Nowhere but Home (27 page)

“I'd heard you were making last meals,” Everett says, setting the stack of Starburst down on the table.

“Yeah.”

“How's that working out for you?”

“Not good, but good. It's weird, I know, but the part where I'm in that kitchen and we're making this luxurious, once in a lifetime meal and everything has to be perfect—that fits. I don't think I've ever been happier. But it's this. This,” I say, motioning to the Starburst.

“Yeah, I can see that being tough.”

“Your house is beautiful,” I say, looking around.

“Thank you.”

“Okay. I'd better head home. Thanks for the beer and for listening,” I say, walking over to the trash can to throw my beer bottle away.

“You don't have to go,” Everett says, standing.

“Yes, I do.” I can't look at him. With his glasses and his messed-up hair. In this house that I can't sink in and stay forever. I shouldn't have come. I shouldn't have seen what it is I can't have. It's better than I could ever have imagined. I grab the handful of Starburst and Everett steps forward.

“Queenie.” Everett puts his hand on my arm and it immediately soothes me. I lean into him and close my eyes. I can't look at him or else I'll stay. I breathe. Think clearly. I open my eyes.

“I have to go,” I say, forcing out the words. I bend around his body and walk toward the front door. Everett follows.

“What did you mean the other day about knowing how this ends?” I ask, turning away from the door and facing Everett.

“You and me. That's how this ends,” Everett says, stepping closer.

“How do you know that?”

“Because it's the only thing that keeps me going.”

“But—”

“Did you ever stop to think that I wanted to go with you? That night you left?”

“What?”

“Did you ever consider the possibility that I wanted to leave North Star as much as you did, but couldn't?”

“No.”

My simple answer catches Everett off guard.

I continue, “You seem to think I possess some superhero level of confidence or ability to read your mind. I felt rejected and lost right up until I hit that blinking red light at the outskirts of town. I mean, I'd seen the movies. I thought you were going to come running down the street—preferably in the rain—and stop me from leaving,” I say, my voice hollow and far away.

“But I didn't.”

“No.”

“I was waiting for you to burst into that chapel—you know, when they say let him speak now or forever hold his peace. I imagined you saying something like, ‘I object!' and then coming down the aisle, taking my hand, and leading both of us out of there.”

“But I didn't.”

“No.”

We're quiet for a long time. Standing in that great room with the weight of our past hanging between us. Arrow snores loudly in the corner.

“I'd really better be getting home. Merry Carole is probably waiting up.”

I step forward, hesitating just a bit, and pull him in for a hug. I feel him sigh and then wrap his arms all the way around me, pulling me in even closer. I nestle into his chest as he folds over me. I sigh, the softness of his T-shirt against my cheek.

“It was good seeing you,” he says, right into my ear. Low. A whisper.

“You, too.” We break apart and I shift the Starburst from one hand to the other.

“And now that you know where I live . . .” Everett trails off. I smile and nod as he opens the door for me and we walk out onto the porch. I walk down the steps and climb back into my car, scattering the handful of Starburst onto the passenger seat once again. I start up the car and turn on my headlights. They light up Everett standing on that porch. I take a deep breath and turn my car around and make my way back down that long dirt road.

I drive back through North Star in a daze. He wanted me to stop the wedding? So both of us kept waiting for the other one to step in and save us from ourselves. I pull down Merry Carole's driveway, shut my car off, and just sit there for a second. The silence of the car soothes me as the heat builds from the closed windows and my buzzing energy. I grab my knives, leave the Starburst, and walk inside the warmly lit house.

“You're home early,” Merry Carole says, sitting on the couch with Cal.

“Yeah,” I say, walking toward the kitchen in a daze.

“Have you eaten dinner?” Merry Carole calls from the living room.

“I had lunch,” I say from the kitchen.

“There's leftovers in the fridge. I made my macaroni and cheese,” Merry Carole says.

“Oh nice,” I say, pulling the casserole dish from the refrigerator. I serve myself up some mac 'n' cheese and wait in the kitchen as the microwave spins. Merry Carole walks into the kitchen.

