The Summer List, page 7
"Don't be. You're right. This is your house now. Do what you want." Cindy's eyes dart from me to the living room, then back to the kitchen like she is taking one more picture for her memory bank. She doesn't plan on coming back for a while. "Nate, huh? I haven't heard his name pop up in a while." She asks, changing the subject.
"Don't look at me like that. It's not what you think. We aren't even friends."
"Then, why do all this for him?"
"No reason," I say, rolling my eyes.
"Huh, no reason. Interesting."
"What do you mean by interesting?" I ask, looking up at her.
"Oh, nothing. I saw Nate a few weeks ago. You were with Nat or at work. I don't remember. Anyway, while I was here, he came by to mow the grass. If I were sixteen again..."
"Cindy! Gross!"
"I would never, but if I were you." She gave me a wink. "I can't believe you don't think the same. When I was your age, a boy that good-looking was a hot commodity. Every girl in a thirty-mile radius would want a chance to be his girlfriend."
"Oh, they do."
"But not you?"
"Not anymore." And not ever again.
"Interesting."
"Will you stop saying that?"
"Maybe." She teases. "I should probably go anyways." Cindy stares into the living room and shifts around in her chair.
"I'm going to move it back. After the summer, it will all be back in the garage."
"Do what you want, Mackenzie. It's your house." Her words sting. I didn't expect them to hurt me. I was used to this being my house now, but I wouldn't mind this being her house too. As much as I don't want to admit it, I want her here with me.
"You didn't have to leave. This can be our house." I know the answer already. I don't know why I even bother bringing it up.
"No, it can't. I'm sorry, Mackenzie." She bit her bottom lip and let out a deep sigh. "I need to go. Marc is probably wondering what is taking me so long." Cindy walks to the back door to leave this time. "I'm glad you are doing so well. I knew it would be better this way." The porch door clashed against the frame, and she was gone.
And I was alone. Again.
8
mackenzie
When I left for work this morning, I was eager to get out of the house. I woke up with the conversation I had with Cindy on my mind. I knew it would be better this way. Why would she say that? Regardless of how hard it was, she never should have left. She should have fought to keep us together as a family. I don't know if I will ever be able to forgive her for abandoning me.
I got dressed so fast this morning I didn't bother to match. I just grabbed what I could find that wasn't rumpled up on the floor. I didn't bother with my hair either. I just threw it up in a messy bun. I don't think I even put on deodorant or brushed my teeth. At the time, none of this mattered. I just wanted to leave my house. I needed to escape.
I regretted all my choices from the morning. I will never leave my house looking like a bridge troll ever again. Even if I am just going to get gas, I learned today the consequences are too steep.
I was in the fiction section, re-shelving books. I'm wearing a pair of striped linen pants, a floral button-down shirt, and my well-loved chucks. My hair is a bird's nest on the top of my head, my pits smell like onions, and my teeth feel fuzzy from not brushing them this morning.
Then I see him in his crisply pressed khaki shorts and polo. His hair was styled with thought and care. And I'm sure if I let myself get close enough, he would have smelled like fresh sandalwood and bergamot. I inhale the memory of his scent from the first time we met.
As soon as I saw Brandon, I began to panic. My heart dropped to my stomach. I couldn't let him see me like this. I did what any respectable woman would do. I hid behind my rolling cart and crawled my way to the back room. Praying all the way, he doesn't see me or the floating cart.
Before I left work for the day, George let me know a gentleman was looking for me. If Brandon was looking for me, that means he didn't see me. Right? Oh God, what if he did see me?
I've never had to deal with any of this before. I've never had boys asking for my number or coming to see me at work. Is it always this stressful and mortifying? My guess is next level mortification is strictly reserved for me.
There is only one thing that can turn this day around. I reach into the back of the freezer and pull out a pint of rocky road.
I take my pint to the back porch. Ice cream tastes better outside, I've noticed. I can't sit inside anyway. Not with all the boxes staring at me. I even moved the puzzle out here.
It's peaceful outside on the porch. In the late afternoon, the sun has already set over the house, making the temperature tolerable. It's the perfect place to relax and unwind. And I need to unwind. Today was a disaster. It's not just my almost run-in with Brandon that I keep thinking about.
Troy has gone silent too. I take a big bite of rocky road. I haven't heard from him in days. I scoop another bite of ice cream into my mouth. Not that I am keeping track. I'm far too busy hiding from other possible suitors to think about him.
