Matter of Fact

by Heidi Hutchinson

  “Please come over and be with me. Your ma asked me to get the decorations out of the attic before she comes home tomorrow. And I still haven’t wrapped anything because I put everything off until the last minute. And now I have…this. I’m alone. I need you.”

  Miranda wiped away the tears that had gathered at the corner of her eyes because she still hadn’t been able to stop laughing.

  “Okay, okay, okay,” she agreed. “Let me get my stuff together and we can have a wrapping party just like we used to. Maybe see if the others need to get some wrapping done too. I know ma has emergency chowder in the freezer in the garage. We can have sandwiches with that. This can all be fixed. Don’t worry.”

  “Thank you, Ran. You’re the best.”

  “Hardly.” She laughed again. “I’ll see you soon.”

  ***

  “I swear to God, Sway, if you don’t back up off my hoagie I’m going to cut your hair while you sleep.”

  “You said everything would be fine.” Blake blinked once.

  “Everything will be fine,” Miranda laughed. “You know, I always thought that the constant eating would diminish as you guys got older. But no.”

  “No, but eventually our metabolisms will slow down and that’s when the real trouble will start.” Mike held up a beautifully wrapped box.

  “You guys are just giant kids, aren’t you?” Miranda rolled her eyes and pushed away one more wrapped box.

  “Your dad once told me that you don’t reach adulthood until you can eat an entire chicken in one sitting.” Blake tossed a poorly wrapped bundle towards the growing pile.

  “If that’s the case, then I haven’t been a child in years,” Harrisons said, returning to the living room with his third bowl of chowder and fifth hoagie.

  “That sounds like my dad,” Miranda said to herself. “Hey, where’s Luke?” she asked, looking around thinking maybe she’d missed his arrival amid all the chaos of wrapping.

  “On his way.” Mike reached across the table for a blue bow. “He’s picking up Carl.”

  Her fingers fumbled with the ribbon she was holding and she blinked rapidly.

  “What’s that now?” she asked, thinking perhaps she’d misheard.

  “Luke is picking up Carl,” Mike repeated. He paused and tried to catch her eye. “That’s okay, right? Blake said you invited everyone.”

  “Yeah,” she said, not liking how high pitched her voice came out. “That’s what I said. So yes. That. Is. Cool.”

  “It’s cool?”

  “So cool.” She forced a smile and then set the uncooperative piece of ribbon down.

  Before anyone else could ask how cool she was, she stood and made her way to the bathroom at the end of the main hallway. It wasn’t the most utilized one in the large house so she knew she wouldn’t be bothered for a minute.

  Closing the door behind her, she took a breath and sat on the edge of the bathtub.

  Why was Carl coming over? It couldn’t be as simple as Mike had made it sound. Or was it?

  Maybe Carl’s motivations really were as they appeared and there wasn’t anything that needed to be analyzed.

  After all, it had always been Miranda who put too much thought and hesitation into everything she did in her life.

  Which was the exact reason things had ended. It had been her.

  She knew it. She’d always known it. Knowing it had driven her to overindulge in her new career which had driven her to seek intensive therapy.

  She’d come to terms with the decisions she’d made over the years. Especially in regard to Carl.

  But it had been easier to put those failures behind her when she didn’t have to see him.

  And how unfair was that of her?

  Again!

  “I’m the worst.” She threaded her fingers into her hair as she dropped her head between her knees and deep breathed.

  After years of therapy and anti-anxiety meds, and growth, she knew she wasn’t the same person she’d been in her youth. She’d learned to be more forgiving of herself. She’d learned to work through her anxiety instead of running away from it or trying to control it. She’d learned that emotions weren’t the enemy and avoiding them wasn’t an effective way of solving problems.

  After a few minutes of self-pity, she got up and splashed some cool water on her face. She tied her dark hair back into a ponytail and looked at herself seriously in the mirror.

  “I can do this. I am gracious. I am welcoming. I am authentic. This is okay. I’m okay. I’m not the worst.”

  The final sentence of her self-coaching dialogue caused her heartrate to spike because of how difficult it was for her to believe those words.

  “I’m not the worst,” she repeated in a whisper, her eyes burning. “I am just a person.”

  Two more minutes of breath work and she finally left the bathroom.

  A deeper, gruffer voice had joined the group and she new Carl had arrived. Her steps slowed and as she came to the doorway.

  He was in an off-white thermal Henley and jeans. His hair was freshly washed and the damp ends curled at his neckline. A leather cord sat snuggly around his throat, drawing focus to the open collar of the Henley.

  And he was laughing at Blake’s most recent ugly wrapping attempt.

  Miranda slid her hands into her jeans and leaned her shoulder against the doorway, just taking in the moment.

  This was good.

  Carl belonged here just as much as the rest of them.

  For the first time in years, the house felt warm. Like everyone had finally come home.

  Carl glanced up and caught her watching him. His smile softened and she got the feeling that one was just for her.

  Yeah.

  This was good.

