When Sh*t Gets in the Way (When Life Gets in the Way Book 2)

by Ines Vieira

  Dad’s expression never changed when in the presence of his parents. Unreadable to either of them. Even mom and I had a hard time sensing his mood when my grandparents were near. He never let on if any of their comments got to him, nor did he ever discuss these gatherings after they left. It was like this obligation was attended by a clone of my father. No heart, just an empty vessel, completely void of feeling. After years and years of living in the cold environment that his parents provided, I came to understand that this was a coping mechanism for my father. If they saw no weakness, if they saw that nothing that they could do or say would hurt him in any way, then they would lose interest and cease with the firing squad. This façade made him completely immune to any of their provocation. My father was always a smart man, and by facing his parents in this way, these visits were usually short and rare, even if it did leave a bitter taste in your mouth afterward.

  My mother, however, was not as unaffected by their words. It's true that over the years she also has grown to take these little confrontations with a grain of salt. My grandparent's usual topics of discussion revolve around money and how to obtain more of it or those who have a lack of it, and my mother had little interest in any of these discussions. But time to time, there were some certain topics that my dear grandmother loved to bring up just to see if she’d hit her mark and get a rise out of a normally level-headed woman like my mother.

  I walked past my grandmother after bending down to kiss her cheek, and in turn, she strongly grabs my face to lower it to her eye level and takes a good look at me. She looks impeccable, with her gray hair pulled into a tight bun, which brings out the clear blue of her eyes, perfectly strategized appearance, over the years for the no-nonsense persona that she so esteems. With flawless minimal makeup and a dark blue dress, that I’m positive must be right out of the latest Dior line-up, my grandmother is nothing but the epidemy of cool and collected.

  “You’ve grown,” she says. There is no malice in her voice as she eyes me and takes in all my features. A pang of guilt spreads my chest as I know what she must be remembering.

  “You look well, grandmother,” I say politely as she grabs both of my hands inside her perfectly manicured ones and continues to stare into my eyes. Thankfully the moment passes quickly enough, and she gathers herself back to her usual aristocratic self. Later on, I was positive that she would chastise herself for the one second of vulnerability, even if I was the only one to witness it.

  “Thank you, child. I would, however, look better if my eldest grandchild visited me more often. I was under the impression that now that you were attending Columbia, I would see more of you. Instead, I have to come here to Plymouth of all places to see you.” I walk away and shake my grandfather's hand as it is accustomed, and take my seat next to him.

  “I apologize for that. As you can imagine, school takes most of my time, and I haven’t had much of it for a proper social call. I promise I’ll make a better effort, once I go back,” I reply hoping that this will placate her sense of injustice of me not dropping by at their penthouse since I arrived in New York last August.

  One of the servants, that my parents hire for only these occasions, enters the large dining room and starts serving the entrée course; a simple Chef’s salad with slices of turkey, avocado, and Jack Cheese. My grandmother ignores the middle-aged woman dressed professionally in a white fitted shirt and black skirt, as she places the entrée in front of us all. Both my parents and I thank the garçonesse, but my grandparents don't even make eye contact. They are above such pleasantries. Especially towards what they consider to be the help.

  “I will hold you to it, Quaid. Your room is still there for you to use at your leisure. I know that your grandfather is quite proud of the fact that you joined his fraternity, but I’m sure that it’s not a productive learning environment for a future surgeon. If not for us, then at least feel free to come to our home in order to have a quiet place to study.”

  “I was able to obtain my degree just fine attending Delta Kappa Tau. I don’t see why Quaid will be any different. If one of our greatest presidents could do it, so can our grandson,” my grandfather answers her with a scoff.

  “Yes, well I’m sure the curriculum has changed somewhat since the eighteen hundreds, and you, my darling husband, graduated with a bachelor degree in business, not a doctorate. Quaid is working towards getting into Med School after all, so I believe the circumstances are far from being similar, yes?” My grandfather chuckles at grandma’s reasoning and moves closer to her.

