CHAPTER NINETEEN
“Y’all never guess who we saw at the farmer’s market!” his mother exclaimed as she barged through the front door, his father on her heels.
And of course his mother was wearing actual heels. The woman strode through a farm in three-inch heels that had no business outside a fashion show. You can take the woman out of the soap opera ...
Malcolm sat up from his blanket fort on the couch.
His muscles ached, but he was pleased he could shuffle around his place without groaning in pain anymore.
He’d been texting with his friends, doing his PT exercises, chatting with Javi about the calendar ideas, and watching a stupid amount of Netflix.
Basically, anything he could think of doing without obsessing over a certain freckle-faced woman he loved more than life. You know, no biggie.
“I’m guessing half of Pinegrove?” Malcolm teased, taking his father’s hand and pulling himself up to his feet.
“Jessie,” Estelle said with a smile, completely unaware that even mentioning his ex’s name had the same effect as stabbing him through the chest with a chef’s knife.
“And she looked so cute out with Gus. I invited her over for dinner one night. I hope she comes back.” His mother’s story faded as she marched into the kitchen.
“I’m making supper. Are you okay with shrimp and grits? ”
Craig stuck out his elbow so Malcolm could use the support as he walked into the kitchen.
His legs had locked up from his time on the sofa, and he really didn’t want to bother with his cane.
By the time they’d made the short journey, Estelle had already dropped their farmer’s market purchases on the counter, and she filled a pot with water for the grits.
“Easy on the chili flakes,” his father warned, opening the fridge and retrieving a beer. He jostled one in Malcolm’s direction, and he gratefully took it. Yes, the doctors said he needed to watch his alcohol intake, but when Jessie Mays was involved, he needed all the courage he could get.
“You invited Jessie over? Mom, I told you to leave that poor girl alone.” Suddenly, Malcolm was a surly teenager whining to his parents.
Estelle sighed, washing her hands and carefully placing her rings in a dish on the windowsill.
“Poor girl, my aunt Fannie. She’s lovely, and I don’t understand why you kids can’t figure it out.
Haven’t you tried talking it out? Why, this reminds me of that one time, in season three of Atlanta Hearts when.
..” But her trip down memory lane was cut short by Craig’s groan.
“Darling,” his father warned, but there was no bark in his tone. He popped the top of his beer and slid a can across the table to Malcolm.
“Don’t darling me.” She huffed. “Jessie is a lovely girl, and I think she and Malcolm need to work through whatever is happening.” She paused her onion chopping to wave a manicured hand through the air, as if that motion summed up years of heartache.
“Maybe I should make some Jell-O for dessert, in case she shows up.” She winced and muttered, “How that girl loves Jell-O so much is beyond me.”
“Mom, you need to let this go.” Malcolm felt the irony wash over him, as he certainly couldn’t.
Craig sighed as he fell into a chair next to his son. “I hate to say it, but the boy’s right. Let them figure it out.”
“Figure it out? Craig, dear husband of mine, if these kids take too long, I’ll be six feet under before my grandchildren are born.”
Malcolm spluttered, beer shooting out of his mouth and all over his shirt. “Grandchildren? JJ and I aren’t even dating.” Hell, they weren’t even speaking.
“Oh please,” his mother said over her shoulder, gesturing wildly with a wooden spoon. “You kids are meant to be, like your father and me. Nothing stands in the way of true love.”
Malcolm pinched the bridge of his nose, already pondering if chugging more beers on his meds would be a good thing or a really good thing. “Are you quoting Atlanta Hearts?”
Her husband interrupted before she could answer. “Maybe hold off on the love talk until we’ve had two beers, Estelle?” Craig snorted, downing his first beer in three more gulps. “My golf round today was abysmal, and you know traipsing through a farmer’s market is hardly my idea of a swell time.”
“Oh please. You had a lovely time. You got a little more exercise and ...” She paused her rant to pour grits into the boiling water, whisking frantically for a moment before continuing, “We got to see Jessie and that ridiculous dog. I’m telling you, sometimes I think we should get a dog, Craig. Wouldn’t that be fun?”
There was a better chance of Malcolm tapdancing out of this kitchen than his father agreeing to get a dog. “Mom, I love you, but can we please not bring JJ up for a few days?” He pleaded, adding under his breath, “Or years.”
His mother had turned to the stove and angrily chopped a bunch of parsley. With her back to him, she asked, “So I should pretend that a family friend no longer exists? That certainly sounds healthy.”
Family friend—ha! There was nothing friendly about his feelings for Jessie.
The more his mother droned on about seeing her at Hog Hollow, the more his brain provided helpful reminders of their times there.
Stargazing, late-night chats, late-night something else that he wouldn’t think about in the company of his folks.
