Advice from a Sunflower Page 13

  She doesn't know I'm sitting in the kitchen on the other side of the wall from her, not upstairs in my room. Well, she knew ten minutes ago, when she came in to grab a glass of water. She just doesn't remember.

  Right now, she's stuck in a time that's long since passed. I never really know for certain when she goes to, but it usually sounds like something from when I was in middle school. Mostly because Dad didn't bother coming home for dinner in high school. Or anything, really.

  “I'm in here, Ma,” I respond, not bothering to take my eyes off the spreadsheet I've been staring at for an hour straight on my work laptop.

  She stumbles into the doorway, her face twisted in surprise.

  “Oh, I thought you were out at the Scott's house,” she tries to recover, as if that explains why she was yelling upstairs for me. She walks toward the Keurig to brew a cup of coffee, but I reach to grab the pod from her before she pops it in, gently reminding that it's nine at night and she'll be up for hours if she drinks that.

  I never understood how her mind could play such dirty tricks on her. I'm here, standing right in her face in my late twenties, yet she somehow only sees the teenage boy that her memory wants her to see.

  “Dad called and said it'll be a late one. Looks like it's just you and me tonight. Want to watch that new singing show, American Idol?”

  I shake my head at her slowly, taking my seat back in front of the laptop. “No thanks, Ma. I have a lot to do tonight.”

  “That's a good boy, working hard on your homework. Don't stay up too late obsessing, now. I know that Scott girl is giving you a run for your money.” She winks, abandoning the coffee mission to go back into the living room.

  She's never liked Mouse or Marnie. At first, she thought I should have been playing with other boys my age, not with the girls next door. When we got older and entered high school, she worried I'd miss out on certain experiences if I tied myself down to those two girls.

  She was talking about my virginity. My own mother was worried that I'd miss out on taking all the bases with a girl if I stuck myself with the Scott sisters, whose mother pushed the Bible onto anyone with ears. It didn't bode well with Ma's sordid lifestyle and Denise made it very clear that she'd always be watching us around her precious gems. Apparently, she was the only one allowed to mistreat them. As if Ma drinking a couple of beers a night would corrupt their innocent little minds.

  The joke was on her. Marnie was the first of our class to give it up and while that ship had sailed for me long before the night with Mouse, she still ended up shattering me the night she handed over her precious flower, not the other way around.

  The mention of her has me thinking back to our dinner, despite my best attempts to shove it back into the depths of my brain to never be thought of again. Her rental car is still parked in front of Marnie’s house. I noticed it as I pulled into the driveway after work and my chest instantly tightened at the sight. I want her to be gone. I want her to run back to whatever place she calls home and stay as far away from The Hollow as she can, just like she had done before.

  I don’t need the constant reminder of our terrible failure of a night when I couldn’t get a handle on my emotions. And I certainly don’t want the truth of what could have been dangled in front of my face as I float through this miserable existence. She’s overstaying her welcome.

  Then again, I want the chance to get to her the way she's gotten to me. I want to make good on my promise. I want to taste her all over again. To bring her back over the edge and watch her fall. Judging by the fact that she's still here, she must want that, too.

  ***

  Emma makes sure to stop me in the store on my way home from work today to pry any information she can about Mouse out of me. She’s been jealous of her since the moment she dug her pointy talons into me and probably long before that. That jealousy is part of the reason Mouse got away from me.

  “So, how long is Mouse going to be in town?” she casually asks, not even bothering with a greeting.

  One minute I'm alone in the dairy aisle, the next she's walking beside me, her shrill voice piercing my ears.

  I shrug my shoulders and grab a gallon out of the cooler, not bothering with words. This woman always takes words and twists them into something else.

  Something ugly and vile.

  “Well, I figured you might know. Cathy mentioned that she saw you two together the other night for dinner. Said it looked to be intense.”

