It’s late by the time I leave my mom’s, and Teagan has already texted to say she’s off work earlier than expected, if I want to meet her at her place. She likes to shower after a shift at the pub. Sometimes she’ll come to my place, and other times she’ll take the night for herself, in part because half the time I’m already passed out by the time she gets off work. But tonight I want to see her, despite the fact that I’ll be underslept tomorrow.
I feel like I unloaded a hundred-pound backpack of personal baggage with one conversation. One long-overdue conversation that has the power to change my entire family dynamic. I’m cautiously optimistic about my dad’s visit this weekend. My mom seemed to warm to the idea of meeting Jamie over the course of dinner and mentioned reaching out to my dad before the weekend to feel things out. It seems like miles of progress in one afternoon. I know better than to assume there won’t be any bumps in the road along the way, but at least we’re moving forward.
I pull into the driveway, beside Teagan’s car. She usually parks on the right side, but tonight she’s on the left side. I hop out and notice a bunch of scratches on the passenger side. Teagan’s car is in pristine condition, so the scratches must be new. I hope whatever happened doesn’t have anything to do with why she got off work early.
I make my way up the stairs and knock on her door. I could probably let myself in, but I like watching her face light up when she opens the door. Which is exactly what happens a few seconds later.
“Hi.” She loops her arms around my neck, pulling my mouth down to hers. She’s freshly showered, long hair still wet, skin still warm. Her kiss tastes like vodka and lemon.
“Can I get you something to drink? Are you hungry? I can whip something up for you if you are.”
“Just a glass of water would be good,” I tell her.
She flits over to the fridge and grabs the water jug, filling a glass for me. I take her in as she moves around the kitchen. She looks tired. Her cheekbones seem more prominent than usual. Or maybe I’m looking for things to be wrong. And she just finished a shift at the pub. It’s always busy on Thursday nights, and she’s usually wiped out at the end of her shift.
She pulls me over to the couch, moving her laptop aside so we can sit. Her martini is half-full, but there’s an empty pick sitting on the coffee table, which means she might very well be on her second drink.
“Did you know there are a bunch of scratches on your car?” I ask as I settle next to her and stretch my arm along the back of the couch.
Her eyes flare for a second, and she waves a hand around. “I parked too close to the trees today, and it was windy. I’m sure I’ll be able to get it buffed out no problem.”
The way she can’t quite meet my gaze has me questioning how honest she’s being. “If you need to take it to a garage to have it looked at, I can follow you there. Carter’s is in the next town over, but they’re better with the bodywork than the guy in town here.”
“Sure. That’d be great. I’m not in a rush, though, and bodywork can be expensive.” She takes the glass from my hand, sets it on the table beside me, and straddles my lap. “I missed you at the pub tonight. How was dinner with your mom?”
I settle my hands on her hips, trying to figure out what’s going on with her. She’s usually a bubbly person, but tonight she seems wound up. “It was good.”
“That’s good.” She lifts my hat from my head and runs her fingers through my hair and drags her lips up the side of my neck.
“I told my mom that my dad’s coming to visit this weekend.”
“Oh?” She lifts her head. It takes a few seconds for her eyes to focus.
“And basically everything else too.”
Teagan shifts back to the cushion beside me, maybe realizing I need to talk this out. “How did that go?”
“She was surprised. Maybe a little hurt at first, and then guilty—it’s a lot to process, and I know that one conversation isn’t going to fix everything, but for the first time in years, I feel like I can finally breathe,” I admit.
Her smile turns soft, and she takes my hand in hers. I notice for the first time that her nails are bitten to the quick. That’s not typical. “That took a lot of courage, Aaron. I’m so glad you were able to talk to her and that she was so receptive.”
“Me too. I went in prepared for the worst, and I think this is the best possible outcome. I want her to have a relationship with Jamie. And there’s some relief in knowing that I don’t have to keep those parts of my life separate from each other. I didn’t like that you were forced to keep secrets for me.”
“You didn’t force me, that was me supporting you. You needed to tell your mom on your own time.”
“Still. It wasn’t fair of me to do that to you.” I thread my fingers through hers. “I wish it hadn’t taken me this long to finally do something about it, but at least I can see that there was a problem and I was part of it, you know?”
“Everyone played their own role in how things turned out. It’s not all on you, Aaron.”
“I know that. But I also know how I contributed to it.” I want to say something more about her car, her hectic, punishing schedule, that she’s keeping the fact that she’s talking to Bradley from Van, but today has been emotionally taxing on a lot of levels, and getting into it tonight doesn’t seem like a good idea. “Do you think you could come over this weekend when they’re visiting? My dad would love to see you again, and you’re pretty much all Jamie can talk about. And it’d be good to have the support.”
“Of course. You know I’m always here for you.”
I wish she’d let me do the same for her. “You know, I’m always here for you too.”
She gives me a small smile. “I know. Watching you go through everything with your mom made me realize that we’re going through similar things. You and your mom, me and Van. The secrets.”
“Do you think you’ll talk to Van about what’s going on with Bradley?”
She sighs before answering. “I’ll tell him eventually. I just know how hard it’s been on him, and I don’t want him to feel like he has to forgive Bradley.”
“It puts you in an awkward position, though.”
“I can handle it for now. And we don’t need to worry about my stuff.” She waves a dismissive hand in the air. “I’m so glad you were able to talk to your mom. You must feel so much better.”
“I do.” Better than I thought I could feel. Like I’ve let go of some of the ghosts of my past.
She leans in and kisses me. And even though I shouldn’t, I allow myself to get lost in the feel of her mouth and her hands and her body.
Afterward I watch as she washes down her medication with whatever’s left of her martini. For once, she’s out before I am. She’s curled up beside me, body tucked against mine, skin cool to the touch. I run my hand down her spine, feeling the ridges, trying to decide if they’re more prominent or not. I want her to be okay, but I don’t think she is.
And now, she’s starting to remind me of myself after Devon died. But I drowned myself in alcohol and punished myself through work. This isn’t the same, but it also doesn’t seem that different.