was right??
Briar: Repeatedly.
Wren: Birdie, I have to know what happened last night.
Charlie: Yes. We need all the details.
Briar: No. We really don’t.
Birdie: Walker and I haven’t slept together yet.
That’s the truth.
Charlie: You’re telling me Walker, Mr. Playboy Extraordinaire… what? Just crashed in your bed?
Birdie: Actually, he slept on the floor. I had too much to drink, and he wanted to keep an eye on me.
I’m glad we agreed to keep our story as close to reality as possible. It makes it easier to keep track of the details.
Wren: That’s so sweet.
Briar: It’s reassuring that my brother’s not a total caveman.
Birdie: You’re not mad?
Briar: At you? Never. Walker, on the other hand, is on thin ice. If he hurts you, he’s a dead man.
After my chat with the girls, I’m feeling a lot better about my situation—at least the part where they seem to have accepted the story that Walker and I are together and are actually okay with it.
I’m out of breath by the time I reach my parents’ house. It sits at the end of the block, surrounded by large trees in the front yard and a tall fence enclosing the ten acres at the back.
When Mama’s health declined, the front yard became overgrown, and the house’s exterior showed signs of wear and neglect—things she had once maintained before she got sick. Dad struggled to pick up the slack between work and Mama’s care, so it all fell to the wayside.
However, recently I’ve noticed the rose bushes she loves so much have been pruned and are blooming beautifully.
And the faded red door, which was peeling, has been painted robin blue.
She used to paint it a new color every year, and seeing the tradition brought back makes the place feel like home again.
It makes me a little less angry with Dad knowing he’s finally making an effort to fix things around here, even if that means he’s hired help.
Either way, it shows he’s trying, and that’s what counts.
When I get inside, I kick off my sneakers by the front door and line them up on the shoe rack, keeping the hallway clear.
I take the water bottle from my bag, grateful I’d had the foresight to bring it along before hanging the bag on the coatrack.
My idea of exercise is chasing an injured pig around my yard, so the long walk here had my lungs screaming and my legs burning.
I find Tess in the living room, curled on the couch, reading. Dad prefers the nurses to stay by Mama’s side, but she sees her alone time as her remaining independence. When he’s out of town, the nurses respect her wishes rather than hover in her room down the hall.
Tess glances up, smiling warmly. “Hey, sweet girl. Earl take out any mailboxes on your way over?”
“Actually, I walked today. I needed the fresh air.”
She closes her book, and sets it on the cushion. “Can’t argue with that. It’s lovely outside, and it’s probably the safer choice.”
One thing I appreciate about Tess is that she keeps to herself, steering clear of town gossip.
That’s why I like dropping by when she’s on shift.
After a rough day or a mishap while rescuing animals, it’s nice to be here—a bubble away from the chaos.
The only thing that would make it better is if Mama wasn’t sick and Tess didn’t have to be here at all.
I lean against the doorframe, taking a drink from my water bottle. “How’s Mama doing today?”
“Good. She had a hearty bowl of cream of wheat topped with diced strawberries, and we followed it up with a stroll outside in the sunshine.”
Tess pushes Mama along the backyard path in her wheelchair. Dad had it built when she was first diagnosed so she could enjoy fresh air in private as her condition advanced.
To this day, most folks are aware that my mama’s health took a turn, though her diagnosis has been kept under wraps thanks to her doctor and nurses.
I used to beg my parents to let me confide in my friends, wishing for their support, but they value their privacy and thought sharing the details would attract too much unwanted attention and pity.
Over the years, I’ve learned to shoulder the loss quietly, navigating the burden of keeping this part of my life a secret when all I want is to share it with someone else. But I respect my parents too much to go against their wishes.
“I’m glad her appetite’s up. Any discomfort in her legs?”
“Thankfully not today,” Tess says.
I let out a sigh of relief. “Is she watching Gilmore Girls?”
Tess nods. “Last I checked, she was on the episode where Rory reluctantly agrees to a date with a guy from school, and Lorelai needed a hand with a project, so she went over to Luke’s garage.”
At this point we could probably both recite most episodes from memory.
“Why don’t you take a break for a couple of hours?” I suggest. “I plan to stay for a while.”
I don’t work on Sundays, so I can spend the afternoons here. It’s the one day I’m not rushing around and can fully enjoy my time with Mama.
Tess gathers her bag from the coffee table, slipping her book inside. “All right. I’m heading into town, but if anything comes up don’t hesitate to call me.”
“I won’t.”
She stands, coming over to give me a hug. “You’re a good daughter, Birdie. Your mama loves you very much.”
I rest my head on her shoulder. Since Mama lost the strength to lift her arms, Tess makes a point of hugging me often. The nurses have become like family, and Dad and I couldn’t manage without them.
“Thanks, Tess. For everything,” I murmur.
“Always here for you, honey.” She gives me one last squeeze before drawing back. “See you soon.”
She moves to the entryway to get her shoes, and I head in the opposite direction.
My parents’ room was originally upstairs, but my dad had the dining room and his home office on the main floor converted into a bedroom when the stairs became too challenging for Mama.
A walk-in shower is connected, making it easier for the nurses to assist her.
Lately she can barely stand for a few seconds at a time, so most of her days are spent in bed or in the reclining chair by the window, to preserve the little energy she has left.
I pause in the doorway of her room when I see she’s sleeping. She’s propped up in bed with a couple of pillows tucked behind her head, the TV on the nightstand playing softly in the background.
Wisps of silver-streaked blonde hair frame her face, the rest gathered into a loose braid over her shoulder, exposing hollowed cheeks. Her features are softened and slightly drawn in, a reflection of her reduced appetite and fading energy.
Her eyes flutter open, the blue of her irises the same shade as mine. She gives me a crooked smile, raising two fingers on her right hand to beckon me closer.
“Hi, s-sweet girl,” she says slowly, a slight tremor in her voice.
Every word is a precious gift that I’ll never take for granted.
“Hey, Mama.” I cross the room and climb onto the bed beside her.
“Watching without me again?” I motion toward the TV where Lorelai and Luke crouch shoulder to shoulder in his garage.
Their hands accidentally graze, and they both freeze for a beat, looking into each other’s eyes before breaking into amused smiles.
It reminds me of the tension simmering between Walker and me this morning, and how I couldn’t stop staring at his chiseled abs or the way his mouth turned up at the corners when he smiled.
As much as I wish I could talk about it with Mama, I don’t want to cause her any undue stress—because finding out I’m dating Bluebell’s resident playboy would definitely do that, especially when it will eventually end in a breakup.
“I c-couldn’t wait. Season f-five is my favorite,” Mama stutters slightly, tilting her head to get a better look at me.
I scoot closer, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.
“We both know it’s because of Logan. Who wouldn’t fall for a guy who gifts his girl a Birkin?
” A small bubble of laughter escapes her, and it’s music to my ears.
“I’m here the rest of the day, so we should be able to get through the rest of this season. ”
“Good. I’m h-happy that you’re here.”