by McKinley May
The deep, baritone sound causes me to crack up laughing. “Holy shit, you sound exactly like this slow jams radio DJ I used to hear in my dad’s car when I was younger. Seriously, you could be vocal twins.”
He goes even deeper. “You like it?”
I die laughing but manage to respond in between fits of giggles. “Oh my God, I don’t ever want to hear it again. It’s creeping me out!”
We chuckle together on the line for a while until he speaks again, this time in a normal-toned, serious voice. “I can tell you had a reason for calling, Rayne. Please tell me.”
I take a deep breath and blurt it out.
“I was just wondering if you were doing anything for Fall Break.”
“Is that this week? Shit, didn’t even realize. I guess I’m just staying here with Cam at the Treehouse.” He pauses for a second. “That’s what you were afraid to ask?”
I swallow nervously. “Not quite. I was wondering if you’d want to visit my house during the break. If you ended up going back home to Raeville, you could stop by for dinner one night and I could introduce you to my family. You know, since we live so close and everything I figured, well, why not?”
He hesitates for a moment, sending my anxiety through the roof.
“I haven’t been to Raeville in a while. Or that house.” The underlying hint of unease in his voice causes me to quickly offer another suggestion.
“You could spend the break at my place.”
I cringe, realizing I jumped straight from simple dinner invitation to full-on house guest in a matter of seconds. That went 0-100 real quick. I continue on, hoping he doesn't think I'm too crazy.
“We have a...well, you can’t exactly call it a guest house. Basically, we have a place for guests to sleep out back.”
He snorts. “Babe, are you asking me to stay in a tent in your parent’s backyard?”
“It’s not a tent!” I insist before realizing that’s not entirely accurate. “I mean, not exactly. It’s hard to explain; you’d have to see it.”
“Would your parents really be okay with that? A dude they’ve never met staying at their place?”
“They trust my judgement.”
“And this non-tent, does it sleep two?”
My core tingles at the suggestive hint in his words.
“It does,” I say as smoothly as I can manage, trying to keep the butterflies in my stomach under control. Although we’ve pretty much covered everything else over the past week, we’ve yet to have sex.
But I was really hoping that would change this weekend.
“Alright, there’s no way your parents are going to be cool with me and their only daughter all alone in their backyard campsite.”
“I’ll just have to sneak out there, then, won’t I?” I roll over on my back and laugh. “Really, they won’t care. They’re very laid back.”
“They sound cool. I can’t wait to meet them.”
“That’s another thing. I know I’ve told you before that my mom’s a little...um...different, but it’s more than that.” I tug on a piece of my hair, trying to find the words to say. I decide the simpler the explanation, the better. “She’s a hippie.”
Vaughn’s laughter is so loud I have to yank the phone away from my ear. When I put it back, he’s still going at it.
Finally, he stops. “That’s fucking awesome. Why are you saying it like it’s a bad thing?”
“She runs her yoga classes from our home and has a very unique taste when it comes to decorating, so the place is a little out of the ordinary. And what I mean by that is it looks like the 1960’s threw up all over our house. Trust me, it’s not for the faint of heart.”
“Okay, you’ve officially got me hooked now. I’d love to come. Just promise me you’ll okay it with your folks right after this call. I don’t want to intrude.”
My heart flutters. “They’ll definitely say yes, but I’ll call them up after this and get confirmation. It’ll be a lot of fun. And I swear you won’t be in a tent.”
“Sounds good. Oh, and Rayne?”
“Yeah?”
“I would’ve said yes even if I had to sleep on a cot outside.”
28
It’s just a normal suburban home.
It’s got tuscan red brick and a spacious front porch, a green, well-kept lawn with a few oak trees, and a simple concrete path leading up to the door.
It’s even got a freakin’ white picket fence.
I put my car into park and twist the key, killing the engine out front. I turn to my passenger seat where Rayne has been sitting for the last two hours, belting out classic 80’s songs with me during the drive to Hillcrest.
I cock my head curiously, and she frowns at my baffled expression. “What?”
I point to the house. “You can’t expect me to believe this is the hippie hut you’ve been talking about nonstop for the past week.”
And that’s not even an exaggeration.
Every day this week when the conversation turned to our plans for the break, she’d warned me about her strange house and free-spirited mother. I’m more than a little perplexed she felt the need to prepare me for the home ‘cause it looks pretty damn normal to me.
“You had me expecting tie-dye wood paneling and giant orbs and wind chimes hanging from every tree branch.” I turn to the house and let out a loud laugh. “This is like picture-perfect suburb America. You could slap this baby on the front of any major real estate magazine.”
When I look back at her, she’s shaking her head and grinning like she knows something I don’t.
“Steel, you are speaking way too soon. Have you ever heard of a thing called HOA? Homeowner Association ring a bell? Believe me, the only thing keeping my mom from filling every inch of this front yard with her zaniness is their ironclad decor regulations.”
