by Ella Fields
The days went by, and between volunteering at the shelter once a week, work, and trying not to flunk midterms, I was ready to hibernate through Thanksgiving.
There was no possible way I could imagine reading one more textbook, write one more word, or work out one more equation without the use of a calculator.
Autumn spread its gusty wings, drowning campus in a layer of leaves and twigs. The weather grew cooler, and the nights lonelier, especially when I only had my own thoughts for company.
At first, I appreciated having my own space. Someplace to dwell and bask in my own heartache, but as the days sailed by, I realized I missed sharing a dorm room with Daisy.
Visits once or twice a week and the odd run-in on campus wasn’t cutting it. But I couldn’t bring myself to go to the townhouse. I wasn’t ready yet, so I’d just have to get over it.
Getting over it was rather difficult to accomplish when you felt as though you were missing something. I found myself searching my bag, purse, the apartment, always thinking I’d misplaced or forgotten something important.
Deep down, I knew what it was. But that was the dilemma with misplacing your heart. Once it was gone, you could try to go on without it, but eventually, you found it hard to breathe.
Determined, I kept breathing, but despite feeling good about where I was heading, and the classes I’d planned to sign up for next semester, my chest still constricted at the mere thought of him.
And if the thought of him made it constrict, the sight of him damn near made my lungs collapse.
Ducking my head as I moved to wait for my coffee, I thought I could hide among the crowd waiting around me. I thought wrong.
“Hi,” Toby said, his arm brushing mine as we stood by the window in the Bean Stream.
Time to see if we could be civil. Just two ordinary people saying an ordinary hello.
“How are you?” Okay, so I skipped the hello. But hellos are awkward as fuck, so let’s skip straight to the punchline.
The smell of percolating coffee covered his scent, but I still caught a whiff. “Good. I actually came by your place last Saturday, but you didn’t answer the buzzer.”
My heart leaped. Stupid thing. “Oh, um, yeah. I was at the shelter.” Realizing he didn’t know, I rushed to add, “I volunteer at the animal shelter on Saturday mornings.”
“For real?”
“For real.”
Looking up at him was a big mistake. The morning sun swept in through the window, lighting up his chiseled cheekbones and the strong line of his jaw. His eyes were smiling down at me, bright and effervescent. “That’s pretty awesome, Pip-squeak. Have you found your calling then?”
That made me laugh, and I tucked some hair behind my ear. “Not exactly. But I enjoy it.”
“What made you decide to do that?” he asked, stepping back as someone went forward to collect their coffee.
“His name is Bruce, and he’s a handsome, stubborn guy.” Toby’s face fell, his brows pulling in as his jaw clenched. I laughed again. “He’s a Rottweiler cross.”
“Oh,” he said with a sharp exhale. “Christ.” Running a hand through his hair, his face relaxed again.
I glanced down at my boots. “Been busy?” I asked, curious but also tempted to see if there was an explanation for the way he seemed to give up after the night we spent together last month. It was what I wanted, but it also wasn’t. I think I’d come to learn that you could love someone and miss them without entirely trusting them.
“Crazy busy. I’ve had so much work to do. I’m taking some courses online to catch up.”
“That’s good.” I nodded, relieved there was some reason, albeit not a great one.
He’s getting his shit together. Don’t be a bitch.
I shook my inner thoughts away, looking at him when he said, “I’m playing again.”
“What?” I frowned, thinking I would’ve surely heard if he’d gotten back on the team.
“Just for an amateur team, mixed bunch of guys, but it’s been great and … fun.”
He seemed to mean it, that smile still lingering in his eyes.
“That’s really good, Toby.” My breathing shallowed as he kept staring, but I couldn’t look away.
My name was called, and I stepped forward as if I’d just woken up and shot up from bed, slightly wobbly and blinking rapidly, trying to place my surroundings.
“I’ll see you,” I said, when Toby came forward to collect his coffee, without looking at him.
“Yeah,” he said softly. “You will.”
