Was I crazy to believe he just wanted to be friends? Or was his joke really him hoping I would change my mind about a boyfriend?
Come on, Charlotte. Quit overthinking everything. You were miserable without him as a friend. All you can do is be careful and live by the same rules as always: keep him at a distance and don’t rely on anyone but yourself.
Friends. Yeah, I could do friends.
Twelve
How long do you have until your next class?
I glanced down at my phone as Ezra walked beside me in the courtyard outside the English building.
A little over an hour.
Can I buy you a coffee?
No.
He looked down at me, most likely preparing for the same guarded prude as always.
I’m going to buy you a coffee this time.
Ezra seemed relieved as I smiled and accepted his offer to have coffee with him. He shook his head and repositioned the backpack on his shoulder.
A gentleman always buys the lady coffee.
Yeah, if we were dating but we’re just friends, right? So, I’m buying today.
Fine. But I’m getting the cheapest thing on the menu.
You’re getting the cold brew and you’re going to like it.
We laughed on our short walk to the coffee shop with the yellows and oranges of the trees surrounding us. Leaves blew past our feet and rustled in the breeze.
He held the door for me as the smell of coffee washed over us at the entrance of the café. As we stood in line to order, Ezra looked around at the bustling crowds of students. But I was looking at him.
So, why the sudden change of heart?
His eyebrows furrowed as he looked down at me, unsure to what my question referred.
You said you liked me but then proposed we just be friends. You’re suddenly okay with not dating?
I realized I would rather have you as a friend than nothing at all.
My heart skipped a beat as the intensity of his eyes froze me in place. Suddenly, breaking me from my trance, he stepped forward to begin our order.
By the time we received our drinks, there were no available seats in the café. I pointed toward a bench just outside the window in the courtyard. The tree towering over us was a red maple, releasing its bright red leaves into the breeze.
I’ve been meaning to thank you for the other night.
For what?
I could see he was hesitant to name any specific details before knowing how much I remembered.
For making sure I made it back to my dorm and taking a punch from that idiot.
Funny thing is he doesn’t remember a thing about that night besides arriving at the party. He asked me this morning who gave me a black eye.
You’re kidding.
No. Nathan played it off as a drunken dare. Guess he didn’t want Wyatt remembering grinding up against you.
Yuck. If there was one thing I could take back, it would be that night.
He grinned as he looked down at the coffee cup in his hands, fiddling with the plastic edge of the lid.
What do you remember about it?
Images of him gently wiping my face with the cool washcloth and laughing next to me on my bed flashed through my mind as I hesitated to answer his question. Did he want me to remember the time we shared, the confessions we both made?
He looked over at me in anticipation of the answer as I battled with myself on what to admit to him.
Um, not much really. I remember fighting with you and the burn of the vodka going down my throat. Then, I woke up in the dorm with the absolute worst hangover in the world.
Yeah, I can’t imagine.
Suddenly, I realized he might have been drunk, too. Is that why he shared with me what he did?
How bad was your hangover?
I didn’t have one.
You didn’t drink a lot at the party?
His attention turned to the bright red leaves falling around us, landing on the ground at our feet and rustling in the breeze.
I don’t drink at all.
Oh.
I vowed to never become like my father. There is no desire to drink after seeing him intoxicated.
It all began to connect, his experience with a drunken dad and his sobriety from Saturday night. The tightness in my chest loosened as I realized he had lucidly shared intimate details of his life with me. That’s what friends do, right?
Sorry, I had no idea. Believe it or not, that was my first time ever drinking alcohol.
Oh, I could tell. Only someone who has never felt the impact of alcohol would drink that much at once. Or an idiot.
Punching his arm playfully, I feigned offense and laughed. Ezra behaved differently when he was not with his usual posse. He seemed genuine and uninhibited. Not that he was an entirely different person, but a happier one.
A cool breeze whipped around us, sending a chill down my back. Ezra seemed to notice and began taking his jacket off.
No, I’m fine.
You’re cold. I’m hot-blooded. Take it.
That’s really more of a boyfriend move, isn’t it?
He shrugged back into his jacket and looked over at me, the blue of his eyes as moving as a high tide.
You may need to teach me how to be friends because I am totally oblivious to the lines I cross with you.
Alright, I can do that. First off, boyfriends let their girlfriends wear their jackets, buy them coffee…
Hold their hair back while they throw up…
His comment sent a shot of electricity up my spine as we continued to maintain eye contact. Was he testing me? Or trying to make me remember that night?
Yes, good example. You see, you’re not as bad at this as you think you are.
Maybe it’s not that I don’t know the rules, but that I can’t help but break them.
The magnetic pull of his eyes and lips made it nearly impossible to break eye contact as he intensely studied my face. I cleared my voice and looked around the courtyard.
Ezra, the only way we can be friends is if you stop flirting with me.
I’m sorry. I’ll be better.
