Holiday Hijinks (6 page)

“He’s like a hit of crack. Straight to my vagina,” I confess. “A skilled, big cocked, oral sex giving, hit of crack.”

“You’re disgusting.”

I laugh. “You’ve seen him shirtless. Do you think your vagina would want to turn that away once it had a taste?”

She frowns and then admits
, “No.”

“So we started back up. But for real this time and we didn’t hide it. Not at school
, at least. But then when we decided to come here I got scared. I thought Dad would lose his shit and Mom would have a heart attack. What would the neighbors think? Or the ladies at church? Or God forbid the Junior League, who already thinks I’m a fuck up that can’t keep a man, finds out. What if they thought I had to rob the cradle to find someone who wants to be with me? And even then it only works when we’re in this little protective bubble that consists mostly of just my bed.”

Tara holds up a hand. “
Whoa, what the hell is that all about? Bitter much?”

“It’s true. Everyone thinks I’m a screw up.”

“No we don’t, Ruthie, and I think it’s pretty obvious Carter doesn’t.”

“Not fair.”

“Well, you aren’t being fair to anyone. Mom and Dad. Carter. Dude, that kid has it bad for you. He basically asked you to marry him.”

“But he’s a
kid
,” I say wiping my eyes. “That’s the catch. He doesn’t know what he wants.”

“Why
, because he’s nineteen?”

“Duh.”

“I knew at nineteen I wanted to be with Sean for the rest of my life.”

“That’s different,” I argue.

“How?”

“You weren’t nine years apart. You had things in common—similar goals and were at the same stage in life. Neither of you would regret the other later.”

“We had those things but we also were just really comfortable with one another. From what you’re saying I don’t think we ever had that kind of passion.”

“Lust.”

“You call it lust. I call it passion. The thing people seek their entire lives,” she says. “Even so, do you really think that about him? That he would regret you?” She moves closer and takes my hands in hers.

A tear escapes and rolls down my cheek.
I wipe it away. “Definitely.”

“Then Carter’s right. This is your problem and not his. You’re an incredible person.
So talented and free-spirited. I envy you. I only wish I had the guts to go after something—someone like that. But what I don’t envy is the fact you’re willing to let him go because you’re scared. For some reason your self-worth is in the shitter and until you figure it out you probably should leave him alone.”

We sit quietly with one another until I say, “
When you put it that way it seems really dumb.”

“It should, because you’re acting like
a fucking idiot.”

“I know.” I sigh and pull the covers to my waist. Exhausted and ready for this day to be over. “
I
am
an idiot. I love him.”

“Then fight for him.”

“I’ll talk to him tomorrow. See if we can salvage this. Maybe it was just too soon—too fast. That ring…”

“
You’re gun shy with marriage. I think we all get this. But Carter isn’t Jamie. Even I can tell that and I’ve only known him for a couple of days.”

“I guess.”

“Maybe you should come clean to Mom and Dad while you’re at it.”

The thought terrifies me.
“Maybe.”

Tara stands and kisses me on the top of the head. “Go to bed
, baby sister. Everything will look better in the morning.”

She flips off the light on her way out of
the room and I lay against my pillow, wrapping my arms around the stuffed bear. She sticks her head back in. “I should have known Josh wouldn’t come home with a guy like that. I guess you’re not the only idiot in the house.”

I throw the stuffed bear across the room but she moves too fast and it hits the closed door.

Chapter 9

The good news is that I wake up feeling a
thousand times better.  I was being stupid, I get that now and hiding our relationship has been childish. Carter and I deserve better than this and we’re both worth being accepted, and screw them if they don’t.

This is the pep talk I give myself going down the stairs. I slap on a brave face and enter the kitchen renewed. Unfortunately,
when I get downstairs everyone is in the kitchen except Carter. I’m ready to talk to my Mom and Dad but not before I talk to him and there’s no way to casually ask about him. Not with the stink-eye Maddie’s giving me from across the kitchen.

“So you guys are leaving today?” I ask Tara. She’s buttering a piece of toast and flipping through a shopping flyer. We’ve never been the type of family to hit the post holiday sales, but it’s hard not to look.

“Around noon,” she says.

“
Mom, do you have any plans today?”

“I told the ladies at the church I’d help
them take down the poinsettias in the sanctuary and deliver them to the nursing home. Your father is meeting Hank in an hour for golf.”

“Okay,” I say. “I was hoping to talk to you both before I go.”

My mother frowns. “Is anything wrong?”

“No, not exactly.
Just wanted to talk about some stuff with you.”

I skirt past her to the coffee and pour myself a mug. That’s when I see the piece of paper clipped to my keys that are hanging from the corkboard on the wall. My name is scrawled across the front in familiar, messy
, boy hand writing. I walk over and take the note out of the key ring and step into the laundry room.