  ***

  “How does this always happen? I know it’s coming and yet I walk right into it.”

  Miranda was talking to herself.

  The boys had left.

  There was no more food and all the presents had been wrapped.

  But the mess…

  The mess remained.

  The evening had been exactly what her holiday starved heart had needed and she hadn’t known until she was in the middle if it.

  The guys took turns playing their favorite Christmas albums on the house sound system and all the presents got wrapped, stories from the tour were told.

  But then all at once, they’d left.

  A classic Irish goodbye.

  She blamed Harrison.

  “Those little shits.”

  Miranda jolted a little at the sound of Carl’s voice. She thought he’d left too.

  “You didn’t sneak out with the others?” she asked, turning around. “Wasn’t Luke your ride?”

  Suspicion tugged at her but the details didn’t stick around long enough for her to put them into place.

  “They ditched me when I was in the attic getting the last box down.” Carl arched his eyebrows and indicated the green tub in his arms. “Where should I even put it?”

  “Oh.” Miranda went into motion, snapping herself out of the brief daze she’d found herself in seeing Carl standing there. When had he gotten so good looking? “Just set it against the wall. I have to clean all this up before any decorations can start going up.”

  Carl did that and then rested his hands on his hips as he surveyed the ribbon throwing party that had transpired.

  “Doesn’t Stella usually have the tree and decorations up in November?”

  “Usually, yes. But she’s been in Maine helping my cousin Sara with her new twins. They’re supposed to drive in tomorrow sometime.”

  “Sara had twins. That’s so great for her.” Carl’s soft smile caught at Miranda’s heart and she almost sighed out loud.

  “Yeah, it has been a long road for them. I can’t even imagine.”

  Before she finished the sentence, her phone rang.

  “Oh, speaking of…hey, Ma.” Miranda put the phone to her ear and ignored the rush of sensation in her chest at Carl’s sm
ile.

  Because that was uncalled for.

  “I don’t want you to panic, but I’m at the ER with Sara and the babies. They have a fever and there’s no way I’m loading them into the car tomorrow.”

  “Oh, wow. Is everything okay?”

  “Yes, everything is fine. But I won’t be home in time to get the house ready before people start arriving next week.”

  “I can do it,” Miranda volunteered without even thinking. She immediately squeezed her eyes shut, regretting the offer.

  “Are you sure? That’s a huge undertaking.”

  “Of course! I’ll get Harrison to help. It’ll be easy.” It was like her mouth was preprogrammed to be super agreeable without checking with her brain. This was getting worse.

  “Oh that’s so great! You’re the best!”

  Miranda hung up the phone and stared at the boxes against the wall for a minute. Then her gaze traveled to the mess she hadn’t even begun to clean up yet.

  “You just signed yourself up for something you didn’t want to do, didn’t you?”

  She looked at Carl knowing desperation was all over her face. “I have a real problem.”

  He chuckled and the dark sound hit her in the center of her chest, filling her with tingles.

  “No, you don’t understand,” she said seriously. “I’m not supposed to volunteer or agree to do anything without taking at least ten minutes to think it about alone.”

  He tilted his head to the side and studied her.

  “Says who?”

  “It’s a plan me and my therapist came up with.” She moved swiftly into the kitchen and grabbed the box of garbage bags. She returned to the living room and began shoving discarded paper, bows and strings.

  “Your therapist?”

  She stopped and blinked at Carl.

  Oh shit.

  Carl.

  She scratched her forehead with a finger and dropped her hand to her side.

  “Yes. Therapist. I’ve been seeing her for about,” she rolled her eyes and cleared her throat. “Two years now.”

  His eyes bounced between hers, but she couldn’t read his expression.

  “I’m sure that totally ruins the vision you have of me. Sorry about that.”

  He pushed his shirt sleeves up his forearms and shrugged. “I really don’t think anything could change what I think about you.”

  Before she could react to those hugely impactful and loaded words, he was on the floor on his knees, rolling wrapping paper.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “Helping.” He glanced up at her, his expression open, unguarded.

  She found herself smiling out of instinct and her cheeks heated. Carl smirked slightly as if he knew a secret she didn’t.

  “Thanks,” she said quietly, not willing to turn down the offered help even though she probably should seeing as the last time she was alone with Carl Darrow she’d nearly run off into the night with him like they lived in a Bruce Springsteen song.

  They worked mostly in silence, picking up the mess, putting away the ribbons, bows, extra name tags. Miranda appreciated the extra set of hands. Also the fact that Carl didn’t need to be told what to do or how. Very quickly they had the living and dining room areas back in order and all the wrapping paper, including Harrison’s bulk supply of tape loaded into the attic space.

  Carl placed all the wrapped packages on the dining room table after he’d cleared away the dishes.

  Because even though the band only had five members, they ate like they were a troupe of culinary sophisticates who had to use new flatware and serving dishes for each new morsel.

  “Yours always match,” he remarked, touching one of the gifts she had wrapped.

  She shrugged. “I like themes. I went with gold and black this year. Last year was red and silver sleigh bells.”

