Easy

by Jordan S Gray

  When Shayler pulled into her childhood home’s driveway, her chest loosened the slightest bit. Seeing the cracked cement and faded yellow house was familiar, normal, and untainted by anything she’d done.

  She collected her things and marched up to the house, ringing the owl-shaped doorbell her mother had spent a week installing when Shayler had been in seventh grade. Surprisingly, it wasn’t her mom who answered the door, but her dad.

  “Shayler,” he said, pulling her in for a hug. “What are you doing driving so late?”

  “It’s like two AM. That’s not late to a college kid.”

  “I’m never gonna be able to stop worrying about you, am I?”

  “You should, if you want to keep the rest of your hair, old man.”

  Shayler laughed as he rubbed the bald spot that spiraled from the back of his head, and he took the bag from her.

  “Come on. It’s cold out.”

  “It’s, like, seventy degrees, Dad.”

  “Cold for Florida.” He shooed her into the house and dropped her bag onto the leather sectional that took up half their living room. “Mom’s got craft stuff in your room, so you’re gonna have to sleep out here for the night.”

  “I’ve slept on worse.” She flung herself onto the couch. “What craft stuff?”

  “It’s not craft stuff,” her mom explained, yawning and tiptoeing out of their bedroom that was, unfortunately, next to the end of the couch. “It’s for my beading club with the ladies.”

  “Craft stuff,” her dad echoed.

  “We make bracelets, we don’t finger paint or make lady bugs out of egg cartons.”

  “Pretty sure you can’t make a lady bug out of an egg carton,” Shayler said, standing so she could hug her mom.

  It was pretty obvious when they stood side by side who Shayler had gotten her height from. Her mother’s head was one inch above hers, but her father stood towering above both of them at six foot. She felt good standing between them, having her mom pick at her hair like she couldn’t believe Shayler didn’t wash it more than once a week while her Dad crossed his arms and demanded she eat something because sleeping on an empty stomach was basically a crime.

  “I’m good, Dad. I had some lamb a few hours ago.” Like six hours ago, she thought.

  “Lamb? Who’s serving you lamb up there?”

  “I went to some dinner party thing. Totally lame. You would’ve loved it.”

  “Okay, young lady, that’s enough. You don’t insult your father, go to your room.”

  Shayler grinned. “What’s with the stern parenting?”

  “Your mom and I started babysitting that kid next door on the weekends.”

  “Todd? The one who never stopped crying when he was a baby?”

  “Yes, and he’s not much better now,” her mom said, falling onto the couch.

  “Then why?”

  “Your father and I missed having a baby in our lives.”

  “I’m sorry, are you calling me a baby?” Shayler stuck a hand on her hip.

  “We love you, honey, but I had to clean your room for eighteen years. And make your bed. And cook you every single meal that you didn’t get from McDonalds.”

  “I let you do those things. I know how much you love taking care of me.”

  “Right. That’s exactly how I wanted to spend my weekdays, snaking hair out of your shower drain and scrubbing nail polish out of my rugs.”

  “Are you sure you aren’t hungry?” her dad asked again.

  “I’m sure.”

  “Thirsty?”

  “I’m perfectly fine.”

  “If you get hungry or thirsty, there’s a lot of food in the fridge. But don’t touch my sub. That’s mine. If you eat it, I’ll make sure your mom keeps more of her crap in your room so you have to sleep on the couch forever.”

  Shayler giggled at her dad’s expression. Her mother brushed her hair out of her face and snuggled deeper into the couch, clicking on their wall-mounted television. Some prankster show played, and her father sat beside her mom, allowing her to curl up in his side.

  It sucked watching them. Usually, her parents’ affection made her feel awkward, but now she was envious, which was gross. She didn’t want that. Her mom’s life was awful. She stayed home all day, entertaining herself with crafts and hobbies and cleaning while her dad went to work. It was Shayler’s nightmare. Stuck home with nothing to do but wait.

  Seeing them cuddled up, though, Shayler thought maybe it wasn’t so bad. For her mom, at least, and also for her dad. They looked happy. Shayler sat on the opposite end of the couch, letting the noise of the obnoxious program lull her into a deep sleep.

  It wasn’t until something clanged and crashed that Shayler woke up. She yawned, feeling groggy as she sat up. There was a couch under her, and the house was dimly lit by a rising sun. Early. It was early and she was home. She fell back as last night hit her.

  The banging sounds continued, and Shayler grunted and shoved herself off the sectional, stumbling past the dining room to the kitchen. Her mother was whistling in the narrow workspace, pouring batter into a pan and sprinkling it with chocolate chips and banana slices. The scent was intoxicating, but not enough to put a sleepy Shayler in a better mood.

  “What are you doing?”

  Her mother glanced at her and grinned. “Making breakfast.”

  “It’s seven.”

  “Actually, it’s six forty-five.”

  Shayler smacked her face with her hand and groaned. “Why?”

  “Morning, pumpkin!” Her father announced, coming into the kitchen with an open thermos.

  “It’s Saturday. What the hell is going on?”

  “I’ve had a work trip planned for a while. Going to a beach retreat.”

