by Magan Vernon
The hardwood floors creaked under my Converse. Mom would be happy once she saw the old wood was preserved, but seeing the condition of a house at an estate sale never really told you anything about the owner.
Sure, you could see who updated their kitchen appliances and who had outdated carpet, but other than that, all their household treasures were piled in every room with price tags for people to purchase. Their whole lives reduced to dollar signs.
The first floor looked like most of the houses we went to with outdated furniture and boxes, and the second floor was no different, just sectioned off into bedrooms. Nothing cool for photos and my headache was still looming. Damn, why did I need that last glass of wine?
I looked up to check for another floor or an attic, and bingo, a string hung down from the ceiling near the master bedroom. Some would say since it wasn’t open, I shouldn’t go up there, but at an estate sale, anything was fair game.
I pulled the string, and the door popped open. When the wooden ladder slid down, I secured the ladder on the floor and pushed down on the bottom rung with my foot. Sturdy enough for me to climb—at least, I hoped. I was six-foot and pretty lanky but a good size. The tallest girl in my class, or anywhere I went, I was always ready to duck. If I didn’t bend out of the way, I’d break my fair share of furniture or lamps from hitting my head on them—which I had.
Slowly, I made my way up the ladder, only to be greeted by a large haze of dust. I waved my hand in the air until the dust cleared before I pulled myself up the rest of the way.
I still had some clearance above my head once I stood. The light seeped in through one nautical window near the arched front of the space but still lit up the whole room. I should have brought some sunglasses because this light was killer. When the dust finally cleared, I saw stacks of boxes, and a particular one labeled “photographs” grabbed my attention.
Aside from taking photos, I loved looking at old photography. Something was magical and mysterious, albeit also slightly intrusive, about looking at people’s old memories.
Slowly, I made my way over to the large box as if it would disappear if I got too close. Plus, I didn’t know if there were mice or other critters in the attic. I might have been tall, but I wasn’t a fighter or the least bit intimidating to anything. I screamed like a girl if anything with multiple legs ran by me.
Running my fingers over the dusty top of the box, I slowly opened it. A waft of dust flew in my face, and I coughed, fanning the dusty air with my hand until I could see inside. Gasping, I opened an old leather camera bag and then pulled back the packing paper to find a Pentax K1000. I’d been eyeing these on eBay for years but couldn’t afford it with the portrait studio salary or my part-time bakery job. It’s what my photography and graphics teacher used in high school. The thing that made me want to do photography. Next to that was another antique British field camera that I’d only seen online but looked to be in perfect condition. Holding the heavy metal in my hands, I thought about the shots I could take with these cameras. I’d also finally get to develop my own film, using the techniques I’d learned about in high school but never got to practice since everything was digital.
I heard a creaking and knew someone else must have found the attic as well.
“The cameras are sold, so don’t even bother asking!” I yelled. I didn’t even want to think about what price they would ask. They could be connoisseurs and know they probably had a grand of cameras at least, or I could haggle and offer fifty for the box, and they’d just want to get rid of it.
“I was just checking to see if anyone was up here,” a deep male voice said.
A voice that sounded so familiar ...
I looked up and standing there was my ex-boyfriend, Jordan Webber. Maybe ex-boyfriend wasn’t the right word. Maybe the boy who I dated for almost two years before he graduated early and left for art school in New York. He wanted me to come with him, but what future did I have in New York? My parents weren’t paying for me to go to school unless it was a state school with a real degree, and all I ever wanted was to do photography. So the portrait studio worked for the time being until I realized I really needed to get out of the house and took the part-time job at the bakery. Between my parents’ divorce, work, and trying to get over my breakup, I was basically a hot mess the first two years after high school. Joey came in at the right time as a distraction and then so did the job at the bakery. But I still never forgot about the one who got away.
I hadn’t seen Jordan in over four years, and there he was, standing with a hand on one of the boxes and his blue eyes wide open like he’d just seen a ghost.
“Abbey Dillinger?” he asked; it wasn’t so much of a question as it was a breathless statement.
I hated him for leaving me. He could have gone to art school in Dallas. He could have stayed if he really did love me. I should have hated him. But seeing him, standing in front of me, I couldn’t hate him. The past four years had been very good to him.
Back then, I was attracted to him because he was one of the only guys taller than I was. But now? The man in front of me had grown into his body very well. His biceps stretched his thin white t-shirt. Instead of the shaggy hair, he had an undercut and modern pompadour, aka “steal your girl” hair. But I fell in love with him because of his blue eyes—the same color as the ocean in summertime—and they were locked right on me.
And now, I was acutely aware that I pretty much looked like shit with my long brown hair tossed in a messy bun and dust all over my tank top and shorts. I didn’t even shower or put on makeup and probably reeked like stale beer and breakfast burrito. Not exactly how I wanted to run into my ex.
“Uh, yeah, you may not have recognized me since last time I saw you was when you were getting ready to leave forever.” Instead of my longing side, I chose the angry side.
He ran his hands along the box top and stepped forward until the only thing separating us was a few boxes.