  His expression sobered briefly and she wondered what had caused it.

  “Let’s get these dishes knocked out so you can get some sleep.”

  She followed him into kitchen and watched for a moment as he moved with familiar ease around the sink area. He filled the sink with hot water and bubbles, set up the dry rack, grabbed a towel and fresh wash cloth and went to work.

  Miranda joined him at the sink to rinse and dry.

  She wanted to bring up how long it had been since they’d worked this station together. But she also didn’t want to bring it up. Maybe it was only bittersweet to her.

  “So the ten minute rule?” Carl asked. “Why didn’t you follow that when your ma called?”

  “Habit,” Miranda answered honestly. “It’s harder to curb those impulses with family.”

  “And now you’ve signed yourself up to decorate when I’m guessing you didn’t really want to?”

  She shrugged one shoulder and it brushed lightly against his arm.

  “It’s not that I don’t want to. I do. But I have enough on my plate this week and I just added more to it.”

  “Sounds…” He didn’t finish because he didn’t need to.

  “Sounds like me?” She snorted. “I know. But I’ve been working on being more… deliberate. With my time. And with what I actually want.”

  He grunted.

  “It’s not that I would have made a different call in those ten minutes,” she went on. “But it would have made my decision more of my own choosing, rather than…”

  “Obligation.”

  “Exactly.” She nodded.

  He drained the used water from the sink and rinsed it clean.

  “Well,” he rotated his body to face her and leaned a hip against the sink while crossing his arms. “I’ve had more than ten minutes to think about it. And I’d like to volunteer to help you.”

  Miranda almost swallowed her tongue. She concentrated on rinsing the final bowl and carefully setting it in the dry rack.

  “Do you need to think about it for ten minutes before you accept my help?” he asked.

  Her eyes darted to his to see if he was making fun of her.

  But he wasn’t. He was honestly asking.

  “Yes,” she croaked out.

  He nodded once and grabbed a towel to wipe the water spots out of the sink.

  Miranda dried her hands and did a slow walk-through of the main level to be sure she hadn’t missed anything.

  She reached the living area and stared at all the boxes of decorations stacked against the wall.

  It would be amazing to have Carl help her.

  But would that be too much for her heart to handle?

  Spending that kind of concentrated time together might overwhelm her.

  Okay, but what was the worst that could happen?

  She might kiss him.

  Again, not so bad.

  But so much had happened between them and outside of “them.”

  Could they move forward without having to go over all the things that had never worked?

  “So what are you thinking?”

  She turned to face him and the soft, careful look in his eyes was all the answer she needed.

  “I would really like it if you helped me,” she said.

  His lips curved up on one side. “Start tomorrow?”

  “Yeah,” She surveyed the living area again. “I think the tree is in the garage. We should probably start with that.” She faced him again but he had his phone out. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting an Uber.”

  “That’s crazy expensive all the way out here. I can take you home.”

  He lifted just his eyes to her.

  “I wouldn’t want to impose.”

  And he actually meant that. A lot of people said the right things because they’d been taught to. Not Carl. He would rather die a slow death than be forced to behave according to someone else’s standards.

  “Don’t be silly,” she said with a smile.

  He put his phone and went through the house making sure all the lights were off. She set the alarm at the back door and Carl met her outside.


  He stepped on a cigarette butt and then squatted to pick it up. From the side of her vision, she watched him tuck the spent butt into his pocket and fall in step next to her.

  They got in her little, economical Honda and buckled up. Christmas tunes began playing on the station she’d been listening to earlier that day. She turned the car around and drove down the long driveway leading to the road that would eventually lead them back into the city. At the bottom of the drive she stopped.

  “I just realized I have no idea where you live.”

  “You’re not gonna like it when I tell you…” he scrubbed a hand down his face. “I actually live in a hotel at the moment. The Marriot in Burlington.”

  Her head turned to him sharply. “A hotel? Why?”

  “I…” He groaned.

  It hit her then how it wasn’t really any of her business.

  She flicked on her blinker and made the turn. “You don’t have to tell me. I don’t know why I thought maybe you still lived at the Darrow house is all.”

  He snorted. “I got out of there as soon as I could. Ma passed and I settled the estate and never went went back.” He took a deep breath and sighed. “You already know that good old Wallace left me nothing. But Ma left me what she had and I haven’t spent it.” He turned to look out the window as the dark terrain passed by. “I wouldn’t know what to use it for anyway.”

  She didn’t say anything even though she was thinking how he could use the money to get himself a condo, or a house. Or hell, rent an apartment. But live in a hotel?

  “I had a place,” he said softly. “I bought it… awhile back.”

  She hung on the pause in the middle of his sentence. How long ago? What happened? What made him get rid of it?

  “The guys were in recovery mode and I had decided I was done with the road life. I wanted to settle, have a family, put down roots.”

  She clenched the steering wheel and focused on keeping her eyes on the road while her face remained expressionless. But her stomach was all over the place.

  “And then they pulled me back in.”