Max The Last Minute Knock
Max
The Last Minute Knock
"Do you really want to take this shitty old mattress?" Sam bellows down the hall from my bedroom.
"It’s the only one I have!" I shout back at him, slumping onto the floor as Benny leaps onto me and licks my cheek.
My whole family is here helping me load the moving truck. I’m leaving tomorrow morning after one final sleepover at Mom’s, and my stuff has to be out by three so the landlord can collect the keys. I don’t have time to wallow, but it’s all I seem able to do.
When Sadie walked away a week ago—leaving me alone in a small utility closet with nothing but a broken heart—I sat there and licked my wounds. Even though I’ve changed locations, the feeling hasn’t left me.
We knew it was coming. Hell, we were practically watching the train barrel down the tracks toward us. I just couldn’t have expected how I’d feel without her. How empty and lonely it would be when I know she isn’t going to pop up around the corner at any moment.
I’m relieved for her—happy even—and that itself is hard to reconcile. This wasn’t a breakup, not in the typical sense. We didn’t have a fight, so there’s nothing for me to overanalyze or stew about. It was simply a goodbye… a parting of ways that was mutually agreed upon.
So, why does it hurt so much?
Neither Sadie nor I would have asked the other person to stay. It wouldn’t have been fair or even rational with the short duration of our arrangement. But a part of me knows that if she had, I probably would’ve agreed. And that’s a problem—one I can only solve with distance and perspective.
"You doing okay in here?" Olive asks, bouncing into the guest room and flopping on the floor beside me. "I know it’s hard starting over, but it’ll all work out." She squeezes my hand lightly.
"Yeah, fine." Moving Benny aside, I slide onto my knees and continue stuffing sheets into a box. "I just hate packing. Do you think it would be weird if I showed up with a small duffel full of clothes instead?"
She follows me, picking up a blue pinstriped set of sheets and shoving them in the box. "That would be very weird. You’re not a grifter. They’re expecting someone professional…prepared, some would say."
"Hilarious." I shove the flaps of the box closed and pull the packing tape over to secure it. "Hand me that marker, would ya?" Pointing to a large Sharpie on the other side of the room, I smooth the tape down with my hands.
"Maxie-pad. What else needs to be done?" Bridget sticks her head in the doorway, her whole body hidden behind the wall as if I’m going to throw something at her—the thought occurred to me, since she won’t stop using that stupid nickname.
"We’re finished in here," Olive answers, tossing me the marker, then double-checking that the closet is bare. "I think the only room left is the kitchen."
"That stuff is mostly Ma’s," I add in, scribbling sheets on the top of the sealed box. "We should just load it in the laundry baskets and take it back when we go to dinner."
Olive scoffs, and Bridget rolls her eyes.
"You can’t move without a single pot or pan, Max." Sam enters the room, scooping his wife up into his arms. "There’s this thing… It's called eating. You still need to do it sometimes." My smart-ass brother has to come in here and be logical, but I just haven’t had an appetite in six days.
Maybe I’m doing worse than I thought.
"Speaking of food, could we get some?" Nora skips into the room that’s quickly becoming crowded, pulling Bridget in with her.
"We’re eating in two hours, Nor," Bridget mumbles. "I’m not getting blamed if we show up to the feast Mom’s making and everyone’s full."
"What about happy hour, then? A few light cocktails… maybe some of those fried green tomatoes you love, Maxie…" Nora is trying to tempt me, to get me to eat something for the first time in days, and as much as I’d love to say no—my stomach rumbles audibly.
"Fine. You guys get started in the kitchen. It shouldn’t take long. I just want to do one more walkthrough before handing these over to Pete." Reaching into my pocket, I pull out the keys and jingle them in the air.
As the three women closest to me—outside of Mabel—scurry down to finish the final room, I slip down the hall and into my bedroom.
Sam doesn’t follow me, probably sensing I need five minutes alone.
I tug the closet doors open, scanning the space top to bottom, but everything is empty, and it hits me that my whole life could be boxed and stuffed into a U-Haul in less than two hours.
I’m not sure what that says about me, but it feels like it represents that, as of today, I’ve got a whole lot of nothing. Benny whines at my feet, so I bend down and scoop him into my arms. He nuzzles his smushed-up face into my neck, and I stroke his back.
"I miss her, Ben." Stepping into the bathroom, I dip to check the cabinets. "I thought it would be easier, but moving and not knowing if I’ll ever see her again feels like there’s a hole in my chest." Benny whimpers, licking my face. "I know she meant a lot to you, too. I mean, you learned to love the grass because of Sadie… that’s a special bond if I’ve ever known one. "
"Max!" Olive’s voice rings out from the bottom of the stairs. "We’re ready when you are."
"Coming!"
