He smiled. “I know. Guess what’s in here?”
“Don’t tell me it’s spiked sweet tea?”
“Yep.” He nodded toward the house next door. “The neighbors who bought your grandmother’s house are away. I met them earlier this week. When they mentioned they were going out of town, I asked if they would mind if the old owner’s granddaughter sat on their porch. You said you’d give anything to bring back the sweet-tea days. I know it’s not the same, but I figured we can eat on the rocking chairs and drink the spiked stuff.”
My heart swelled. “I can’t believe you did that for me.”
He nodded toward the porch. “Come on. Let’s go over.”
At first it was strange to sit on my grandmother’s porch without her here. But when we were done eating and sat on the rocking chairs, doing nothing but sipping out of our Waffle House mugs, I felt a warmth in my chest.
“How did you know they drank out of these particular mugs? I don’t think I mentioned it the other day.”
“You didn’t. My grandmother did.”
“Oh.”
“She’s pretty much talked about you or your grandmother all week. I think having you down here brought up a lot of memories for her, too.” He held up his mug. “She must really love you, because she gave me her spiked sweet tea recipe when I said I wanted to make it for you. You know southern women hold their tea recipes just below the Bible when it comes to sacred things.”
I smiled. “Well, the feeling is mutual.”
We sat side by side, rocking and sipping quietly for a few minutes. Eventually, I pointed to a house a few doors down and across the street. “Remember the story I told you about when I almost fell from my treehouse in the rain? That I thought a boy named Cooper saved me?”
Merrick nodded. “I remember.”
“That was his house. He had a dog with three legs named Woody.”
Merrick squinted down the dark street. “I remember the dog. He used to walk on his back two legs like a human, right?”
“That’s the one.”
“Yeah, I remember the dog. But I don’t remember the kid.”
“I definitely do. He was also my first kiss.”
“Really?”
“Yep. I’m sure he remembers me, too. Because aside from being his first kiss, I also caused his first dental procedure.”
“Did he go in for the kiss too fast and your teeth clashed or something?”
“Worse. But let me stop my story and give you a little background. When I was fifteen, we were living in Chicago. All of my friends had kissed boys before, but I wasn’t anxious to start down that road because I already had trust issues because of my dad. Anyway, a cute boy in my school asked me out, and we went to a movie. He had the absolute worst breath. I mean, I was sitting in the theatre and could smell it next to me, even when he wasn’t facing my way.” I shook my head. “I don’t know if it was the braces or what, but it was horrendous, and I was dying for the movie to be over. Long story short, he tried to kiss me at the end of the night, and I stopped him. He accused me of being a prude. So to defend myself, I told him the truth—that his breath smelled like ass.”
Merrick cracked up. “So you haven’t changed much from fifteen, huh?”
“Anyway, the next day he lied and told the whole school that he had kissed me, and I was the worst kisser ever.” I shook my head. “I obviously knew what really happened, but I developed a paranoia that I was going to be a terrible kisser. Dumb, I know. But whatever. Fast forward to the following summer, and I’m now sixteen and still haven’t had my first kiss. We came down to visit my grandmother for a week, and me and Cooper used to ride bikes together. I knew he was attracted to me, and he seemed like a nice kid, so I figured maybe it would finally happen. One night, he’d gotten a flat tire on his bike, and we were in his garage. I was holding the box wrench when he pulled off the tire, and when he stood to take it from me, he told me I was beautiful and leaned in for a kiss. At the last second, I remembered I had eaten fish for dinner and not yet brushed my teeth, so I lifted my hand to my mouth. Except I still had the box wrench in my hand. He chipped his front tooth on it.”