You have to be if you want to hang out. I don’t want—
A boyfriend, yeah, I know.
No, I was going to say I don’t want to have to punch your other eye. Do you know how ridiculous you would look with two black eyes?
He laughed and stood up from the bench, throwing his now empty cup into the trashcan by the sidewalk.
You think you’re funny.
No, I know I’m hilarious.
Ezra picked up his backpack from the ground next to the bench and threw it over one shoulder. He gestured behind him toward the classroom buildings.
Here, I’ll walk you to your next class. Unless friends don’t do that.
I stood up and shrugged under the weight of my bag as I looked around contemplating the answer.
Eh. It’s a pretty neutral action. I’ll accept it.
While holding hands?
Ezra!
I’m just kidding.
We walked side by side to my next class, laughing and joking the entire way down the sidewalk and up the stairs of the math building.
This is my class here.
Math?
Yup, it’s the worst. I hate math so much.
Really? I don’t mind it. I’ve always been kind of good at math.
Lucky you. I am struggling to keep my 4.0 GPA.
Well, let me know if you need any help. I’ll be glad to look at it with you.
Oh, thanks. That would actually be great.
Just let me know when.
As he started to walk back toward the staircase, I called after him, surprising myself with my abrupt invitation.
I think Nathan is coming to our dorm tonight. If you want, you can come with him.
Ezra raised his eyebrows in astonishment and nodded his head in acceptance.
Yeah, that sounds good.
That way, I won’t be the awkward third wheel
and the coffee shop employees will stop thinking I’m stalking them.
The sound of his deep chuckle traveled the small distance he had walked down the hall as he looked down at his feet and then back at me with a content smile.
I’ll see you then.
With one last glance, I walked through the doorway of my math class with red cheeks and a feeling of excitement swelling in my chest. What was I thinking inviting him to my dorm?
Yes, we would not be alone but my invitation to hang out so soon after having coffee together must have seemed desperate. Ezra cared what people thought about him. Maybe he was just accepting the offer to be nice and would leave immediately after helping me with my homework.
All I knew in that hour and a half math class was maybe Ezra wasn’t the only one who couldn’t help but cross the lines from friendship to romance. So much for keeping him at a distance.
Thirteen
Tell me the story of you and Dad meeting again, Mom.
The summer air was oppressively humid as I swatted mosquitos away from my arms. I glanced over to my mother, her golden hair and green eyes glowing in the warm sunshine.
Her legs hung over the edge of the dock, her feet splashing in the cool water next to mine. She smiled as her mind took her back years ago when she first met my father.
It was our freshman year of college and I saw him across the room in our biology class. He was majoring in agriculture and I was completing my general studies. I had no clue what I wanted to do with my life.
My brother sat on the opposite side of her with a fishing pole, listening as he carefully felt for nibbles on his line.
I remember he was in a plaid button-up shirt with jeans and boots. He was the most handsome man I had ever seen in my life. And he was looking at me, too.
Was it love at first sight?
Yes, it was. We fell in love fast and before I knew it, we were pregnant with your brother and your dad had purchased this farm for our family. And then you came along with your big brown eyes and brown hair like your daddy.
But Bubby got your blonde hair and green eyes.
My mother looked down at the water gently washing over her swaying feet, pausing in our conversation.
Yes. Yes, he did.
Mason began reeling in his line before setting his pole down on the dock. He jumped to his feet, tore his shirt off, and leapt into the pond. The cool water splashed my mother and me as we looked in shock at my brother’s bobbing head in the water.
What are you doing, Mason?
Well, the fish weren’t biting so I thought I might as well take a swim.
I’m coming, Bubby!
My mother giggled as I stood and ran off the end of the dock toward my brother. He swam toward me and pulled me from the immersive waters, checking that I could stay afloat before swimming away.
I’ll race you to the other end of the pond, Lottie!
That’s not fair. You’re two years older than me!
So?
So, you’re faster and taller.
Come on, I’ll take it easy on you. You can swim however you want and I’ll only doggy paddle.
Deal! But you have to promise not to cheat.
Cross my heart.
My brother’s wet blonde hair bobbed along the surface as he clumsily doggy-paddled across the pond. I flung my arms over my head, desperately trying to beat my brother in a race for once.
When we had reached the other end of the pond, we looked back at my mom still on the dock. But she wasn’t smiling, she was wiping a tear from her cheek.
Mason, why does mom cry so much?
He looked back across the water before looking at me with his calm green eyes. Their color reminded me of the lily pads on the other side of the pond.
Those are happy tears, Lottie. She loves us so much it makes her cry.
Oh. But Dad doesn’t cry.
Only some people cry like Mom. It’s just how she shows her love.
How do you know that?
Because that’s what Mom tells me every time I ask her why she’s crying.