  Her eyes drop down to her manicured fingernails passively, thin eyebrows practically raised into her scalp. I know this look. It's the accusatory one she always wore just before insisting I’d done something wrong, even if it wasn’t the truth.

  Fucking small towns. I can’t even get dinner two towns over without someone’s eyes on me, watching my every move.

  “We had dinner,” I confirm, keeping my tone tight, so she knows there was no room for follow-up questions.

  She ignores it and straightens her shoulders, taking in a deep breath before spewing her fire like a vicious dragon. “I’d watch out for that girl if I were you. She’s been gone a long time and she certainly isn’t the same person we once knew. I’m sure there’s bigger and better things out there for her now. Things you probably can’t compete with, you know? You should stick with your own kind.”

  My own kind. I’m sure if I asked, she’d happily explain that women like her were closer to my kind than Mouse would ever be, as if one of us was below the other. I could never figure out which she believed that to be, but I also never cared enough to ask.

  Her eyebrows stay pointed upwards in mock concern, as if she's truly worried about me. As if she doesn’t just want to keep me away from the only person who has ever understood and accepted me for exactly who I am so that we can keep up this broken facade we have going.

  She used to deliver the same speeches to me in high school, before Mouse left. She’d pair it with a less convincing frown—one she hadn’t quite perfected yet—and it would be just enough to keep me away and tightly wrapped in her grip.

  Until the night Mouse gave me everything I needed.

  I was quick to throw Emma to the side the moment I got a taste of what I’d been craving since before I even knew what it meant. It wasn’t that I never found Emma attractive, it was just that she couldn’t ever compare to the rarity that was Lyla Scott. She’d fought me, of course. We separated for the entire summer after graduation until I realized Mouse was never coming back and Emma managed to wear me down enough to pull me back into her grip.

  Once again, I don’t dignify her condescending words with a response. Instead, I squeeze past her in the aisle and start toward the register, hopeful that she isn’t following right behind me. The last thing we need is another scene in a public place. We’d perfected those in our short-lived marriage.

  Luckily, someone snags her attention from the opposite direction and I'm able to slip out undetected. Then, I pull onto my street and see the familiar high-end black sedan still parked against the curb, and my blood pressure skyrockets.

  “Uncle Eli!” Gabby shouts from the front porch, her little legs shooting up to carry her over to me. I catch her just in time for her to slam right into my legs, and she lifts her hands to be picked up.

  “Aunt Lyla got us a sandbox,” she exclaims, pointing a chunky finger toward the backyard.

  “She did?” I ask, carefully scanning the area for any trace of the last woman I want to see right now—even beating out my ex-wife.

  Gabby nods excitedly just as a loud bang comes from behind the house. “She’s having a hard time.” Her face falls with innocent worry.

  Gabby’s always been more expressive and compassionate than her sister or mother, almost a carbon copy of Mouse when she was that age.

  “Yeah? Maybe you should go help her, then.”

  "Eli! Perfect timing. Can you spare a few minutes?" Marnie appears at the gate, a calculating smirk ghosting her lips.

  The girls look up at me, awaiting a re
sponse, but I'm hesitating. I send a scowl Marnie's way and sigh in defeat, squeezing Gabby's tiny hand when she slips it into my palm.

  "We can't get this thing to fit together right," Marnie explains casually, cutting off Mouse's hissed whispers as I round the corner.

  "We have it covered," Mouse assures, struggling to fit two pieces of wood to each other.

  "No, we don't, and if we want them to play in it within the next century, we need some help." Marnie ignores the sneer from her sister, turning toward the girls.

  "Looks like it's lunch time. Mouse, you and Eli have this handled right?"

  Mouse opens her mouth in disbelief, watching helplessly as Marnie corrals the girls through the back door, a sly grin teasing us just before she disappears behind the glass.

  Once we're alone, we sit in heavy silence while she fights the drill.

  "Seriously, I've got this. You can leave."

