The story of Carter Michaels was a story of almost. Of nice try. Of obscurity and inadequacy.
Sometimes he wondered why he ever bothered trying. Anything.
“Hey,” she said, and cupped his chin. “It’s alright. We’re alright.”
He swallowed, and it hurt.
“Take me to dinner, huh?” She cocked her head, imploring, smile encouraging. “We’ve got to celebrate.”
He swallowed again. His voice was tight. “Yeah, okay.”
They climbed down the bleachers and headed toward the parking lot with the shrill blast of the coach’s whistle ringing behind them.
Carter didn’t look back. He knew if he did, he wouldn’t be able to keep going.
Two
Plans had a funny way of changing.
Leah set the last of her boxes down on top of the stack in the center of her new living room, and cast a look around the space. It wasn’t grand, but she was trying to look on the upside: it was hers, and it was comfortable. It was spacious enough.
Knoxville hadn’t reached Nashville levels of in-demand yet, but it was a college town, and it was constantly expanding, reinventing itself, and becoming all the while more charming, accessible, and trendy. Finding a spot downtown was becoming a tall order; when she’d known she was moving back home, she’d called her parents – and then she’d called Ava. Because Mom and Dad had thrown some Zillow listings her way, but Ava had said, “Lemme ask Mom,” and next thing she knew she had a showing of a second-floor, two-bedroom, two-bath walkup in a charming, sprawling complex occupied mostly be retirees. No wild nighttime parties, no farm animals in the pool, no shootouts or car break-ins. A club old lady, someone newer to town named Kristin she had yet to meet, lived on the ground floor in this same building, and the price had been spectacular. Leah had no doubt either Maggie or Kenny Teague had greased palms and applied the right sort of pressure.
The complex had been built in the early nineties, and looked it: from the laminate floors to the green Formica counters, and the ruffled lace curtains in the bedrooms. But it was spotless, well-maintained, and smelled fresh, like open windows and lemon cleaner. It would take time to get it decorated to her liking, but of all the changes she’d undergone in the past three months, this wasn’t one she could complain about.
“Tell your parents they can drink coffee for free forever,” she said, gratefully, massaging the tension from her lower back.
Ava sat cross-legged on the floor, pulling wrapped items out of boxes, and chuckled. “Pretty sure they already do.”
“I’ll have to bake them cookies, then. Seriously, I can’t believe this place. I was ready to live in Mom and Dad’s garage, and now I’ve got two bedrooms, and my own washer/dryer.”
“Don’t mind us,” Aidan said as he and Tango toted in the sofa, a secondhand leather monstrosity she didn’t really want to know the origins of. “Stay right in the way, that’s fine. We’re only giving ourselves hernias over here.”
“Oh my God,” Ava deadpanned, “it’s finally happened. Your full transformation into Dad.”
He halted, spluttered out a clumsy, “Hey, fuck you,” and nearly dropped the end of the sofa on his foot.
Leah bit back a laugh. “Thanks, boys, it goes over against that wall,” she said, sweetly, and a little bit of laughter slipped out.
Tango caught her eye and grinned as he passed.
“…Dad wishes…” Aidan was saying.
Ava shot him a wicked smile and said, “What was that, Kenny? Something about kids these days, and back when you were young? Time for your afternoon cigarette and Raisin Bran?”
Aidan set his end of the sofa in place with a huff of annoyance, all drawn up and ready to lob another easily-dodged jab at his sister.
Mercy trooped in the door, said, “Think fast, bro,” and chucked a sofa pillow at him.
He turned too late, and it hit him square in the face.
Tango died laughing, doubled over and everything.
Leah couldn’t contain her own giggles anymore, clapping a hand over her mouth to smother them.
Aidan squawked indignantly. “Why the fuck was that big monster carrying pillows while I’m throwing my back out?”
Mercy grinned. “Just admit you suck at rock-paper-scissors and get over yourself.”
Verbal jabs turned to physical ones, and then the two brothers-in-law were tussling right there on her freshly-unrolled rug.
Ava stood up and rolled her eyes. “Don’t break anything,” she admonished them, and picked up the box marked “Sheets.” Tipped her head toward the hall. “Let’s make up the bed while they get it out of their system. Otherwise they’ll never settled down.”
“Aw, babe,” Mercy complained, as they left the room.
“Don’t break my brother,” she called back over her shoulder. “Or else you’ll have to apologize to Sam.”
“Ow,” Aidan exclaimed. “Dude, help.”
“Not a chance,” Tango chuckled.
“I feel kinda bad,” Leah said, as they left the melee behind and stepped into the master suite. It was her favorite room in the apartment, with its own en-suite and a large window that overlooked a walking trail and bit of green space behind the building. The bed was already there, the frame and mattress; she had a desk, and a tall wardrobe cabinet – that one Mercy had helped carry in. “I should have hired movers.”
“No, you definitely shouldn’t.” Ava set the box down on the floor at the foot of the bed. “What else have those goobers got to do?”
Leah laughed. “Remember when you were pine-city over Mercy? And now he’s just a goober.” She sighed theatrically. “How fast young love fades. Replaced by gooberness.”
Ava chuckled. “Mom used to say that all men were basically little boys in grown-up clothes, and honestly, she was right.”
“Isn’t she right about everything?”
“Tell her you said that and you don’t have to bake her cookies.”
They pulled out the fitted sheet, spread it between them, and moved to opposite sides of the bed to tuck it into place.
It was a little bit amazing how they slid right back into their old friendship. It had never ended, not really, but when Leah had followed Jason to Chicago, they’d fallen out of the habit of daily communication. Texts, and emails, and photos still happened; but they hadn’t helped co-host a bake sale, or studied together, or spent an aimless afternoon in front of the TV with popcorn and nail polish. They hadn’t had proper girl time, and she’d worried, a little, if things would go back to the way they had been – a dumb worry, it turned out, because they fell right back together like always, their friendship a familiar groove into they which they slipped, well-oiled, productive, comfortable.
They got the bed made, and by the time they returned to the living room, the guys had gone back down to the U-Haul for the next load. There wasn’t much left: she didn’t have a kitchen table, or chairs, or dishes, or glasses, or…anything for the kitchen, really. Maggie had said she was on it, and though Leah had protested, and hated the idea of accepting charity, there was no stopping Maggie Teague once she’d latched onto a cause.