Chapter 10
“Icannot believe I haven’t been to this taco truck before,” I exclaimed between bites of my carne asada taco, fresh cilantro and lime juice filling my mouth. “What a hidden gem.”
“So, it’s a definite yes for the festival,” Adam said. We were sitting on a bench across from the vendor. The sky was clear blue over us.
“A definite yes for the rest of my life.” I took another bite. “I will be back here all the time. And will bring my sisters and Mom stat.”
“How many sisters do you have? All I know is Olivia.” Adam drizzled some salsa on his taco.
“I have a younger sister, Gracie, too. Olivia is the oldest. Growing up it was just my sisters , my mom, and me.”
“It was my mom, my older brother, and me growing up, too. Just the three of us.”
“What was that like? The three of you?” I asked. “It was just the four of us, but in my house, we were very loud and in each other’s business. We loved a lot of the same things, too, so we’d all be hooked on a show together or in the kitchen cooking together. Or sometimes we were totally against the guy one of my sisters was dating. And my mom was in on all of it. Always right in the noise, right in the drama.”
“Our house was kind of quiet, actually, but not in a bad way.” Adam squinted in the sun.
“My brother and I weren’t really into the same things, like you and your sisters. He was older and really into basketball, so he had his world. And then there was me, trying to find my world. I mean, if I had a girlfriend, sometimes my brother and Mom never even knew. I really liked student government and speech and debate; I’d spend a lot of time at those clubs and practices.”
“You were arguing with people about how to run things even in your youth? How cute,” I said as I added extra pico de gallo to my next bite. I could imagine young Adam trying to find his world by finding out the rules and instructions and letting those guide him.
“But nothing prepared me for you,” he teased.
“Do you miss your family since you’ve moved?” A line was forming outside the taco truck. I smiled at someone I recognized and gave a little wave.
“I guess I always miss them. I grew up in Oklahoma, over in Tulsa. My mom is still there, but both my brother and I moved away for college. I haven’t ever gone back, except for a couple of Christmases. My brother is on the East Coast now and here I am after bouncing around for years.”
“My mom wouldn’t stand for it. I think she’d follow one of us if all three of us left.”
“Nah, my mom isn’t really like that. After my dad left when I was, what, ten? She kind of got wrapped up in her own stuff and I think she was kind of relieved when Dylan and I grew up and got our own lives, too. I think after Dad she was like, I’m over this trying to be a family thing and charted a new path. Dylan and I were just hanging on for the ride.”
“She was pretty independent, huh?” I asked, choosing my words carefully.
“You could say that. She definitely raised us to be independent, too. Maybe she didn’t want any of us to feel like we needed each other. Or anyone.” He sounded sad, but he didn’t look down or away. He looked straight into my eyes.
“My family is the opposite. We maybe need each other too much.” I set my now empty plate down beside me.
“I don’t know. I sometimes think…is it so bad to need people? I wouldn’t mind being needed. I wouldn’t mind if someone had what I needed.” Adam finished his plate, too, setting it beside mine.
“There are some pros and cons. When my sister is making me write her grocery lists for her after she’s moved out, that’s a definite con.”
Adam chuckled. “I love my mom. She took care of me when I was a kid. She never misses a call on my birthday. I don’t want to sound like I’m saying anything bad about her.”
“I didn’t take it that way, Adam.” I shook my head. Again, he was lowering his armor in a way that surprised me.
“I just see tight-knit families like yours and even communities like here in Sweet River and wonder what it would be like to be part of something like that. I’ve made friends along the way, joined clubs and churches, but I’ve never felt…like I had a place that was mine. Or had anyone think I was theirs. Like I was in a pack, like you said. I wonder what that would be like all the time.”
“Well, you’re here now. Welcome to the Sweet River pack. Get ready for coffee shop gossip and potluck invitations.” I shot him a big smile, but there was still a glimmer of hurt in his eyes. My gut told me to comfort him, to connect, but my mind said, Danger!This guy could be playing you.
