“I don’t have time for this shit.” I step over the mess I made with the lamp and pad downstairs, passing the lump under the pile of blankets on the couch. I start the coffee and pop two frozen breakfast sandwiches into the toaster oven. Once the coffee is done I head back to the living room and shake Mom awake. “Time to get up, sleepyhead.”
A bottle of vodka slips from under the blanket and she looks up at me with red rimmed eyes and smiles. “There’s my good boy.” There’s a pain in her voice that’s been there for as long as I can remember. It’s bone deep and haunting. There was a time I’d thought I’d learn to live with hearing it, that my body would somehow acclimate to it, but it’s been eight years since Dad died, and it guts me just as much as it did the first time.
“You gotta get up, Mom,” I tell her softly.
She raises a hand to cup my cheek, and on instinct, I lean into her embrace. “What did I do to deserve you?”
I blink, a million responses float through my brain. Things like, I did this to us. And I don’t deserve you. Then there’s the darker stuff like, this life is exactly what I deserve. Instead of saying any of that, I blink and tell her, “Mrs. Louise said you can’t be late again.”
She scoffs, offended. “I’m the best hair stylist at that salon. She can’t fire me.”
“I know.” I nod. “But still, you don’t want to keep your clients waiting.”
“I guess I better get a move on then.” She raises her hands over her head and yawns before throwing her legs over the edge of the couch and standing. I move with her and hand her the coffee. “Thank you, baby. I’ll be ready in thirty minutes.”
After I drop Mom at the salon, I head back to the house and clean up the shattered remains of the lamp. I toss it and the empty liquor bottle in the overflowing trash can before pulling the bag out and tying it off. I carry it to the bin out back as some godawful Taylor Swift song pollutes the air around me. It’s coming from next door. I glance over to see Roni digging in the grass, her cute round ass swaying back and forth as she sings off key.
I smile despite my pissy mood, and for the second time today, she’s helped me, even though she doesn't know it. Even when we were kids she had that effect on me, like my own little pocket of sunshine. I watch her for a few more beats. Memories from the night before, of her and I alone in that room, flood my brain. The way her mouth molded perfectly to mine. The little moans she made when I slipped my tongue between her lips. The way her body writhed against mine like it was begging for more.
Her first kiss wasn’t mine to take, and yet I can’t bring myself to feel guilty for it. Life has handed me nothing but lemons for eighteen years. She makes me happy. She quiets the rage and erases the loneliness. She’s right. I don’t always have to be the fucking martyr. Before I have a chance to second guess what it is I’m doing, I jog down the stairs and cross the yard. She doesn’t realize I’m there until I have her by the waist and I’m dragging her to her feet. I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, but I don’t stop long enough to think about it.
“Devin?” she gasps in surprise. “What are you doing?”
I stare at her lips as I speak. “Do you trust me?”
She snorts. Today her t-shirt reads, No Way! –Jose, and it’s perfect, just like she is. “Do I have a choice?”
“No.” I tuck a strand of hair behind her ear and bop her on the nose. “So, go get your shit and meet me in the car.”
“But I’m in the middle of something.” She points to the mess of dirt and packets of seed behind her.
“Oh, well in that case, never mind.” I turn on my heels, like I’m heading back to my house.
Her mouth drops open. “Really?”
“No, not fucking really. Go get your shit.” I hold up my hand. “Five minutes or I’m coming in and dragging your little ass out of there.”
She lifts her middle finger, although I can see the amusement swimming in her eyes. “Fine,” she grumbles and bounces up the stairs.
Exactly five minutes later, the passenger side door creaks open and Roni hops in. Knowing her, she was probably ready in three but waited the extra two minutes just to be a smartass.
“About time,” I tease, shifting the car into drive and pulling out into the street.
She grips the dashboard for support. “Jesus.”
I grin at the pink tint to her cheeks and make a silent vow to myself to do my best to keep it there for the rest of the day.
We ride in comfortable silence for a few minutes before she speaks. “Mind telling me where we’re going?”
“It’s a surprise.”
She’s quiet again for a few more beats and then huffs, dramatically. “So, are we gonna talk about the fact that we made out at the party, or are we pretending it didn’t happen?”
“Undecided,” I say, gripping the steering wheel a little tighter. What I really want to do is pull the car over and kiss the shit out of her, but I’ll refrain until I know where her head is.
“On?”
“On if you regret it or not,” I tell her, honestly.
“Why would I regret it?”
I flick on the turn signal and change lanes. “Because you have this whole plan for your summer, and I kinda derailed that.”
“Not really.” She tips one shoulder up. “I mean, the plan is to experience life, and have fun, and well, that kiss checked off both boxes.”
“Even though it was with me and not Reese?” I ask, my grip on the steering wheel tightening. Reese and I are friendly, but I’m not really close enough to anyone to call them a friend. And while he’s okay, the idea of his hands anywhere near Roni makes me want to jab his eyes out with my thumbs.
“It’s better that it’s you.” She munches on her bottom lip. “I mean, I trust you, you know.”
“Maybe you shouldn’t.”
Roni rolls her eyes. “Really with the martyr thing again?”
I laugh out loud. “No. It’s just, you deserve your firsts to be with someone who doesn't have as much baggage as me.”
“Everyone has baggage. You just gotta find the person whose bags match yours.”
“True, but I doubt you’re still in love with a girl who’s fucking your brother.”
Her eyes drop to her lap, and she picks at the dirt under her fingernails. “You think you’ll ever be over her?”
“Mmm.” I think about it for a second as the car turns down a gravel road. “Eventually, yes.”
“Where does that leave us in the meantime?”
I pound a fist to my chest. “It’s nothing but broken pieces in here, Ron.” She leans back in her seat and stares out at the passing trees. “Do you regret it now?” I ask because I can’t help myself.
“No.” It comes out so low it’s almost a whisper. “Probably should, but I don’t.”
“So, I take it my kiss didn’t make your muse come running back?” I ask with a grin.
She snorts out a laugh. “Why do you say that?”
“You were in the garden which means you were avoiding painting.”