by S. E. Rose
“Really? I’m shocked,” Adam says with a stymied grin.
I playfully punch his arm. “Whatever. But thanks for taking me, it was a good workout.”
“What are you going to try next?” Garrett questions as he grabs a few cheese fries.
I shove some more fries in my mouth as I contemplate my answer. Garrett sits back and patiently waits for me to announce my next hobby.
“I…” My brain scrambles to find an idea.
“You should try an actual sport,” Adam suggests.
“Uh, did you see me today? Athleticism isn’t my thing. I can run and that’s about it.”
“You could train for a marathon,” he suggests.
“I’ve done some 5k and 8k races, but a marathon is like super-serious training. I’m not sure I want to commit to that.”
“But you wanted a hobby,” Garrett says.
“I do.” I tilt my head as I ponder what else I should try.
“Karaoke?” Adam suggests.
I laugh and shake my head. “Uh, no. No way. Only if I’ve had like five more of these,” I say, holding up my beer.
“Knitting,” Garrett offers.
I scrunch up my face. “I’m horrible at it. My grandmother tried to teach me one summer and I failed miserably.”
“Painting,” Adam recommends.
“No. I’m shit at that, too.”
“I got it,” Garrett declares with a grin. “Ax throwing!”
I pause. “Now, that is something that I have never, ever considered.”
“There’s a place over in Columbia. We could go after work some night. Maybe move the happy hour over there.”
I consider it for a moment. I mean, it’s not something I’ve ever thought about. I haven’t done it before, and I don’t know if my siblings have. I’ll have to ask them.
“Sure, what the hell.”
“Cool, I’ll set it up. I haven’t been in a while,” Garrett says.
“Does that mean I get to tag along?” Adam asks.
“Sure, the more the merrier,” Garrett answers.
“To a new hobby,” Adam says, holding up his beer. We raise our glasses and my arm muscles twitch from exhaustion. I’m definitely ready for a new hobby.
Garrett
I don’t even have the car started when Di reaches over and presses power on my radio. I turn the key in the ignition, and the radio blares to life.
“I love this song!” she squeals as she turns up the volume and begins to jam out to some pop song on the radio. I’ve heard it before, but I’m more of a classic rock person.
“Come on! Sing along!” she insists.
I do my best to interject words I know here and there, but Di’s third beer definitely left her feeling “extra.”
I decide when I pull up to her apartment, I should probably make sure she gets inside OK.
“Let me help,” I say as I jump out of the car.
“I got it,” she replies cheerfully. “Besides, I’m just feeding the cats and then going over to Mom and Dad’s for Saturday family night.
“Right…Larry, Curly, and Moe?” I ask, trying to remember their names and hoping I guessed correctly.
“Hey, you remember,” she says with a giant grin. She reaches for her door and punches in a code and then opens the door. “You can come up if you like.”
I follow her, hoping she doesn’t trip and fall again. But she manages to make it to her door and then frowns.
“What’s wrong?”
She feels her pockets and looks around. I chuckle as I reach into the backpack that I grabbed. Removing her phone, keys, and water bottle, I hand them to her.
“Oh, uh, thanks,” she stammers as she unlocks her door.
I immediately hear meowing. “Moe, what’s wrong?” she asks as she reaches down to pick up a giant tabby cat.
The cat begins purring and rubbing against her face as she walks over to her kitchen and pours some food into a bowl. A minute later, the other two cats appear.
“I can take you to your parents’ house if you want,” I tell her, not sure if she should walk so far on her own after drinking. I have no idea where this protective desire is coming from, but I definitely couldn’t live with myself if something happened to Diana.
“Sure. Are you hungry? I think Dad is making burgers and hot dogs tonight.”
“Uh, sure, maybe later,” I reply as I’m still full of cheese fries.
“I’ll be back in two flashes,” she says as she heads off down a hallway that I assume is where her bedroom is located. I look around her apartment. It’s small, just a kitchen with a little side table and a living room that overlooks Elm Street. I’ve been in here a handful of times and also in her old apartment by the coffee shop. But this one suits her better. I walk to a door in the corner of her kitchen and look through the window. It opens onto a small balcony. I look down at the courtyard with its trees and roses. It has a small pergola that is covered in wisteria. It screams Di. It also makes me think about what I should start doing in my backyard, but I’m not sure I’ll get to that this fall.
I hear a door shut and a shower turn on and I pull my t-shirt up to smell it. Gross. I decide to run over to my house to change. I walk toward one of the two doors in the hallway.
“Di!” I call out at the first door, which based on the shower noise is most likely her bathroom.
“Yeah?”
“I’m running home to change,” I say to her.
“Oh, I’ll be out in two seconds. I’ll just come with you, so you don’t have to stop back here to get me.”
“Alright,” I answer. A cat scurries past me toward the kitchen, but I can’t tell which one it is. I’m about to turn back to the living room when I hear a crash from inside the bathroom. “Di!”
I turn the knob and the door opens. “Di!” I say again.
“Fucking, fuckiwitz,” she grumbles. I peer around the door and find a very wet, naked Di covered by her shower curtain. She’s lying in her bathtub and it doesn’t appear to be on purpose. I quickly avert my eyes, pretending I didn’t just see things I shouldn’t.