Out on the street, I straightened my bag as the wind whipped some of my hair into my face. I readjusted my hold on my cup, pushing it back as I made my way down the street. Looking over my shoulder, I saw Toby behind me, standing on the sidewalk as he talked to Paul.
He glanced over, and I looked away, the coffee doing nothing to melt the ice that invaded with every step I took.
“I’m outside. Coming down? Or do I need to carry like a million bags for you?”
Sandwiching the phone between my ear and shoulder, I zipped up my duffel and double checked to make sure all the switches were off. “Very funny. I’ll be down in a few.”
Depositing the phone into my bag, I surveyed the room. “Don’t get too dusty while I’m gone, ya hear?”
Yes, I was talking to my apartment, but it was necessary. I loathed dusting, and I swore I did it at least twice a week.
Drew was waiting in the car, and I opened the small trunk of my old Corolla, dumping my stuff inside.
“Why’d you come anyway?” I asked, dropping into the seat.
Putting his phone away, he put the car into gear and pulled out. “Needed away.”
Dad was home for Thanksgiving, and I had expected him to pick me up. “He’s only been there a few days.”
Drew snorted. “No, he arrived a week ago. A fucking week ago. Who does that when they say they’re just visiting?” He said just visiting like he was an annoyed six-year-old.
“What’s the problem?” I asked. “If they’re getting along, let them. Nothing bad to be gained there.”
Drew groaned. “You don’t get it.”
“Get what?”
He was silent until we hit the highway, and I’d had enough. “Oh, Jiminy fuckball Cricket, I don’t get what?”
“The hell is a fuckball?”
“You are. Spit it out.” I rummaged in my purse for my mints, keeping the tin in my lap. This would be the longest car ride of my life.
“Gimme one.”
“Sure, right after you tell me what I’m not getting. Are you worried they’ll get back together?”
The idea seemed so ludicrous, it almost made sense. Which in turn made no sense and had me almost swallowing a breath mint whole.
“Ding, ding. We have a winner,” Drew mocked.
“They won’t,” I wheezed. “Too much has happened.”
He made a noise of agreement. “Yep, getting with your daughter’s boyfriend’s mom is pretty high up there on the can’t get past that scale.” He looked over at me briefly. “Oh yeah, heard them arguing about it the other night.”
“Whatever.” Interesting, though. “He didn’t know. None of them knew. Felicity never even told Dad she had a son.”
“Crazy attracts crazy,” he muttered under his breath, but I caught it.
“You know what, Drew? Cut the shit. They won’t get back together, so stop using it as an excuse to be an ass.”
“An ass? This ass just drove all the way to Gray Springs to pick you up.”
I had to give him that. “Because you’d rather do that than be around Dad.”
His silence the rest of the drive home spoke volumes.
Leaning over, I flicked the radio on, listening to it crackle through the old speakers.
We were driving into town when Drew finally said, “Dad’s not the only crazy one. Mom’s been more hyper than usual.”
“How so?”
He pulled down the backstreets leading to our h
ouse. “You’ll see.”
Dad’s truck was parked outside the garage, the lawn looked recently mowed, and the scent of damp grass hit my nose. The sprinkler was on, shooting small jets of water in a rotating arc that I dodged with a slew of curses as I lugged my bags up onto the porch.
Drew’s phone beeped, and he paused to fish it out of his jeans. “I’ll open the door then,” I grumbled, ditching my duffel and heading inside with just my backpack. I’d return for it later if Drew didn’t grab it.
I walked down the hall, stopping dead in my tracks when I heard a sound coming from the kitchen. Creeping forward, I peered around the corner, and the sight that singed into my retinas burned so viciously that a startled, shocked, and horrified yelp left my mouth.
“What the fuck?” Drew said behind me.
My backpack fell from my hands as they shot to my eyes, my dad scrambling to dismount my mother and do up his jeans. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”
“My motherfucking eyes!” I screamed, turning and almost tripping over my damn bag.
