Two
Logan
“You boys hungry? I can fix you some potato salad and fried chicken.”
“I’ll never say no to your cooking, Mom. You know that.”
“Yeah, a break will be good before I do a second coat of paint on the mailbox.”
She looks ahead. “I bet it’s turning out real nice. Try not to work yourself too hard, though. It’s a Saturday. You boys should be out at the movies or something.”
“Maybe in a few hours. This kind of stuff is good for us too. Fresh air and a little exercise never hurt anyone.”
Chuckling, she tosses the dish towel over her shoulder.
“I guess not. Food should be done in an hour.” She heads back into the house and I frown at all the neglected trees in front of me.
Dad really let this place go. Was it the drinking?
Some late mid-life crisis? Did he just get bored, or did he grow to hate his life so much he needed a drastic change?
Judging by the state he was in when I saw him, he didn’t appear to be any happier than before.
Parking two feet away from me, Jimmy slides his headphones down around his neck and steps down to the ground. “That for me?” He points at the glass I have lowered beside me while I sip on my drink.
“No, I typically drink two cups of lemonade at one time.”
Jimmy mimics my mouth movements, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, hand it over. I’m growing as parched as the desert over here.”
“So dramatic.” Lifting the glass, I move it closer in his direction and he snatches it from my fingers.
“I try,” he chirps, downing half the glass. “Want to get something to eat in a little bit? The grass that was spitting all over my clothes out there was starting to look appetizing.”
I stifle a laugh. “No need. My mom’s cooking us something to eat.”
Stretching his arm back, he shakes the grass from his hair. “Oh, cool. I’d rather have her food than any diner or fast food anyway.”
“What are you doing later? Wanna catch a movie?”
His mouth closes before opening again. “I kinda have plans.”
My eyebrows jump toward my hairline. “Like a date?”
He makes a face. “It’s . . . more like . . . I don’t know. It’s complicated.”
“I see. Someone’s keeping secrets.” I guess that makes two of us.
I still don’t know if I’ll be able to go through with my plans if Blake fails my test. I’m hoping he doesn’t.
Could it be possible he was only trying to show off in front of his friends because he’d appear weak if he didn’t play along?
Is there more to him than meets the eye?
I want there to be, but at the same time I want a reason not to hate myself for the awful thoughts I have surrounding that man.
I want to hurt him in the worst fucking way.
I want him to cry and scream from humiliation while I feed him slop like a little pig.
I want him to learn firsthand how I care for the animals on the farm.
“It’s not that. I just don’t want to say anything until I’m sure of what’s happening between us. Don’t wanna jinx shit, you know?” He doesn’t meet my eyes, confirming my assumption of there being more to the story.
“If you say so, but know I’m here anytime if you want to talk about it.”
“I know.” His lips turn up and he polishes off his glass. “Better get to the rest of that grass. It won’t cut itself.”
“Thanks again for this,” I say, collecting his cup. “And don’t forget lunch will be done soon.”
“Oh, I never forget about food, and I’m actually getting back to the job so I can work up a good appetite.” He pushes out his stomach and I laugh.
“I’ll go work up one too then, and after we eat you can go get ready for your date.”
He stops halfway to the lawnmower and lifts a finger pointedly. “It’s not a date.”
“Uh?huh.”
“It’s not,” he snaps, lips turned into a half grin, and he lifts himself back onto the lawnmower, flipping me off when I start laughing.
After waving Jimmy off from the porch, I head back inside and wash the hard day’s work off me.
A tinge of red runs around my feet. I clearly didn’t get all the blood out of my hair yesterday, and seeing the evidence of last night only fuels my hate for Blake.
I scrub my hair harder, turning up the heat until the water is scorching my skin.
I don’t step out to dry off until the water turns cold and my skin is raw.
I swear I can still smell the blood and pungent odor no matter what I do.
It was so deep in my nose last night that it might be following me around for a while and I’ll be the only one affected.
That’s what he wanted. It’s what he always wants.
To just hurt me. I’m done trying to figure out why, because I’m not even sure he knows anymore, or if he ever did.
We’re adults who are clearly still trapped in the childish games of the past, but if he wants to keep playing, I’ll play harder.
Being older and stronger should have its advantages, but he managed to pull one over on me last night and at some point I’ll have to figure out a way to break the fucking cycle.
