Crazy, but true.
Macy rang the doorbell, then tried the doorknob without waiting for someone to answer. It was unlocked, and she pushed the door open. “Hello?” she called into the house.
A woman with a pretty round face and wide hips appeared in the hallway. She had curly blond hair and Macy’s soft brown eyes. She wore a faded green T-shirt tucked into circa 1990 stonewashed jeans, and when she looked at Griffin, she plastered on a big smile.
“You must be Macy’s friend.”
“Mom, this is Griffin Reed. Griffin, this is my mom, Joy Thomaston.”
She shook his hand, then embraced Macy in a halfhearted hug.
“It’s good to see you both, but I don’t understand what this unplanned visit is all about. I’m not dying or anything.”
“I know, Mom. Your call just reminded me that I haven’t come to visit in a while, and I thought it would be nice to see you. I felt bad about the way our call ended.”
“You know there won’t be much of an inheritance when I die,” her mother said, crossing her arms over her ample chest.
“What does that have to do with anything? And why should I even care?”
Mrs. Thomaston sighed heavily. She wasn’t going to win any acting awards, but Griffin could tell by Macy’s stiff posture that her mother was already getting to her.
“I may not have cancer now, but all these lumps will certainly make it harder for me to tell if I do have malignant ones growing. I know that’s on your mind, and I know you’re probably here hoping you can benefit somehow from my illness.”
Macy’s tolerant expression vanished, to be replaced by pure outrage. “We’re leaving,” she said, her calm voice edged with fury.
She turned toward the door, but Griffin caught her hand in his. “Wait,” he said. “I’m sure your mom didn’t mean that the way it sounded.”
He was lying, but he didn’t see any reason to let their relationship crumble in his presence.
“I’m sure you’re just under a lot of stress because of your health issues—right, Mrs. Thomaston?” he said.
She looked confused, but then she gave in. “You have no idea how much.”
“We drove all this way. There’s no sense in leaving before we’ve even gotten to visit,” he said to Macy, and she cast him a death glare again, but she yielded to his tugging on her hand, and a minute later they were sitting in the family room, which looked as though it had last been redecorated some time in the eighties.
Peach leather sofas, mint-green speckled carpeting, lots of pastel-colored abstract paintings and a TV dominated the room.
“Can I get you two something to drink? We’re all out of sodas, and I only have decaf coffee.”
“I’ll have a coffee,” Macy said.
“Me, too.”
As soon as her mom was gone from the room, she mouthed the words “Let’s go.”
Griffin shook his head. “No way. We’re staying.”
“What’s the matter with you? Are you a masochist?”
He shrugged and whispered. “Your mom seems nice, maybe just a little…”
“Insane?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
“Are those pictures of you?” he said, nodding to some brass-framed photos on the bookcase across the room.
“Oh, God. No, those are my evil twin’s photos.”
“You’ve already told me you don’t have any siblings, remember?” he said as he got up and went to the photos.
“Oh, right,” she said, following him. “I need to remember to lie more often.”
On the shelves sat a photographic history of Macy’s life, from her sweet chubby-cheeked baby photos to her gawky preteen years, from her toothless elementary school grins to her plump senior portrait. She looked like a different person altogether now, but the one constant was her eyes. Wide and brown and full of warmth, they never changed throughout her many different phases.
“You were a cute kid,” he said.
“I was a total geek.”
“We all were.”
“You weren’t. You were Mr. All-Star American Jock. You were the kind of guy who never would have noticed me in school.”
He draped an arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer. “That’s not true.”
“Please. I once had a crush on a guy just like you, all through high school. Once, I got up the nerve to talk to him in the hallway….”
“And what happened?”
“I walked up and said, ‘Hi, I’m Macy, from your chemistry class,’ and he said, ‘Huh? You’re not in my class.’ But I was. I sat three seats behind him the entire year, and he never once noticed me.”
“He was an asshole then.”
“True. But does that mean you’re claiming you were always such a nice guy, you would have noticed me even when I was fat?”
“Absolutely.” But he was lying. He probably wouldn’t have, he realized, and it made him see just how much people could miss out on by not looking past the surface, by always judging outward appearances.
“Coffee’s almost ready,” Mrs. Thomaston called from the kitchen. “Who wants milk and sugar?”
“I’ll take milk, but no sugar,” Macy called back.
“Same here,” Griffin said.
“Watch, she’ll load down both our cups with so much sugar you’ll think you’re drinking melted coffee ice cream. She does it every time.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s the way she likes it.”
“Then why did she even ask what we wanted?”
“Beats me. Some kind of weird control thing.”
They sat down, and a minute later Mrs. Thomaston carried in a tray of coffee cups and sat it on the glass table in front of the sofa.
“Where’s Dad?” Macy asked.
“He should be home any time now. He’s been out all day shopping for a riding mower.”
Griffin sipped his coffee and nearly gagged on the sweetness of it. He set the cup aside and listened as Macy’s mother talked about lawn problems and unreliable landscaping services.
