I pulled into my driveway and looked up for a moment at the house, wondering how he saw it. It was the house I grew up in and inherited when my dad died. I’d had it resided, so it was a nice dark gray instead of stark white. I had geraniums blooming red in the planters flanking my garage, new white rocking chairs on the porch and old-fashioned patriotic bunting on the white porch railing. I was proud of how I’d made it my own. But did he just see the porch where he’d stood when my dad was talking down to him and wouldn’t let him come inside to pick me up? A swell of sadness nearly shook me, but I pushed it down. I parked in the driveway and got out.
Drew parked behind me. He got out of his truck, but he stood by it like he didn’t know what to do. He didn’t approach me. I paused and then waved him over.
“You might as well come on in,” I said.
He may have flashed a smile, or I may have imagined it. It was gone as quickly as I thought I saw it. He followed me up the porch steps and waited quietly behind me as I unlocked the door.
He stopped and looked around for a minute once we were inside. Gone were the stuffy, old fashioned things of my father’s. I’d spent the last few years making it mine and that meant simple, comfortable furniture, sage green walls, lots of three-wick candles and natural baskets and soft throw blankets. Inside it was cool and dim, the air conditioning working double time in a hot June. I switched on a lamp.
“It looks nice. It’s different now,” he said.
I saw his glance dart back to the front door and I couldn’t stop a laugh. I remembered the big, ugly umbrella stand of my dad’s that used to be right by the door. The one Drew had fallen over and practically woken everybody on the street one time when I snuck him in after my dad was in bed.
“You’re thinking about the time I tripped on the umbrella stand, aren’t you?” he said ruefully, a smile flashing in his dark eyes. I nodded and we both laughed.
“It was the first thing I got rid of once the house was mine,” I told him.
He looked at me, our eyes locked, and then I turned and went to get my checkbook from the kitchen.
6
Drew
It was so weird to be back in her house, in the old Spelling place where her dad had barely let me in the door most of the time. I ate there two times in the four and a half years we were together, both times for her birthday because she insisted. I could still feel how tight my tie felt, how uncomfortable I’d been. How I wanted to throw my stuck-up cloth napkin at him and storm out because I’d never be good enough in his eyes. This was Michelle’s place now, I reminded myself, it had been for years. So no more wanting to spit on it or salt the earth here. You’re grown, he’s dead, and there’s no reason to let this get to you.
Still, I stuffed my hands in my pockets and didn’t even sit down while I waited for her to go get a check. A check I didn’t even want. I didn’t want to take her money or her dad’s money. God knew he offered me money to leave her alone, but I never took it.
“The way she loves me, you can’t buy that and you can’t erase it,” I had told him. Except I’d thrown it away all on my own, because she deserved better.
When Michelle came back, she handed me the check. Our fingers brushed for maybe half a second. It was enough to send shocks right up my arm. The chemistry between us had always been fiery, and the sizzle I felt from the barest accidental contact proved once and for all that it was alive and well. A spark of attraction that hadn’t ever died.
“Thanks for fixing my car,” she said rather formally.
“You’re welcome,” I heard myself say.
For a second, I thought she might ask me if I wanted some iced tea or anything, but apparently the way I treated her way back when was enough to stifle her natural southern hospitality. So I said goodbye and headed out. I let myself out and got back in my truck, feeling like my head was spinning.
Once I got home, I couldn’t help thinking how nice it had been to spend a few minutes with her, to catch up a little, to reminisce just a tiny bit about old times. When our eyes met and we laughed about the umbrella stand, that had been a click moment for me, where everything seemed to shift back into place. Then her fingers had brushed mine just a little when she handed me the check. I considered for a moment not bothering to cash it. Because she would be the kind to balance her checkbook or keep track through online banking and notice the check didn’t go through. That would drive her crazy and she’d have to call me, have to insist that I cash it. I didn’t need the money, and I wanted an excuse to talk to her. It wasn’t a great plan, but it wasn’t the worst either.