Chapter 3
I am not a fuckup. I am not a fuckup. I am not a fuckup.
I repeated the mantra as I left my childhood bedroom and headed downstairs.
I’d almost convinced myself it was true as I neared the first floor.
Was I quirky? Yes. Chaotic with a chance of klutzy?
Abso-fucking-lutely. Which was why I needed to pay closer attention to my foot placement on the stairs to avoid an unfortunate accident.
Especially on this day, of all days. People were counting on me to be at my best, specifically my Aunt Ronni, who’d stuck her neck out to land me a job when everyone else viewed me as a bad risk. And could I blame them?
Not even a little.
Things had ended abruptly and messily at my previous job, thanks to a broken heart and poor impulse control.
But that was then. My new job as Silver Maple’s activities coordinator was the fresh start I needed, and I intended to give it my all.
Because I was not a fuckup. My heart was almost always in the right place, even when things went a little…
sideways. But not today. I would make my aunt proud.
No, I would make myself proud as I took bold steps toward true independence.
And while I was envisioning a better future, maybe I could manifest a sexy man who wouldn’t stand me up at a bar.
Damn you, Ray.
I’d deleted the stupid Randy app, but I hadn’t been able to forget the man.
Why? We’d barely chatted while planning the hookup he’d so easily blown off a month ago.
What was it about Ray that had captured my attention so thoroughly?
Just thinking about him made me miss the next step, and the room swayed as I pitched forward.
Luckily, I caught myself on the handrail before I tumbled the rest of the way down the staircase.
Phew! That was close. I stopped to catch my breath and get my racing heart under control before I took the final few steps.
My near fall wasn’t an omen for how the rest of my day would turn out.
Huh-uh. I just needed coffee, and everything would be fine.
I registered the hum of low voices as I reached the first floor and realized my parents hadn’t left for work yet. I stepped into the kitchen with a cheery “Good morn—”
“Atticus!” Mom shrieked. She’d had her back turned toward me but still snapped her robe closed. The thin fabric did nothing to hide the fact that my dad’s hands were still gripping her ass.
“Good morning, son.” Dad slowly retracted his arms from beneath Mom’s robe, but I noticed he kept her body in front of him. I didn’t want to think too hard about what Mom shielded from my view. “What are you doing here?”
“I moved back in six months ago,” I reminded him. “I arrived on your doorstep, jobless and homeless. Ring a bell?” There were other adjectives ending in -less, but there was no need to pile on and feel even lower than I already did.
Dad huffed and rolled his eyes. “I’d thought you left for work already. You’re usually gone before I come downstairs.”
“I completed my training, so I don’t need to go in as early now.”
Mom whirled around and greeted me with a forced smile as she clutched the top of her robe with one hand and tidied her mussed hair with the other.
The beard burns on her pale neck from Dad’s morning scruff were impossible to miss.
She’d need to wear concealer to work unless she wanted the high school kids to eat her alive.
“Today’s the big day,” Mom said. “Are you excited?”
“Yes, but I’m a little nervous too.”
Crossing the room, Dad ruffled my hair like I was a little boy again. “You’re going to do great.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Dad checked his watch and sighed. “Guess I’d best get ready for work too.”
My parents exchanged soft words and a lip-smacking kiss before Dad padded out of the room, whistling as he went.
I looked through the coffee selection, settling on crème br?lée.
I popped the pod into the coffeepot and started the brew before turning to the refrigerator to get the half-and-half.
But once I opened the door, I just kind of zoned out.
What was it I needed? Not breakfast. My stomach was way too nervous for that.
I wasn’t sure if it was the splattering liquid or my mother’s sharp inhale that made me realize I hadn’t set a cup in the tray to catch the drip.
Spinning around, I jabbed my finger into the power button to cut off the stream of coffee. “I am such a fuckup.”
Mom was immediately beside me with a wad of paper towels. “Honey, take a few deep breaths. There’s no crying over a little spilled coffee.”
I took the paper towels and had begun to mop up my mess when the coffeepot belched a puff of steam and dribbled hot liquid on my hand. I hissed and jerked back, more irritated than hurt.
“Let me see,” Mom said, reaching for my hand.
“It’s fine,” I told her.