“You alright there, Spidey?”
“Fucking stupid-ass curtain,” she huffs. “I’m fine. I’ll survive. Maybe minus my pride.”
“You need help?” I ask.
“No. I’ll be out in a minute.”
I shut the door and head back to the living room. Two minutes later, Di emerges from her bedroom. This time she’s wearing leggings and an oversize shirt. Her hair is wrapped up in some intricate braid, which is impressive considering she didn’t have it in a braid a moment ago. I grin at her bright red Converse sneakers.
“You ready?” I ask.
“Yeah, sorry about the…my shower curtain just came off the holder.” She blushes and looks down, picking up a cat that tries to scurry out of her way. She kisses him and places him in front of the water bowl. “Let’s go. I’m ready.”
I follow her back down to my car and drive us the three blocks to my house.
“It looks good,” she says as she gets out of the car and stares up at my home.
“Thanks, I’ve just started working on finishing the outside trim work. It’s been a real pain in the ass to paint it,” I note as I motion to the wood that’s painted in several shades of green.
“I imagine it would be,” she says as she follows me inside.
When I open the door, she freezes and looks up at the two-story entryway.
“Holy shit, Garrett. This is looking so good! I don’t even recognize it!”
“Thanks,” I say. “Feel free to look around. I’ll only be five minutes.”
Chapter Seven
Di
Garrett heads upstairs and I walk into the formal dining room. It’s beautiful with its alcove ceiling and intricate wood details. A built-in cabinet displays antique plates. The room is painted dark green and an antique rug sits under the massive mahogany table. A painting is hung between the two front windows.
I turn a
nd head the other way into what I presume was a formal sitting room, but now looks like a library. Shelves cover the exposed walls and the lower part of the tower has a large bench around its perimeter, making it the perfect place to curl up with a book. I head farther into the house, looking at the back half which now boasts an open floor plan. The giant kitchen which is recently updated opens into a very large two-story family room with a giant fireplace. There’s a wing off the back of the house and I walk down the hallway which has double doors that open onto a brand-new deck that looks partially finished. It looks like this wing has a laundry room, a bathroom, and a small office or guest room. The garage is at the end of the wing. I walk back into the main part of the house. I’m half-tempted to go upstairs, but suddenly Garrett is in front of me.
“Jesus! You scared the shit out of me!” I yelp, placing my hand over my heart.
His sexy grin and wet, messy hair make him look like a model in a perfume commercial which is so unfair because I look like a normal human who just took a shower. His t-shirt hugs his biceps and I want to look away, but I can’t.
“You ready?” he asks.
“Yeah, let’s go. The house looks great, by the way,” I say to him as we walk back out to the driveway.
“Thanks. It’s starting to come together. It’s a beast of a reno project,” he states as we get in his car.
“How many square feet?” I inquire because I’m truly curious. It’s bigger than my sister’s house but I can’t tell by how much.
“Just under four thousand,” he says as he pulls the car out into the street, heading toward my parents’ neighborhood.
“You know where you are going?” I ask.
“I know your parents live in the neighborhood across from the high school, but I’ve never been to their house.”
I frown, trying to remember why I never invited him. Then I remember. I did invite him once, a long time ago. I invited everyone who was at happy hour that night, but he had other plans.
“It’s just up here,” I direct as I point to their street.
He turns onto it.
“The house over there, the white one,” I say, motioning to my parents’ colonial-style home.
He pulls into their driveway. There are already about five cars parked here.
“So, this is where you grew up?” he asks as he glances up at the house.
I grin, glancing over at the large sycamore tree on the side of the house, the one I used to use for easy egress and ingress into my bedroom for dates “after curfew.”
“It was a fun home to grow up in,” I note as we enter on the side of the house. I quickly turn to him. “Uh…” I glance nervously at the laundry room. The door is cracked open and I hear the telltale signs of my parents, having a romp. Because this is their Saturday evening ritual. Every fucking Saturday. I don’t get it. Even me, the one obsessed with love and romance, doesn’t get why every freaking Saturday when we have guests over, my parents decide to go make out or do the deed in the laundry room.
I see Garrett’s eyes widen, and I quickly pull him through the back hallway into the breakfast room and then out onto the deck.
“Was that…were there people…” he stammers, trying to find the right words.
I take a deep breath. I’ve had to tell many people about this fun family tradition, so why am I suddenly feeling like the cat that swallowed the canary.
“My parents…uh…they like to…have a private moment in the laundry room…when people are over…” I stammer, trying to figure out how to best tell him.
His lips turn up and he goes from grinning to laughing. “Are you telling me that we just walked in on your parents doing it in the laundry room?”
I place a finger over his lips. “Shhh. And yes. Welcome to the family. You’ve officially been hazed.”
“Who’s been hazed?” Lanie’s voice calls out from the yard. I glance over and see she’s kicking a soccer ball with my nephew, Ashton.
“What’s hazing?” Ash asks, stopping the ball with his foot.
“Uh, nothing. I mean, it’s like when you have to do something to be a member of a group. But I was just teasing Mr. Henley.”