Macy took a few sips and set her cup aside as well.
Griffin felt a crazy urge to protect her from her mother, at the same time that he wanted to know everything about her family life. He felt as if he was learning about layers of her personality he hadn’t even mined yet, layers he hadn’t realized were there until today.
Macy as a carefree little girl, Macy as an insecure teenager, Macy as a daughter to a mother who hadn’t wanted to have more kids because one was more than she could handle.
And now, Macy as the woman he loved.
He loved her.
Somewhere between San Francisco and Fresno, somewhere between the crowded city and the vast suburbs, it had become an indisputable fact in his head.
Which meant he had to tell her, when the time was right. Whether she was ready to hear it or not.
MACY WANTED to run for her life. Griffin could stay, but she felt claustrophobic, as though if she didn’t get out of her parents’ house now, it would suck all the breath out of her.
But she knew running wasn’t going to do her any good. Her mother would find her one way or another.
And this was her life, anyway. She had to face it. There weren’t any wealthy missing parents searching for her, there weren’t any get-out-of-this-family-free cards. Her parents were a part of who she was, and if she didn’t come to terms with that, her mother would always have the power to drive her crazy.
It felt good to have Griffin there beside her. She made a mental note to thank him later—if they survived this visit—for forcing her to come here and face the problem of her mother head-on.
Her mother had stopped talking about the lawn at some point and was now asking Griffin questions.
“How did you two meet?” she was asking.
“We work together,” Griffin said.
“And you’re a couple?”
He put his arm around Mac
y. “Absolutely.”
Whoa, there. Is that what they were calling it now? When had this happened? Macy blinked, and blinked again. Somehow this office affair had gotten completely out of control, and she was beyond stupid for not noticing it. She and Griffin were now a…couple?
Holy crap.
“Are you planning to get married? Is that why you’re here? To announce your engagement?” her mother said, eyeing Macy’s naked ring finger.
Leave it to her to take the conversation from vaguely uncomfortable to totally freaking awkward in a matter of minutes.
“Um, we’re not quite at that stage,” Griffin said diplomatically. “But I’m absolutely crazy about Macy.”
“You know she’s not had a lot of experience at relationships,” her mother said. “She was quite the late bloomer.”
Griffin clearly didn’t know how to respond to that one. Macy figured it was best not to point out that she’d actually had plenty of experiences as an adult—none of which she’d chosen to share with her family.
Her mother nodded at the chubby photos across the room. “She had a weight problem all through her childhood years. Cleared up as soon as she moved away from home. I figured it was bulimia or maybe anorexia, but I never could get her to seek help.”
Griffin was still speechless. Macy, having heard it all before, had nothing else to say.
“Have you seen her purging…or eating like a bird?”
“I’m sure Macy doesn’t have any eating disorder. I’ve never seen her act anything but completely normal about food.”
Same arguments Macy had used until she was blue in the face. Eventually, she had to accept the fact that the reality her mother built in her head was the only one she was capable of believing. In all the years Macy had lived in San Francisco, her mother had never visited her there because she believed the city was full of drugged-out hippies and militant homosexuals. Didn’t matter whether it was true or not—that’s what she believed and there was no changing her mind.
As it was with everything.
And then came the inevitable. “I hope you two are practicing safe sex.”
Griffin nudged Macy’s foot with his, and she did her best to keep a straight face.
“Absolutely,” he said without hesitation.
“You realize there is a failure rate with condoms, and that you’re not protected from disease during oral sex. Have you been tested since your last sexual partners?”
“Tested and clean, I can assure you.”
He was holding up exceptionally well. Macy wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d run screaming from the house.
But he didn’t, and she realized that meant something to her. She’d introduced a few guys to her family, but he was the first guy she could see tolerating additional family get-togethers.
Which, sadly, wasn’t going to happen.
They survived another hour with her mother, until her father arrived home. Thankfully, Frank Thomaston had enough sense not to talk to his grown daughter’s male friends about birth control, but he mostly didn’t talk at all. His idea of a good dinner conversation consisted mainly of “Pass the butter,” and “Thank you.”
They sat on the sofa watching ESPN with him for a while—long enough that getting up to leave wouldn’t seem rude—and then they tried to leave. But when they peeked into the kitchen to say goodbye to Joy, she had her hands buried in a glob of ground beef.
“You can’t leave now,” she said. “I’m making meat loaf!”
“But, you said you weren’t cooking, and we still have to get back to the city tonight.”
Macy glanced up at the kitchen clock, shaped like a head of lettuce. Which for the first time struck her as bizarrely appropriate given the historic rotten-lettuce incident. It was almost four.
“I changed my mind. I thought it would be nice to have a family dinner together for a change, since your friend is here.”
Which meant she liked Griffin. Really liked him.
Macy wasn’t sure whether to be pleased or disturbed by that. But it didn’t really matter. She wasn’t kidding herself about the nature of their relationship, and no matter how much they might be enjoying each other’s company outside the office, there was still the fact that Griffin had very few of the qualities of her dream guy.