“Pippa, shush,” Mom hissed. “How about knocking next time?”
“We live here!” That was Drew, who then scrambled up the stairs, cursing and shaking his head.
“For the love of all things fucked up, that was seriously fucked up,” I muttered, walking upstairs in a daze. “Where’s the bleach?”
“You’re not funny!” my mom yelled from downstairs.
Why was it that I’d never had the misfortune of seeing my parents doing it, I’d never even heard them doing it, and now that I was nineteen, and they were supposed to be separated, I was cursed with burned eyeballs for life?
A half an hour later, I peeked out my bedroom door, listening for any weird noises before darting downstairs. Ugh, I couldn’t even look at the kitchen counter.
“That needs to be burned. Stat. Or I’m making dinner on the grill,” I said to no one, inspecting the contents of the fridge. It was jammed full, stuffed with food for Thanksgiving dinner.
“Since when do you cook?” my dad asked, making me jump as I scooped some jelly into my mouth. Slowly, I put the lid back on, taking my time placing it back on the shelf. “Are you too scared to look at me?”
“Pretty much, yeah.”
He laughed, which made me want to launch the jar of jelly at his head. I closed the fridge instead. “You do know how you and Drew were made, right? Do we need to have a conversation about the bees and the birds?”
“It’s the birds and the bees, Dad.” I finally leveled him with what I hoped was a ten-ton glare.
He didn’t even flinch. “Right. Should we maybe discuss what you saw then?”
“No.”
“Pippa, we need to talk about this eventually,” he said.
“Never sounds good.” Looking for an out, I asked brightly, “Say, where’s Drew?”
I then walked out of the kitchen, leaping into a run when he called my name as I rounded the corner.
With nothing else to do, and seeing my old car was still in the drive, I decided to actually search for Drew.
I found him in the shed out back, throwing darts at a dartboard that was older than us.
“What’s happening, bro?”
He raised a brow that said to shut up, lifting a beer to his mouth and taking a lengthy pull.
“Tsk, tsk.” I shook my finger at him, then glanced behind me before shutting the door. “Got another one of those bad boys?” I asked as I took a seat on an old, deflated truck tire.
Plucking another out from beside the couch he was sitting on, he passed it over.
“How’d you get beer anyway?” I popped the lid, nose crinkling at the yeasty scent. I needed something after … whatever the hell all of that was. “Dad doesn’t drink anymore.”
“He had an old friend over last night who left a couple behind.” He shrugged, taking another sip. “If he can’t drink them, I’m not about to let them go to waste.”
He could drink them, but he chose not to because it’d usually affect his mood for days afterward.
The reminder made me think of Toby. I tipped my head back, draining as much as I could without breathing so I wouldn’t have to taste it. “So you’re doing him a favor then.” I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand.
“I think so,” he said smugly. “Not getting back together, my ass.”
“Please, no talk of private parts.”
“Agreed.”
We hung out in the shed, watching an old western movie until the sun started to set.
Only then did someone think to check on our whereabouts. We were teenagers, granted, but we’d just been through a pretty traumatic experience, if you asked me.
“What the hell are you two …” Mom’s eyes bugged out as she spied the three empty beer bottles. “Drinking? Really?”
Helpless, I bit my lips and lifted my hands into a shrug.
“Getting back together with Dad? Really?” Drew said as he stepped by her and out into the backyard.
Mom looked at me for help, but I just laughed. “Nope, nope, and nope.”
Pippa’s dad greeted me with a fond smile and a slightly too firm handshake. “How you doing?”
“Good, thanks.” Taking my hand back, I tried to subtly crack my knuckles behind my back as Terry, Pippa’s mom, engulfed me in an unexpected and air-constricting hug.
Was that a warning too? Or was she just being nice?
She did invite me here, after all.
“It’s a shame your dad isn’t joining us,” Terry said, wiping her hands on the skirt of her dress.
“He’s flying out to see my grandparents today.”