But I am thinking about him—all the time. I eat more ice cream. Maybe that's why I'm hiding from Brandon. I can't invest myself in two people.
I don't even know how to handle one. Waiting for Troy to come around is excruciating. Is it really so hard to pick up your phone and say hi? We texted for hours and talked about everything.
Troy told me about his complicated relationship with his dad. Then he apologized for complaining. Even though I don't think about my dad. I don't remember him enough to miss him. I thought it was sweet of him to say.
"This is ridiculous," I say out loud and pick up my phone. I'm texting him. I don't care if it makes me look desperate or clingy. I'm not waiting for him anymore to make a move.
MACKENZIE: Hey. How are you?
"What's ridiculous?" I jump at the sound of Nate's voice. He's standing by the garage door with a box of truck parts in his arms.
"Nothing," I say and pretend to be interested in the puzzle on the table.
He motions towards the inside of the garage. "Do you want to come check out the truck?"
"I'm kind of busy," I tell him lifting my ice cream and pointing at the puzzle.
"You can bring the ice cream with you," he says as he walks back into the garage.
I let out a groan and force myself out of my seat, ice cream in hand. I don't want to be in the garage. Even with all the boxes gone, it creeps me out. I also don't want anything to do with Nate's truck. If I had other options, I wouldn't have anything to do with Nate either.
There isn't a truck in the garage. There is a hunk of scrap metal. I walk around the truck, trying to find something positive to say. Every inch of his truck is covered in rust. The cab seats are ripped to shreds. They look like they got attacked by a tiger or something.
"What are you wearing?" Nate asks, taking in my mixed-matched outfit for the first time.
I forgot I look like a walking thrift store rack. I put down my ice cream in annoyance. "I worked this morning," I say, taking off my blouse, revealing my tank top.
"Huh." He is still staring at me. I cross my arms over my chest, feeling self-conscious. Nate shakes his head out of a daze and asks, "What do you think of the truck?"
"I like all the colors," I say, forcing a smile on my face. The truck is three different shades of blue plus all the rust. It is more colorful than the outfit I'm wearing.
"I'll take care of that. You have to see the potential. Come look under the hood."
I follow Nate to the front of his truck. "That's a big hole," I say. "Is it supposed to be like that?" I lean over, looking down into the truck. "I can see the floor."
"No, it's not supposed to be like that. It needs a new engine, among other things."
"It's all very... ambitious. Are you sure you can get it running in one summer?"
"If I spend all my free time on it, I can." I give him a warning look. "Most of my free time." He corrects himself.
I take another quick bite of my ice cream. It’s basically soup at this point. "Don't you need, like, tools and stuff."
"Yes. I need tools and stuff," he says, laughing at me. "A lot of what I need is here already. That is if you don't mind me using your dad's tools."
I look around the garage. I didn't even notice all the workbenches and toolboxes in here before. I was so focused on moving all the boxes. "Doesn't bother me."
"Cool. My dad would have freaked over me taking his tools somewhere. Not that he uses them anymore." There was a bitterness in his voice.
"Well, I will leave you to it. Help yourself to anything in the house while you're here."
"Do you have any more ice cream in the freezer?"
"Of course, I do. Come on. I need a refill anyway."
"A refill?" He asks, a little shocked.
"Don't judge me. It's been a day." Nate wouldn't understand. He has a perfect life and a perfect family. He won't understand what it's like dealing with Cindy or being ignored by the person you like.
"Do you want cookies and cream or mint chocolate chip?" I ask him when I get to the freezer. He doesn't respond. "Nate! Which one do you want?" I close the freezer door, so I can see what has his attention. Nate is staring at the mountain of boxes. I tap him on the shoulder and say, "Ignore that."
"There are so many." He replies in awe.
I ignore him like I want to ignore the boxes. "Nate, ice cream. Which one?"
"And you moved them all yourself?" He asks, finally looking at me.
"Yes. I told you I would take care of it. It wasn't a big deal. Can we please go back to ice cream?"
"Yeah, uh, mint chocolate chip." I had a feeling this would be his choice. I'll never tell him, but I did buy it with him in mind.
I led us back outside and took my spot back on the couch. Nate opted for the chair across from me, looking out towards the backyard.
The porch was quiet except for the sound of a few birds chirping and a lawnmower somewhere in the distance. I want to enjoy my second pint of ice cream and brood, but it is hard to do with Nate staring at me.
