I Want It That Way

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

November went by in a flurry of work, classes and practicum. In my off hours, I studied hard and worked on the lesson I’d be teaching before winter break. Ty messaged me regularly, and sometimes he left home late enough to steal kisses in the Rainbow Academy parking lot. Each time he walked away, there was an awful pang in my stomach.

Sometimes it felt like all I did was watch him leave.

But Sam was a bright spot. It seemed like he was always beside me at work, tugging on my pants, asking questions, hugging me unexpectedly. I wasn’t sure how Ty would feel about that, but it had to be okay because I was his day-care teacher. Sam was forming this bond on his own, not because of my relationship with Ty. We’d done a fantastic job of keeping that private and separate, just like he wanted.

Before I knew it, the month was nearly gone. The day before Thanksgiving, Lauren crawled out of bed at half past five and poked me awake, so we could get on the road to Nebraska. Here in Michigan, the weather was spitting snow, but so far, there wasn’t any at home yet. With luck, the roads would stay clear long enough for us to get there and back. The Toyota wasn’t exactly equipped with four-wheel drive.

A text came in as I grabbed my bag. Ty’s picture popped up, along with the message.

Be careful. Come back safe.

I liked imagining that he knew exactly what I was doing and that he could tell when I woke up. Maybe it was crap, but it helped to believe we had a real connection, as he implied a few weeks back. While Lauren was in the bathroom, I crept downstairs in my stocking feet. It was too early to say goodbye in person, so I’d bought this silly thing at the dollar store: orange and russet ribbons, twining around a tiny cornucopia with plastic fruit spilling forth. The kitschy thing looked Thanksgiving-ish and wasn’t too heavy to tie around the doorknob.

But as I bent to do that, Ty’s door swung open. He was ruffled and barefoot, wearing only a pair of gym shorts, which I guessed he’d slept in. “Sorry, I crashed out on the couch. Wanted to make sure I didn’t miss you this morning.”

“Huh?” I thought the text was all I’d get. He worked full-time, he had Sam, and there was night school, too. It was a wonder he ever slept at all; I didn’t expect him to get up to see me off.

“Give me some credit,” he said softly.

I wore a goofy smile as I said, “Okay.”

Then he bent to kiss me goodbye. Wrapping my arms around him, I made it count, tasting him until we were both breathing fast. Ty leaned his forehead against mine.

“It’s only four days. And then another month until our next weekend. We can hold out, right?” He sounded like he was living for those two days, as if they were twinkling lights in an ocean of darkness.

“Yep. Since we’ll be on break, there’s no coursework, no reading, no projects.”

“I have something special planned, so you’ll need to pack warm clothes, pretty much the best winter gear you have. Bear that in mind.”

My eyes widened. “So we’re not staying in this time?”

“It’s a surprise. Now you should get going before Lauren comes down and catches us making out.”

“Would that be such a bad thing?” I asked, surprised. My impression was Sam couldn’t know about us, but I didn’t realize we were a dirty secret otherwise.

“Not for me. I didn’t know if you told her about...us.” His hesitation said he wasn’t sure how to categorize what we had, the whole FWB situation.

“Yeah. She calls you Hot Ginger, by the way. For the life of me, I cannot get her to use your name.”

A sexy, surprised smile curved his mouth, and I suppressed the urge to kiss him. “I can live with that. But since I don’t know her, it’s more respectful to refer to me as Mr. Hot Ginger.”

“Noted,” Lauren said, standing at the bottom of the stairs with my bag.

“Morning.” Ty seemed unfazed, but close-up, a hot flush raced across his cheekbones.

“You got my phone and my purse?” I asked.

“Yep, we’re ready to roll. I even brought your shoes.”

I grinned. “You know me so well, it’s scary.”

