“I’m good, really. I’ve ruined enough of your day. You’ve got a couple hours left. Go back to work. But don’t you dare tell your dad. He’ll tell Aunt Lizzie, she’ll freak and be all up in my business, stressing me out.”
Tony looks at me as if he’s trying to decide whether or not to give me what I want. I’m really not worried about it—he usually lets me have my way.
“Okay.” He sighs, finally giving in.
See? There’s a reason he’s my favorite cousin, too. I smile and give him a hug as he kisses the top of my head. “You comin’ to the draft tomorrow night? Dad’s grilling.”
“I’ll be there, I’m bringing a salad.”
“Of course, you are.” He smiles as he rolls his eyes at me.
“Shut up and go back to work.” I give him a good hard shove, which of course doesn’t move him an inch.
“See you tomorrow, Gabby. Try not to get arrested,” he teases.
It’s my turn to roll my eyes as I climb in my car to crank it on and jack up the A/C. My hair is going to frizz if I stand out in his heat and humidity any longer.
On the drive home, I start feeling guilty about leaving Megan, wondering where Trevor is and what in the hell he’s into. I don’t know why I’m surprised, he’s a jerk but it’s still a surprising situation to be at your high school friend’s home only to find yourself in the middle of a federal raid. I understand why Tony doesn’t want me to have anything to do with Megan right now but I have a feeling this guilt is going to eat away at me.
I pull into my neighborhood, curve around, and turn down my dead-end street. My chest tightens a bit like it does every time I drive up to my childhood home over the last three years and eight months. Counting the weeks and days is a different level of depressing that I’ve made myself stop doing. I try to smile and wave to my neighbor, Martha, who’s weeding her front flower beds.
My neighborhood is developed with mature trees and landscape. The homes are somewhere between twenty to twenty-five years old. My parents built ours when I was three and it was one of the first in the development, I have a prime lot. It’s at the end of a cul-de-sac backing to a lake with a tree line on the other side, offering a lot of privacy in back of my house. The lots are wide, spacious, and well maintained by homeowners. There’s been quite a bit of turnover in the past ten years, empty nesters moving out, younger people making homes for their young families. It’s a popular neighborhood because of the larger homes and good school district.
I push out a breath as I pull into one of my three garages. Hopping down from my car, I trudge through my yard sale, estate sale, and Craigslist treasures that I’ve not quite found a use for but couldn’t say no to because of their personality. I’m sure someday I’ll have just the right project for them.
Opening the door to my mudroom, I’m instantly attacked from the knees down. The tightness in my chest quickly releases as Mia whines and yelps, communicating how much she missed me during the last four long hours she had to manage on her own.
“Hi baby.” I crouch low to give my sweet little Maltese-Shih Tzu mix scratches and kisses. “Mama’s had a bad day, but I’m home now.”
Mia, with her paws on my knees, reaches as far as she can for my face, relaying how happy she is and she loves me more than anything. When I stand, she races across the kitchen and great room to the deck door off the back of my house, knowing the ritual we go through every time I come home. I follow slower as she dances in circles, eagerly anticipating the outdoors. She has business to take care of, squirrels to chase, and neighbors to greet, so I hurry myself to the door to give her what she wants.
I turn to see the mess in my kitchen from my morning coffee and breakfast, and if I’m honest with myself, a couple dinner dishes from last night. I keep a clean house without a problem but being tidy on a daily basis is something I’m still trying to mature into. The arguments my mother and I used to have over my bedroom still play in my head. My dad would say, “Meredith, shut her bedroom door so you don’t have to look at it. I’m sure it’ll be clean again someday when she takes all her shit and moves out. Then you’ll be sad, so get over it.” Such stupid arguments, why I couldn’t just pick up my clothes to make her happy, I’ll never know. With these thoughts, I grab the remote, turn on my stereo hitting shuffle on the playlist and start to tidy my kitchen.
My mom completely gutted and refurbished it about five years ago. I lived in an apartment at the time, finishing up graduate school, but she and I had a grand time renovating. She would say, “I don’t need a decorator, I have my Gabby.” The cabinets are all cherry wood, dark brown and distressed with just enough black glaze settling into the grooves. The kitchen, originally U-shaped, was replaced with a long, deep rectangular island the length of the room that houses an extra-large copper apron front sink with five barstools across the front. Across from the sink is a five burner Jenn-Air stainless steel range. To the side are matching stainless steel double ovens and an enormous refrigerator. My mom always said, “Having a big family means you need the right tools to cook.”
I kick off my heels and toss them in the way of my bedroom thinking I’m just going to have to pick them up later. I hear Lifehouse croon out You & Me while I set about my task. I do my best to put my day behind me and move on. I’ve gotten very good at this the past few years, but I’ve also never been handcuffed, patted down, and questioned by federal agents. Thinking of being patted down brings my thoughts back to Jude Ortiz. I haven’t had many second thoughts about men in the past few years. I’ve been set up occasionally by friends, asked out a few times on the rare occasion I put myself in a social situation, but haven’t dated anyone on a regular basis since James.
James and I met in the last year of our MBA program. He was fun, nice, and attentive as long as we were doing what he wanted to do. He always wanted to be with his friends, watch the game he wanted to watch, eat where he wanted to eat, and so on. I thought I loved James, we were together for one year and three months, but my family was not so crazy about James.
My family is big. My family is gregarious. My family is in your face if you are their family. And since I’m their family, they love me, they want to see me, spend time with me and be in my face, they saw James as a roadblock to all of the above.
James thought my family was overbearing. Period. I did my best to walk that tightrope for one year and three months because I thought I loved James and he loved me in return. Then I found out when times got tough and I needed to focus on me, he proved to be the self-centered jack wagon that he is and broke up with me. It sucked, but other things sucked worse, and I got over James-who-I-thought-I-loved way faster than I ever imagined I could.
End of story. End of James.
So, thinking of Jude Ortiz with his melty eyes, big strong hands, broad shoulders, and the list goes on, is a surprise even to me. He has a great voice and when his lips tipped up at me right before I left it was so appealing, I can’t help but think what a full-on smile would do to me.
Finishing my tasks in the kitchen, I go to the back door and whistle for Mia. She comes bounding at me like it was her idea and runs straight to her treat jar.
“This is number two today, you only get one more. And don’t try and talk me into a fourth, Lanny said you have to cut back or you’re gonna get chubby.”