Ruth,

Sorry about yesterday. About the ring and about the fight. I apologize for telling your sister about us. I know that’s not how you wanted to do it. I called a fraternity brother in town and he picked me up early this morning. I’ll see you back to school after the New Year. Maybe once we’ve both cooled off, we can work this out.

Love you,

Carter

I read the letter twice before crumpling it in my hand. I walk back in the kitchen and toss it in the garbage. Tara looks up at me and mouths, “What?” I shake my head. I’ll fix this. I’m going to fix it. There’s no way I’m prepared to lose Carter over something so stupid.

“Um, Mom do you think we can have that talk real quick before Pop goes to the golf course?” I glance around the room. “Alone?”

“Of course, dear.”
Worry lines cross her forehead. I’ve said these words before. She’s wondering how big my screw up is that I let it wait until after Christmas. “Let me get your father.”

I wait for them in my father’s study, spinning around in a leather desk chair, still in my pajamas. When they come in I see Pop is already dressed for golf in green pants and a red sweater. Mom looks ready for lunch with her friends. They sit in the two chairs across from me and wait expectantly,
identical fear etched in their expressions.

“First of all,” I say, taking a steadying breath. “School is fine. My grades are pretty good. I’ve got money. My car is running well and basically life is going great.”

“That sounds wonderful,” Mom says, although the lines on her forehead do not fade. “We’re proud of everything you’ve accomplished.”

My father goes straight for the point.
“Ruthie, tell us what this is all about.”

“I have a boyfriend.”

That announcement erases my mother’s harsh forehead lines. “Oh! Well, that’s not so serious is it?” she asks. “In fact it’s wonderful news!”

“Well, there’s more.” I wrap my arms around my knees, but then lower them because I’m not twelve and I need to get over myself.
I take a deep, steadying breath and declare, “I’m dating Carter. Carter is my boyfriend.”

“Carter?” my father asks.
“Josh’s friend?”

“
Yes. Carter is my boyfriend, not Josh’s friend.”

Pop looks at my mother for help. “I’m confused.”

“Carter and I have known one other for about eighteen months. We’ve been dating for most of that.”

My parent’s expression went from concerned to
befuddled. The lines are back. My mother speaks first. “Carter is so…”

“Young.
I know.”

“I was going to say, handsome.”

Pop nods and adds, “Motivated? He’s a very dedicated and accomplished, young man.”

“He’s nineteen.”

“Is he?” Pop asks. Lord. Has he gone senile?

My mother leans forward and says, “Ruthie, Carter is a lovely person. Why did you hide this from us?”

“He’s nine years younger than me,” I say. “I thought you wouldn’t approve.”

Again they look dumbfounded. My father shrugs and says, “When did you ever care what we thought about things like this?”

“Um…always?”

“Honey, you’ve always marched to the beat of your own drum. When you set your eye on something you made it happen, even if that something wasn’t a good idea.”

“Like Jamie,” my father says. He makes a horrible face. What? He hated Jamie? What’s going on here?

My mother says,
“He’s self-absorbed and pretentious. We were both glad that ended before the wedding and not after.”

“Wait
…what?” This is news to me. “Why didn’t you ever say something?”

“We both knew Jamie was a disaster, but we learned a long time ago to keep our opinions to ourselves. Normally you do the complete opposite of what we suggest.”

Oh, right. Well, yes, that was completely true. “You hated him?”

“No, we didn’t hate Jamie, but we knew he wasn’t a good fit for you.”

“So you don’t have a problem with me dating Carter?”

“He’s really a lovely young man,” Mom says.
My father nods in agreement. “Is he at the gym? I haven’t seen him this morning.”

“Uh, well,” I scratch the back of
my neck. “He left early this morning.”

My father narrows his eyes. “What did you do?”

“Nothing! Ugh, something. I can fix it though,” I promise.  “Things just got a little tense. I shouldn’t have lied about our relationship.”

“No, you shouldn’t have,” Pop says.
“Carter seems like an upstanding young man, even if he is a democrat.”

Mo
m stands and reaches for me. She pulls me into a tight hug. “Ruthie, relationships can survive almost anything if you’re truthful and honest. Go talk to him.”

“I will.”

I will.

*

“Hey, Mads.” I stand in the bathroom doorway while she packs her things. “Can we talk?”

“About what?”

“About what you saw—the other day—with me and Carter?”

She tosses hair products in a travel bag. “What’s there to talk about?”

“I want to apologize for you seeing that and just kind of explain.”

“Carter’s hot. You wanted to hit it. No explanation needed.” She shrugs.

“I didn’t want to ’hit it’,” I say, weighing my words. “Carter is my boyfriend and we’ve been dating for a long time. It wasn’t a one-time thing.”

Maddie makes a face and says, “TMI.”

I sigh. “Okay, I know you don’t care but I hate that you think I’m such a mess-up. I’ve tried really hard to get my life straightened out and honestly? Carter is one of the best parts.” I give her a smile, but get nothing in return but silence. “I love you girl, and if you ever need me for anything let me know.”