“Oh,” he replies with a frown as though he’s still trying to work out the meaning. “Hey, Mr. Henley. I didn’t know you would be here.”
Garrett leans over the railing. “Yep. I just took your aunt here on her first real mountain hike.”
“Really? Did she bite it?” Ash asks with a smirk.
Garrett presses his lips together to keep from laughing. “Uh, no. She did great.”
“Ash, we probably should stop. You want to go work on that math homework while we wait for PopPop to fire up the grill?”
“Nooo,” Ash whines.
Garrett straightens his back. “What are you working on? Maybe I can help.”
“We are doing some multiplication with three-digit numbers,” I say. “I can help, too, if you need it, Ash.”
“I’ll take Mr. Henley,” Ash grumbles as he makes his way to the sliding door.
“Cool, I love multiplication,” Garrett says with enthusiasm.
“No one loves it,” Ash mumbles under his breath as he heads inside.
“My teacher powers are needed. Later, Spidey,” he says to me with a salute and follows Ash inside.
Lanie raises an eyebrow at me.
“Oh, no. Nope. It’s not like that. I promise you. This is Garrett for heaven’s sake. He’s totally neutral. It’s like hanging out with Switzerland.”
Lanie looks around me and eyes up Garrett’s backside that is facing us. “Well, I don’t remember Switzerland being so sexy, but if you say so.” She raises an eyebrow and heads back into the breakfast room.
I groan just as Kylie walks out to grab a drink from the cooler that permanently sits next to the grill. “Who’s Switzerland?”
“Oh, no one. I just brought Garrett, and Mother Hen is making a big deal out of it.” I use Lanie’s nickname just to annoy her because I’m mature like that.
Kylie looks past me into the family room. “Oh, damn, why have I never noticed how stacked Garrett is?”
I follow her gaze. His backside is on full display with the tight gray t-shirt and jeans.
“Don’t even think about it,” I say to her.
She throws her hands up in the air. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, Di, I’m not going to steal your man.”
I narrow my eyes. “He’s ‘not’ my man.”
“Uh-huh. Whatever. You keep thinking that,” she says with a huff and heads back inside. I slink into a chair and stare out into my parents’ yard. I’m feeling very much not myself today. I’ve been completely out of my element since I set foot outside my apartment this morning.
I’m deep in thought when I sense the presence of Gran Tilly.
“What’s the matter with my girl?” she asks as she sits down next to me.
I shrug. “I’m just…trying to figure out my life.”
Gran Tilly laughs a big, throaty laugh. “Honey, welcome to adulthood. I’m still trying to figure it out.”
I groan. “Don’t tell me that.”
She shrugs and pats my leg. “Can I give you some unsolicited advice?”
I nod trepidatiously.
“Be true to yourself. No matter what. You’ve always had a strong moral compass. And you know who you are. Whatever is making you question yourself, don’t let it dim your light because it burns brightly and the world is better for it.”
She’s quiet as I process her words.
“Is it wrong to try new things?” I ask her because I do truly value her advice.
“No, honey. It’s not wrong. You go try new things, but in the end, remember who you are and what you love.” She gives my leg another pat. “I better get in there and help your mother.”
“Thanks, Gran.”
“Any time, sweetie. Any time.”
I let myself fester for three more minutes and then I head inside.
“That’s not fucking f
air!” C-Dog yells at Kent as I walk into the breakfast room.
“It is too! That’s how you play Uno, dumbass,” Kent grumbles as he tosses a pair of red fives down on the table.
“It is not. We’ve never played it like that,” Clark whines.
“Uh, are you two actually fighting over Uno rules?” I ask them.
“Yeah, so what?” Clark says as he tosses his pile of cards on the table.
I put my hands up in the air. “Forget I asked.”
I quickly walk away from them because I’m three seconds away from losing my shit, so I head toward the kitchen where my grandmothers and Mom are getting food prepped. Dad is on the far side of the island making up meat patties for the burgers.
“Can I help with anything?” I inquire.
“I think it’s all under control,” Mom says, looking around to in fact check that it is all under control. “Yep, we are good.”
“OK,” I reply as I move to the next room where Garrett and Ashton have taken up the dining room table with the math homework that I assigned the class this week. “How’s it going?”
“Mr. Henley taught me this supercool way to figure out the answer,” Ash says. “You want to see?”
“Sure,” I say with a sigh. I watch as he shows me. It is a method I know, but it’s a little different than the regular way we teach it at school.
I’m about to say something to Garrett, when Ash adds, “Once I get it this way, Mr. Henley says the way you taught is gonna make total sense to me.”
“That’s right,” Garrett says, winking at me over Ash’s head as he points out a missing number in Ash’s work.
“Well, carry on,” I mutter and head out of the room. I’m about to head into the family room, but as I pass the steps, I decide to go to my old bedroom, well, Lanie’s and my old room. I climb the L-shaped staircase, feeling the old wooden banister under my fingers. I run my index finger over a divot that was made when Kent dropped a hammer while trying to get a ball out of the chandelier above it. We covered it up with some stain, and if my parents noticed it, they never said anything. I smile at that memory.