I didn’t want to go. I wasn’t all that close with my grandparents, and I knew my grandfather would’ve been disappointed after hearing about me getting kicked off the team.
I wasn’t ready to face some things yet. One giant hurdle at a time, thanks.
Pippa’s mom had phoned my dad’s office last week, inviting us to Thanksgiving. My dad declined, stating he had plans, but passed on my number for her to speak with me.
To say I was shocked would be the understatement of the century. I’d met her dad, yes, but not Terry. Looking at her now, I knew where Pippa got her curves from, her smile, and that mischievous look that sometimes filled her green eyes.
It was surreal, especially considering I thought they might not like me after all that’d happened, but I wasn’t about to turn down this opportunity.
“I have no idea where Pip and her brother have scampered off to, but the car is here, so give me a minute and I’ll go find her.” She walked off, calling out to Drew and Pippa as she went.
“Let’s grab a drink,” Mitch said, heading down the hall as I kicked off my boots.
“Uh, actually.” I scratched my head when I reached the kitchen. “I don’t really drink.”
Mitch grinned at me over the door of the fridge. “Me neither, gives me hell the following week.” He held up two cans of soda, and I pointed at the Dr. Pepper. “Thanks. Yeah, I never realized how badly it can affect you.”
“Yup,” he said, kicking the fridge closed and popping the tab on his can. “It’s like a slow-moving shadow. You think you’re good for a day or two, but eventually, it catches you.”
The can stopped halfway to my mouth as I nodded, kind of stupefied by the validity of his statement.
“So you and Pippa?”
I placed the can down on the counter. “I don’t know. I’m kind of waiting her out.”
He made a noise of agreement. “Like her mother that way. Stubborn as hell.” He took a sip of his drink, watching me for a moment. “I’m going to be honest here by saying it pains me that she chose you.”
Frowning, I stared at his somber features with nothing to say to that. Honestly, I had to agree to some extent.
“Only because I know how tough it’s going to be at times.” He spoke as if he knew we weren’t finished, as if he knew we were a sure thing. I wished I had that confidence. The ability to proj
ect and see us together, happy again. All I had was hope. “I know.” Mitch laughed a little. “Pot calling the kettle black here.”
“I get it,” I said, leaning against the wall behind me. I knew Pippa deserved better—someone more stable, for lack of a better word. “I know what I need to do now. I knew before, I just … got comfortable. Complacent, and stubborn, and then when things went downhill—”
“They went downhill very fucking fast,” Mitch finished for me, then he nodded. “Well, here’s to you for taking action and showing yourself who’s boss. Something I wish I had done when I was your age.”
“But you did do it, eventually.”
He looked over his shoulder at the sound of Terry’s approaching voice. “Eventually is sometimes too late.”
“Toby?” Pippa pulled up short in the doorway, the shocked look on her face slowly unfolding into a wobbly, hesitant smile. Too slow and hesitant for my liking, but I’d take what I could get.
“Pip-squeak.” The words were almost a whisper as I greedily drank in the sight of her.
I’d seen her last week, had seen her floating to and from class on campus more than I think she realized. As much as I wanted to, I wasn’t stalking her. No, I think I was just attuned to her. Wherever she was, if she was nearby, I felt it, and I saw her.
If she saw me, she never let on. I took that with a grain of salt, hoping, wishing, and waiting, knowing that she needed time. And me continuing to get all up in her space every chance I could, begging and pleading—I knew that wasn’t what she needed.
It sucked. It killed me to carry on like I wasn’t missing something. Like a hand hadn’t reached into my chest and scored its sharp nails down my heart.
So she could be shocked, mad, and maybe distrustful of my visit here, but I’d missed her too much to take offense to anything she might say or do.
I just needed to be with her, and suddenly felt like I might tackle hug Terry to the floor for allowing that to happen.
Pippa scowled as she walked over to me, then froze as though she was going to touch me but then thought better of it. “How? What are you doing here?”