  “Yes, wife, I do believe you are right. As always,” my grandfather says while lifting his wife’s hand and kissing the back of her knuckles. That’s as far as any affection is seen from these two. Small glimpses of affection, but always when it concerns the other. Anyone that isn’t part of the duo has probably never been the recipient of any sense of love or tenderness from either of them. Whatever small capacity they have for such emotions, they prefer to save it for themselves to dote on the other. I raise my head in time to see my mother give a teasing grin to my father, probably thinking the same thing. Unfortunately, my grandmother doesn’t miss my mom’s sarcastic smirk either.

  “Have you spoken to Olivia?” The question comes from the matriarch herself, but she never leaves her eyes off her plate, so I don’t know for sure who she aimed that grenade at, but it’s easy to guess. I continue to stare at my own plate hoping that it wasn’t meant for me, though.

  “Why would anyone at this table have spoken to Olivia?” my mother asks with disdain in her voice and her back now stiff in place. If there is anyone that can take on my grandmother’s icy persona, it’s her. She’ll raise a barricade high enough that not even a grand arsenal can get through.

  “Now dear, don’t be so sensitive, it was just a question. She is family after all.”

  Daggers. All I see are daggers being launched with the sole purpose of striking it right in the center of dear ol’ gran. Yep, right between those empty eyes. Mom is holding her knife and fork so tightly that I’m praying that she can contain her rage enough not to throw both utensils at my grandmother's heart. If she had a heart that is.

  “She’s no family of ours and I find it in poor taste you even bringing her name up at my family’s table, Debora.” My grandmother rolls her eyes and dabs the corner of her mouth with the linen napkin and then places it again on her lap, and leans in to grab her glass of white wine. Her clear blue eyes are as blank and empty as her soul.

  “You have always been one to dramatize. It was only a question. A harmless one at that. I see no reason to see it as anything else.”

  “No, mother. No one has spoken to her. Question answered. Can we move on, then? Will you be staying at the Hamptons this Christmas?” my father asks, but I see him place a hand on top of my mother’s. The one she is clutching her knife with. I guess I’m not the only one that could tell mom wanted to swing that thing while aiming at grandma’s forehead.

  “Now Craig, you know how I hate being asked questions that you already know the answers to. Especially in this poor attempt to move off topic. But it is the holiday season so I’ll humor you this once. New York is our home, and it is the Stevens’ tradition that we spend Christmas and New Year’s up at the Hamptons. Your brother will be there with his family as will everyone else that usually comes to our festivities. I would invite you to come, but I know it is futile, so I won’t even extend an invitation. I know how fond you are of this place. See, I refuse to ask questions to which I already know the answers to. It’s a waste of time and time my son, is a valuable commodity.”

  My grandfather smirks beside her, and I see my father tighten his grip on my mother's hand. I chance a look at my father, and he continues to look calm and collected. Dad has heard worse from his parents, so his well-placed walls keep him protected from their offenses. Mom, on the other hand, is a lioness. She will maim and murder anything that threatens to attack her family. My grandparents have always been enemy number one.

  N
o, that’s a lie. The number one spot is reserved for another.

  After three long hours of awkwardness and hostility, my grandparents finally leave, heading back to New York City. The air is still heavy with their recent presence, so my father decides to lock himself in his office with the excuse that he needs to catch up on some work. Both mom and I know that he’ll be sitting in front of the fireplace, scotch in hand, trying to erase the last couple of hours from his mind.

  I join mom in the kitchen as she helps the remaining staff clean up the remains of the brunch from Dante’s inferno. In retrospective, it wasn’t that bad. I’ve attended worse.

  “So, you came back home late last night. For someone who didn’t even want to go to a party, you sure did a one-eighty on that one,” she says, and the smile on her face lets me know she’s already forgotten our ‘guests’. She starts rinsing the dirty dishes through water and starts giving me a plate at a time to fill the dishwashing machine.