Quickly, I kissed Ty one last time and then jogged over to cram my boots on. I shrugged into the coat Lauren offered and wrapped up in a scarf while Ty watched. Since I expected him to retreat any minute, I was surprised when he watched us leave. We went out into the predawn gloom on a burst of frosty wind, and only as the door closed behind us did Ty vanish into his apartment. Lauren grabbed on to me, shaking my arm.

“Dear God. Why didn’t you tell me Mr. Hot Ginger looks like that with no shirt on? I feel like you’ve violated, like, ten articles of the girl code.”

“You’re insane,” I mumbled, opening the trunk so we could pack it.

“Don’t change the subject. He’s fucking gorgeous. Some guys look better with their clothes on, you know? And when you finally get them naked, you’re like, Oh, God, he’s a bear rug! And you’re pretty sure the night ends with you picking fur out of your teeth.”

Shuddering, I said, “I have no words. It’s too early for this.”

I was shivering by the time I got the key in the door. The Toyota was old enough that it didn’t have a remote, and the heater was janky. We had been driving for fifteen minutes before it truly kicked in. Thankfully, Lauren had shut up about Ty.

“Can we eat at a truck stop? My mom says they have the best breakfasts, and you can always tell if the food’s good by the number of semis in the parking lot.”

Since I’d planned to eat a granola bar and drive for two hours, I sighed inaudibly. “You’re too perky for 6:00 a.m., you know that?”

“I’m also hungry. Starving, even. Food might make me sleepy and docile. Otherwise, I might talk about Mr. Hot Ginger. For hours.”

“For crap’s sake, yes, we’ll stop.” I pulled off where Lauren told me to, and we devoured a huge breakfast of scrambled eggs, biscuits, hash browns and sausage, priced right at $4.99.

True to her word, Lauren snuggled down in her coat and fell asleep once her stomach was full. I drove for longer than two hours on I-80 West, but she seemed to be napping so well, I didn’t have the heart to wake her. But before we switched from interstate to a smaller highway, I pulled off at a rest stop to stretch my legs and use the bathroom.

Nudging Lauren awake, I pointed at the restroom. “Need to go?”

“Huh? Yeah. Is it my turn to take over?”

“More than, actually. Not that I’m complaining.”

She poked me. “Saying you’re not is the same thing as bitching about it because you’re bringing it up.”

“Whatever.” I took the keys out of the ignition, locked up and hurried through the wintry air toward the brick building.

This was a decent rest stop, clean, and I didn’t mind using it. At the vending machine hut, we bought drinks and snacks, so we could keep moving. Lauren took over driving, and I went to sleep. She let me drowse for three hours to make up for the longer shift, and then we switched somewhere along highway 51. Next it was 275, then a string of smaller roads as we headed toward Nebraska. It was an excruciating day, and I was fucking exhausted when we entered the home stretch. It had been dark for a long time, and my back was sore, shoulders stiff, knee hurting.

But it would be worth it to see my family.

When we passed the town limits sign, Lauren bounced in her seat beside me. “Damn, I thought this drive would never end.”

“And we have to do it again on Sunday.”

She shuddered. “Don’t remind me.”

“But at least we have Thursday, Friday and Saturday at home.”

“I know. It’s gonna be awesome. I wonder if anyone else will be back.”

“Maybe.” It might be cool to hear what our high school friends had been up to.

Thanks to a minuscule downtown area and nothing but fields surrounding it, a stranger would likely describe Sharon, Nebraska, as quaint. With a population just under five thousand and not much in the way of development, it could be kindly described as Podunk, which was part of the reason Mount Albion, Michigan, didn’t bother me. Though it was a small town, too, you could drive to civilization much faster from there.

I didn’t need my phone anymore for directions, so I turned it off. From memory, I drove to Lauren’s old place, a tiny two-bedroom house on the outskirts of town. Her mom already had Christmas lights up, or maybe she just didn’t take them down last year. I could picture Mrs. Barrett shrugging and going, oh well. Lauren jumped out as soon as I stopped the car.

“I’d ask you in but I’m kind of sick of your face.”