“Well, if Sweet River keeps providing food like this, I’m never leaving,” he finally said, then took a swig of his Coke.
“Don’t mess things up and maybe we’ll let you stay.” I cocked my head to the side like he was under inspection.
Adam grinned at me. There was a softness underneath Adam’s surface that somehow also felt explosive—dangerous.
I looked away. “Since I’ve eaten all the research, I think I’ll head home. This was a good find, Adam.”
Ididn’t go home. I went to Olivia’s house. On the drive over I called my mom and my sisters, telling them to meet me there.
Olivia’s house looked like a construction zone, but still somehow felt cozy and traditional with walnut cabinets, hardwood floors, and leafy trees brushing against the windows.
My mom went into Olivia’s kitchen and immediately started rummaging through her fridge. “Olivia, have you not been grocery shopping? It’s all condiments and cheese in here.”
“We can make a cheese plate,” Gracie offered, reaching under Mom and pulling out a block of cheddar.
“You’d need crackers for that,” my mom said with a judgmental tone.
“I’ve been busy working on the house, so I’ve been ordering out a lot and making grilled cheeses,” Olivia defended herself. “I’ve been trying them with different cheeses.”
“So, there is bread?” Mom checked.
“Like three different loaves.” I laughed from the pantry closet.
“I’ve been experimenting with different breads, too,” Olivia said.
“How is my palette more refined than my 29-year-old sister?” Gracie asked, holding up a package of ramen noodles, one of the only other things we’d found in her pantry.
But that night we learned Olivia really had perfected the art of the grilled cheese. Olivia made us a stack of them for dinner with a simple tomato soup Mom threw together and it was delectable.
“Is Annoying Adam still annoying?” Gracie asked as she tore her gooey sandwich apart.
“It turns out Annoying Adam is Very Cute Adam.” Olivia wiggled her eyebrows.
I rolled my eyes.
“Oh, come on. He’s got that swoopy, dark hair and those baby blues. Plus, he’s built like a swimmer. He’s Lucy’s exact type.” Olivia was alarmingly effusive. “Just because you don’t trust him doesn’t mean you’re not attracted to him.”
“You met him?” Gracie asked Olivia with jealousy.
“Yeah, at the coffee shop. I crashed their meeting,” Olivia said proudly.
“Liv said he seemed very apologetic during your coffee date,” Mom said as she dipped a spoon into her bowl of soup.
“Coffee meeting,” I corrected. “He did apologize.”
“Is that right?” Gracie asked. “Was it a real apology, or one of those ‘sorry you thought I was being rude’ apologies?”
“When I saw him, he seemed as if he genuinely felt bad. He was surprisingly earnest, really telling me he didn’t want the festival to lose its heart or something like that,” Olivia said as she dipped a corner of her sandwich into her bowl of soup.
“His apology seemed sincere that day at the coffee shop. And today we actually got along better than I’d expected. He says a lot of encouraging things at work. But those are just words. He has also said some not-nice things before, too, you know.”
“You have a point,” my mom said.
“Like how do you know which is the real Adam?” I flung my hands into the air in exasperation.
“Couldn’t both be the real Adam? We’re all human. We’re all a mix. Sometimes we say the wrong things. Sometimes we learn a lesson. Sometimes we’re wrong. Then other times we’re encouraging, kind, and trying to do better,” Olivia said in her Professor Rhodes’ voice. “Simply different sides of the same guy.”
“Hey, I know he might be wondering the same thing about me. When will this girl storm into my office again?” I said. Because, Lord knows I’d shown Adam a few different sides to me.
“I think Liv makes a good point, though. Adam might not be just the guy from the phone call or just the encouraging guy from today. He’s probably both and more,” Mom said, beginning to gather our bowls and plates.
“You’re more than the girl who yelled at him on the phone—” Gracie started.
“I didn’t yell at him on the phone!” I clarified.
