by Amie Knight
I grabbed my violin and my purse but left the rest of my stuff in the car. I’d come back for it. I stepped up to the door and almost just turned the knob, but it didn’t feel right. This wasn’t really my home anymore. I had lost the right to just walk in, so I rang the doorbell and stepped back a little.
I heard clicking sounds of the door unlocking and felt my face flame with heat. I hadn’t even called to say that I was coming home. What if she didn’t want me here? What if this was all a mistake?
The door opened and there stood my momma. I didn’t realize how much I had missed her until I set eyes on her. Her mostly grey hair was up in a knot at the top of her head, and she was wearing a T-shirt and jean shorts. She looked a little thinner and just a tad older. She wasn’t wearing one stitch of makeup, but that was my momma for you. It was good to know she hadn’t changed much while I had been gone.
“Ainsley?” she gasped. The shock was painted all over her face, but I couldn’t tell if it was the bad or good kind.
I didn’t have to wait long, because she grabbed me around my shoulders and quickly jerked me into a big, long hug. I could hear her sniffles. I could feel her chest jumping against mine in an effort to control her tears.
“Yeah, Momma. I’m home,” I murmured into her hair.
The scent of lavender wrapped around me like a snug coat. I didn’t deserve this beautiful homecoming, but I still soaked it up. It had been way too long since my momma had held me like this. It felt rich and luxurious. It felt the way coming home should feel like.
When she finally pulled back, she grabbed my cheeks in both hands. Her face was red and covered in tears, but I thought she had never looked more beautiful. Part of me was shocked at how happy I was to see her. I had spent so much time and energy avoiding the bad memories of this place that the good, sweet, and precious memories had faded along with them.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming home? I would have gotten things ready for you,” she said.
My wonderful momma, trying to take care of me when she was sick—just like always. Only, now, I would be strong. I would take care of her. I’d be there for her and make up for the times I hadn’t been there.
“Why didn’t you tell me that I needed to come home?” I asked. I watched her face fall as she processed my question.
“Ahh, I knew that busybody would call you. She never could stay out of everybody’s business,” she said as she dragged me into the house by my hand.
Everything looked exactly the same. It smelled the same, even. The furniture. The curtains. Nothing had changed. Nothing but me. I was the outcast there now. I looked down the hallway, toward Lori’s room, and noticed that her door was closed. I hoped to leave it that way.
“Momma, you love Miranda, so stop. Why didn’t you call me? I’d have come home right away,” I said softly. I didn’t want to chastise her or make her feel bad, but I also wanted her to know I loved her and wanted to be there for her.
“I do love Miranda, and she is lucky for it because I’m mad as sin at her right now. Ainsley, I knew you didn’t want to come home. If you had wanted to, you’d be here. I didn’t want to bother you. You have a good thing going for you in Nashville. You don’t need your momma holding you back.”
I didn’t want to get into why I hadn’t wanted to come back or why I hadn’t been home in so long, but I wanted her to know what she still meant to me. “Momma, I’d do anything for you. You know that, right?” I asked, squeezing her hand.
“I do, which is exactly why I didn’t call you. When I came out there to see you, I was so proud of all you were doing,” she said, making her way into the kitchen. “Now, what can I make you to eat? I know you’re hungry after that long drive.”
The woman was crazy if she thought I was going to let her cook for me while she wasn’t well. I was there to do the cooking, the cleaning, and anything else she needed.
“No way, Momma. You are not cooking me a damn thing. Get out of the way and let me make us some dinner. I’m here to help you, remember? So get your behind away from that stove right now.” I looked around the kitchen and noticed that nothing had changed in there, either. It was sweet but sad too. “What do you feel like having?” I asked.
She smiled at me and leaned against the counter across from the stove. “How about biscuits and gravy?” she asked.
I felt my nose start to sting with tears, so I turned toward the fridge, opened it, and promptly buried my face inside it. I took a few deep breaths while I grabbed the things we needed to make the biscuits.