“It’s mutual.” I blew her a kiss and made sure she got inside before taking off.

From there, it was ten minutes to the Conrad household. Getting from one side of town to the other never took longer than fifteen minutes. There was no traffic to speak of, not even a stoplight, though sometimes farmers screamed at each other at our solitary stop sign, which was prestigiously located next to the Stop and Go, a combination gas and convenience store.

Since it was only eight, local time, my parents were up and anxiously watching out the window for me. I had texted my mom twice on the road to reassure her that we were fine. Both she and my dad charged outside to greet me, neither wearing coats or shoes. My dad grabbed my bag out of the back as Mom hugged me.

“Let’s get inside.” Dad steered me toward the front door, decorated with a turkey, a straw wreath and dried chrysanthemums.

In the house, I noticed a few changes. They’d painted the living room a warm cream, replacing the rose that my dad complained about for two years. New slipcovers on the furniture, a few new bird statues; my mom collected them. My brother, Rob, was sprawled on the couch, more impressive than I remembered, broader through chest and shoulders.

“String bean!” He levered off the couch to hug me, and I elbowed him in the ribs when he tried to turn it into a noogie.

My mom went into the kitchen to make tea. She was the reason I drank it late at night, a small way of holding on to her, I guessed, though I hadn’t realized it until now. My dad sank into his recliner with a relieved sigh while Rob turned down the volume on the TV.

“Wow, I outrank sports? When did this happen?”

Rob leveled an inscrutable look on me. “When you started coming home once a year.”

“Don’t make Nadia feel bad. She’s working hard at school,” Mom called.

“Speaking of work, how’re your grades looking?” Dad raised a brow at me.

When he used a certain tone, I felt fourteen, not twenty-one. “Good. My midterms were excellent, actually.”

Once my mom came in with the drinks, I shared my scores and then caught up on the local gossip. By ten, however, I was ready for bed. After such a long drive and losing two hours, it felt much later. No wonder, it’s midnight at home.

Once I doled out kisses and hugs, plus promises for more catching up in the morning, I headed up to my old room. Mostly, it was how I’d left it when I moved out with all of my high school treasures still on the shelves, still painted purple and white. My bed here was bigger than the one at school, though. I had a full-size with a good mattress, and it felt luxurious when I snuggled beneath the covers. My mom had washed them fresh; I smelled the fabric softener.

Before I passed out, I plugged my phone in beside the bed. One message from Ty.

Let me know you’re okay. Please?

I’d ignored texts from guys before, often because they seemed needy or demanding, but I registered this for what it was. Concern. It was a long-ass trip during uncertain weather. So I sent back,

With my parents, safe and sound. Happy Thanksgiving.

The next morning, I was up before anyone else, a side effect of losing two hours; at home it was almost eight. I was making coffee when my dad came into the kitchen. He stumbled as he spotted me, and I shot him a teasing smile.

“Did you forget I’m here?”

“Just clumsy in my old age.”

“Psht. You’re what, thirty-six?”

He laughed. Smile lines crinkled his weathered skin. In all honesty, he looked a bit older than his early fifties, though I couldn’t recall if he’d looked this way when I was home last summer. I hoped financial worries weren’t keeping him up at night.

“Anything you want to tell me?”

My dad loved this game. As a kid, he’d tricked me into confessing all sorts of things, panicked over his alleged omniscience. But I was savvy now, too wise to fall for this again. So as I made breakfast, I told him about the practicum and the kids I wished I could help.

As always, he listened with quiet interest. When I served his scrambled eggs, he put an arm around my waist, his arm trembling a little. It wasn’t like him to be so emotional.

“I don’t tell you enough, bean, but I’m so proud. Here I barely finished school and you’ll be teaching it. You always were so damn smart. Hell, I stopped being able to help with your homework before you hit high school.”