  Her stubborn lips purse outward, eyes cast down, likely wishing my entire existence away. Her finger slips on the trigger of the drill, startling her as it digs a hole right into the wood, narrowly missing her thigh. I quickly jump into action, snatching the tool from her hands before it causes any more damage and set it down onto the ground.

  "Clearly, you've got everything under control," I mumble under my breath. Her scowl tells me she heard it.

  "Since when do they need a sandbox?"

  "Since they asked for one."

  "Why do you do that?"

  "Do what?" she asks, climbing up to her feet and dusting off the knees of her jeans.

  "Spoil them. They don't need all this stuff. They're just happy to have you here."

  "Here we go again." She rolls her eyes skyward and begins to stomp toward the back door Marnie just disappeared behind. "I can't do this with you right now."

  "Stop," I call out to her back, surprising both of us. "I'm sorry. Let's get this put together for the girls and then we never have to speak again."

  That's not even close to what I want, but I can't seem to translate my thoughts out loud without sounding like a complete asshole. It's like being around her evaporates any common sense I have and I'm left bumbling around cluelessly.

  Mouse considers this for a moment before finally relenting, stepping off the small patio steps with pure dread.

  "I'm only doing this for them," she insists, crouching down to grab the drill again. I jerk my hand in front of her, blocking her path.

  "I'll handle the power tools. Grab the instructions."

  Chapter 20

  Lyla

  We spent the afternoon piecing together the most complicated sand box I've ever seen, speaking as little as possible outside of me reading off instructions and him following them. Marnie cowered inside the house, occasionally peeking her head out the door to make sure neither of us strangled the other. I'll be having a long conversation with her about boundaries after this.

  "Where did you even find this thing?" Eli complained as he screwed the last two pieces together.

  "I didn't think it had to be put together. Don't these things usually come assembled?"

  When I saw the unicorn shaped set in the store, I just had to have it. I couldn't help it. Marnie and I never got things like this and I wanted it to be different for them. Now, I wish I would have just gone with a simple plastic turtle.

  "I didn't mean to offend you earlier. I just meant—"

  "I know what you meant, Eli. Save it."

  "No, you don't." He drags the unicorn over the lawn near the sandbags that were waiting to fill it. Once it's in place, he lets his hands hang on his hips lazily.

  "I just meant that you're enough. You don't have to buy anyone's affection. They're just happy to have you here."

  The hem of his shirt rises up, exposing a small patch of pale skin just above his groin. I quickly move my eyes back up to his face, but the smug look he's wearing tells me I've been caught.

  "Marnie said you and Josh had grown close."

  Eli nods, his face sobering at the mention of Josh. "He was my best friend."

  "It must suck that he left then."

  And then it all hits me.

  How could I be so selfish? I saw our dinner as two friends catching up—even as a celebration for my own achievements. I never considered how he might have felt that night, or the whole time I've been here. I'm sure he wanted to be in the company of an old friend for support, and instead I spent the first half of our night flaunting everything I gained from leaving him behind.

  And let's be honest, that's exactly what I did. He was right. I got spooked after giving myself over to him that night all those years ago and hightailed out of here faster than he could blink. I couldn't stand the idea that what happened between us wasn't real and I never considered what it might have done to him if it was. But he still ran right back into Emma's arms and that was the only confirmation I needed that I'd done the right thing. Maybe that was wrong. Maybe the situation wasn't as black and white as I might have thought.

  In my quest to become a stronger willed person, have I lost the one trait I truly identified with—my compassion for others? Have I officially become so self-absorbed that I can't even recognize when someone else is hurting anymore?

  That's not what I ever wanted.

  "I think we got off on the wrong foot the other night," I say, and my voice breaks with the mention of our failed dinner.

  "Yeah, me too."

  "Why don't we start over then? Maybe we can even find our way back to Eli and Mouse."

  While I hate the nickname I've carried around here for my entire life, it sounds just as perfect as it always has paired next to his. Sweet nostalgia tugs at my throat and leaves me choking back tears. Maybe everything about The Hollow wasn't as bad as I've always thought.

