I Hated You First by Rachel John
Clay
Charlotte handed me two slices of her key lime pie covered in plastic wrap on a paper plate. “For your grandparents.”
She knew it would be easier if I had something to bring, something that gave purpose to my visit. Not that I was going over there on a whim. I’d called them last week to let them know when I’d come see them. You didn’t show up to my grandparent’s house unannounced. The Publisher’s Clearing House Sweepstakes people would’ve been in for a surprise if they ever knocked on their door. They’d have to use that oversized check as a shield against my grandmother’s broom whacking them off her porch.
“Do you want me to go with?” Parker asked.
“Nah.” I didn’t mind the awkwardness if I didn’t have an audience. Besides, Parker had Lauren-related questions for me, and I didn’t have it in me to deflect them properly right now. He wasn’t the only one. If it wasn’t for Patty and Roger O’Dell, I’d be in the middle of a Harwood inquisition. Bless those two odd souls and their endless speculation on whether the government was actively keeping people from finding the Lost Dutchman Gold Mine.
Every time John tried to get up and excuse himself, Patty would reach out and pull him back down into his seat. Nobody was finished with a conversation without her say-so.
“You’re coming back though, right?” Parker picked up one of Jax’s burp cloths from the couch seat with two fingers before sitting down. He usually didn’t stay this long, but Charlotte was about to hem a pair of pants for him, so he was stuck until then. I had a feeling he’d also be leaving with a haircut and enough leftovers to last him a week. Parker was in complete denial about how good Charlotte was to him.
“Um, yeah. I’ll come back.” I walked down the street, leaving my truck in front of the Harwoods’ house.
Grandma answered when I knocked. “Hello, Clayton. Come in.” She stepped aside so I could walk into the foyer. The familiar smell of Windex and rose potpourri tickled my nose. Even the way the light filtered through the blinds was familiar. This was home and not home, all at the same time. I’d been afraid of this front room when I was little. I think it was the ticking clock and the Nutcracker doll on the mantle with his bared teeth and wild, white hair puffing out under his cap. If he’d started out as a Christmas decoration, the idea was lost on Grandma. He stood at creepy attention all year long.
I ended my staring contest with the doll and turned to Grandma. “I brought you some pie from the Harwoods.”
“Thank you, I’ll put this in the fridge.” She hurried off with it, leaving me alone for the moment.
I took the opportunity to pick up the framed picture of my mom from the side table and study it. Her life had never been a mystery to me, and I was grateful for that. Parker had spent so much of his childhood speculating about his mom and why no one would talk about her. We were preteens before Parker found out the whole truth, that she’d run off with a man she’d known only a few months. They’d secretly dated while she was pregnant with Parker, and she left for good shortly after he was born. The shock of hearing it was permanently seared in me. I couldn’t imagine the pain for John or his boys.
I studied my mom’s dark blue eyes, so much like mine. She had dropped out of college and returned home pregnant with me. Leukemia took her a few months after my first birthday. She never would say who my father was. Grandma had explained these things to me over and over when I was little, in that matter-of-fact way of hers. For all their faults, my grandparents had never made me feel like a burden or a secret. I was theirs to take care of. It was their duty, just like it was mine to help them now with whatever they needed.
Grandpa shuffled in, his bald head shining like a newly polished bowling ball. “Hello, Clayton. How is work?”
“Good, Grandpa. Would you like to see the bucket truck I’ve been working on?”
He shrugged. “Okay. Let me find my glasses.” He came back with his reading glasses and Grandma trailing behind, and they both studied my photos, giving appropriate sounds of approval, though I knew neither of them really cared about what we were looking at.
Then we sat, and the clock ticked, and the Nutcracker leered, and I asked them questions about the garden, and the neighbors, and the news to keep the conversation going, until Grandma stood and clasped her hands together. “Let me get your coupons before you go.”
She clipped every coupon from the junk mail each week, even the ones she knew she wouldn’t use. Grandpa was thrifty in other ways. He bought whole milk and watered it down, keeping it in several pitchers in the fridge.
In rebellion, my fridge always had pure, unadulterated whole milk, and I felt luxurious every time I drank it. Grandpa would never know.
Grandma came back with an envelope and pulled out the coupons from inside. “Do you eat at that Chinese restaurant on Seventh Street?”
“Uh, no.” It did no good to lie. Grandma had a built in truth detector that never failed.
“What about the dry cleaners? This is for twenty-percent off.”
“I don’t use the dry cleaners much, Grandma. Why don’t you use that one?”
She shook her head. “No. I won’t use it either.” She ripped that coupon in half and stuck it in the back of the stack.
We went through the rest of the coupons like this before she handed them to me, making me promise to use them.
I left with a lighter heart, but an ache in the back of my neck I recognized as my stress spot. My grandparents were my family, but the Harwoods were my heart. They were the people who taught me to love, to fight and forgive, to tease, and to let my guard down. They knew everything about me with one very large exception. How I felt about Lauren.
I closed my eyes. What was I supposed to do about her?
Nothing. Absolutely nothing. At least around her family. It was what I’d always done in the past. It couldn’t fail me now. I wouldn’t talk to Lauren any differently, and if anyone asked about us, I’d pretend I didn’t know what they were talking about. Today made no difference.
I stopped at my truck and put Grandma’s coupons in the console, knowing I’d have to use at least one of them. She’d interrogate me about them the next time I came to mow the lawn. A free ice cream cone from McDonald’s wasn’t the worst thing ever.
“Hey, Olsen. You’re not allowed to leave yet.”
Startled by Lauren’s sudden presence, I hit my head on the frame of my truck and cussed. “I wasn’t trying to leave, Lauren. Though now I think I should. Where’s your truck?” If I’d known she was coming back, I certainly wouldn’t have stayed. Today had been enough of a disaster.
She pointed to the neighbor’s RV parked on the street. “I’m on the other side of this monster. The Binghams just got home from their trip to Durango.”
“Good for them. I’ll see you later.” I got into my truck, but she climbed up on the running board before I could shut the door.
She had to stop invading my space like this. I could see every little freckle across her cheeks, the flecks of gold in her brown eyes, the little blonde hairs at the top of her forehead that danced, refusing to be smooth and sleek. And I noticed her lips. I always noticed her lips. She’d recently applied lip gloss. Strawberry scented if I wasn’t mistaken.
“What do you want?” I crossed my arms and glanced behind her to make sure no one was watching us through the front window.
“I’m confronting my dad about Denver and every other guy I’ve dated or will date, and I need you there to witness it.”
“I’m sorry about Denver.” The words slipped out before I had a chance to rethink them.
Her eyes flashed. “No you’re not. Mission accomplished, right? He’s thoroughly scared off. He’s not even sort of my boyfriend anymore.”
That did make me just a little bit happy, and she must have seen it in my face. “You’re the worst, Clay. Never mind. You’re free to go.”
It took everything in me to let her stalk off, believing I enjoyed ruining her life. Not that I thought it was ruined. Denver was not the guy for her. He was a placeholder. A dot in her history she’d barely remember years from now. I’d vowed long ago to concede my game the day she found a guy worthy of her. Today was not that day.
I let her go inside before getting out and locking up my truck. The Clay she knew wouldn’t listen when she said I was free to go.