Vaguely disquieted, I hugged him. Glancing over my dad’s head, I found Rob frozen in the doorway. His eyes were deep and sad, and I knew he’d heard. It couldn’t be easy for him, and I wished I could make it better. But our relationship had been strained for years.

It’s your fault.

A memory surged forward. I was all of fourteen and he was on the verge of graduation. He’d caught me sneaking out and was lecturing the shit out of me. I’d flipped my hair and said snottily, Like I need life lessons from you, moron. You can’t even pass remedial math. Where’re you going to school again next year? Oh, right. I wished an apology could fix it, but seven years later, things were still awkward and broken between us.

I beckoned my brother, wishing we were closer. “Come on in,” I said. “Do you want your eggs scrambled or fried?”

“Fried, please. Sunny-side up.”

My mom came in a few minutes later, rubbing her eyes, so I cooked for her, too. Afterward, we pitched in as a family on prepping the turkey and baking corn bread for the dressing. Rob chopped celery while I did the onions. As expected, I didn’t hear from Ty, and that was fine; I was too busy gossiping with my mom and helping her with the feast. It had been years since I’d done this, and I was surprised to find I’d missed it. She was a good cook, always managing four things at once, and I tried to keep up.

I was straining broth for the stuffing when she asked, “Are you seeing anyone?”

I couldn’t help a blush when Ty sprang to mind, though our relationship didn’t fit my mom’s criteria. But she was too sharp not to notice. “Tell me about him,” she demanded.

“He’s hot. Smart. Studying to be an architect, but he also works full-time. He’s putting himself through school.”

She was smiling as she kneaded the dough for homemade yeast rolls. “I like the sound of that. Is he a junior like you?”

“I’m not sure where he is in the program. He’s twenty-four.”

“And still in school?” She tilted her head, puzzled. “Money problems?”

I’d rarely lied to my mother, and I wasn’t about to start now, especially on Thanksgiving. “Not exactly. He’s got a four-year-old. I’m an assistant in Sam’s class at Rainbow Academy.”

She put down her knife and leveled a serious look on me. “Nadia...”

“What?” Wariness prickled over me.

“Unless this is serious, I won’t mention it to your father. It would only agitate him.” She said it like that was the last thing either one of us should ever do. “Honey, be careful. This boy has already gotten some girl pregnant and messed up his future. You can do better. Find someone who can start a family with you when the time is right.”

Clenching my fists, I had the irresistible impulse to defend Ty. It wasn’t like he was irresponsible or careless. She didn’t know him. But since we weren’t serious, there was no point.

“We just hang out now and then,” I said quietly. “I don’t really have time for a relationship, and neither does he.”

“Oh. Well, that’s different. I’m sorry if I sounded unsympathetic. Please don’t let it spoil the day. I just want the best for you.”

“I know.” And I did my best to put her admonition from my mind.

By three, the food was ready, and people started arriving. Rob picked Avery Jacobs up, then Lauren and her mom showed up with a Waldorf salad. Like my mom had requested, sides and salads piled up in the kitchen. Pretty soon the house was full of relatives, friends and neighbors, elderly people who would’ve been alone otherwise. My mom really was a sweetheart.

Avery took a seat on a folding chair nearby, plate balanced primly on her lap. I hadn’t liked her since she ditched me for more popular friends in sixth grade, but if Rob saw something in her, I’d try to be friendly. “So what’re you up to lately?”

“Still working at the bank.” Not the most promising start.

“How long have you and Rob been going out?”

“Three months or so. Around here, he qualifies as a catch.” Though I might be projecting, she seemed to be implying she wouldn’t be with him if she could do better.

It took all my self-control not to smack her. Rather than start trouble, I picked up my plate and went into the kitchen, pretending I wanted seconds, when in fact, I only wanted to get away from her. Rob claimed my seat as soon as I vacated it, and I noticed Lauren watching from her perch on the stairs. With a mental shrug, I joined her.

“Hard to fathom, huh?” With a nudge, I nodded at Rob and Avery.