I’ll be living here for a while and I can’t keep letting him be the reason I run from my life.
Dressing in jeans and a plain black shirt, I run my fingers through my wet hair while briefly glancing in the mirror.
My clothes are still in my bags, and boxes are piled high by my door waiting to be sorted through.
As I’m ripping the tape off the top of one, my phone vibrates on the dresser, and I move to answer it.
“Hello?”
“Lo Lo!” Lydia yells. “Where are you? What are you doing?”
“I’m at home,” I say, perching myself on the side of my bed. “I was going to start unpacking but if you have better ideas, I’m all ears.”
“I do for later. Reese and I are going to see a show at the Balcony. You know, the club on River Street?”
“Yes, I remember the Balcony. That was one of our favorite places to try to use our fake IDs at,” I say between chuckles.
She sputters a laugh. “Yup, and now we can show them our real ones while not being worried about being turned away.”
“Pretty sure they only let us in the last two times because they were hoping we’d get our fill and stop coming on our own.”
“Oh, the good times. So you in or what?”
“Sure.”
“And about last night, if you’re worried—”
“I’m not. Blake Mitchell isn’t keeping me in my house anymore. I’m done holding myself back because of him. He’s only one person, who happened to get lucky by catching me off guard. He won’t do it again.”
“That’s the spirit. We’ll be with you the whole time too,” she reassures me. “No more letting you go out alone into parking lots.”
“I’ll try to take your advice more, too.”
“As you should,” she preens. “I’m the smart one in the group, after all.”
I let out a short laugh. “Okay, okay. No need to sound so big?headed. But yeah, it sounds like a good time, and I could really use a redo of my first night in town.”
“Cool. So pick you up at seven, then?” She perks up.
“Seven it is.”
“See you later.”
“Later.” Ending the call, I stare at the boxes again and get back to my previous task.
The first one is full of books and the second has wall decor.
The last one has lots of photos, electronics, and linens.
I gave half of what was in my dorm away—things like laundry detergent, school supplies, packs of ramen, and my small microwave.
Whatever I wouldn’t need here. Hours pass as I clear out space on shelves for my books, replace my bedding and switch out other decor around my room.
By the time I’m done, the large space starts to feel more like me.
A mixture of who I was before I left and who I am now.
Sitting down on my bed and looking around, I realize how much hasn’t changed, and that it doesn’t have to for me to move on from the torment I suffered in the past. This unsettled rift between me and Blake does, however.
“There you are.” My mom stands in the doorway, eyes circling my room. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”
“Thanks,” I say, adjusting a picture of me and my friends at the lake on my nightstand. “I think it’s coming along okay too.”
“Dinner’s ready if you’re hungry, or are you going out today?”
“I’m going out but not until seven. I have some time to eat.”
“I’ll set the table for two, then.” Smiling wider, she turns around to walk back to the kitchen. Ten minutes later, I follow her, and my plate is waiting for me in the spot across from where she’s sitting.
“Smells good,” I say, settling in the chair. The savory scent travels deeper into my nose, and I didn’t realize how hungry I was until now.
“It’s only leftovers mixed with whatever I had in the fridge. I really need to go to the market tomorrow.”
“I’ll go,” I offer, lifting a spoonful of goulash to my mouth. Humming around each bite, I don’t stop until I preactically clear off my plate, and my mom smiles at the fork coming up empty as I lift it to my mouth.
“Let me get you some more, and you’ve done so much in the short time you’ve been here. Use tomorrow as a day to relax. I don’t mind going.”
“Really, it’s not a big deal.” I hand her my plate as she stretches her arm across the table. “I want to familiarize myself with the town and the people. See if Mr. Karts is still trying to swipe candy bars on his shopping trips.”
Laughter flows through the kitchen and my plate clinks against the table as she lays it in front of me. “Well, if you insist. And don’t forget, there’s more where that came from in case you’re still hungry.” She lowers her eyes to my plate.
She finishes her food before me and I set my dishes in the dishwasher when I’m done, running the load before walking out back to check on the pigs.
We only have three at the moment. Mom couldn’t handle more on her own, and I’m not sure we’ll keep the ones we have either.
She’s either trying to back my father’s dream after all these years, or she could just be so used to this life that she doesn’t know how to live any other way.