by Liz Lovelock
Voices talk in hushed tones as I step around the corner into the dining room, which is across from the kitchen. Paul, my mother’s husband, and Mom stand close together. I take her in as she turns some frying bacon. Her long locks are tied up in a similar messy bun to mine. Fitted white jeans hug her curves, and she also wears a light-pink top. A floral apron hangs over her neck and is tied around her waist. She’s definitely not a Stepford wife, but she is beautiful.
“Good morning,” I greet them both, even though I’ve already spoken to Mom this morning. I’m choosing to ignore their private conversation, which suddenly stopped the moment I came into the room.
“Good morning,” they say in sync.
Mom rushes over and puts some plates on the table, along with some orange juice and milk. A squeal behind me alerts me to a chubby-cheeked boy running right for my legs.
“Stop him, Charity. He’s got jam all over his face,” Mom yells. I catch him just before he gets the chance to smear his breakfast all over my new pants and white top.
I pick him up and put him in his highchair. “Look at you, you little grub. Are you trying to force me to change before I leave?” I coo. The smile on his face makes my heart soar. This kid has ways of having everyone wrapped around his little fingers.
“Yes,” Beau says proudly.
“He’s quick,” Mom says as she places a plate on the highchair with another piece of toast.
“Yes, he is,” I agree.
Gesturing to the table set with a pile of food, Mom says, “Help yourself to whatever you feel like. Do you want a lift to school, or would you like to walk? It’s only two blocks away if you remember.”
“I’ll just walk if that’s okay.”
“Not a problem.”
After I finish a filling breakfast, Mom hands me a bag. “This has everything you need. Paul and I got you a laptop.”
“Oh, you didn’t need to do that. I would have gotten one once everything was finalized with Dad’s stuff.” I glance down at the bag and then back to her. “Thank you,” I choke out.
Mom wraps her arms around me, and it’s like her love fills me with such emotion that it overflows. Tears brim my eyes as she holds me tightly. I haven’t let her get close enough to hug me. I knew this would happen. Dad told me that big girls don’t cry.
I jerk back from Mom as though my father’s words have slapped me across the face.
“Sorry. I’ll see you after. Thank you again.” I swallow down the lump in my throat and wipe away any evidence of my tears. Mom’s eyes shine with concern. If only she knew the half of how destroyed I am inside.
Tears are for the weak.
The streets and houses are the exact same as I remember them from when I’d walk to school with Mom when I was younger. A memory captures me as I see the very familiar ice cream cart on the corner. My father stopped there every day on our way home when he’d collect me from school. Jase had been with me. He’d treat us both to whatever we wanted. My heart clenches at the happy memory.
The sun beats down on my skin, darkening it. My mother has a beautiful complexion I wish I’d inherited. Maybe because my life has been largely spent indoors, and I’ve never had the chance to bathe in the sunlight. The sun’s rays are like a drug I want more of. I want more freedom—something I’ve not experienced in a long time.
I’m not sure what Dad’s aim was in keeping me locked away from the world. I’d always thought it was normal until I was sixteen. My friends would invite me places, and Dad’s answer was forever the same—no. One night, I pushed and pushed to the point where he literally shoved me into the wall. I never spoke to him like that again. I saw the raging flame in his dark, haunting eyes. If I’d kept going, I’m not sure what would have happened. He wasn’t the man he was when I was younger.
Surely, though, he cared about me. He had to. He wouldn’t have treated me how he did if he didn’t care about me and want to keep me safe. Yes, that was it. He cared. A hard pain punches me right in the chest at the thought of doubting Dad. There are reasons for everything. Things happen because they are supposed to.
Lost in my thoughts, I hadn’t realized the college campus was now in view. The large, dark brick buildings with a shining green lawn. Panic claws at my chest. Panic at the thought of running into those familiar faces that surely are going to have questions which I’m not willing to share the answers to.
Just make it through the first class, and the rest will be easier, I remind myself. I can do the hard things.