  "You think it's possible?"

  I nod, allowing the smile I'm fighting to push its way through. "I do."

  "All right, then," he says through tight lips that were fighting back a smile of his own. The back door slides open and the girls come running through it, Marnie in tow when he quietly adds, "but I'm still planning to devour you every chance I get."

  "I didn't think you'd ever get this thing built," Marnie teases.

  When Eli bends over to start pouring the bags of sand, she throws me two thumbs up. I pretend to itch my face with a middle finger before slicing open another bag.

  Chapter 21

  Lyla

  Things are more bearable once Eli and I decide to try being friends. He’s still always in a gloomy mood with his brows pinched together in a scowl more often than not. But I’ve realized that he’s a huge part of Marnie’s life and avoiding him is nearly impossible when he’s constantly helping her with one thing or another. I’m still not sure what happened between her and Josh, though Eli seems privy to whatever information she’s holding back from me and he’s hellbent on making sure she and the girls never miss him. It’s like they have some strange pact to take care of each other, though they’re rarely seen in the same room. I find it extremely odd and a little off-putting given the fact that my relationship with Marnie has been severely one-sided since I left and she’s well aware of how things ended with our grumpy neighbor.

  Today, Marnie made a casserole for him and his mom. When I questioned her about it, she just shrugged her shoulders and said, “I always make them dinner on Thursday nights.”

  She had plans to take the girls to the dance class I bought them for Christmas, so I jumped on the opportunity to try to pick Eli’s brain and get more information about their friendship. Maybe he's the key to getting Marnie and the girls out of The Hollow.

  I should have known that the moment I saw his grumpy face, I’d chicken out and turn to goo at his feet.

  “How’s your mom doing?” I ask once he lets me inside, surveying the small living space for any sign of the woman in question. I notice then that the light under her bedroom door is on and I can hear the faint murmur of her TV.

  “Fine. Taking it one day at a time
.” He grabs the casserole dish from my arms and walks it to the kitchen, not bothering a look behind him to see if I’ll follow. He knows I will.

  “Marnie actually made that,” I admit nervously, gesturing toward the dish he was sliding into the fridge. “I’m pretty hopeless in the kitchen. It’s usually just takeout or freezer meals for me, especially if I’m on a deadline. Though, I haven’t been on anything that tight in a while. In fact, I’ve barely written anything since I’ve been here…” I’m rambling like an idiot, wringing my hands together as he closes the fridge and leans against the counter across from me.

  His face is blank, like he’s listening but refuses to allow me to see how my words might affect him. Or maybe they don’t affect him at all. Maybe he’s just being kind and riding this out until I leave and he can go back to whatever he was doing before I interrupted. Either way, I stop mid-sentence and nervously giggle, crossing my arms while I instinctually prepare for his malicious blow.

  There’s a small island taking up most of the kitchen that wasn’t ever here before. He’s managed to position himself so it's acting as a barrier between us. Sometime during my rambling session, I leaned on it to support me from falling over and dying of embarrassment. It looks like I’ve done it to get closer to him though, and I’m not sure how to correct the position without looking like I'm recoiling and drawing more attention to my discomfort.

  “You should write,” he finally speaks.

  “What?”

  “I remember how you used to get when you didn’t write for a long time. You should make time to write.”

  He’s able to talk to me so easily, offering the perfect amount of words to keep me hooked and wanting more. I’m always too flattered when he says things like that. Things that suggest he remembers our past just as well as I do. That he cared about me as much as I did for him.

  “Oh, yeah. You’re probably right.”

  We’re both quiet for a few unbearable moments before he pushes his back off the counter and leans on the island the way I am, placing his face only a few inches from mine. I swallow past the thick ball in my throat while his pensive eyes roam over my face unapologetically. I’m still so taken aback by his confidence. At how easy it still is for him to get my heart racing and my mind spinning, while I remain so unremarkable in his eyes.