“You better run it under cold water to be safe.”
I’d taken weeks of first-aid training to qualify for my activity’s coordinator certification, and I knew my slightly pink skin wouldn’t even classify as a burn. I still did as Mom suggested while she assumed cleanup duties.
“At least I didn’t get coffee all over my pressed polo shirt.”
Silver Maple had provided T-shirts for me to wear during training but had upgraded my wardrobe now that it was time for me to assume the role of coordinator from Cammy, who’d just started six months of maternity leave.
The polos had smelled funny when I’d taken them out of the plastic, so I’d run them through the washer and dryer with the rest of my clothes.
Big mistake. It had taken me a ridiculously long time to iron one shirt, so I hadn’t started on the others yet.
Thank goodness I wouldn’t have to wear one of the wrinkled polos.
“Do you have tips on how I can minimize the wrinkles to make ironing time faster?” I asked.
“My first piece of advice is to use my fancy steamer system instead of the ironing board and iron.”
I turned off the water and dried my hands. “Now you tell me.”
She huffed out a short laugh. “I’m an avid reader, Atticus, but that doesn’t include minds. You could’ve asked me for tips before you ironed your shirt. I’m guessing you don’t have a backup?”
“No,” I admitted ruefully. Wrinkle-free clothes weren’t the only thing I’d failed to plan for, hence the reason I stood in my parents’ kitchen, feeling like a kid who’d waited until the last minute to complete an important school assignment.
I reminded myself to focus on one catastrophe at a time.
The wrinkled clothes were something I could fix relatively easily, or so my mother had implied.
Scraping together the funds to get my own place?
Not so much. “Can you show me how to use your steamer tonight?”
“Of course.”
“We have that dinner party at the Masons’ house,” Dad reminded her as he returned to the kitchen, looking handsome in pale gray slacks, a white dress shirt, and a blue tie.
“The school board members will be there, and I’d like to gauge their temperature on naming me as the superintendent of schools. ”
“You’re the perfect candidate for the job, Steven,” my mother said.
And he was, but my dad had made himself irreplaceable as a principal.
Under his leadership, the high school faculty had won nearly every type of achievement they could receive, including prestigious national math and science recognitions.
Every graduation class under his tenure had earned millions in scholarship prizes for college.
Why would the board mess with that kind of success?
They wouldn’t, but Dad hadn’t accepted that very real truth.
Mom turned to me. “The steamer is in my arts and crafts room.” Aka Tess’s former bedroom.
My sister had barely finished college and moved into her own place before Mom reclaimed the room as her own.
Why hadn’t she done the same with my old bedroom?
Had a part of her known my ass would be back?
“I’ll get out the owner’s manual for you, and I’m sure you can find YouTube videos if you run into trouble. ”
“Good thing you moved back home when you did,” Dad teased with a grin. “I’d had big ideas for your old bedroom, and it wasn’t the home library your mom wanted.” He waggled his eyebrows suggestively at my mom, and she giggled as she swatted his arm.
“Behave, Steven.”
What had gotten into them? I couldn’t remember my parents acting this frisky when I was younger, or perhaps I’d just been too innocent to recognize the signs.
I’d have to wear my earbuds around the house to block out the innuendo, though that wouldn’t protect my eyes from seeing things no child should, no matter their age.
Fighting off a shudder, I pulled out a mug from the cabinet and gave the coffee thing another go.
“Hope you both have a great day,” Dad called over his shoulder on his way out the door.
Mom leaned against the counter and looked at me. “He didn’t mean it, Atticus.”
Exhaling my frustration, I gave her a crooked smile. “He doesn’t want me to have a good day?”
“Don’t be silly,” she said. “Neither one of us had designs on your old bedroom, unless it was to make it a more generic space for guests. Not sure the leftover Zac Efron and Harry Styles posters from your teen years are the aesthetics we’d want for our visitors.
” She winked and kissed my cheek. “We’re happy to have you home again.
We didn’t get to see much of you after you moved in with…
” Her voice had trailed off because she didn’t like saying my ex-boyfriend’s name.
“Chad’s not a demon you will summon just by saying his name, Mom.”
She snorted and rolled her eyes. “Are you so sure about that? He’s been just as destructive to your life as a demon possession would be. That asshole called the house for you over the weekend while you were out.”