When I turned back to Momma, she was still smiling at me, and again, it reminded me how much I had missed her and how lucky I was to still have her. It reminded me that maybe my life wasn’t so damn terrible, because I still had people who loved me and would forgive my faults.
“Biscuits and gravy it is!” I said happily. I leaned closer to my momma and whispered, “If you behave and let me do all of the cooking, I might even let you pour the milk.”
Her grin widened even as tears filled her eyes. “Deal,” she whispered back to me.
I’d been home for three days. That was three days I had managed not to run into Adrian Davis, and I was damn happy about it. I knew that, if I did see him and he shunned me, it would send my already cracked heart into a million pieces, so I steered clear of him. I did sometimes stare at his house from the front porch rockers in the evening though. I wondered what he was doing. If he had a girlfriend and if she loved him as much I did. Had he gone to school? Was he still drawing and painting? A lot could change in four years.
I wondered if he knew I was home again, and then I remembered how I’d left him. Yeah, he probably knew I was home and didn’t give the slightest fuck. I couldn’t blame him. I’d earned that.
The first month I had called Momma from Nashville, she had tried to update me on Adrian. I’d politely told her that I didn’t want to know. It was easier to pretend he didn’t exist than to imagine him there without me. She’d tried again a couple of months later, and again, I’d declined any information. So, when she had caught me staring at Adrian’s old house from the rockers the evening before, she’d looked at me questioningly, like she didn’t know what I wanted to know. I guess she took my silence as consent, because she looked at Adrian’s house from her rocker and said, “He doesn’t live there anymore, baby.”
I’d figured that since I hadn’t seen him since I’d been home, so I’d said nothing back. What was there to say? I didn’t even deserve that tiny kernel of information, so I didn’t demand anymore. It didn’t stop all the questions that ran through my mind though. I was being a total girl. I wanted to know, but I didn’t. I wanted to know because I still loved him. I didn’t want to know because I knew he didn’t love me anymore. How could he?
I would probably find answers out whether I wanted them or not because I was meeting Miranda in exactly two minutes. I opened the door to Beau’s, a small hole-in-the-wall bar that served shit food. Miranda had picked the place. She’d called the night before and demanded to see me so we could “catch up,” and since Momma wasn’t feeling bad, I didn’t really have a reason not to. Besides, I was starting to feel like being at the house was wearing on me. I had been avoiding the backyard and the creek, but there was no way to evade her pictures on the wall or the memories that came with every room in my childhood home. Those memories would sweep in without warning, making me smile while slowly killing me inside. It was a terrible mixture of nostalgia and agony with each one, but I pushed through for my momma. I wouldn’t let her see it. She already had too much on her plate at the moment.
Beau’s smelled like old beer and fried food, and my wedges stuck to the floor as I made my way in, but it was one of the only places to hang out after nine p.m. in this small town. I felt a tad overdressed for the place, but I needed my armor, so I had donned a white, strappy summer dress and my wedges and straightened my hair. I had completely done my face up with dark, smoky eyes and a nude lip.
I hoped
that Momma was going to be okay while I was gone. She hadn’t had any treatments since I’d been home and seemed to be fine. We’d been hanging out, watching daytime TV while cuddled up on the couch. It had been a good few days of reconnecting.
I spotted Miranda in the back with a pitcher of beer and wings in front of her. She was wearing a white-and-blue trucker hat and a blue T-shirt. I slowed my approach as I got closer. God, I was nervous, and that fact just made me sad. It shouldn’t have been like that, but I had done it to myself. And to her.
Miranda smiled and stood up when she saw me. I didn’t know what I’d expected, but it wasn’t the big hug I got or the, “Holy shit, you’re skinny,” that followed. I guess I’d expected her to be a little pissed, but I should have known—Miranda didn’t hold grudges.
We sat down at the table, and I fidgeted under Miranda’s stare.
“God, you look different, Ains,” she said. It didn’t sound like she was pleased with the changes.