  “You said you weren’t coming ’til Monday,” her mom added.

  “Ugh! That doesn’t mean you have to start banging pots and pans together at sunrise. Just go quietly and let us sleep.”

  “Your mom was up before me. She wanted to make us a family breakfast.”

  Shayler grumbled to herself. Sleep was more precious than breakfast. She’d driven for hours, had a fight with her best friend, broken up with the only guy who’d said he loved her, and slept on a damn couch. Rest was something she deserved.

  “You can go back to bed after this,” her mom said, dropping slices of bacon into a skillet.

  The sizzling sound crackled in her ears, and the salty, meaty smell flooded her nostrils. Shayler’s stomach rumbled, ready for something of substance. “Fine. But I want extra chocolate chips on my pancake. And extra bacon.”

  “You’re gonna have to fight your father for that.”

  “Dad’s not supposed to have bacon.”

  “You try telling him that.” Her mom brushed away her bangs and went back to flipping an extra-large pancake.

  Shayler grabbed a carton of orange juice out of the fridge that was now covered in scribbled on coloring-book pages. She poured half a glass and stuck it back in the fridge, sipping as she turned to her mom.

  “Do we have vodka?”

  Her dad let out an exaggerated sigh. “I don’t appreciate your sense of humor.”

  “Good, because it wasn’t a joke.”

  “It’s seven,” her mom said. “No.”

  “What happened to letting me drink so that I don’t go crazy when I do get my hands on the stuff?”

  “Please. I have several butt dial voicemails that tell me you go crazy enough as is.”

  “One more month, and I’ll be twenty-one.”

  “Then you’ll have no problem waiting that short amount of time before drinking this early in the morning.”

  “It’s five o’clock somewhere,” she mumbled, wishing she could numb the pain that still lingered.

  “Very true,” her dad said, closing the newspaper he was reading as he sat at the circular dining table they only used for breakfast.

  “Does that mean I can have some?”

  “Absolutely not. I need the vodk
a for when I have to get through your mother’s craft nights.”

  “It’s not craft night, it’s beading club!” Her mother stomped her foot and pointed to a pile of dishes that were on the counter beside her. “Now, set the table so we can eat.”

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  “Go fish.” Shayler slapped her cards face down on their dining room table and slumped in her seat.

  She’d spent the past twenty-four hours trying to avoid her mother’s penetrating gaze. Unfortunately, she’d been roped into an all-day card game tournament, and with each hand dealt, her mother asked another round of questions. She was breaking Shayler down. The same thing had happened after Louis Fernandez had spread a rumor in seventh grade that Shayler had huge nipples and she’d come home crying. Though, that time, her mom had used Monopoly to figure out what was wrong.

  “Can we be done now?” Shayler asked, banging her head on the glass.

  “Nope. Not until you tell me what’s up. Is this about your major?”

  “What?” Shayler blinked. Her mom’s guesses had been pretty vague so far.

  “I didn’t want to say anything before.” Her mom set her cards down. “But I got a call from your counselor at the beginning of the semester, warning me about you needing to pick a major.”

  “Seriously?”

  “There’s no pressure, hon. I know you don’t want to rush it, but the deadline’s looming and you’re probably nervous.”

  “Thanks, Afterschool Special Mother.”

  “Just talk to me.”

  “I don’t know… It’s kind of hard to pick one career I want to keep for the rest of my life.”

  “Take a guess then.”

  “I can’t take a guess! It’s my life.”

  Her mom crossed her arms. “Well, what are you enjoying?”

  “Criminology.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m good at figuring people out.” Shayler stomach gurgled as she was forced to think about David and how much his advice had helped her.

  “What else?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Sounds like you need to do some research.”

  “I know, but clearly, I’ve been kind of busy.”

  “What’s really bugging you then? I just want to help.”

  “I don’t think you can.” Shayler pulled her hair into a tight bun and rubbed her eyes. The nap she’d taken the day before and sleeping in that morning had done nothing but make her more tired.

  “Is this about your friends?”

  “Geez, Mom, when did you turn into a psychic?”

  Her mother smiled. “I’ve known you for almost twenty-one years, Shayler. If I can’t figure out what’s wrong after a day and a half of you moping, then we have bigger problems than whatever you have going on.”

  “I did something bad, Mom.”

  “Did you kill someone?”

  “What? No!”

  “Because I’m sure your dad has some connections somewhere and we can get you out of the country safely…” Her mom winked, and Shayler tossed the stack of cards at her.

  “No.”

  “Whatever you did can’t be worse than murder, so let’s hear it.”

  “You know when Rebecca was sad last time you saw her?”

  “Because of that boy, yes.”

  “How’d you know it was about a boy?”

  “I’m a mother, Shay. Also, I heard you and Ansley talking about it at night, when you were raiding my fridge.”

  “You’re so snoopy.”

  “Continue.”

  “Well, she got back together with that boy, and I sort of kissed him.”

  Her mom nodded. “Okay. Give me a moment to process.” She smacked Shayler on the back of the head.

  “Ow, Mom!” Shayler rubbed her skull, wincing. “Rebecca already slapped me.”

  “Did she really? Good for her. But you deserved a second one.”

