34. The Ashby–Grace Collision
34
THE ASHBY–GRACE COLLISION
MALLORY
This is probably the worst idea My father has ever had. And believe me, I've been around him for almost twenty one years. I’ve seen him say and do a lot of stupid things, but this takes the cake.
“Why did we agree to this again?” I ask for probably the millionth time since we got in the car. And for the millionth time, Henry scowls at me in the rearview mirror.
“Because I want to catch up with Elena and Luca,” Dad says.
“And I want to meet loverboy and make sure he’s not a jackass,'' Henry says from the driver's seat.
“He’s not,” Dad and I both say in unison, causing Henry to snort.
Oliver’s going home for a long weekend to do groomsman stuff for his brother's wedding next week, and his parents have been pestering him to ask me and my dad to come down for dinner. They’ve been asking for a while, and I always said no. I love Ollie’s parents, and vice versa. But as his friend with strong feelings for him, flying down to Vermont or having them fly to Covington felt too much like crossing a line. Ollie always agreed, so he held off as long as he could. But when they found out we’re officially boyfriend and girlfriend, they insisted we come down. Dad confirmed the dinner himself with Mr. Ashby, and because the universe hates me, Henry mysteriously has a game against the Burlington Flyers, which meant he could stay an extra day to come too. I kept saying that we can just do the dinner when we fly down for the wedding, but he insisted we do it now.
Dad flew to Burlington to be with Henry before the game, while I flew to Starbury to be with Ollie for a day. I drove down to Burligton before Henry’s game. He won, obviously.
So here we are. Dad, Henry and I, driving to Oliver’s parents house in Vermont. Yay.
“So, what do the Ashby’s do again?” Henry asks, and just like that, my throat became drier than the Sahara desert. “You know, I don't think I actually asked Luca this… Mallie?” Dad physically turns in his seat to face me in the back of the car.
Everything’s fine, just keep it simple.
“They… sell wine.”
The silence in the car is deafening.
“... Like in a store?” Henry says, scrunching his facial features.
I bite the inside of my cheek. “... Like in a vineyard…”
Dad breaks up the silence with the soft tapping of his phone keyboard. I hear him silently curse under his breath. And within seconds, his eyes are on me. Boring into me. The car could’ve been transported to the arctic and I wouldn’t have known.
“Mallory Elizabeth Grace,”
Here we go .
“Am I missing something?” Henry adds.
“Do Oliver’s parents own Ashby Wine?” Dad asks.
Henry gets it now. I could pinpoint the exact moment he recognised the name. “Ashby wine. As in the biggest winery in Vermont, Ashby Wine?” I sink further into my seat. “As in the wine that’s in every supermarket across the US?” his voice raises with every word that leaves his mouth.
“They have a vineyard in France too so technically it's E–”
I’m interrupted by two sharp scowls in the rearview mirror. “I don’t see what the big deal is, dad, I mean you’ve met them. You had a beer with Luca the last time he was in town. The fact you didn’t ask them how they earn their living is just bad social skills.” I cross my arms and lift my chin, keeping my head held high. His death stare is sharp enough to cut grass. “Also,” I point to dad, “you have two Stanley cups collecting dust in the living room.” I point at my brother “And you Hen are estimated to win your first within the next year.” He smirks at that last part.
“So technically they will all be fangirling over both of you. ”
Dad breaks the silence, dropping the already cold temperature another thirty degrees. “You need to tell him today.” His voice is stern, not angry, but demanding.
“You haven’t told your boyfriend you’re moving?” Henry asks after a minute.
“We’re not leaving till June, I need time to figure out how to tell him. I can’t just walk up to him and go "Hi baby , love you, oh and by the way I'm moving six hours away and won’t be here for senior year.”
Dad turns in his seat again, his stare sending a murderous chill down my spine. “Tell him.”
Just as I open my mouth to respond, I hear the familiar sound of my ringtone. More specifically, Oliver’s ringtone. It’s Olivia by One Direction.
It’s a very long story involving drunk karaoke.
My smile widens as the deep tone of Oliver’s voice fills my eardrums, vibrating through my entire body.
“Are you here yet?”