“You okay?” she asks, craning her neck to make sure Cal is still in the living room.

“I may have just slapped Hudson in the face,” I say.

“What happened?” Merry Carole asks.

“I was late to the bar and he was already leaving with another woman,” I say.

“Oh,” Merry Carole says, taken aback.

“But it's fine. He's not—”

“He's not Ev—”

“Well, there's that. But there was something off about him,” I say.

“You're not just saying that?”

“No, he had this switch. It's like people became objects really quick. It was weird.”

“Is he a sociopath?”

“I don't think so. I don't know—wow, maybe. He started talking to me about victims' families and how they feel this and that happens and what did I think and had I experienced that when my mom was murdered—at Delfina's he was talking like this.”

“What? Why would he do that? That's none of his business.”

“I know. I think because it's what he's studying he forgot that he just doesn't get to demand that information. He treated me like one of his test subjects.”

“That's crazy.”

“I'm glad I didn't get any further with him,” I say.

“No, it's good that you're completely in love with someone else and therefore incapable of starting up anything new with anyone else. How is . . . everything else?” Merry Carole gives me a quick wink and smiles. I choose not to share with her my little detour to Everett's house right at this particular moment.

“It was a tough one. He was young. And . . . I knew it, you know? I just knew it. He wanted candy, but then he didn't eat it? It was Starburst. Did you know there's like ten thousand flavors of Starburst now? But why wouldn't you eat it? Shawn gave it back to me and . . . what am I supposed to do with it? I don't want to throw it away because . . . I just don't want to throw it away. I don't want to eat it, either, because that just seems particularly gruesome. And if I give them away it's like . . . hey, little girl, here's a dead murderer's candy. Ugh, I don't know. So the candy's in my car and I wish it would just disappear. Then Shawn came in and said my next meal is this Friday and it's barbecue, which means—”

“An all-nighter,” Merry Carole finishes.

“Exactly,” I say.

“Well, maybe we can make it fun. Invite Fawn and Dee over,” Merry Carole says.

“Oh my God, that'd be great,” I say.

“Then we'll do that,” Merry Carole says. The microwave dings and I pull the dish out and find a fork.

“You were going to tell me something?” I ask.

“I'll tell you later,” Merry Carole says, checking the living room once again.

“You're kind of freaking me out,” I say, burning my mouth as I try to eat Merry Carole's mac 'n' cheese too soon.

“Don't be. It's good. Trust me,” Merry Carole says.

“If the situation were reversed, you'd have me tied up in some torture chamber right now making me talk,” I say, eating another bite too soon. My taste buds are now officially burned beyond recognition.

“True,” Merry Carole says. Cal walks into the kitchen.

“What are you guys whispering about?” Cal asks, leaning on the breakfast bar.

I look from Merry Carole to Cal and back to Merry Carole.

“Your momma and I were just tal—,” I start in.

Merry Carole interrupts me. “Baby boy, I have some big news.” I almost choke on my mac 'n' cheese.

“What . . . what is it?” Cal asks, looking from Merry Carole to me.

“Don't look at me, I have no idea,” I say. Merry Carole puts her hands on her hips and looks down. She takes a deep breath and steadies herself. Cal and I just wait.

“Momma, what's going on?” Cal asks again. I look at Merry Carole.

“Honey, Reed and I, you know, Coach Blanchard?” Cal and I nod. Merry Carole continues, “Coach Blanchard and I are . . . well, he proposed. He wants to marry me.”

Cal just stands there. Time stops. Merry Carole looks petrified.

“I knew y'all were dating, but I didn't know it had gotten so serious,” Cal says.

“You knew we were dating?” Merry Carole sputters. I look like the cat that swallowed the canary.

“Sure. For about a year now, right?” Cal asks. Merry Carole just nods. She's starting to lose it. I take her hand, squeezing it tightly.

“I'm sorry I didn't tell you, sweetie. I didn't know how I felt about him and I didn't—”

“How
do
you feel about him?” Cal asks.

“I love him,” Merry Carole manages.

“Then you should marry him,” Cal says.