So many faces turn my way as I enter the campus quad. One foot in front of the other. Keep going. I make a beeline for the entrance doors, my eyes focused on them. The hustle and bustle of the corridor has me looking around in amazement. I’ve always been at home, gone to school, and then gone home again. There was no mingling—Dad’s rules. He’s no longer here. I can actually hang out with any friends I make. Actual real friends. People to talk to. No one is here to hold me back now.
An unfamiliar face stalks past me with a furrowed brow. I smile. He looks at me, puzzled, but keeps walking. I don’t care. I’m free of the man who held me back, and I plan to live the life that’s intended for me.
Turning my head around the room, I drink up the atmosphere. It’s buzzing, electric even. My skin tingles with excitement. Not paying attention to where I’m going, I collide with a large body. I fall back, landing flat on my ass, a throbbing pain taking up residence in my butt cheek.
“I’m so sorry.” I scurry to get up, dusting the imaginary dust from my clothes. A large hand takes hold of my arm, helping me up then releasing me. “Sorry again, I didn’t see you there.”
Slowly, my eyes connect to those of the person I collided with.
Of course it would be him.
“Charity? Is that you?”
My head spins as I stare at the older yet familiar face of Jase, the boy I had a major crush on when I was younger. I’d thought for sure he would have tried to contact me. We were connected at the hip.
He has changed so much from how I remember him. He’s no longer this scrawny little boy with messy blond hair. Well, the messy hair is still the same, but it suits him so much better now. My heart is pounding in my ears. That’s totally not normal. Why does it have to be him I run into the minute I step foot into this place?
Jase’s stare holds me hostage. I keep my gaze trained on those blue eyes, clear and questioning.
“Ah, yeah. It’s me. Who are you?” I stand a little taller and give a teasing smile. Of course I know who he is, but I’d like to see how he feels when he’s forgotten.
“Surely you remember me.” He laughs while running his fingers through his blond locks. “You’re really here, aren’t you? I’m not imagining it?” He chuckles. He reaches out and takes my arm again. His warmth wraps itself around my arm and spreads quickly. “It’s you,” he says breathlessly. That’s exactly how I’m feeling—breathless.
I move and pull my arm from his grip, then I say, “Yeah, it’s really me. I’m back. Still not sure who you are, though.” I shrug. The heat in my cheeks becomes stronger. I shouldn’t be embarrassed in front of Jase. He was my friend long before my father took me away, yet he never tried to reach out to me like he said he would. I’d given letters to my dad to post. Did he ever send them, though? “Anyway, I have to get to class. See you later.” Or not.
I nod and step around him, feeling somewhat stupid over this whole encounter.
As I settle into my first class, I can’t focus on what the teacher standing before me is saying. I should be paying attention given the fact that I’ve already missed so much school, considering it’s partway into the semester. Jase’s touch still lingers like it’s been etched into my skin. So unforgettable.
He was the one person I could rely on. He’s in all my memories from as far back as I can remember. We would write notes to each other and stick them in each other’s letterbox. He lived seven houses up from me, and now I’ve come back. My phone vibrates in my pocket. I pull it out
and open the message.
Mom: Hey, honey, just wanted to check in and see how your day is going.
I’ve never had these nice messages or been checked up on. I’ve always had texts that read “You should be home by now” or that featured something more aggressive. I type a quick reply.
Charity: Hey, yeah everything’s going well.
Mom: I’m so glad to hear that. Well, call me if you need anything. We still have to go shopping to pick out some things for your bedroom. I know you have things coming from your home, but maybe we can update other items if you want. Have a think about what you’d like. See you this afternoon.
I don’t reply. Instead, I stare at her words. She is my mother. She actually does care about me. This feeling is foreign; I’ve not experienced motherly love in a long time. My chest swells at this new sensation spreading through me.