  “It was kind of fun. The Silva’s know how to throw a party.”

  “Oh, I do not doubt it. I remember going to a few of Carlos’ parties back in the day. That family is nothing but entertaining.” She laughs and continues to hand me another plate.

  “I didn’t know that you knew Carlos that well?” I ask genuinely curious since it's the first time I’ve heard that mom knew Jess’s dad. She scrunches up her face, suggestively implying it's ludicrous that I didn’t know this little tidbit.

  “Well, of course, I know Carlos. Anna too, I might add. You forget that I have lived in Plymouth most of my life, except for when I lived in New York with you and your father. I have known the Silvas since forever. We all attended Riverside together. They have always been an unruly bunch, but all heart, that’s for sure. Well, maybe not all of them. Hector always gave me the heebeegeebees.” After the last plate, she dries her hands with a washcloth and then hands it over to me to do the same.

  “Heebeegeebees, mom, really?” I laugh and jump onto the kitchen marble island. I grab an apple out of the fruit basket and take a big bite out of it, while my mom hits my knee with the same washcloth.

  “Fine, he gave me the creeps. I remember all the girls falling head over heels for that boy. Trying to grab his attention in any way they could, but I always did the opposite. Anything not to get on his radar. Those soulless black eyes, always made me cringe whenever he did notice me.” Mom shivers as if she’s recollecting a distant memory. But as she describes Isaac’s dad, I can't help thinking of Cass from the night before, and how she is literally wilting away.

  “You think, he did something to his wife and kid?” I ask. I know the question is macabre, but for Cass’s sake, I hope that Isaac and his mom are far away and well, and not buried in a ditch somewhere. I don’t know how Cass would take it if two bodies were found somewhere in the dirt or surfaced from a watery grave. Could my mom’s classmate be that evil? Mom shakes her head, probably trying to clear the same unholy thoughts that I’m having from, her mind.

  “Honestly? I wouldn’t put anything past that man. I just hope he never got his chance to really hurt those two.” She starts putting Tupperware in the fridge, and I can still see her tense. I try to lighten up the mood and say the first thing that pops into my mind. Actually, the one thing that hasn’t left my mind since last night.

  “Well, Carlos isn’t like that. He’d do anything for his kid. So much so, that I’m officially on babysitting duty,” I say as I throw the remains of my apple in the trash. She turns to me with curiosity in her eyes.

  “Babysitting? Who?” I shrug and hop off the island, preferring to lean against it instead.

  “Jess, no wait, it’s Jessica Silva now. Carlos asked that I do him a solid and keep an eye on her back at school. You know, see if she’s adapting or what not,” my annoyed tone comes out as crystal clear as the water my mom is pouring for herself.

  “I see that this is something that you’re not too thrilled about. You know most boys your age would be knocking each other over for such a tedious task. Humph, taking care of a gorgeous bombshell of a girl like Jess doesn’t seem too tedious a task to me.”

  “You’d think that, wouldn’t you? But after spending five minutes in her presence, believe me, you’d know where I’m coming from. The girl is a handful,” I say walking towards my fridge to see if there is anything I can snack on. Somehow, brunch with my grandparents never includes eating. They are known for taking anyone’s appetite away, so now that their lingered presence is no longer felt, I am aching for some much-needed carbs. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich should do the trick.

  “Ah, my sweet Quaid, we women are always a handful. That’s what makes us interesting,” she teases. “And I don’t remember you ever shying away from a challenge. Maybe this Jessica is just what you need to give your life that bit of extra flavor. While Carlos is worried about his baby girl not adapting to NYC, I’m worried that you’re not taking enough time to enjoy it. You do know that college isn’t just about classes, right? It's okay to have fun once in awhile.”

  Here we go again.

  “Mom, I’m in a fraternity, aren’t I? Fun is all those guys think about.”

  “Oh, I’m sure it is, believe me, I was thrilled when you called telling us that you joined but that doesn’t mean while they’re partying it up, that my very serious son isn’t locked away in his room researching how to cure cancer.”