  Shayler frowned. “I know. I just had a lot going on, and I needed someone to talk to me about my life, and she only wanted to talk about hers, and I thought it was a way to prove something.”

  “What did you want to prove?”

  “That I’m still myself.”

  Her mother laughed, the sound sharp and loud. “Of course you’re still yourself. You asked your mother for vodka at the crack of dawn and got your makeup all over my hand towels.”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Why would you think you’ve changed?”

  “I started studying and skipping going out at night. Stopped partying, started staying in.”

  “And you think that changed some vital part of your being?”

  “I’ve never done that before.”

  “Shayler…” Her mom clicked her tongue. “Your personality is loud, vivacious, easy going. It’s always been that way, and it won’t change based on what activities you choose to do.”

  “You don’t understand, Mom. I’m not … like you. You have to stay home and make bracelets and watch television while you wait for Dad to get off work. I’ve never wanted that, and somehow, I’m becoming that.”

  “Oh, Shayler… That’s not a bad thing. I like doing that.”

  “Why would you like doing nothing?”

  “I’m a homebody. It’s my personality. You have your dad’s adventurous side, always wanting to go on trips and see the world.”

  “So?”

  “So have you ever heard your dad talking about hitting up da club?”

  “Please, never say that again.”

  Shayler’s mom giggled. “My point is, your dad is the same way, but he doesn’t have to party to be him. He does what he enjoys, and sometimes he enjoys being home with me, drinking wine out of the bottle, and watching Fifty Shades of Grey.”

  Shayler covered her ears. “Ew. I don’t wanna know these things.”

  “You always try to pigeonhole yourself, Shayler. Force yourself to be what your idea of fun is. And, for some reason, you think fun means taking your top off and dancing on a bar.”

  “I have never, ever—”

  “But that idea of what fun is changes as we mature, and maturing isn’t a bad thing. It’s just a part of life.”

  “I’m twenty still. I shouldn’t be maturing.”

  “We don’t get a choice. We all have to grow up. But that won’t take the fun out of your life.” Her mom fingered one of her curls. “I promise. Neither will falling in love.”

  Shayler coughed. “I haven’t… I’m not… No.”

  “Sorry, do you want me to believe you kissed your best friend’s boyfriend because you were scared that you’d been studying too much?”

  “Mom,” Shayler warned. She didn’t want to talk about David with her mother, didn’t want to bring him up at all.

  “Come on. You think I’ve given up some part of my life because I settled down with your dad and had a kid? That’s not true. And someone has to have made you realize that or else you wouldn’t have freaked out.”

  “I don’t want to talk about him.”

  “I’m right!” Her mom clapped.

  “You’re so embarrassing.”

  “We’ve never talked about a boy seriously before. Please. Who is he? What’s he like? Is he smart? Bad boy? Motorcycle? Your father had a motorcycle.” Her mom sighed dreamily.

  Shayler scrunched her nose. “Good Lord, show some restraint. His name is David, and that’s all I’m giving you.”

  “Do you love him?”

  “I don’t know. I kind of ruined it though, remember. I kissed Becca’s boyfriend.”

  “Hmmm, that’s weird because I thought they’d invented two words for this sort of occasion, but I can’t seem to remember what they are.”

  “I’m sorry isn’t going to change anything.”

  “No, it’s not. You’ll have to do more than that, but it’s not impossible.”

  “I’m more worried about having no friends until I die. No Rebecca.”

  Her mom stretched. “Rebecca is like your sister,
and sisters fight. They get back together.”

  “Oh, yeah? How’s Aunt Linda?”

  “That’s different. She stole my casserole dish.”

  Shayler raised a brow. “Mhm.”

  “It was my grandmother’s! I can’t make proper green bean casserole without it.”

  “What a shame.”

  “Stop diverting. You need to talk to Rebecca and explain all this to her.”

  “I still don’t really understand it myself.”

  Shayler’s mom grinned. “You’ll figure it out. Make a list of your priorities. Where do David and Rebecca fall as opposed to drinking and partying? What’s more important?”

  Shayler didn’t even need to think more than four seconds before she knew the answer. “I hate when you’re right.”

  “I’m a mom. It’s what I do.”

  “Don’t tell Dad.”

  “As if I haven’t already texted him.” Her mom glanced at the phone in front of her. “He says to bring David home next time or else we’re coming up there in our matching onesies to meet him.”

  “You have matching onesies?”

  Her mom smiled devilishly. “He’s the red Power Ranger, I’m the yellow one.”

  “You guys are weird…” Shayler sighed. “Do you think Rebecca will forgive me?”

  “Of course. She loves you.”

  “I was really mean to her. And David.”

  “I know. Sometimes, you don’t think about your actions, and all actions have consequences.”

  “So I’ve been told.”

  “But we live and learn, and we become better. Before you talk to them, you need to ask yourself if you’re ready to be better.”

  “I think I am. With Rebecca, at least. Yes.”

  “Then you probably shouldn’t be here. You should be with her.”

  Shayler stood and hugged her mom, pulling her in tight. “Who’s gonna take care of you?”

  “I’ve got a lunch with the ladies tomorrow actually.”