“Nice of you to join us, Miss Kent,” the teacher’s droney voice says, which pulls my attention to the person he’s addressing. I can’t even remember his name. My eyes go wide when I see who’s walking to a chair. Paislee. Isn’t today a walk down Memory Lane? I remember our little pretend tea parties in our backyard on a picnic blanket. My lips tug up on one side. Shaking my head, I’m unable to hide the grin that grows on my face.
She’s stopped, and her mouth hangs open, her eyes on me.
“Excuse me, Miss Kent. Are you having trouble locating your seat?” the teacher asks.
Her mouth shuts, and her head shakes as she starts walking again, this time heading right for the empty chair beside mine.
Even as she takes a seat, her focus doesn’t shift. Dropping her bag to the floor, she faces me. My bottom lip finds its way between my teeth, and I chomp down on it. Her analyzing gaze has me shifting uncomfortably. Without saying anything, she pokes me in the arm. My hand comes up and covers the spot she touched.
“Charity, please tell me I haven’t lost my mind and that you’re actually sitting here in my class,” she whispers.
I chuckle quietly so the teacher doesn’t hear. Although, I’m sure he’s that ancient he’d have to turn up his hearing aid to hear me. “What’s with everyone actually touching me? Actually, let’s pretend I’m a ghost, come back to haunt you.” Reaching out, I poke her in the arm. A loud gasp escapes her throat.
“Excuse me, ladies, can we continue this conversation after class?”
Both our heads flick toward the teacher who glowers in our direction.
Paislee’s hand reaches out and covers mine where it rests over the top of my books. I glance over. “I’m so happy you’re here,” she whispers then removes her hand. I’m not mad at her; she never made the promise to keep in touch. Jase did.
The rest of class is a blur. First Jase, my old best friend, and now Paislee, the girl who was like a sister to me. I wonder what they think now that I’m back. Do they know about my dad? Jase’s piercing blue eyes flash in my mind. What would he think of the girl I’ve become over the years? Perhaps it’s best for me to keep my distance. One thing I know is that when you unsettle the past, it tends to come at you like a steamroller, and before you realize it, it’s caused you pain.
It was her. I still can’t believe it. She is real, and damn, has she become gorgeous. Her hair is long, dark, and thick. My fingers itched to run through it when I saw her. And her piercing green eyes held me captive. But why did she act like she didn’t know who I was?
“Yo, dude, pay attention,” Blane shouts as he tosses the football in my direction. I snap back to attention. We stand on the football field, tossing the ball, and my fingers curl easily around the ball, catching it. “What’s got you love drunk and not paying attention? I’ve only seen you this unfocused when you were preparing to take that Paislee girl out on a date. Now look at how that turned out. You were friend-zoned once again.”
If I were standing near him, I’d probably jab him in the rib for that remark. “Shut up, man.”
Blane is our star quarterback. The only problem with him is that he doesn’t have a damn filter on that mouth of his.
He laughs as we continue to toss the football. “Where’s your head at if it’s not here? You realize the coach will tear into you if you’re unfocused, and then we’ll all be running laps of the field, so speak.”
I sigh as the ball leaves my hand again. “I ran into someone I haven’t seen in…I think it’s been close to ten years. She was my best friend when we were younger. I guess I’m a little surprised to see her. She moved away with her dad. I swear, he wasn’t all there in the head. I remember how destroyed her mom was when they left. We would go over and console her. She tried everything to get her back, but her husband was a piece of work—from what I remember, anyway.”
Blane pauses. “Would I remember her?”
Shaking my head, I say, “No. This was before you moved to town. I really thought she would never come back. Yet, there she was in the hall today.”
“Damn, man. That’s got to be a shock. So, what are you going to do about it?”
I shrug. “I have no idea. She acted as though she didn’t know who I was. We’re completely different people now. For all I know, she’ll want nothing to do with me. Perhaps that’s why she doesn’t remember me—that’s if she’s telling me the truth. I never heard from her again, even though I gave her my address. We exchanged addresses. We were going to write and keep in contact.”