“I’m just saying you’re more than that. You’re more than the girl who wants to run the summer festival. There’s so much more to you. He’s probably already seeing that. And you’ll probably see there’s more to him, too. You two might even become friends!” Gracie was dreaming now.
“Work friends, at least.” Olivia cackled then added with a wistful tone. “Work friends trying desperately to ignore their attraction to each other.”
“We’ll see,” I said to Grace, pointedly ignoring Olivia’s comments. “Right now, we’re working on talking without fighting or as he says, ‘snippy comments.’”
“Snippy comments?” my mom asked from her spot placing our dishes in the sink.
“Adam says I make lots of snippy comments,” I explained.
“So, you’re showing him a particular side, huh?” Gracie poked me in the side. “You’re snippy with him?”
“Listen, I get that we’re all human with different sides, but all his sides seem to get under my skin.” I buried my head in my hands.
“Is it that bad?” Mom walked over and rubbed my back. “You don’t have to work with him, babe.”
“No, no. He actually has this really great vision for the festival. He’s like…” I lifted my head from my hands and looked at her. “He seems to care about what we’re doing as much as me. He’s going to do right by the festival.”
“That’s all good and fine, but if he’s upsetting you—” Mom continued, concerned and caring.
“He’s not, Mom. He brings out the snippy comments, but I think…I don’t know…” I let out a big sigh. “I know I’m where I’m supposed to be.”
“Snippy comments or flirty comments?” Olivia leaned on her elbows across from me on the kitchen island and batted her eyelashes.
“Olivia. Not helping,” I growled.
Gracie tried to help me out. “I think Lucy just means that it isn’t all bad. Right, Luce?”
“Right. I mean at least he smells like heaven.” Words came before thoughts. I buried my head in my hands again.
“You’re smelling him now…” Mom gasped.
“Oh, here we go,” Olivia murmured to Gracie.
“Let’s go back to our conversation from the other night when we were discussing our almost intervention.” Gracie stood up from the counter, still trying to steer the ship for me. Though, I’m not sure the intervention was a better subject.
“Oh, you guys told her about that?” Mom asked.
“Mom, you were in on the almost intervention?” I sat up with wide eyes.
“Honey, it wasn’t against you. It was for you.” Mom gave my shoulder a squeeze.
“But here we are, another summer, and you’re still all about the festival.” Gracie was walking to the cupboard for a glass.
“It’s more than that, though, honey. Another year and everything you’re doing is about someone else,” Mom said tenderly. “Like, I love how much you try to help me by zipping around doing errands for me or trying to help around my house, but I also think about all you could be doing with your time for you.”
I hadn’t stopped to examine how much of my day was spent running errands for my mom or checking in on my family because it felt like such a natural part of my life. I couldn’t imagine it any other way.
My days were work and family time until this summer. Things have been turned upside down.
“I just want to know—what do you want from this summer, only for you?” Gracie asked before taking a sip of her water.
I didn’t know how to answer the question. Did she mean realistically or did she mean in my dreams as I fell asleep at night? My secret, farfetched hopes or my handwritten to-do list hanging on my fridge?
“I have a few little goals,” I answered feebly. “I want to do something with the extra room. Maybe go on a trip before the school year begins again.”
“I don’t mean goals. I mean, what are some things you want?” Gracie patted her heart as she said the last word.
“I want some laughter. I want to paint.” I rested my head on my mom’s shoulder. “I might like to start dating,” I confessed. “But I’ll need better prospects than Victor.”
“I’ll set you up next.” Gracie clapped.
“No, I’m setting her up next,” Olivia said. “I already have my eye on someone.”
“I’m not sure what I think about blind dates anymore.” I put my hands up in surrender.
“Okay, can we move this heart-to-heart to the empty bookshelves in my living room? I have some big boxes that I need help emptying, ladies,” Olivia said, tiptoeing toward the living room.
