Page 117 of Grounded
"Or was that a one-time—sorry, two-time—thing that won't be happening again?"
His deep voice could broadcast sporting events, narrate documentaries—hell, he could tell me there's a clean-up on aisle three via an intercom at the grocery store. I could listen to him speak all day.
"Wasit a one-time thing?" Theo interprets my silence as acceptance, so I correct his assumptions.
"I don't know what this is."
Before we can say another word, Molly interrupts us in the doorframe.
"Oh, I was wondering what was going on up here." She peeks her head in, but in a much less threatening way than her son.
I put myself in her shoes for the brief moment time slows to a crawl. What scenario is she seeing at this very second?
Theo is lying on his stepsister's bed. They're not touching, but they're discussing something rather important. Their eye contact is broken by the unsuspecting visitor. Even if it appears innocent, they look caught. Guilty.
If I was Molly, my hackles would be raised.
"Oh hey, Mom."
"I heard laughing and a loud thud. Everything okay?"
"Yeah, Amelia was telling me all about a competitor coffee shop called Better Buzz."
Theo is quick on his feet, and his insinuation does not go over my head. However, it has zero relevance to what his mom asked, so I take the opportunity to steer it back to her question.
"Yes, before we were talking about our coffee competitor, Theo was spying on me like old times and tripped inside when I opened up my door."
Molly gives that all too familiar look like she's disappointed, and I remember the days when my own mom gave me that same face of discouragement.
"He's not bothering you, is he?"
"Nothing I can't handle."
"Theo, give Amelia her space."
Molly is the kind of stepmom who always seems to be on my side regardless of what Theo did or didn't do. It's entertaining to see her think I can do no wrong.
"Glad you're fine up here." She turns to leave. "I can't wait for the Fourth of July party, can you?"
"Heh?" Theo questions.
Has it really been five weeks? My original goal was to be out of the house by the end of June. But we've surpassed it, and this party will be here in two days.
"It's the annual barbeque with the neighbors," Molly continues. "We'll have so much food, plenty to drink. We even got more fireworks to shoot off. Everyone loves coming here for the backyard, you know."
Why yes, I do know, because I've lived in this house longer than she has. When my dad got the pool installed, I instantly became friends with all the cool girls on my block. My parents started the tradition of a massive July 4th pool party at our house. We'd celebrate with an assortment of barbecued food, shave ice, beers for the adults, and an illegal assortment of fireworks to shoot into the sky.
We'd start the day barefoot and end the evening with either dirty or pruney feet, depending on if you were dancing in the streets with sparklers or swimming until the late hours of the night.
For the first six years, I was reluctant to make the two-hour drive down for multiple reasons. One, Theo might be there and I didn't want to see him. And two, I was scared seeing my dad celebrate this old tradition with his new wife would spark a feeling of resentment in me. I didn't want to hate my dad and Molly, but I knew it would be triggering to see him entertain the same guests my mom knew and loved when she lived here first.
Even though I had an open invitation every year, the only time I came down was when Beckett forced us. He wanted to meet my dad and see where I grew up. I never went back after that.
Now I don't have a choice, since this party will be happening right below my bedroom window.
"Want me to supply some complimentary coffee?" I offer.
"We're going to Costco tomorrow to grab everything, but thank you for asking. Theo, Amelia wants to be left alone. Right, hun?"