“What did he want?”
She shrugged. “For you to unblock his number and call him back. I told him to go fuck himself and to lose our number too.”
I laughed and pulled her into a tight hug.
“You’re the best.” Having my parents’ support meant the world to me, but I had to be honest with myself and them if I hoped to put the shattered pieces of my life back together.
“While it’s true Chad wrecked our relationship by cheating on me, the disastrous professional fallout that came afterward was all my fault. I could’ve handled things…”
Differently? Better? Maturely? By not having a meltdown that involved every single person at the cyber engineering firm where we worked? By not ruining my reputation and getting blackballed from even the most menial positions in my field?
“Smarter,” I finally said. “But this opportunity at Silver Maple feels like the chance I need to get myself back on the right track.”
“I have to admit I was a little concerned when Aunt Ronni pitched the idea,” Mom said.
Her doubt dimmed my excitement, and I tried to hide my frown by taking a sip of coffee, but an eagle-eyed teacher doesn’t miss much.
“I just don’t think you know what you’re getting yourself into,” she said with a slow shake of her head.
“Those residents are going to take advantage of you just like schoolkids do with their substitute teachers.”
That was the last thing I expected her to say. “I’ve been training two months for this position.” I’d attended classes for a month to get certified and shadowed Cammy for four weeks while she showed me the ropes. “The residents have been very respectful and welcoming.”
“Because you’ve never tried to instruct them by yourself.” She narrowed her eyes and said, “Are you responsible for taking them on day trips too?”
I swallowed hard to dislodge the ball of dread stuck in my throat. “Sometimes, but there’s nothing on the schedule for a while.”
“You’re going to need lots of volunteers to ensure no one runs off. You’ll wish you had eyes in the back of your head.”
My pulse accelerated like a racehorse thundering down the track. “Mom, you’re freaking me out.”
“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head. “I was having flashbacks to my early days of teaching when sub work was all I could find.”
“That was almost thirty years ago.”
She held up a finger and said, “One, never remind me how old I am.” Then she raised a second finger. “Be wary that I still get triggered when talking about my days in the trenches after all this time.”
Had I bitten off more than I could chew?
Could I manage the interests and activities for the extensive Silver Maple community?
The largest and rowdiest focus group were the active seniors from the independent-living villas, but I also needed to enrich the lives of those residing in the assisted-care buildings.
Then there was the state-of-the-art memory care unit where activity and stimulation was a necessity, not just a luxury.
And I’d be doing it by myself as of today.
Alarm bells went off in my head. Danger! Danger! Danger!
“Oh, honey.” Mom gripped my biceps, and the pressure jerked me out of my panic.
I realized the beeping was the alarm on her watch.
She patted my cheek and smiled. “You’re going to do great.
” She turned off the alarm with a resigned sigh.
“Summer vacation can’t get here fast enough.
” Mom pulled me into a quick hug and kissed my cheek.
“Knock ’em dead, honey.” Then she cringed.
“Oh, that’s wildly inappropriate. Um, break a leg doesn’t sound good either. ”
I waved her off with a laugh. “I appreciate the sentiment.”
Lingering around the house would lead to distractions that would make me late for work, so I transferred my coffee to a travel mug and headed out the door to my sweet ole Sadie.
Time had taken a toll on Sadie’s paint job, so I’d spiffed her up with bumper stickers when I was in high school.
The look had been cute when I was a kid, but it would not help me get laid as a grown-ass adult.
My girl was reliable, and that meant more to me than looks.
I turned the key in the ignition, but nothing happened.
Groaning, I thumped my head against the steering wheel.
“Sadie, no. Not you too after all we’ve been through together. Come on, sweetheart. I need you today more than ever. I can’t be late to work.”
Holding my breath, I cranked the engine again. This time, Sadie roared to life. Relief surged through my body, but I didn’t dare melt against the seat. I patted the dashboard and praised her loyalty, then backed out of the driveway before my luck could turn.
Sadie jolted to a sudden stop with a sickening crunch. I looked into my rearview mirror to see that I’d backed into a car someone had illegally parked on the street directly across from my parents’ driveway. Christ, I am such a fuckup.