Even as a seven-year-old, my mother’s crying threw up warning flags. Over the next year, she had more and more “happy” moments. Most of the time, Mason or I would find her crying when she believed she was alone. And always, Mason would be there to comfort her, holding her hand and leaning his head against her shoulder.
My brother had a compassionate personality, always searching for ways he could help or protect his loved ones. I could tell that his comforting helped our mother as I watched from the opposite side of the room.
About a month before they left my dad and me, there was one night that was different. My mother was hysterical in her crying. It was well past our bedtime when Mason and I awoke to her sobbing in the living room.
Dad had not come inside from the fields by that time of night. Quietly, I followed Mason into the living room, remaining in the doorway as he bravely stepped toward our weeping mother.
There was something different about her that night. It was not the quiet, secretive tears like usual, but desperate, hopeless wailing.
Mom, are you okay?
Suddenly, my dad burst in the back door, his eyes instantly on me.
Lottie, what are you doing up?
Mom…
His eyes grew dark as he heard her cries from the other room. Without hesitation, he walked into the living room and found Mason kneeling beside my mother on the couch.
Mason, Lottie, go to bed. Now.
Mason’s expression showed the worry he had for his mother as he stood his ground beside her. My mother’s head raised as she heard the sound of my father’s voice.
But, Dad, Mom needs me.
You heard me, Mason. I won’t say it again. Take your sister and go to bed.
My brother didn’t seem pleased but painfully ripped himself from Mom, worriedly glancing out of the corner of his eyes at our dad as he passed.
Mason and I hesitantly returned to our own rooms, mine further down the hall than his. As I returned to the warmth of my blankets, I could still hear the strained voice of my father and the hysterics of my mother.
I thought we talked about getting you help, Reese. And not subjecting our children to this.
Why do you act like I’m broken? Maybe I don’t need fixed, Henry!
My parents’ fighting was all too much for me as I slid out of bed and silently made my way down the hall to Mason’s room. As I carefully closed the door behind me, I could see Mason’s head pop up from under his blankets.
Running over to his bed, Mason lifted the covers as he always did when I had nightmares, tucking the warm material around me. We both laid on his pillow listening to their heated dispute.
I didn’t say you were broken. I just want to help you feel better. It’s only getting worse.
I’m so sorry for the inconvenience this is for you. Maybe I should just go.
Reese, calm down. You’re not going to leave me and your children. Let’s talk about getting you help.
The door to the backyard slammed shut as they took their conversation outside, leaving the house silent save the sound of our breathing.
Mason, are Mom and Dad going to get a divorce?
No, she’ll get better.
I thought you said they were happy tears.
I don’t think they are anymore. But Dad said he was going to get her help. And she has us to cheer her up, too.
Yeah. Let’s make her a picture that she can hang up on the fridge. We can put a sun on it so when she looks at it, it can brighten her day.
That’s a good idea, Lottie. We can do that tomorrow after school.
But the drawing on the fridge didn’t make a difference and neither did my dad’s offer to find my mom help. A month later and after many more fights and breakdowns from my mom, they were gone.
Without another word to me, they left me and my dad. I never understood how a mother could leave one of her children behind, abandoned without a single word of exp
lanation.
And though my dad claimed it was his fault they left, I knew deep down it was my mom. Whatever was wrong with her had become too much to bear, tearing her away from her husband and daughter.
No phone calls, no letters, no communication up until the manilla envelope my dad received a couple of months later. My dad was sitting at the dining table with tears in his eyes as he opened the envelope and read the thick packet of papers inside.
Daddy, what is that?
He cleared his throat and rubbed his eyes before looking over his shoulder where I stood watching him.
Your mother was just saying goodbye.
Oh… did she say anything to me?
No. No, she didn’t, baby.
With his arms outstretched, he pulled me onto his lap and kissed the top of my head. Rocking back and forth, he looked out the glass door to the fields outside.
But you still have me, Lottie. You’ll always have me.
As I sat with his arms around me and listened to his words of comfort, I looked down at the papers in front of us on the table. At the top of the first page in large print, it said:
PETITION FOR DIVORCE
IN THE MATTER OF THE MARRIAGE OF:
REESE ABBOTT AND HENRY PRYOR
Within all the big words and confusing jargon of the legal document, I found my mother’s one and only request. If she could keep Mason, my dad could keep the farm, all their material possessions, and me.
Fourteen
You invited Ezra over to hang out in your dorm?
Sophie’s voice threatened to reach an octave only dogs in a mile radius could hear as I told her the news.
Yeah, I thought all four of us could hang out. Is that okay or were you and Nathan planning on doing more than that?
No, no, it’s fine. I’m just surprised is all. I thought you hated him.
Well, we talked and decided to be friends. We both apologized for the things we said.
Just friends, huh? I seem to be sensing more than friendship here.
No, we decided to be friends and nothing more.
She shot me a doubtful glance out of the corner of her eye as she glanced down at her phone.
The Walls We Built Page 7