“That, or I just didn’t expect to see you in my grandma’s attic, clinging to a box.” He flashed a cockeyed grin that used to make me melt, but not this time.
“Well, since this is your grandma’s stuff, I should probably get a ‘my ex-boyfriend’s an asshole’ discount,” I spat.
He shook his head and ran a hand through his hair. Last time I saw him, his hair was always falling in his eyes, and I hated it. But I would not admit that his new haircut brought out his eyes and was incredibly sexy.
“Abbey, look …” He slid his hand over the desk and placed it on mine. His mere touch sparked a fire in me that went from my fingers to all the way below my belly button.
“What I did was shitty, and I’m sorry about that. I should have fought harder for you to come with me. You know you’d love New York. There are so many places to photograph. And where I live in Brooklyn, man, it’s full of so much culture and vibrancy.”
“But you knew I wasn’t going to leave, and you had no desire to stay.” I snatched my hand away from his and folded my arms across my chest.
“Abbey, I’m sorry. I was young and stupid. I should have done more, but instead, I just ran. I just wanted to get out of Texas and didn’t think about anyone around me. Especially you. But I’m here for the summer now, so we can catch up,” he said, taking the few steps around the box until he was right beside me.
“It’s too late to explain or catch up or whatever. I’ve moved on, you know. I didn’t just sit here waiting around for you to come back,” I said, trying not to gulp at the way his shirt clung to his abs. Damn, did he have an eight pack? Joey who again?
Actually, I did sit around and wait for him. For the past four years, every time an unknown number popped up on my phone or I got a new Facebook friend request, I had hoped it was him. But every time, I was disappointed.
“I wasn’t expecting to run into you today, but I’m glad I did.”
I tried to glare at him, but it was hard to when he had that lopsided grin painted on his face. Instead, I just had a half scowl.
/> “And why is that? I’m not just going to drop everything for you. Obviously, you couldn’t do that for me. You had your own dreams, and you followed them. Good for you. Good for freaking you. Now what? You’re a big star in New York with your own gallery?”
He winced. “Well, not quite, but I am doing some mixed media. It’s really cool if you want me to show you some of my work. I’ve been showcasing it at the Brooklyn Flea and some coffee shops,” he said, pulling out his phone from his back pocket.
“Abbey? Abbey? Where are you?” I heard my mother’s voice ringing from down below. Saved by the mom. If she didn’t call for me, I would have stayed. I would have inhaled all of him, looked at his artwork, and tried to pretend the past four years didn’t happen. But they did. While he was off doing mixed media or whatever, I stayed in Friendship. My parents went through a nasty divorce, and I ended up being the one to pick up the pieces with no one to pick me up. That was how I ended up falling into Joey Bianchi’s arms, and bed, as an escape. And now, I just had a really bad hangover and a portfolio full of kids’ school portraits and a handful of newborn and senior sessions. Yes, Jordan was the past, and I’d moved on. That was what I had to keep telling myself.
“I have to go,” I stammered, pushing past Jordan. But as I pushed past him, I grazed the sides of his arm, and the spark turned into an all-out explosion. The last time my body was that close to his was four years ago right before he left at Christmas. And there weren’t any clothes between us. I had to shake the thoughts from my head as I hurried down the ladder to the second floor where my mother was waiting.
“Oh, you found an attic!” Her eyes lit up. “Anything good?”
“Nothing but stuff that will just disappoint you,” I muttered, pulling her toward the stairs to the first floor.
“Hey, Abbey, you forgot your box!”
I winced as I slowly turned around to see Jordan climbing down the ladder.
“Is that Jordan Webber? Your old boyfriend?” Mom whispered as he made his way down the ladder and turned to us with a grin.
“In the flesh,” I muttered.
“If you still want that box of photographs, I can get it down for you,” he said, taking a few steps toward us.
“Well, isn’t that nice of you, Jordan. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” Mom said in the same polite tone she used with my teachers when I was sent to the office.
“Yeah. I graduated early and moved to New York for art school. Graduated last May and have been working in Brooklyn ever since, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to help fix up the farmhouse to sell,” Jordan said, flashing that lopsided grin.
“Gee, that’s great, Jordan, but we have to get going. But you’re pretty familiar with that concept.” I smirked and turned, running down the stairs and out the front door before he could say anything else that would make me stay.
Chapter 3
“Well, that was a quick exit,” Mom said after piling the porch swing into the back of the minivan. Luckily, the guy who helped her wasn’t Jordan, or I might have run screaming all the way down Hwy 6 to our house.
“Mom, that was Jordan freaking Webber, the guy who I dated for two years. Who was too good to stay in Texas and had to go to freaking New York.” I tried not to yell, but I could feel the tension building in my neck.
I never thought I’d see him again, and the weird thing was, I thought I would be angrier. But by the way my heart was fluttering in my chest; I knew I was actually almost happy to see him. No matter how much he hurt me when he left; I couldn’t deny the fire that still burned inside me for him. Something that never happened in the time I’d been hanging out with Joey.
“Yes, I do remember him, dear. That’s why the way you acted surprised me so much. Especially since I was pretty sure you wanted to go to New York with him. I’m still surprised you never ended up there.”