I looked down at my dress and my wedges. Everything looked fine. I wondered if my makeup had held up in the heat.
Miranda must have read my concern, because she immediately said, “I mean, you don’t look bad. You just don’t look like you. That’s all.”
I let out a relieved sigh. Good, I thought. I didn’t want to be me anymore.
I didn’t want to talk about myself, so I quickly changed the subject, “Yeah, well. You look exactly the same. You still have your kitty hat?” I asked, grinning.
“Probably somewhere. Everything comes back in style eventually, you know.” She laughed.
“Girl, I don’t know if that hat was ever in style,” I replied.
We both laughed, and I ordered a Diet Coke and watched Miranda dig into her wings.
“So, tell me what’s been going on with you?” I asked.
And that’s what she did. She told me that she’d landed a job editing romance books. I wasn’t surprised, and I was glad she was putting her English degree to use already. Miranda seemed normal and adjusted, and as happy as I was for her, I couldn’t help but be envious. She was moving on and seemed genuinely satisfied with her life. Meanwhile, I was stuck in this odd purgatory where I couldn’t go back, but I also felt like I couldn’t move forward, either.
I’d forgotten the fun and laughter that always came with Miranda, and before I knew it, the night was winding down. The waiter was grabbing our checks when I told her that I needed to run to the bathroom. I used the restroom, checked my makeup and my hair in the mirror, and slammed the bathroom door open as I checked my phone to make sure Momma hadn’t called. Suddenly, I slammed into a wall of pure muscle and my phone clattered to the floor. The woodsy scent of cologne hit me, and as I backed away, my eyes went up—first to his cream-colored button-up shirt covered with black suspenders and then to his thick neck and his masculine jaw. Up some more and my gaze went to those lips. I knew those lips better than my own. I’d dreamt of those lips for years. They were the star of every fantasy I’d ever had since I was twelve years old—those damn lips. My mouth went dry as I took in blue eyes and black-framed glasses.
“Adrian,” I breathed.
We were standing toe-to-toe, but I might as well have been perched at the edge of a cliff, because I felt like I was ready to fall. I’d been falling for this boy-turned-man for as long as I could remember, and there he stood, beautiful beyond my wildest dreams. He was taller, broader, and more gorgeous than ever. My heart soared even as my hands shook with trepidation. Of its own accord, my body swayed toward his like it knew exactly where it belonged, even if my mind was at odds with it. God, but who knew I could still love him so much after all this time.
My shaking hand was making its way to his chest when a tall, blond woman shot around him, separating us, and picked my phone up, which had landed between us. She was wearing a tight, sleeveless, red dress and black pumps.
“She a friend of yours?” she asked Adrian while handing me my phone.
Both of our gazes traveled to his, and the venom coming from his sent me a few steps back.
His lips twisted in disdain, and his eyes held mine as he answered, “No. Just some girl I used to know.”
The physical blow of those words ricocheted through my body even though I knew I deserved them. I didn’t let him see it though. I took one last look at Blondie and noticed her too-bright smile. The kind of smile that said, Yeah, bitch, he’s mine. I shoved my phone back into my purse and made a quick escape. I didn’t turn around. I didn’t look back because I couldn’t stand the look on Adrian’s face. That face had once been full of adoration and love, and now, the disgust on it cut me to the quick.
When I returned to the table, I could tell by the look of pity on Miranda’s face that she had seen my not-so-great reunion with Adrian.
“Fuck, Ainsley. I should have warned you, but I didn’t know he was going to be here tonight. I thought I would have at least a couple more days to catch you up on everything.”
I stood next to our table, still a little stunned. I couldn’t even focus on Miranda anymore. Adrian had a girlfriend. I felt the bile rise up in my throat. He had a girlfriend and she looked like a damn Playboy Bunny. He had a gorgeous girlfriend, and there I was, still pining away for him. How pathetic was I? But I couldn’t even be mad. This was all my doing. He had every right to move on with his life. And me, I deserved this misery.
