Chapter 22
Rory
Knock. Knock, knock.
I twist my fingers together while I stand on the doorstep, waiting, my knocking on the front door echoing the pounding of my heart. This is my childhood home, but I feel like a stranger, waiting to be let in.
I listen for a sign that they’re home. That would be just my luck, wouldn’t it? Finally coming over here and they’re not home.
I’m about to knock again before I give up, but when I lift my hand, the door cracks open.
“Rory?”
The door opens wider, and nostalgia rushes through me.
My mother stands at the threshold, wearing the same old Lonesome Pine High sweatshirt she’s had since Dylan was a freshman and a pair of jeans.
If it weren’t for the streaks of gray in her hair, she’d be a mirror image of the woman who used to wave at me as I headed off each morning to walk the three blocks to school.
Almost. There’s something different about her face. More angular and sharp, maybe.
Or maybe it’s just been too long since I’ve seen her.
“Hi, Mom,” I say, smiling broadly.
God, I’ve missed her. Seeing her in my childhood home is different than seeing her when she’d visit me in Denver. It’s cozier. Familiar.
“I’m so glad to see you! Come here,” she says, gathering me into a hug.
I melt into her embrace and breathe in deeply, inhaling her signature scent of vanilla lotion mixed with Herbal Essences shampoo, the same brand she’s been using since I was a kid.
She pulls back and looks me over, her gaze pausing at my feet, where Spam has twisted his leash around my legs and is doing his best to tie the blue nylon in a knot. “And you brought a dog? He’s adorable!”
A wash of relief crests over me. Mom is the first person who hasn’t seemed turned off by my new best friend. For a second, I dare to hope that she’ll be this open about the other things, too. “This is Spam. I rescued him from the shelter,” I say as I step past her into the house.
It’s the same as the last time I was here.
The same pineapple wallpaper that was dated even back then, the dark wood trim, the laminate flooring that’s lifting in one corner.
I breathe in, and I’m back in high school, flinging my backpack on the kitchen floor after school.
It smells the same, that nondescript scent that you never realize a place has until you haven’t been there in a while.
“Dan! Rory is here. Come say hi and meet her puppy.” Mom shuts the door behind me and kneels down. “Come here, sweet thing. Is it a boy or girl?”
I shed my sneakers, thankful that I left the manure-coated boots in the bed of the truck, then I think better of leaving them on the mat when Spam eyes them like they’re his own personal chew toy.
“He’s a boy. And he’s probably close to five or six years old, I think. Not really a puppy.”
“Aww, he’s so cute! So this is as big as he’s going to get?”
I nod, holding the shoes in one hand. Should I put them on the porch?
Mom finally pulls her attention away from Spam and glances at me, understanding my dilemma without a word. “You can put those in the closet if you want.” She gestures at Spam. “Can I pick him up?”
She doesn’t wait for an answer, scooping him into her arms and holding him tightly against her sweatshirt. The Lonesome Pine High School wording is faded.
Spam quivers with excitement, his wagging tail beating against the half of the hawk logo that’s still visible after years of washing. I hope he doesn’t pee on her in his excitement.
I close the closet door, storing my footwear safely out of reach of Spam’s sharp little teeth. Actually, if he pees on her, that may distract her from me telling her I lost my job, boyfriend, and apartment all in the span of a few days.
But things with Nate have been good, and while we haven’t had the are-we-official discussion, I feel like spending every night together puts us squarely in relationship territory.
I try to telepathically communicate with Spam. Pets are supposed to sense what their owners need, right?
Pee on Mom. Let the bladder go. Use your powers for good.
Spam licks Mom’s face instead. Traitor.
“Anyway, make yourself at home, Rory! I’m glad you finally came back up to HiLo. We’ve missed you around her. Haven’t we, Dan?”
My father peers at me over his reading glasses, a newspaper clutched in his hand as he surveys the scene from the doorway of the family room. “Rory. Glad you stopped by. I’m sorry we weren’t in town when you got up here.” He offers me a hug with his one free arm.
I lean into the embrace. “Hey, Dad. No problem, just happy to see you.”
I peek at the paper he’s holding, the front page visible with a headline that reads “POLICE SAVE INJURED OWL.” Yep, that would be our local paper, the High Lonesome Gazette. Animal shenanigans are front-page news. That’s about as exciting as it gets around here.
I squint at the small typeface, curious if Nate was involved in the owl rescue.
“So how are things, Rory? What brings you to town?” He folds the paper and slips it under his arm before I can decipher the small text to see which officer got credit for the owl rescue.