“Are you serious right now?” I turned toward her, trying not to whine or sound like a little girl. But this was the woman who had told me she wouldn’t pay for art school unless I minored in art at a state college. I had no desire to do anything but photography—still don’t. And I didn’t take her up on the offer. Part of me wishes I would have. Then things would have been totally different. Then again, would they? Dad would have still cheated on Mom with a lady from the country club, and I would have probably still ended up back here taking family portraits. Maybe. I didn’t want to go back and daydream about a life that could have been with Jordan and New York. That and my head was still hurting too much to daydream.
“Sometimes, we follow our hearts, and it works out for the better, and sometimes, you end up getting a big divorce settlement to buy a fixed-up house and a porch swing,” she said with a wink.
“Real romantic, Ma.”
“Well, at least we got our porch swing out of all that, and you can help me get that installed this afternoon,” she said. A good way to change the subject.
“I have lunch plans with Teagan and Christy,” I replied weakly. I hated to ditch my mom when she wanted to hang out, but the girls had been away at UT Austin, and I hadn’t seen either of them since December. I also had to talk with someone who wasn’t my mom about what went down with Joey. Maybe this was all a sign that I was supposed to end up with Jordan. Or that I needed to lay off the alcohol. Maybe a little bit of both.
***
Friendship wasn’t a huge town, but since I lived in the middle of nowhere, it still took me about fifteen minutes to drive downtown. Which gave me way too much time to think. Every song that came on the radio was about old flames and romance, so after about the fifth person crooning about the one that got away, I just turned it off.
I found a spot in front of the boutique a few storefronts down from the Main Street Cafe. Teagan was already sitting outside at one of the wrought-iron tables with her obnoxiously large sunglasses on, and her long reddish-brown hair pulled back into a sleek ponytail. She always looked put-together while I still hadn’t changed from this morning and was still in a dusty tank top and shorts with my hair probably sticking out all over my bun. I should have probably changed or showered after we got back from the estate sale, but instead, I took a nap. That helped my headache a bit more, and so did the gallon of coffee and two aspirin.
Teagan peered over her menu and then dropped it down once she saw me. “Well, who do we have here? Abbey Dillinger! I do declare!”
I rolled my eyes and sat across from my dramatic friend. “Enough with the Southernness. I’m hungover, and Mom dragged me to an estate sale. I need water and like fifty more hours of sleep.”
“Oh, look at my little lush!” She giggled. “So are you going to regale me with your latest find from the flea market? Your mom still using your dad’s divorce money for her love nest with Sofie White’s dad?” She leaned in, putting her chin in her hands as if what I had to say was the end all, be all of information.
A waiter came over and set two glasses of water in front of us and then looked down at his notepad expectantly. I wasn’t going to discuss Joey’s breakup or my meeting with Jordan in front of this guy, so I waited for him to take our order and even waited for an extra few beats to discuss something else.
“Okay, before I explain, is Christy joining us? I don’t want to explain this all twice,” I asked, making sure no one was staring at us.
Teagan laughed so hard she snorted and had to cover her mouth before she shook her head and took a deep breath. She put her hands on her lap. “Girl, you haven’t seen Christy’s Facebook posts? Girl went crazy!”
“What?” I asked, widening my eyes and leaning in.
“Well, she’s always been off, but like, I guess she couldn’t take not being Queen Bee when we started at UT, so she tried to buy people, and it was really sad. Freshman year, she got every girl on our floor in the dorms this really nice bracelet and invited them to a dinner at this local restaurant. But literally, like two people showed up.”
I blinked slowly. “I remember Christy talking about that,
but she made it seem like everyone was there …”
Teagan rolled her eyes. “I thought maybe she’d just stay a little humble when we went into sorority recruitment … but nope. I think they only let her in to meet an Asian quota or something. She moved out of the house sophomore year and got her own apartment. I seriously thought she would transfer or drop the house but nope again. From what I hear, she’s still home every weekend.”
Teagan raised her eyebrows expectantly after her last sentence.
I took a long sip of my water. Christy was home a lot, though she didn’t exactly tell me why. She had also mentioned taking a break from school—because she didn’t know what she wanted to do with her life—but her parents wouldn’t let her. I always wondered if something else was going on, but I didn’t push it. “Yeah. I’ve seen her quite a bit.”
“Well, before the semester was over, she went on this big long rant about fakers and liars. People called her out in the comments, saying she was the biggest fake of them all and people were only friends with her in her small-town high school because they were afraid of her bitchy mom and her dad had money. After that, she hasn’t posted anything else.”
I widened my eyes. “Holy shit. I didn’t see that!”
Now, I was itching to get to my phone. I wasn’t into drama, but this was definitely a nice change of pace from my own shit. And Christy really was one of my best friends. I made a mental note to check Facebook and to text Christy.
“Okay, enough about Christy. This is depressing. Tell me about your morning with your mom and things with Joey. Are you all still whatever you are?”
“Well, there’s not much to say about Mom, and Joey ended it with me last night. Hence the hangover …”