I laugh. “Hello to you too.”
“Are you?” He presses.
“Do you see a silver car in your driveway?”
He takes a minute to respond. “No,” he grumbles.
“Then you just answered your own question, bub.” I have no doubt his entire face is glued to the window next to his front door.
He sighs loudly , and I hear the faint sounds of ruffling on his end. “Can coach hurry up and drive faster,”
“Dad’s not driving,”
I hear the slight anger in Oliver’s voice. “Mal, are you serious on the phone while driving? Do I have to show you the video of the guy wh–”
“I’m not driving,” I hurry to say, trying to shove that very visceral video out of my memories. “Henry’s driving.”
There’s a pause. Then another. Then another. “Henry’s coming?” He says, in a tone lower than his previous one.
“Yeah, he played Burlington yesterday so your dad asked if he wanted to come too before he flies back to New York.”
I hear louder shuffling on his end, along with a string of curses, probably from his brothers.
“Mallie baby, I h– Calm down – I have to go. See you soon, please get here soon, ” I just laugh, enjoying his brothers freak out over just the mere mention of his name. “Love you, Mallie.”
“Love you too.”
I end the call and place my phone on the seat beside me, basking in the silence of our journey, until Henry finally says it.
“They freaked out didn’t they.”
“Yep,” I say.
“This is going to be some dinner.”
My knuckles barely graze the front door before it flies open, and my six–foot–three golden retriever hurls himself at me, squeezing me so tight. He’s acting like we’ve been apart for months when it’s literally been two days.
A gut–wrenching feeling gnaws at my stomach. If this is how he reacts after being away from me for a few days, how is it going to be like when I’m in California?
He’ll find out, Mal.
You have to tell him.
It’ll do more harm than good.
He’s your best friend.
You need to tell him today.
I put those thoughts into a box and shove them into a deep dark corner of my mind. I’ll tell him, just not yet. I return his hug by wrapping my arms around his neck. He moves his hands to my thighs and hoists me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. The kiss is PG because duh, both our families are watching, and I don't need to look at Hen to know his face is all scrunched up with disgust.
“I think I liked you better when you hated dating,” he says.
“And I liked you better when you were in New York.”
Hen and I both flip each other off as Oliver leads me into his house, exchanging a quick hi to my dad from over his shoulder .
“You can’t go away for so long,” he whispers into my ear.
“Bud, you’re the one who went away,”
“And I regretted it the moment I got on the goddamn plane,” he peppers kisses all over my cheek. “Never ever again.”
I am terrible. I am an awful, horrible human. I am the devil. No, in fact, even the devil would cower at my evilness.
I really just hope this dinner goes well.
“She’s here?” A soft high–pitched voice echoes through the hallway, pausing everyone’s conversation. Oliver smiles and puts me down, and when I see the little guy run out of the living room, his scooby doo plushie in one hand, I drop to my knees, opening my arms, preparing for the mother of all hugs. “Mallie–moo!” Ben shouts, hurling his little body down the hallway. He crashes into me with so much force that he knocks me on my ass. His little head rests on my chest as he continues to hug me. “I missed you so so much Mallie–moo! So so so so much!”
I smile, hugging the little guy back. Oliver’s nephew is one of the reasons I love being invited back here so much.
“I missed you too, little guy,” Oliver helps Ben up, then grabs my hands and lifts me up off the floor. I’m barely done wiping the dust off me when Ben wraps his tiny arms around me.
“I really did miss you.”
I grip his arms and lift him up onto me, holding him close to my chest. “Do you want to meet someone?” I ask. He shakes his head, leaning down to hide in my neck. “You’ll like him, I promise. He’s my big brother.” Ben turns his head to the side, so my eyes meet his.
“Your brother?” He whispers. I nod, looking forward, pointing at Henry, who’s now gaping at the sight of me cradling Ben .
“Benny, this is my big brother Henry. Hen, this is Oliver’s nephew, Ben.”
Ben offers him a tiny wave, and what does Henry do? He nods at him. Like that’s an acceptable greeting for a five year old. At the same time my eyes widen, I see my dad slap him on the shoulder.