“She’s here for the class reunion. Remember? Dylan said it’s this week.” Mom nuzzles her cheek against Spam’s head.
I clear my throat. “It’s, um, actually tonight.”
My stomach flips. All those classmates. I haven’t seen most of them in ten years, while Nate, on the other hand, has been here in town, and seems to be beloved around here.
What if they all remember me only as the bitch who broke Nate’s heart?
“Oh, it’s tonight?” Mom squeals, interrupting my spiral. She sets Spam on the ground. “What are you wearing? How are you doing your hair?”
I hold back a smile. I’ve barely made it through the front door, and the inquisition has begun. At least the questions are pretty benign so far and easy to answer.
I take a step toward the family room. “I’m going to wear a dress.
It’s blue, knee length.” That’s as much detail as I care to discuss about the dress, which I pulled from the back of my closet in the rush of packing everything up.
I’m pretty sure I bought it to wear to a wedding a few years ago and haven’t worn it since. “And I’ll wear my hair up, I think.”
My parents follow me as I take a seat on a couch that’s slightly worn but is new to me. Mom perches next to me while Dad plops heavily into his armchair. The La-Z-Boy is his prized possession. No one else was allowed to sit there when we were kids.
Spam hops onto Dad’s lap.
“No dogs on my La-Z-Boy,” he says, depositing the dog back on the floor. He leans back and pulls on the lever to kick out the footrest.
So the rule still stands, at least as it applies to dogs.
“You should wear your hair down,” Mom says, touching my ponytail. “That would look gorgeous.” She studies my face for a minute. “You look wonderful, Rory. Almost…glowing.”
My face flushes at the praise.
“I’d say things must be good with your boyfriend, but I heard you’ve been staying with Nate. What’s going on with all of that?”
That’s a fair question, but the mention of my ex-boyfriend makes me cringe because I can’t believe I have to tell them I got dumped. Again.
I lean down to pet Spam, buying myself time and avoiding both their gazes. “I, um. Finn and I broke up.”
“Oh, Rory, I’m so sorry,” Mom says, patting my thigh sympathetically. “Did you dump him? Did he do something?”
“Of course she dumped him. No one in their right mind would break up with our girl,” Dad says.
The automatic way he sides with me does something funny to my heart. Like, I know my parents love me and want the best. But they were never ones for blind optimism, believing in me when I’d done absolutely nothing to deserve it.
Or maybe they were always staunchly on my side, and I wasn’t able to see it clearly until now.
I swallow past the lump in my throat. “He, uh, broke up with me.” Like everyone I’ve ever dated since Nate. “But it’s okay. It’s fine. I’m fine.”
And this time, maybe it is.
Dad presses the lever to lower his footrest back down and stands from his precious La-Z-Boy. “Well, he sounds like an ass, if he didn’t know what a good thing he had going when he had you. Sounds like you need a drink, kiddo. Coors Light or Banquet?”
I blink. Did my dad just offer me a beer? A choice of two different Coors varieties, no less. He’s never offered me a drink, but I hadn’t quite hit twenty-one the last time I was in his house. “Coors Light, please. Just one. I have to drive back after this.”
“I’ll bring you a coffee before you have to leave,” he says over his shoulder.
My mom waits until he’s out of view. “Rory,” she says softly.
I pull my gaze to her.
“Are you really okay? I know you said you liked this guy when we talked on the phone. And you look like you’re doing well.
You really do. You look happier than I’ve seen you in a long time.
I just…” She lets out a long breath and tucks her short dark hair behind one ear.
“I just want you and Dylan happy, settled. It’s what moms do. You know how we parents are.”
I nod automatically because I do know how my parents are. It used to bother me, knowing how badly they wanted us to get married, settle down, give them grandkids. Or at least, I thought that’s what they wanted.
But then I pause while an unfamiliar sensation fills my chest, warm and light, as Mom’s words echo through me.
We just want you happy.
Maybe it was never about hitting those milestones or doing any one thing in particular. Maybe it was about seeing us happy.
And I am happy, I realize. More than I’ve been in years.
Dad returns from the kitchen carrying two silver Coors Light cans and one Banquet. He holds the two silver cans out, keeping the yellow can of Banquet tucked close to his chest. “Here. One each.”
Mom waves him off. “You know I don’t drink beer.”
“Two for you, then, Rory?”
He really doesn’t listen, but that’s Dad. Generally selective hearing, but he takes in everything that’s really important.