We helped her unpack her hefty collection of literature and academia when we started asking Olivia what she wanted from the summer.
“Aside from a new house,” Gracie teased as she flipped through a history textbook.
“Aside from endless renovation.” Mom winked.
“I just want some joy,” Olivia breathed out.
“I’ll take some of that,” my mom sat down on the couch. “I’m actually cutting back some of my hours at the hospital because I’m tired. But also—I want more joy.”
“You deserve it, Mama,” Gracie said.
“We Rhodes women need some joy this summer.” I fell back onto the woven, ivory living room rug. “I want some joy.” As I said it, I remembered Olivia asking me what I’d do if love came knocking at my door. If I’d keep the door locked or let love in?
I thought about that door in front of my heart. All locked and bolted. What was it keeping locked? If joy was standing on my front porch—could it even get in?
That night Gracie came and crashed at my house. We slept in the same bed like we used to on vacations or when one of us had a nightmare.
In the morning, she strolled into the kitchen with her messy bedhead while I made us scrambled eggs in my fuzzy, pink robe. She asked me if Stevie still loved lullabies.
“She does.” I chuckled as I sprinkled cheese into the cooking eggs.
“Still the Itsy Bitsy Spider?”
“It’s her absolute favorite. Specifically, when the sun comes up and dries up all the rain.”
Gracie sat in my borrowed polka dot pjs and sang the Itsy Bitsy Spider to Stevie, hand motions and everything. The night before she’d had trouble sleeping, tossing and turning, constantly waking me up.
I remembered her whispering into the dark, “Do you have any chamomile tea or anything?”
“Yeah, I can go brew you some,” I’d yawned. The digital clock on my nightstand blinking 2:08 a.m. “Why?”
“I think I’m stressed. My mind is reeling as I get closer to my summer session starting,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “I’ve been having trouble relaxing at night.”
I’d made her tea. We’d turned on a movie for her to watch as she sipped it. I fell right back to sleep, but I don’t know when she did. Now I watched her playing with Stevie and swallowed the lump of worry in my throat.
“How does your summer look?” I asked once we were at the dining table. I wanted to know what it was about her summer that was making her lose sleep at night. “We pretty much heard from all of us what we want from the summer, except for you.”
“I have my class schedule, but I’m also taking that dance intensive along with preparing for the end-of-summer performance.” Gracie was majoring in fine arts with a focus on dance. She had been a dancer since she was three years old and twirling around our kitchen.
“I don’t know if it’s too late to ask, but do you think you might need to erase one of these off your calendar? You could burn out.” I felt my protective instincts kicking in. I’d grown accustomed to helping guide my little sister, from sitting in with her academic counselor when she scheduled her first freshman semester of classes, to staying up all night helping with homework. “You’re already stressed about it and it hasn’t even begun.”
“It’s impossible to erase any of it if I want to graduate according to my plan,” she said, reaching for her glass of orange juice.
“You were just telling me last night I had no life outside of helping people. Do you have a life outside of dance?” I set my fork down.
“Dance is something I do for me, though.” She shrugged. Morning air breezed through the open kitchen window.
“When does it cross the line from being for you to being about—” I started.
“About what?” she interjected, leaning back in her seat.
“Teachers. Achievements. Competition. Commitments. The list goes on, but none of those are about you, or art, or passion, or fun anymore.”
“I’ll have all of those things next summer, I promise.” She gave a half smile. “I don’t disagree with you. I’ve kind of gotten myself stuck with my schedule the way it is.”
“Gracie, I’ll be worried about you all summer. It is possible to change things up. It might feel like it’d be the end of the world right now, but a few years down the road you might look back and realize it was doable.” I reached across the table and squeezed my little sister’s hand. “Call me if you need anything, okay?”
Gracie was packed up and headed back to school the next day. I had snuck a little care package in with her bags with a few anxiety and stress relief items, knowing how small these things were, but it was the most I could do. I put a reminder in my phone to check in on her more often.