“I have no idea what he sees in her.” Lauren’s answer came out sharp, spoken through her teeth.

“Eh, he’s a guy. And she’s hot.”

“Rob’s not like that,” Lauren said quietly. “It has to be something else.”

“Who knows?”

My mom called from the kitchen, so I hurried to help out. Later, I ran into Mrs. Barrett, chatting with my dad, and I was astounded at the change in her. When Mr. Barrett left, she kind of fell apart, but since Lauren had been gone, she’d apparently gotten a makeover and pulled things back together.

“Looking good,” I said to Mrs. B.

She turned with a grin. “You’d be surprised at what L’Oréal can do.”

More than that, it was a complete change in bearing and attitude that contributed to the confident package. Lauren had to be ecstatic, seeing proof that even if her dad had broken her mom’s heart, it was possible to come back from it.

The Thanksgiving party was decent, as long as I avoided Avery. Rob didn’t seem to realize she was settling, and I’d never tell him. But I didn’t see this relationship ending anywhere good. She’d always want him to do better, be more, earn more and then bitch at him for being a simple, good guy instead of the overachiever she secretly wanted.

Around seven, I darted into the kitchen, ostensibly to get a drink but really because I just wanted a break from answering the same questions. No, I don’t have a boyfriend. No, I’m still not playing basketball. With a faint sigh, I sank down at the table and poured some wine. I had no intention of eavesdropping, but when Lauren stopped Rob in the dining room, I was trapped.

“You look tired,” she said. “Everything okay?”

It surprised me that she could tell. He didn’t seem shocked by her insight, though. “Yeah. I just have some stuff going on.”

“Awesome or awful?”

“Good. Or it will be, if it pans out.”

Her voice softened. “Keep me posted.”

Their conversation intrigued me, but I couldn’t grill Rob about his dreams or goals without him getting defensive. We kept in touch through occasional emails, but mostly, I sent him music recs because I didn’t know what else to say. Around nine, the party broke up and afterward, I crashed on the couch with my parents in front of the tube. Rob didn’t get home from dropping Avery off until long after I went to my room.

The next day, I went shopping with Lauren, Mrs. Barrett and my mom. Getting to the nearest mall took forty-five minutes, something that didn’t used to bother me. Fortunately, the others talked enough not to notice that I was tetchy. My mother’s comments about Ty still chewed at me, working under my skin.

Yet Lauren shone brighter than I’d seen in weeks, just hanging out with our moms. Mrs. Barrett was hilarious, offering her outfits she’d never wear, and Lauren tried them on, modeling with mock-verve. Shaking the cranky face, I got in the spirit of absurd fashion and accepted my mom’s choice of ruffled fuchsia cocktail explosion. The gown looked hideous on me, accentuating my broad shoulders, so I really resembled a dude in drag.

“This is awesome.” Lauren held her stomach, laughing. “I miss this.”

You live with me. We could do this anytime. Maybe for her, it wasn’t the same without our mothers snapping embarrassing pictures and threatening to save them for posterity. By the time we headed home, my mood had shifted from melancholy to pensive. I really wish I could talk to Ty. He’d been so helpful in regard to Lauren before; possibly I shouldn’t get used to talking about important stuff with him, though. I had no idea where I should draw the line between sex and friendship, how long before I stumbled past what he could accept.

“Penny for them,” Dad said.

“If I made that deal, I’d feel guilty for overcharging you.” Leaning down, I kissed his forehead and went upstairs, simultaneously worn out and wound up.

Shortly after I got in bed, Ty texted. It was almost eleven here, which meant it must be close to one at home.

Can you talk?

Yep. Call me.

My bedroom door was shut, and my phone on vibrate, so it wouldn’t bother anyone else. I picked up on the first buzz.

All desire for serious conversation flew out of my head when he greeted me with, “Hope you’re up for this. Because I’m ready to let you watch.”