Merry Carole begins to cry, which quickly turns into happy hysterics. As do my tears. Cal comes around the breakfast bar and sweeps her up into a hug.

“Why are you crying? Momma? Why are you crying?” Cal asks, squeezing her tighter and tighter. The tears run down my cheeks as I watch my sister completely break down. Cal's lip quivers, he's trying hard to be the last one to break. His eyes well up and the tears begin to fall.

“I was so scared to tell you,” Merry Carole says.

“Why?” Cal leans down close, wiping her tears.

“Because it's always been just us. You're the best thing that ever happened to me and I never wanted to risk it.” Merry Carole takes a hankie out of her robe pocket and blows her nose. She takes a deep breath, but the tears still stream down her face. I am quiet, hysterical, but quiet. Merry Carole squeezes my hand tightly. I sniffle and grab a paper towel, blowing my nose.

“You and Coach Blanchard. Getting married,” Cal repeats, almost to himself.

“Yes,” Merry Carole says. She looks terrified again as Cal searches her face.

“Aren't you supposed to have a ring?” Cal asks.

“I have it, but told Reed I wouldn't wear it quite yet. He wanted to propose with all you kids around. I want it to be a surprise when you see it,” Merry Carole says.

“I like Coach Blanchard,” Cal says, trying to figure this all out.

“You do?” Merry Carole asks, her voice cracking.

“Yeah,” Cal says, nodding.

“What do you think about us becoming a family?” Merry Carole asks.

“I think I'd like that,” Cal says. His voice is a hopeful whisper.

“You would?” Merry Carole squeaks out, the tears starting again.

“Yeah,” Cal says.

“I would, too,” Merry Carole says, pulling him in for a hug.

I just stand there and watch, clapping my hand over my mouth and trying not to cry too much. Merry Carole holds Cal tightly in her arms. She smooths his hair and assures him it's going to be okay as he just nods and lets her comfort him.

“I'm so happy for you,” I say as they finally break apart.

“I'm so happy for me!” Merry Carole says, tears still streaming down her face.

“So, maybe invite Reed and his girls to our little barbecue,” I say, taking another bite of the mac 'n' cheese. Cal leans back on the breakfast bar.

“What little barbecue?” Cal asks.

“We are not inviting those little girls over here so you can serve them murderer meat,” Merry Carole says, pulling a glass from the cupboard.

“Murderer meat?” Cal and I break into hysterics.

“You know what I mean,” Merry Carole says, pouring herself some water.

“Honey, they don't have to know who some of the meat is being cooked for. We'll grill hamburgers and hot dogs while the murderer meat smokes away,” I say. Merry Carole is thinking. Cal and I wait.

“Fine. This might be a good thing. Have everyone together,” Merry Carole says, looking at Cal. He smiles, but he's still mulling this over.

“I'm off to bed. Early day tomorrow . . . oh wait. Do I . . . do I tell Coach Blanchard I know? Do I still call him Coach Blanchard? Or . . . Reed? Or Mr. Blanchard? . . . Or . . . ” Cal trails off, not daring to suggest he call Reed Dad.

“I'll let him know you know, sweetie. You can ask him about it if you want. We'll do it together,” Merry Carole says.

“I think I can talk to him about it,” Cal says.

“We can talk to him together, if you want,” Merry Carole says.

“No, ma'am. I think I want to do it on my own,” Cal says.

“Okay,” Merry Carole says, walking over to him and putting her arm around his shoulder.

“Night night. Aunt Queenie, see you tomorrow morning for our run? West is meeting us at the bottom of the hill. So be ready,” Cal says.

“Yes, sir,” I say, already tired. Cal gives Merry Carole one last hug and walks into his bedroom, closing the door behind him. Merry Carole walks back into the kitchen. I just stare at her.

“What?” Merry Carole says, opening up another cupboard. This time she pulls out something a bit harder than water. Bourbon.

“I will refrain from saying I told you so about Cal knowing far more than you give him credit for because I have to ask— how long have you been holding on to that?” I ask, gladly getting out two glasses for us.

“Days. It's been terrible.”