I rub my jaw. I forgot about those things. “Why’d you guys choose to live in a place with such strict rules then?”
“It’s a great location with an awesome school district. Plus, my mom had to find a neighborhood where you could run a business out of your home and this one allows that.”
She smiles as she unbuckles her seatbelt. “You do realize what this means, right? Because she was forced to be so horrifyingly cookie cutter in the front yard, the rest of the house is absolutely insane to make up for it.”
She opens her door and sticks a leg out before turning back to me. “Ready for this?”
I nod and step out of the car.
Truthfully, I’m excited to see the place. I don’t give a shit how weird it is; I want to see where Rayne grew up and I want to meet her family. I was pleasantly surprised when she invited me home with her, glad to see she’s as serious about us as I am.
I kinda felt like an asshole for ditching Cameron, though. Due to our shitty family circumstances, we made a pact freshman year to spend the breaks together and we always have. Sometimes it was at the Paine family lake house with the team and sometimes it was just the two of us, drinking and letting loose at the Treehouse.
Luckily, Cam didn’t take it personally when I let him know I wouldn’t be around. In fact, he and Julie are apparently a “thing” again, so I’m sure they’ll be spending the entire break getting reacquainted.
Yeah, definitely glad I'm missing that.
Despite my excitement to travel home with Rayne, I wasn’t thrilled about coming back to this area.
Not one bit.
My stomach had lurched when we passed the exit for Raeville, memories I thought I had permanently eradicated sprung to the surface, darting through my mind as I gripped the steering wheel until my knuckles turned white.
She’d sensed my unease, immediately trying to distract me with a few hilarious pictures of her roommate looking like the blown-up blueberry girl from Willy Wonka. And then she’d really helped get my mind off things when she placed a comforting hand on my upper thigh, slowly moving upwards until the head between my ears wasn’t the one I was focused on anymore.
Rayne walks around the car and hooks her arm through mine, nuzzling her head against my side as we head to the front door. We climb up the porch steps, and I press the bell.
Instead of the usual ding-dong chime of a doorbell, I hear the muffled echoes of what sounds like a brass gong.
“What was that?” I question.
Before she can answer, the door slowly squeaks open towards us, revealing a multicolored, crystal-beaded curtain hanging inside the door frame.
Oh shittt.
This is even better than I thought.
There's a hand poking out through the rattling beads—a wrist adorned with dangling, turquoise bracelets and delicate fingers covered with rings of all shapes and sizes—and I'm assuming it's attached to the person who opened the door.
I turn to Rayne in wonderment, but she avoids my glance and stares straight ahead. By the way she’s chewing on her lip, I can tell that if she so much as peeks at me we’re both going to start cracking up, so I’m glad she doesn’t look over. Laughing at her mom’s psychedelic hippie beads wouldn’t be the ideal first impression.
The curtain spreads apart, and a smiling woman appears between the parting.
“Welcome to our home.”
Swear to God, I thought Rayne forgot to tell me about an older sister she had because the resemblance is uncanny at first glance. She’s got the same bone structure, identical almond-shaped eyes, and she’s tiny, just like Rayne. But her caramel hair and amber eyes don’t have the golden streaks and swirls that her daughter’s have.
Another major difference is the attire. Rayne’s mom has on a long, violet muumuu thing covered in embroidered designs and so many necklaces they’ve got to be weighing her small frame down. I take a quick glance at my girlfriend, her black, fitted tank top and running tights much more understated than her mom’s choice of dress.
Her mom reaches for my hand, clasping it between both of hers as she pulls me into the house. “You have a good energy, Vaughn. Please, come inside and leave your worries at the door.”
The moment I step in, I hear the faint sounds of an Enya track playing and I’m hit with a pleasant whiff of cinnamon and sandalwood. I blink a few times, waiting for my eyes to adjust. Once they do, I look around and two thoughts immediately come to mind.
The first is that Rayne wasn’t exaggerating in the slightest, and the second is that this is fucking trippy.
The entire living room has been converted to a massive yoga studio, complete with two full-mirrored walls opposite from each other. A stack of colorful yoga mats and medicine balls are situated in the left corner of the room, and in the other sits a glowing, human-sized lava lamp.
The wall in front of us is the obvious focal point of the room, completely covered by an eccentric, tie-dye mural which—yep, you guessed it—looks exactly like the 60’s and 70’s puked all over it. Dozens of Chinese lanterns hang from the ceiling, each casting a different color of light in an intricate pattern over the floor.
To top the whole thing off, a disco ball hovers in the center of the lanterns, the sunlight from the bay windows hitting it just right so it's flooding the place with silver flecks.
Yeah, this might be zany as hell, but it’s also fucking awesome.
And I make sure to let her mom know, sans f-bomb. “This is awesome, Mrs. Everett.”
She’s got Rayne pulled into a tight hug as she smiles at my compliment. “Thank you, Vaughn. And, please, call me Emerald.”