“Oh well, doesn’t matter. I’m sure you’ll be friend-zoned with her too.” He laughs. “Hey, when is your brother coming in? Coach said we’ll be getting a visit from him.”
Oh, the big superstar pro-football-player older brother. The athletic gene seems to run in our family—or maybe it’s just how much Dad pushes us.
“I’m not sure. Lachlan will probably show up when it suits him. You know him and how he is. All this fame and money has gone to his head,” I say, shrugging.
“Ha, yeah, that’s true. It’s good for you, though; you have an in into the pros.”
“Yeah,” I reply without much enthusiasm. Can’t say it’s high on my priority list at the moment. Of course, I enjoy the sport, but the pressure to perform the best I can is sometimes overwhelming. “We better hit the gym with the rest of the team, or they’ll think we slacked off.” Walking off the field, I grab my bag from the green grass, Blane following closely behind.
“What are you going to do about your woman?”
Without thinking, I backhand him in the stomach. He coughs and crouches over to catch his breath.
“She’s not my woman,” I practically growl. We’re nothing. I want to talk to her again, though it seems as if she plans on giving me a wide berth. A lot can change in ten years. I wonder if she’s still the same warm, funny girl I remember.
Getting to know her and who she is now has suddenly become my number-one priority.
Who is Charity? What happened to her over the years?
“Where have you been hiding, girl? What are you doing here? Just visiting?” Paislee’s questions come at me at a million miles an hour. My hands hug the mug of coffee that’s just been placed in front of me.
After class, Paislee all but dragged me to the campus cafe and forced me into a booth, and now I’m being questioned as though it’s an interrogation. Tension in my stomach pulls tighter with each question. I shouldn’t feel this anxious over talking to an old friend.
Releasing my mug, I hold my hands up. “Whoa, settle down on the questions there. Let’s start with the first one. I moved away with Dad, as I’m sure you remember. He passed away recently, which has now drawn me back here to try and build a relationship with Mom. So, no, I’m not visiting. I’m here permanently.” I suck in a breath after offloading that buttload of information.
Paislee’s hands go to her now open mouth. “I’m so sorry about your dad.” If only she knew how much better off I really was, she wouldn’t be.
“It’s all right. I’m happy to be back here, though. I think. It’s a little surreal. So many familiar faces already, and yet, I
’m still the outsider.” I laugh. That’s what I am and always have been. On my own. I’ve kept to my own thoughts. I’m surprised they haven’t sent me mad by now.
Paislee shoves my shoulder across the table. “Stop thinking like that. You’ve got me now. Although, we don’t normally do tea parties anymore. I like actual parties with boys, alcohol, and dancing.”
We laugh together.
“I never got the chance to go to those kinds of parties. It’s always been about getting good grades.” Lifting the warm drink, I take a sip, the heat washing through me.
“That’s all going to change now that we’ve caught up. I’ll give you my number; hand me your phone.”
After digging my cell from the pocket of my bag, I hand it to her. She quickly puts her number in and hands it back.
“There, and I’ve sent myself a message so I have your number as well.”
The door chimes, and Paislee’s face lights up like a girl in love. She waves someone over.
Turning, I spot a very good-looking guy coming in our direction. He takes a seat on her side of the table. They kiss, and then his attention is back to me. His grin is heart-stopping. “Charity, this is my boyfriend, Dane. Dane, this is my old friend, Charity, who has just moved back to town,” she says with a giant smile. This guy has won her heart.
Dane extends his hand. I take it. “Nice to meet you,” he says.
“Yeah, you too.” I take my hand back, and Paislee takes over the conversation again.
“Alright, this weekend we’re hitting a party. You okay with that?” She rubs her hands together as though she’s concocting something.
“I haven’t ever been to a party,” I admit, my voice barely a whisper and muffled by my mug.
“What was that?” Paislee asks.
Swallowing my mouthful of coffee, I say, “I’ve never been to a college party—or any party, for that matter.” It feels weird admitting that to her and her boyfriend, considering I’ve never admitted anything like that to anyone.