  “So, what you’re saying is that you’d prefer that I spend my Friday nights getting wasted instead of curing the world of a serious illness? Mom, I think you have officially lost it, or you’ve gotten your priorities all screwed up from Grandma’s visit,” I tease her as I start to wolf down my sandwich.

  “Well, I see they haven’t taken your sense of humor at least, and you know very well that I have my priorities in check. You will always be number one, so that means that I want you to have the fullest life possible. Having a bit of fun won't kill you,” she says while pinching my forearm and giving me one of those mischievous winks.

  “And you think babysitting Jess falls into the category of fun? Sorry to disappoint you mom, but something tells me that it's going to be more work than fun.” Finally full and anxious to go back to my room and pick up from where I left off in my Biology textbook, I kiss my mother’s cheek and start to head out of the kitchen.

  “Well, you never know. If she’s anything like her father, she might just surprise you.”

  Yeah, I don’t think so. Jessica may be Carlos’s daughter, but she is too self-involved to be anything like the compassionate man I know Carlos to be. Even though I hate to admit it, there are some similarities between the two. Jess has that same charisma as Carlos. Even though for very different traits, Jess Silva is very hard not to take notice of and after last night’s confrontation, my brain hasn’t been on the same wavelength as another part of my anatomy. When that devil of a girl came up to me all fiery like that, telling me to stay away from her best friend, it both annoyed and enthralled me. It bugged the hell out of me that she would think that I was flirting with a girl that was obviously going through a rough patch. I’m not some dick that would prey on a girl when she’s that vulnerable, and for Jessica to come and step between us, all guns blazing got on my very last nerve.

  But it also excited me when I saw that blush again, that same blush that she hid in the car on our drive home when I accused her of her being jealous. What really got my blood pumping was when I leaned in on her, and I saw her shiver in anticipation. Not repulsiveness as I would have expected, but sheer anticipation of what my next move would be. I saw her breath catch, and that tongue sweep her lower lip just begging for me to lean in further and kiss the hell out of those sumptuous lips. I let that strawberry scent keep me awake all night and only this morning did I kick myself for letting her affect me that way. Animosity is a safer feeling when it comes to Jess. I will do as Carlos asked and look out for the brat but I’ll do it at a safe distance.

  Maybe mom is right about one thing. When I get back
to Columbia, I might need to be a little more social. Hanging out with my frat brothers is fun and all, but after yesterday’s run-in with Jess, it seems that I’ve been living like a monk for too long. I’m positive if I wasn’t so hard up, that she would have been the last woman to turn me on that way. Right? I mean, it’s just insane to have fantasies of the same girl that pisses you off at every turn. Right?

  This is going to be one long ass semester.

  Chapter 7

  Jess

  “Aunt Laura, enough already! My hair is fine,” I say rolling my eyes. I knew coming into my mother’s salon was going to get me in trouble. Tony’s mom was always on my case that I didn’t moisturize enough. I wash it, don’t I? When did that stop being enough?

  “But you have such pretty hair; it's such shame that you refuse to take care of it.” She says as she fluffs my hair in a way that seems like she is trying to apologize to it for me. It so deserves the extra roll of my eyes.

  “Yeah, yeah. Are you like this with my primos, too? I bet you don’t give Tony a lecture on hair products every time he pops by to see you?”

  “I don’t need to, my smartass niece,” she smiles and prepares her chair for the next customer. A sweet old lady who probably came to my mom’s salon for the girl talk as much as for the pampering Aunt Laura will give her.

  “My boys know how to take care of themselves. Or do you think my Tony’s silky hair was God-given? Or why do you think my boys have impeccable skin like a baby’s behind? Their mama taught them how to take care of their appearance, that’s how.”

  “Well, making them look good, doesn’t mean that they are less pains in the ass!”

  “Jessica,” my mother warns softly as she continues to cut Cass’s hair.