"Bad day, huh?"
"You could say that."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Nope," I say, looking down at my phone.
"Why do you keep checking your phone?"
"I'm not." I am. I am obsessively checking to see if Troy has texted me back. And he hasn't.
"You just did it again. Are you waiting on a text or something?" I let out a sigh and ate another bite of ice cream. "Let me guess. Troy."
Yes. "Pfft...No."
Nate looks at me with a raised eyebrow while he eats his ice cream. I think there is something suspicious about people who can look at you with one eyebrow raised for such an extended period.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" I finally ask him.
"No reason," he says, grinning. I know this smile. This is the smile he makes when he thinks he has you outsmarted.
I open my mouth to say something, but my phone goes off. It's the most glorious ding I've ever heard. The only problem is I can't check it out of principle. If I do then, Nate will be correct. I can't have that.
"Aren't you going to check that?" He points his spoon towards my phone.
"No, I'm good. It's probably just Natalie." I say, shrugging the text off. I can feel my body starting to get jittery. I am so weak. What if it's Troy, and he wants to meet me right now? I look at Nate. His eyes keep bouncing from me to my phone. He knows it's killing me. That's it. I can't take it anymore. I put my ice cream down and snatch up my phone.
TROY: Good.
Good? What the heck! Good? Is that all you have? I try my best to hide my disappointment. Maybe he is in the middle of something and can't text right now.
"Natalie," I say, putting my phone back down.
"I'm sure he'll text you back." He pauses for a moment. "Or maybe you are waiting for the other guy. What's his name again? Brian?"
"Brandon," I correct him. "And I'm not waiting on either of them. I'm also not going to talk about either one of them with you."
"What do you see in Troy anyways? You don't look like you fit together." Nate sat back in the chair to wait for my response.
"Why do you even care?" My question seems to catch him off guard.
"Uh, he's my boy. I'm just looking out for him."
"If you were so worried about us being a match, you probably shouldn't have given him my phone number in the first place."
"I'm not worried."
"Good. And as for why I like him, it's stupid really." I'm getting flustered thinking about him and our little chats.
"Try me. I promise I won't tell Troy anything you say. Scouts honor," Nate says as he does the Boy Scout three-finger salute.
"He's obviously good-looking."
"Obviously," he says, mocking me.
"He's funny and nice." I take a moment to think of how I want to tell Nate about how he makes me feel. "When we were texting the other day..."
"Yeah?" Nate perks up with even more interest.
"I don't know. Troy makes me feel comfortable. It was easy with him. The conversation, the banter, it felt natural." I pick at my cuticle nervously. "I feel like I've known him forever."
Nate is grinning from ear to ear. He clears his throat and says, "I'm happy for you, but you don't look thrilled."
I take a minute to think of how I want to approach this. I am talking about Nate's friend. As much as I want to take Nate at his word, I don't trust him enough to lay my heart out to him. Anything I say can quickly get back to Troy. "I'm confused," I say finally.
"Care to elaborate?"
"Not really."
"Oh, come on. I'm a guy." His words remind me how much he has changed over the years. Nate went from a pre-teen boy with round, soft features to a man. His face is a slab of marble that has been sculpted to perfection. "Maybe I can help."
"Is it typical for guys to answer texts with one word? Or to not even text for a few days?" I ask despite my better judgment. "Not that I'm bothered by it or anything," I add.
"Right, of course. Just curious." He is making fun of me. I knew this was a bad idea. "The answer is yes. And with Troy definitely. Unless you are talking to him about football, he doesn't have much to say."
"That's the thing. We talked about everything the other day. He told me personal things. I thought..." I debate saying more. "I thought maybe I had someone else besides Natalie I could confide in, but now I'm not sure."
"Maybe he's not the guy you think he is."
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"Nothing. I should probably go." Nate gets up from the chair and walks over to the porch door. "Thanks for the ice cream."
Nate is in the driveway by the time I find my voice. "You can’t say something like that and leave.”
Nate kicked his feet around in the gravel. "I just did." He leaves for the garage to get the things he left in there. Asshole.
Nate doesn't know what he is talking about. Maybe he is the one who doesn't know who Troy really is. I don't care what he thinks anyway. And I don't care if I should wait to make a move. I'm going to anyway.
MACKENZIE: We should hang out sometime. See a movie or something.
There's no turning back now. What's the worst thing that could happen? My stomach starts churning at the thought.