The Jessie in his mind’s eye was more optimistic about her future, more willing to keep him in it.
Craig waved his empty beer in front of Malcolm, eyebrow raised. Malcolm nodded and was grateful his father wasn’t badgering him about booze with his medications. “Malcolm, how was your afternoon? You didn’t overdo it, did you?”
The distraction of other topics kept Estelle off the Jessie train for a whole ten minutes.
“Javi and I chatted today about meeting with the photographer next week, so that’ll be good.
I like having stuff on my schedule.” He stretched, savoring the sensation of his muscles moving with limited pain.
“And I finished that documentary on Netflix and ran through my PT exercises twice.”
“So long as you don’t overdo it,” Estelle warned, walking over and pressing a kiss to Malcolm’s temple on her way back to her shopping bag.
“Craig, can you dice those peppers?” Just as his father rose to his feet, she asked, “Are you sure we can’t invite Jessie over tonight? Look at all these grits I’m making.”
There was nothing Malcolm could do anymore; he’d reached the end of his rope. “We need to drop the Jessie topic, okay? We’re done, and the sooner you get that, the sooner we’ll all be happier.”
In addition to bad lighting and critical reviews of her acting work, sass from her son was the only thing Estelle could not tolerate.
“I see,” she said, letting the wooden spoon fall to the floor with a clatter.
She stalked off toward the guestroom, the stomping nearly leaving heel prints in his flooring.
The door slammed, alerting the men that their night would be anything but quiet.
Craig pulled himself to his feet and strode to the stove. He lifted the lid on the shrimp and sighed. “You mind grabbing a pepper for me? I’ll finish dinner while your mother ... gets ready.”
Malcolm stood, retrieving a pepper from the bag and helping his father with dinner.
Breaking the silence, his father said, “I won’t bother repeating my fatherly advice from our chat the other night. I’ll talk to your mother.”
Malcolm scoffed. “Really?”
Craig stirred the grits, not looking up to meet his son’s gaze.
A waft of steam gave them both a facial as their dinner simmered.
“Yes, really. Son, we only want you to be happy.” He clapped a hand on Malcolm’s shoulder, squeezing a moment before letting his hand fall.
“Go wash up and knock on the door for your mother. For all the drama, she’d never forgive us eating shrimp and grits without her.
” He winked, stirring the pot and sending the most heavenly aromas through the house.
Malcolm shuffled down the hall and knocked on the guestroom door. “Mom? Dinner’s ready.”
Through the closed door, he heard a muffled sniffle followed by, “C’mon in, baby.”
The door was unlocked, so Malcolm slowly shuffled inside. His mother sat at the edge of the bed, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. “I didn’t want to make you cry. I’m sorry.”
She flapped a hand in front of her face and tried to smile, but it didn’t quite meet her blue eyes. “I know, and I’m sorry for being me.” Malcolm opened his mouth to apologize, but she shook her head. “I understand you two are not very conventional, but this trip made me realize something.”
Unable to stand for long periods of time, Malcolm left his cane by the door and joined his mom on the bed. “What’s that?”
She covered his hand with hers. She squeezed it a few times before sighing.
“Life is short, baby. We all make a million plans and think we have nothing but time, but life catches up to you. When Atlanta Hearts was canceled, I was devastated.” She groaned and added, “Which I’m sure you remember well.
But you know what got me through that time? ”
Malcolm bit his lip, unsure where this conversation was going. “Your faith?”
Estelle snorted, then slapped a hand over her face as she laughed.
“Oh heavens no! I wish I could say that it did, but what I meant was your father. Craig was my rock; he never let me doubt myself or my future. What I’m saying is, you two always gave me that feeling, like you’re on this planet for each other.
I know Jessie has her own plans and views on things, but I always assumed she’d come back and you two would find a way.
But you know what, it’s okay if that’s not your path.
You have every right to get out there and find the person who makes your heart sing, who holds you up and makes your days better.
” She took his hand and brought it to her mouth, kissing his knuckles and leaving a smear of purple lipstick.
“I love you, baby. I’m sorry I can be .. . well, me.”
“Don’t apologize, Mom. I love you, too.”
“Good, now that that’s settled, let’s get some dinner. I’m starving to death.”
As Malcolm joined his folks for dinner, he tried not to burst into tears. He was so lucky to have parents who cared, who were invested in his life. No matter what the future held for him and Jessie, he understood he was lucky to have had as many happy memories as they’d shared.
And he was able to hold on to those positive vibes until bedtime, when he rolled over and caught the faintest hint of Jessie’s shampoo on the other pillow.
Then his heart broke again, and he cursed this game they’d perfected over the years.
That was the issue with off-again, on-again relationships: they never seemed to want to be on at the same time.