Her voice is soothing and velvety, and it’s easy to see why she’s a successful yoga instructor. Just hearing her speak has me ready to get into tree pose and bust out some moon salutations or whatever.
She squeezes her daughter again. “Would you go get your dad from the basement? I told him to come up, but I don’t think he heard me. Your brothers are down there, too.”
Rayne grazes my bicep with her fingertips as she saunters past and turns down a narrow hallway.
“Dad! Boys! Get up here!” I hear her voice echoing and fading as she walks down the basement staircase. It’s just me and Emerald now, and I feel uncharacteristically at a loss for words.
What do hippies like to talk about? I rack my brain for some stereotypical hippie shit I could throw out there.
I vaguely remember something about Flower Power, but I dunno what the fuck that means, so I can’t use that. Definitely know they've got a heavy stoner reputation, but asking your girlfriend’s mom her favorite strain of weed probably isn’t the best conversation starter.
Should I throw up a peace sign? Maybe start singing some Bob Marley?
Damn. I have no fucking clue.
She smiles as I stand there with my hands in my pockets like a fool.
“So, Vaughn, Rayne tells us you’re quite the soccer star.”
I thank my lucky stars that hippies know sports.
“Yeah, I’m not too bad,” I say with a humble shrug.
She emits a friendly laugh. “Honey, I live in a family of sports fanatics. I know you’re one of the top players in the country. No need to be modest.”
I chuckle and thank her as I continue looking around the room. “How long have you been a yoga instructor?”
She follows my wandering gaze around the studio. “I started teaching classes after Rayne was born, but I didn’t start my business until we moved here.”
“It’s a great setup.” I point towards the mural. “Did you paint that?”
“The entire family did. We each add a little more every Christmas.”
She begins showing me who painted what part and when. I grin when I see a section of mini yellow smiley faces, the words Rayne Age 9 scrawled underneath. This isn't just some wacky, random mural—it's a sentimental family art project.
Emerald’s just finished telling me about the time she caught Stone trying to drink from a paint can when I hear voices behind us. I swivel my head around to see Rayne leading the rest of the family into the room.
Her dad—a tall, athletic guy in a Texas Rangers shirt with biceps I’m pretty sure could crush me—walks up, a broad smile on his face as he sticks out his hand in introduction. “Nice to meet you, Vaughn. Call me Jack.”
I firmly shake his hand as two miniature clones of him pop out from behind Rayne.
The older one runs up to me, his brown eyes comically wide underneath his burgundy baseball cap. “Dude, I can’t believe Rayne’s going out with a famous soccer player. That’s so cool!” He jerks his head back to face her. “Wait, does this mean you’re famous, too?”
She rolls her eyes. “How about an introduction, buddy? You’re creeping him out when you start fangirling all over the place without even telling him your name.”
“Stone Everett.” He extends a hand as he sticks his tongue out at her. “And I’m not a fangirl, Rayne!”
“Nice to meet you.” I shake his hand. “And don't worry, bud. Your sister's the one who's my biggest fangirl.”
He laughs as Rayne crosses her arms and smirks. “You wish.”
I turn my attention to the younger one. He looks a little scared, clinging to Rayne’s leg with one hand and holding a handheld video game with the other. I crouch down and wave at him. “You must be Cedar. What’s up, Little Man?”
His face relaxes as she gives him a gentle nudge in my direction. I offer him a high five and he takes it.
Emerald claps her hands above her head. “Dinner will be ready in just a minute. Everyone can come find their seat in the kitchen.”
The boys take off running—Stone narrowly avoiding knocking over the lava lamp as they take the sharp turn into the kitchen—with Emerald and Jack following behind. I reach out for Rayne and hold her close as we trail after the others. I lean my nose into the top of her head, breathing in the delicious scent of her coconut conditioner.
She glances up, worry in her eyes. “What do you think? Ready to run for the hills yet?”
I laugh and pull her into my side. “Not at all. It’s great, actually.”
We walk past the studio
and into the funky kitchen. Dozens of colorful pans hang from a rack above the sink, and potted plants and fresh herbs line the countertops. I notice a dozen beanbags lying on the floor in the breakfast nook.
I twist my head, discreetly whispering in Rayne’s ear, “Where’s the table?”
She grins, pointing to the beanbags and tile floor. “You’re looking at it.”
A little while later, we’re all stuffed and satisfied from a damn delicious Moroccan dish. Not only was the food mouthwateringly good, the company was great as well. Rayne’s family is easy to talk to, and lively conversation flowed throughout the meal. I'm already a big hit with her brothers—Stone kept calling me Mr. Famous, and Cedar insisted he sit in the beanbag next to mine. It felt pretty freaking nice to feel like part of a family again, especially one as fantastic as the Everetts.
“Dinner was great, Emerald. Thanks so much.”
“You’re welcome.” She glances at a large analog clock on the wall before turning to Gary. “Already seven-thirty? We better get a move on. Boys, go wash up and be ready to go by the door in fifteen minutes.”