They did that quicker than I expected, but the only real things in there were a coffeemaker, a toaster oven, one set of dishes, and a single pot and pan. Sighing deeply, I carry Benny down the hall and the steps.
"Can you explain to us how you survived with almost no kitchen supplies?" Nora smirks at me, her arms crossed as she taps her foot lightly on the floor. "How many meals did Mom prepare for you on a weekly basis exactly?"
"So many… eat your heart out, Nor. I’m the favorite."
"Oh, good." Bridget punches me in the arm. "Looks like the first round is on you then." She links hands with Nora, and the two of them skip a little too happily out my front door.
Sam locks up the back door, checking each of the rooms downstairs carefully for items we may have missed.
And I sign the move-out paperwork, dropping the keys onto the counter as I was instructed.
Stepping out onto the front porch for the last time feels both sad and hopeful.
I’m forever changed from the last few weeks with Sadie, but maybe that’s a sign that I’m more ready for this change than I think.
"Ma, we’re here!" Bridget yells as we pile in the front door.
Nora shushes her, Olive snorts, and my brother—ever the stoic one—rolls his eyes.
We had a few drinks at Union before coming over for the O’Reilly version of a going-away party.
I’m facing a set of numb ass-cheeks and a cross-country drive at a top-speed of fifty-five miles per hour, but at least I’ll have a full belly.
"We’re out here!" Mabel calls to us from the back patio.
Shuffling down the hall, I’m suddenly hyper-aware of my surroundings.
Things that I haven’t noticed in years suddenly seem to stand out, like the small dent in the wall right next to the backdoor from the time Sam and I tried to recreate a scene from Jackass, or the way the house always vaguely smells like warm cookies even when Mom isn’t baking.
Stepping onto the patio, we pile into the wicker seating, and Mom curses under her breath.
"Who let those three get drunk?" she asks Sam and me with a pointed stare. "I had a whole toast planned, but now the peanut gallery is going to have to use water instead of champagne."
Sam rolls his eyes, pointing a finger at me where he thinks I can’t see it.
"Don’t look at me." I hold my hands up. "This is Ariella’s fault. She showed up and made a big deal of it being the group’s last hurrah."
"That girl—"
"Is my best friend in the entire world!" Olive finishes the statement my mom was making.
"I was going to say… that girl is something else." Mabel pats my sister-in-law’s arm. "Nothing negative, Ollie. But she needs to stop toying with Howard’s heart."
"I know!" Olive points at my mom, shouting her agreement. I’m finding she only has one volume when the alcohol hits her veins, and it’s not quiet. "She’s going to lose him, eventually."
"Mabel, hunny, is it time to eat?" my dad asks, glancing at the mess his children have become. The three girls are half falling out of their chairs, Sam is struggling to maintain a straight face, and I’m just thankful that I’m having some fun on my last night in town.
Mom stands, heading inside, and the rest of us follow. We had a few appetizers, but not enough to fill our bellies—mine personally is ready to chow like a beast that’s been awakened after hibernation.
Settling around the table, Mom brings in dish after dish of my personal favorites.
There’s Irish stew, soda bread, cabbage with bacon, colcannon mash, a variety of cheeses on a board, and bread pudding.
It smells delicious, and my mouth waters as soon as the feast is spread on the table.
We dig in like a pack of wild hyenas, piling our plates so full that they almost need sideboards.
"So, Max. What’s the plan?" Dad asks from his spot at the end of the table.
"Fo wha?" I reply, a forkful of potatoes in my mouth.
"Are you planning to stop along the way?" Dad narrows his eyes at my lack of manners. "Should I look up a hotel and make a reservation?"
Taking a sip of the filled water glass in front of my plate, I shake my head. "No, to the reservation. The team travel coordinator mapped out my trip and scheduled stops for me. I should make it to Chicago tomorrow, then it’s across the Dakotas the next day."
He nods, satisfied with my answer.
"Do they have a place set up for you to stay when you get there?" Mom chimes in, her eyes noticeably misty.
"Ma…" I plaster the biggest smile I can muster on my face. "I’m going to be fine. They put me up at a swanky hotel for the first two weeks. I’ll have time to find a place before they give me the boot. I’m not a grifter, right, Ollie?"
My sister-in-law nods enthusiastically as I throw her words from earlier back at her. And Sam smiles, tipping his chin in my direction.
"You’re right. I know you’re going to be fine." Mom stands from the table, stepping toward the kitchen. "I’m grabbing the champagne. Are you girls sober eno—"
She trails off when a knock sounds at the door and switches directions, moving to open it. The room falls so quiet you could hear a pin drop. We aren’t expecting anyone, but maybe Howie or Xavier stopped by for one last goodbye?
But then, I hear six words I never expected.
"Sadie? What are you doing here?"