21
Christian
I’m in a pretty bad fucking mood by the time I cross town and pull into my parents’ driveway. My phone pings and it’s Linc checking to see if I want to go out for a beer. I give a humorless laugh. He seems to be about as happy as I am at being back home. I text back to let him know I’ll be up for it later, and that I have to go say hello to the family.
I kill the ignition and climb from my Jeep, trying to shake off the uneasy feeling eating at me. Ryan is Maize’s friend. Sure, he wrapped her up in a big hug and looked at her with pure adoration in his eyes, and she did the same. But they’re just friends, right? Maybe they’re still friends with benefits. Damned if that doesn’t burn a hole in my gut and make me want to go back there and beat the shit out of him. Oh, but I can’t do that.
Why the fuck didn’t you lay claim already, dude?
Isn’t that the question of the century. If I was being honest with myself, I’m a bit of a chicken shit. My whole life, I was adamant that I wasn’t going to get involved in a serious relationship. I didn’t want to fall into the pattern my parents did. The love, or infatuation, or whatever it is, fades, and you end up resenting one another, yet you have a kid, so you stick it out and live un-happily ever after. Real fucking fairy tale that is.
I open the front door, and step into the spacious front entry. Dropping my bag, I call out to my mother.
“Christian,” Mom says and comes to greet me, looking completely put together with her perfect clothes, hair and makeup. After a hug, she tucks a blond strand behind her ear and stands back. “Let me look at you.” She takes me in, and probably doesn’t like that I’m dressed in jeans and my football jacket, but instead of saying anything, she smiles and leans in for another hug. It’s been four months since I’ve last been home, and I haven’t changed physically. In other ways, maybe, but I’m still fit from football and exercise. “So good to see you, but you do need a haircut.”
I run my fingers through my hair, and nod in agreement. “It’s good to be home,” I say as her familiar expensive perfume fills the air around us. “Dad back yet?”
“He doesn’t get in until tomorrow afternoon.” She plasters on a smile. “Why don’t you put your things into your room, and come back down for coffee.” There’s a strain in her voice when she adds, “Your grandmother is on her way over. She’s bringing your favorite cookies. We thought you’d be home by now.”
“Sorry, got a little tied up and couldn’t get away until later.” Even though I’m not a kid anymore, Grandma still likes to bake for me, and I like it, too. “Give me a sec to drop my bag in my room.” I dart up the stairs and set my bag onto my bed and instantly go on a trip down memory lane as I glance around the spacious room. My bedroom is exactly as I left it four years ago. But I definitely feel different than I did when I left for college. In so many ways, ways that actually scare me a bit. The front door opens and I hear Grandma’s voice, so I head to the stairs, taking them two at a time, and throw my arms around her.
“Grandma, I missed you.”
She laughs and whacks me as she shoves a container of cookies at me. “Oh, phooey, you missed my peanut butter chocolate chip cookies.”
“That’s true, too.” I laugh as I take the container, and for a brief second I think of tucking a few away for Maize. Although by the time I pick her up to go back to Kingston, they’d be stale. Unless, of course, I made a special trip across town.
She doesn’t want her mom to know about you, dude.
“Now, let me have a look at you.” I laugh, despite the storm going on inside me, and spread my arms. I spin to let her examine me, see that nothing is broken. She never was a lover of football and is always worried I’m going to get hurt. I love her for that, but football is my calling, and down the road, maybe teaching or coaching. A ridiculous image of Maize and me living in the city together, any city, while she practices law, and I teach, coming home to our own place afterward, careens through my brain. I shake it off, but don’t miss the way Grandma is studying me with those perceptive eyes of hers.
“Still in one piece, Grandma.” She narrows her blue eyes and gives me a once over.
“There’s something different.”
“Maybe it’s that I’m not a teenager anymore.” I laugh and brush off her concerns, not wanting her to delve any deeper.
“Nope, that’s not it. You keeping your grades up?”
“Always.”
Mom stands there quietly, her brow furrowed. She clearly can’t quite figure out what Grandma is seeing. Why would she? She’s never taken the time to really look below the surface where I was concerned. No, I was a means to an end, a pawn in her marriage plot.
I hold my arms out for Mom and Grandma. “Come on, let’s go have a cup of coffee and some cookies.”
I guide them into the kitchen and Grandma sits as Mom pours three cups of coffee, and I dig into the container of cookies like a five-year-old.
“Thanks, Mom,” I say when she sets my coffee in front of me.
She pats my arm. “Let me grab the cream.”
“I don’t take cream, remember? Just sugar, lots of sugar.”
“Oh right.” She hands the cream to Grandma and I smile to myself. Maize remembered I like my coffee with just