Arrogant, overconfident jock did not equal keeper material in her book. He was the kind of guy she’d spent her adult life avoiding. The only reason they were getting along was because they had great sexual chemistry.
That was it. Period. End of story.
She eyed Griffin, and he shrugged. “I don’t know, Mom. This would put us getting back into the city late.”
“Oh, stop it. You’ll have to eat sooner or later, anyway, and dinner will be done in twenty minutes. You can spare twenty minutes, can’t you?”
“Wow, that’s pretty fast for a meat loaf, isn’t it?” Macy said.
“I’m making it in the microwave.”
“Oh.” Yum.
“Sit down,” her mother said. “There are playing cards in the basket in the middle of the table. You can play rummy.”
Major flashback. Macy hadn’t played rummy since her miserable sophomore year in high school when everyone else was starting to date, and she was stuck home with her parents and a deck of cards. Sometimes she’d even been pitiful enough to play solitaire while pretending her imaginary boyfriend was sitting across the table from her. Maybe watching her lovingly, being astounded by her card-playing abilities, complimenting her when she made an especially impressive move.
“Rummy,” Macy said, making a face at Griffin. “Yay.”
He pulled out a chair and sat down, grabbed the deck of cards, did a lightning-fast shuffle and dealt a hand to each of them.
Macy reluctantly sat down across from him and picked up her hand.
“You’ll have to refresh me on the rules,” he said, smiling at her as if he was perfectly happy to be there at her mother’s Formica table, sitting in her pink-cushioned rolling chairs.
Her teenage fantasy come to life. Dear God. How had this happened?
He was cuter than any of the guys she’d spent those years pining after, and smarter, but he was most certainly one of them. He probably still had the letterman jackets in his closet to prove it.
The uneasy feeling in Macy’s belly grew to hurricane proportions, and she couldn’t remember the rules for rummy.
“I’ve forgotten,” she said. “Mom, can you refresh us?”
Her mother filled them in, but Macy couldn’t focus.
She’d spent her whole adult life trying to distance herself from the kind of person she’d been as a teenager, and that included pining after guys like Griffin. And now here she sat with one she not only liked, but feared she was falling for.
She stared dumbly at the hand Griffin had dealt her. And then her mother’s instructions began to sink into her brain. Really, the rules had been there all along, buried in her memory from countless nights spent at home with her parents.
And being here now with Griffin? It was just a case of old habits being hard to break. There had been no revenge of the nerd, because the nerd had seen her chance with the office jock and thrown herself at him as if he was a life-sized brownie sundae.
15
GRIFFIN GLANCED OVER at Macy sitting in the passenger seat. She’d been a little morose all afternoon at her parents’ place, and nothing he’d tried had broken her out of the funk.
“You want to talk about it?” he asked.
“Hmm?” She looked at him as if he’d just startled her out of a daze.
“Your dark mood—do you want to talk about it?”
“Oh, sorry. I guess I just get this way around my parents.”
“Are you sure they’re all that’s bothering you? I mean, they’re not here now, but your mood still is.”
She stared out the passenger window, not answering for a while.
“I used to be such a nerd growing up, I didn’t have a life, so I spent all m
y time fantasizing about the one I would have someday. I’d be pretty, have a glamorous job… I’d be confident, a risk-taker, the kind of woman people write books and TV shows about.”
“Sounds like you’ve accomplished all your goals in spades then.”
More silence, and then, “I guess.”
“So what’s wrong?”
“I never could figure out how to exorcize the miserable fat kid. She’s still here. She’s just dressed up in cool kids’ clothing.”
Griffin tried not to laugh. He really tried. But he failed. “Why would you even want to? I mean, you are who you are, and I think you’re amazing just like you are.”
“Maybe I imagined, I dunno, that the confidence part would be easier. That I’d always know the right thing to do, and I’d never have any huge problems to deal with.”
“That was just adolescent idealism. You know better now. But as far as confidence goes, you have no reason not to be sure of yourself. You’re amazing at everything you do.”
“Not always. Sometimes I do stupid things.”
“Like what?”
She glanced over at him, but in the waning light, her face was shadowed and he couldn’t quite read the expression in her eyes.
“Like have an affair with a guy in my office that I know will be doomed and that will likely complicate our lives unnecessarily.”
“Complication can be a good thing.”
“But seriously. We keep saying, ‘after this weekend we’re done,’ or ‘just one more night and we’re done,’ and now look at us. You’ve met my parents, for God’s sake.”
“So?”
“So now I’m going to spend the next three years fielding questions from my mother about what ever happened to that nice boy Gavin.”
“Gavin?”
“She’ll forget your name by next Tuesday.”
Outside the car, the rural scenery of Gilroy rolled past, and the scent of garlic filled the air from the many garlic farms surrounding the town. This was a much more enjoyable part of the drive than going north on 99, but the sometimes windy, narrow road meant he had to pay close attention to the wheel.
Sex, Lies and Dirty Secrets Page 16