“Yeah uh, hi, how are you doing?” Henry grunts.
Ben shrugs. “I’m okay.”
“Yeah, okay. Um… is there any beer around?”
“I don’t know what that is,” Ben replies, turning to me. “Will you and Ollie come play with me?”
“Of course buddy.” I set him down and take his hand, right after I twist my head back to my brother. Where we have a silent conversation over my shoulder.
Are you kidding me?
What was I supposed to say?
He’s five, maybe something appropriate? Jesus, Hen.
“You’re really going to that nerd thing with him?” Elliot – his brother, or as I like to call him: Ashby number four – asks, with a mouth full of cheesecake. Bits and pieces flying everywhere.
“I believe the technical term is Comic – Con. ” I say, smiling when I feel Ollie place his hand on my thigh. “But yes, I got tickets for it.”
Elliott is still in shock… or… denial? I’m not really sure what he’s feeling to be honest, but he looks surprised by the fact I went to so much effort to get the tickets, which I did. I’m still glaring at Elliot when I hear Hen snort from opposite me.
“What?” I say .
“Nothing. I just find it hard to believe that you went to all that effort to get them knowing you might not even be free to go. Fairview has a different schedule to–” Henry’s eyes widen as soon as the words leave his mouth. His fork sucked in the air, halfway between his mouth and his plate.
The Ashby’s have continued eating their dessert like nothing happened. Henry, Dad and I have frozen in our seats, like we’re suspended in time. I can feel Oliver’s gaze on me. His hand, still on my thigh, stiffens. This isn’t how I wanted to do this. I cut a piece of the cheesecake and placed it in my mouth, welcoming the distraction.
“Fairview? Mallie, what is he talking about?”
Ollie’s voice is calm but painted with distress. “Mallory?” He says a little louder, not quite shouting, but he’s getting there.
Before I even have a chance to reply, Oliver and his dad are now arguing about something in italian. I take another bite of the cheesecake before I wipe the corners of my mouth with my napkin.
“Excuse us.” I pull out my chair and take Ollie’s hand, leading him out to the hallway.
Ollie closes the door leading to the kitchen, and faces me, his arms limp on either side of his body. I bite the bullet, and just do it. I tell him everything. About dad’s new job, when it starts and about Fairview. He just stares at me, anger slowly filling his face. I’m leaving in June. Before Summer, before Comic–Con. The semester is technically over by then, but because I'm transferring at the end of a school year, I'll have a few assignments to complete. Which means I might not be free to go.
“Were you even going to tell me?”
“Of course I was! But you have to understand how h–”
“When did you find out? ”
“Ollie,”
“When, Mallory?”
I sigh. “The Beginning of the semester.”
“You’ve known for months ? And you didn’t tell me?” His voice raises, his fists clenched at his sides. “Does everyone know?”
“I told the girls first, then Gu–”
“ Gus ?” He interrupts me, and a heat of embarrassment creeps up my neck. “You told him before me?”
“Ollie please, you have to understand,”
“The fuck I do,” He’s full–on raising his voice. “What do I have to understand, Mallory? Huh? That you’ve been lying to me for months about leaving? That you made plans with me and you’re just going to fucking leave?”
“The thought of telling you that I'm leaving makes me sick to my stomach! Picturing your face when I told you that I'm not going to be here for summer or senior year? I wanted to put it off as long as I could.”
His eyes are thin slits of green as he stares at me.“You had no right to keep this from me.” He shouts.
“I know that Ollie, and I’m sorry. You have every right to be mad and angry, but you have no right to raise your voice at me.”
I swallow the tingly sensation burning its way up my throat, but it doesn’t go away.
I cough once, twice, but still it doesn’t go away, instead, it intensifies.
Ollie’s eyes switch from narrow to wide. “Mallory, are you okay?”
I swallow again, desperately trying to find the words that have swollen in my throat.
I turn my blurry vision to the stairs, eyeing my bag that sits on the landing .
Ten steps up, that's it.
I can hear myself wheezing, my vision becoming blurry, but I'll make it.
I hear the faint sound of my name being called, but then it suddenly gets dark.
And I can't breathe.