I made sure my face was as neutral as possible. “It’s fine, Miranda. Of course Adrian has a girlfriend. He’s a great guy and he deserves to be happy,” I said with a tight smile.
Miranda didn’t seem the least bit fooled by my act. She stood up and pushed me down in a chair on her side of the table. She sat down next to me and reached her hand out for one of my mine under the table. “It’s okay if you’re sad, Ains,” she said, squeezing my hand.
I scoffed. “I’m not sad. I mean, I guess I am a little disappointed that he hates my guts, but I expected it, honestly. How I treated him was terrible and unforgivable, so I get it.”
“There’s a fine, tiny damn line between love and hate, Ains,” Miranda said through a sad smile.
I knew what she meant. I knew all too well that you couldn’t hate something or someone without loving them madly. I loved this town as much as I hated it. Sometimes, I thought of Lori and how much I loved her to only hate her for having left me. It was a fine line and I was damn sick of riding it.
I got up and dragged Miranda up too. “We gotta get out of here. I’m sure Momma is waiting up on me, and it’s getting late.”
Miranda grabbed her bag, and we both slipped into the aisle and made our way to the front door of Beau’s. I knew that it wasn’t an accident that we walked right by Adrian and Blondie as they snuggled in a booth, their tongues shoved down each other’s throats. I couldn’t help but pause in shock when Adrian’s vengeful eyes flew to mine while he continued kissing Blondie. I felt sick. I did my best to keep the hurt off my face as I practically ran out of that bar and into the parking lot.
Miranda caught up with me in a huff and grabbed my arm before I got in my car. “God, I’m sorry, Ains. Adrian is being a complete asshole.”
She was right; he was. But I had it coming.
I played it off like his kissing that woman in my presence hadn’t sent me spiraling into a world of hurt. “It’s all good, girl. Stop by the house tomorrow, yeah? Momma wants to see you.”
Miranda nodded solemnly as I got in my car and closed the door. As soon as I was out of the parking lot, I felt the familiar burn of tears. Clenching my teeth, I tried to keep them in, but it was no use.
I couldn’t believe that a fifteen-year love affair had come to this. I thought of Adrian kissing that woman, the look in his eyes searing me through. He was putting me in my place. He was sending me straight back to Hell. A place I hadn’t been for over four years. Only, now, Adrian had the key.
I was fresh out of the shower, toweling myself off, when I heard the slam of my front door and the bellow of, “Adrian Davis, g
et your ass out here now!”
Only one person in the world was crazy enough to walk into my apartment and scream at the top of her lungs at me. And I loved her dearly, so I put up with that shit. Also, she was good for entertainment purposes. I smirked and kept drying myself off as I heard her footsteps thunder toward my bedroom. The door swung open and there stood Miranda, mad as hell. I turned my body fully toward her, draped my towel over my shoulders, and quirked an eyebrow for effect. You bust into my house, you suffer the consequences.
Her jaw dropped open, her big, brown eyes got bigger, and her gaze traveled lower. “Oh. My. God. What in the hell is wrong with you? Put that….that…weapon of ass destruction away, man. Jesus, don’t you know that I can’t unsee that shit?” she shouted at me. She put her hands over her eyes and turned away.
I wrapped my towel around my waist and scowled at her. I wasn’t really mad, but I loved to get her going. Miranda had been my best friend for years, and the truth of it was I had been expecting her visit this morning. I knew she wouldn’t let last night slide. I had been a grade-A asshole and she was there to call me out on it.
“You wouldn’t have to ‘see’ anything if you learned how to ring a doorbell, Miranda,” I threw over my shoulder as I made my way to my bathroom to finish getting ready.
She followed me because the girl had absolutely no boundaries. See? Crazytown.
“I would ring the doorbell if you actually locked your door like a normal person who was actually concerned about his safety,” she said just outside the bathroom.
“It’s common courtesy, babe,” I said through my toothpaste before spitting in the sink.
“Speaking of common courtesy,” Miranda growled through clenched teeth.
