Page 28 of Sea La Vie
“My garden?” I ask.
“Yeah. Sam said you had a garden.” He leans over, losing his balance and falls directly into my lap.
“On the other side of town. How much of that did you drink?” I ask as he swings his legs up onto the other side.
“Just a teeny tiny bit,” he giggles then lets out a Benadryl-laced yawn. I can’t help but giggle in return at his obvious lie. He closes his eyes and sinks further into my lap, then lets out a soft sigh. When his deep breathing fills the room, I let myself study him.Just for a minute,I tell myself. He may be older now, but I can still see the scared, shy little boy he once was. Years of living with an alcoholic father, and moving from one town to the next, have added the tiniest little lines along his forehead, but somehow they only add to his attractiveness. I wriggle out from under him and cross the room to turn out the lights.
“I love your laugh, Lainey. It could light up the entire world if you’d let it. I know it sure lights up mine.” I turn around, too stunned to speak. His eyes are closed, and he looks peaceful, with both hands tucked under the side of his face. In no time, soft snores escape his perfect, parted lips, and I slip behind my bedroom door only to sink down to the floor and contemplate life.
10
Tate
The ache in my lower back throbs enough to wake me up. I crack one eye open, then the other, and scan the room for any clues as to where I am and why. My eyes land on the pink bottle of antihistamines, a green straw bent over the top. Slowly, memories come back to me, and I piece them together like an all too familiar puzzle. I run a hand through my hair then drag it down my face and groan. Did I really reenact a scene fromHitchlast night?
“Morning, sunshine.” Lainey walks in carrying a steaming mug of coffee, and offers it to me. “How are you feeling?”
“So itchy,” I answer, scratching under my chin. “But better. Although my back is killing me.” I sit up, and the blanket Lainey must’ve tucked around me pools into my lap. It’s only then I remember getting hot last night and throwing my shirt across the room. Lainey’s cheeks flush crimson and she looks away. I follow her eyes to my shirt that is casually draped across her table lamp.
“I’m assuming you typically don’t sleep on couches found on Facebook Marketplace in a stranger's home?” She cocks an eyebrow, and the corner of her mouth turns up in a grin.
“I didn’t mean to insult your couch,” I say, and take a sip of my coffee. “Although, yes, you’re half right. I have a Sleep Number mattress that gets upgraded every three years. But, I wouldn’t say we’re strangers.”
She considers this for a moment. “I think that’s debatable. I know nothing about the last ten years of your life, other than where you went to school, and that you’re an accountant now.”
“There’s not much else to know,” I say.Other than the entire reason I’m here is because the girl I thought I was supposed to spend the rest of my life with was cheating on me. Also, the perfect, predictable life I so desperately wanted to create to prove I am nothing like my own father is currently crashing around me.But we’ll save that for another day.
“Hmm,” she muses. “Well anyway, I would hope you weren’t insulting my couch considering you compared the two of us last night,” she says with a snort.
“I did? How are you like a couch?” I take another drink of coffee and briefly consider sliding the bendy straw into it for faster access to caffeine.
Her eyes widen, then she taps her chin with a single faded, chipped polished nail. “Beats me. Benadryl makes you do crazy things, I’ve heard.”
“Apparently so,” I agree. “Sorry about that.”
“No biggie,” she says. “I made breakfast if you want some. No shellfish. I promise.”
“Well in that case, how could I say no?” I follow her to her modest kitchen and take a seat in one of the mismatched chairs at a battered farm table in the corner. Her kitchen is an eclectic mix of original, whitewashed exposed brick, and more modern touches, like a stainless steel range and fridge. Baskets hangfrom the ceiling, and fresh flowers pepper almost every available surface.
“Your home is beautiful,” I tell her.
“Thank you,” she says, while placing an omelet and basket of biscuits in front of me.
“This is amazing,” I say through a mouthful of food. “You whipped this up while I was drooling on your couch?”
Lainey smiles. “I’m glad I could scrounge up something. I’ve been staying with Dad most nights.”
“Is he expecting you? Maybe I should get going,” I offer.
“No, no. Henry took him to Durham for a doctor's appointment for his heart. They won’t be back until this evening.”
I try to bite back my smile, thankful for the opportunity to spend more time with Lainey. “These biscuits,” I moan. “Where did you learn how to cook?”
Lainey takes one from the basket and bites into it. “I taught myself. After mom died, we were all kind of lost on what to do after the supply of casseroles and hams ran out. I used to sit in my bed with a flashlight every night and read mom’s cook books, marking the ones I’d want to make the next day. Believe it or not, I’m the one who taught Huck how to cook. Who knew he’d go and open up a diner.” She smiles softly, but I remember what she said about her dreams being pushed aside for his, and my heart aches for her.
“Let me guess, you taught your brothers how to change a tire, too?” I joke in an attempt to lighten the mood. When she doesn’t tip her head back in laughter, my smile fades. “Wait, did you?”
“Someone had to after mom passed. Dad was always out fishing, trying to keep food on the table, so he couldn’t do it. Not that he wouldn’t have. He’s the best dad.” Her eyes well with unshed tears, and she quickly blinks them away. “Anyway, that’s neither here nor there. What are your plans for the day?”Lainey’s eyes are everywhere but me, and she’s ripped her napkin to shreds. Without waiting for an answer, she stands and begins clearing the dishes, dumping them into a sink full of soapy water.