She takes out her mascara wand and swipes it across her eyelashes. “Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay.”

I grab my bags and leave the room. Hopefully my conversation with Carter goes over better than this.

*

I leave Charlotte that afternoon for the beach. There’s no reason to go home, even though without Carter I’m going to be the loneliest, saddest, most awkward third wheel, ever. I only hope that Carter gets my messages and knows I’m sorry. Really, really sorry.

I’m thirty minutes from the beach house when I start to regret some of the messages. It may have been a little overkill.  Okay, a lot overkill. There are 27 desperate messages on his phone.
Fifteen texts and eight emails.

Zero replies.

I can only say I’m sorry so many ways. So many times.

I glance at the phone lying in the passenger seat. “No more messages,” I tell myself. “Don’t do it.”

I drive two more miles before picking up the phone and pressing the icon by his name. It sends me straight to voice mail and I waver, considering not leaving one, but what the hell? What’s one more message at this point?

“
Babe, I’m sorry. I’m an idiot, everyone agrees. Tara. My mom. Pop. I told them everything. Well, not everything. Not about fucking on the stairs during the Christmas party or any of the other dirty, delicious things we’ve done together but I told them about you and about me and they’ve made me realize I’m just being dumb. Please call me back. I love you.”

Pathetic.

I get to the beach house just before dark and find the key under the mat. There’s a note explaining the lights and furnace. The place is small, a front row cottage on Sunset Beach. The wide porch facing the ocean is its nicest quality.  The house belongs to Ryan’s aunt who offered it to us for the week between Christmas and New Year’s. The plan had been to fuck and frolic on the icy North Carolina beach, but I guess my insecurities dashed that one.

I haul in my luggage and a couple bags of gr
oceries. My mother sent leftovers from the party last night and I brought supplies to make spaghetti. Nothing fancy, we’ve all eaten enough this week, but it’s something I can prepare while I wait for them to get here.

While the sauce cooks
, I change into yoga pants and open a bottle of wine. Finley calls just as I’m about to put on the pasta. “Hey girl, we’re crossing the bridge. Be there in about five.”

“Perfect timing.
I was about to eat without you.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” she laughs.
“Can’t wait to see you. I’ve had enough family to last a lifetime. I have no idea why my grandmother’s house has zero cell service.”

“Did you get my message?” I’d left one detailing what happened with me and Carter.

“Yeah, we’ll talk about it later, okay? Everything’s going to be fine.”

“Maybe.”

We hang up and I turn on all the outside lights. The ocean roars beyond the dunes and I can’t wait to see it in the morning. Feel the cold sand on my toes. Maybe the fresh air will make things better.

I hear a loud honk under the house and wave down the stairs. “Hurry,
it’s freezing!”

I pour two glasses of wine and set them on the counter. The least I can do is get everyone drunk. Ryan’s face appears at the porch window and I run over to open the door.
“Yay! You made it,” I cry giving him a hug. His arms are trapped by his side, weighted down by a suitcase and a cooler. Finley enters the door behind him with an ecstatic smile.

“We had to make a detour,” he says, eve
nly. “Sorry it took us longer. You get in okay?”

“No problem at all. What kind of detour?”

Ryan looks at Finley and she says, “We had to stop off at home and pick up something.”

She steps back outside and that’
s when I see him, blue-eyed and pink cheeked from the wind. Finley brought me Carter for the New Year.

*

“Babe, let’s go put these up,” Ryan says, depositing the cooler in the kitchen. He skirts past me and down the hall. Finley follows reluctantly, grabbing the two glasses of wine on her way.

“Would you like a drink?” I ask, skipping the wine and going for a bottle of beer from the refrigerator. I twist off the cap and hand the green, glass bottle to him. He sets it on the counter. “Did you get my messages?”

“Yes. The first one. I didn’t listen to the rest.”

I’m not sure if that’s a good or bad thing. “But you decided to come?”

“Someone twisted my arm.”

“Finley.”

He nods and picks up the beer. In a swift motion, he tilts it into his mouth and taking two long pulls. “I really am sorry. And I did talk to my parents. And Tara. I’ve cleared the air with them.”

“I’m
glad,” he says, eyes wary.

“They love you, of course. I mean, who doesn’t?” I lean against the counter. “Carter Hightower, champion of men, women and children.”

“Stop it.” He shakes his head, but I see the hint of a smile. Everyone has a kryptonite. I just may be his.

I push off the counter and approach him. “Does this mean we’re okay?”

“I don’t know, Ruthie. I don’t like fighting like that. Hanging my heart on my sleeve and having it thrown back at me.”

“I’m sorry and I’m a fuck-up and I will always make terrible mistakes.” I thought back to what my parent’s told me earlier. “I think I have some kind of
oppositional problem where I choose the worst option instead of the best. In any universe you’re the best choice.”