Dear Everly, : a romance novel Page 5

  I ripped my arm away and looked back.

  “What did I say? What did I do?”

  “Don’t…,” I said.

  “What?”

  I curled my lip. Might as well just get it over with. “I don’t have anyone… because the one I had… she’s dead…”

  Chapter Six

  Sushi n’ Paint

  (Emily)

  It took me a little bit to pick my jaw up off the ground. I watched him walk away, get into his truck, and leave. That meant I wouldn’t get the chance to chase him down again and apologize. But apologize for what? For not knowing that he lost someone he loved? Apologize that I invited him for a drink? Which was, honestly, just a thank you offering for helping me with the table. I didn’t intend to piss him off. I didn’t intend to chase him away.

  But Jake was gone.

  For the next hour I couldn’t stop thinking about it though. Whoever he lost… was that person Sadie’s mother? I hadn’t been spying on Jake but anytime I’d seen him or Sadie, it was just the two of them. There was never another car in the driveway. So did that mean he was raising Sadie on his own? There were so many questions with answers that were not my business. Yet I wanted to know.

  Finally, I gave up on everything inside the house. There would be boxes to unpack tomorrow. There would be a hundred things to do in the house for as long as I lived there. Sitting on the kitchen floor with a notebook, trying to write felt useless. My stomach had butterflies because I was starting my new job tomorrow.

  So I decided to get paint.

  I told myself for the last couple days I would get paint. I purposely planned on dragging the dining room table outside so I had room to paint. Which was so stupid looking back at it. I thought having the floor open would be easier. When the dining room was done I’d drag all the living room furniture in there and do the living room. But I broke the dining room table.

  And Jake carried it away… like it weighed nothing… his arms, strength…

  I climbed to my feet and grabbed my keys.

  No more thinking or talking or whatever-ing about Jake.

  He was my neighbor. He was a rude jerk. Even if his daughter was adorable.

  I’d have to deal with it.

  But I really had no idea what that meant.

  My phone buzzed as I held an off shade of red up at eye level. I was debating between that and a reddish-brown for the living room.

  I reached for my phone.

  A text from my friend, Carrie.

  How are you doing?

  I put the sample card between my lips and replied.

  Picking out paint colors. Too many choices.

  I folded the card and studied the red color. It was good. It was going to be the color of the living room. It matched everything in there.

  For the dining room and kitchen I wanted something that was almost contrasting. Something cozy in the dining room, something with maybe even an orange tint to it. For the kitchen, I wanted bright. A yellow but not too much yellow. Something that was inviting and would wake you up.

  I started to peruse the color choices when my phone buzzed again.

  Painting is too adulting. Let’s get drunk.

  I laughed under my breath.

  Carrie’s life consisted of two things - working as a nurse and when she wasn’t working she was partying. There was no in between. She was amazing at her job and she survived on her own and she had been there for me quite a bit with my grandmother. In fact, Carrie was the one who gave me the play-by-play before things actually happened so I was ready.

  Skip getting drunk. Let’s get stoned from the paint fumes as we paint my house. k?

  I picked out four different yellows. I narrowed it down to two.

  Carrie texted back again.

  What time should I come over?

  My finger stopped on the yellow I liked. It seemed light enough to not beat up your eyes but bright enough that when light hit it, it was yellow. The sun came up right in the backyard so the morning light would look amazing in the kitchen.

  5

  That was my reply to Carrie.

  She texted back the letter k and that was the end of the conversation.

  I set my sights onto the dining room paint color. That was the easiest to find. Maybe I was bored with colors, but whatever. I placed my order, waited, got all my supplies, and shut my eyes as I paid for it all. I filled the back seat of my car and had the sense of elation for a few minutes. The one you get from shopping but generally regret it two hours later. At least with the paint it was something useful. It was worth the expense and the time.

  I got back home and started in the kitchen. I took the hardest room first. The nooks and crannies and trim were a big pain in the butt, but with just one coat, the yellow I chose was perfect. It offset the counter and cabinets beautifully. I got through the second coat in no time and stepped back to admire the work. My hands were a shade of yellow, along with speckled dots all over my face from the paint roller.

  But there was no time to waste.

  I sealed up the paint cans and dragged the drop cloth into the living room.

  I got the main wall done and took a break for a few minutes. With a drink in my hand I casually looked at the color over and over as it dried. It didn’t have the same instant appeal as the kitchen did. I promised myself that a second coat would do the trick.

  From the corner of my eye I saw a truck drive by the front window. Before I knew what I was doing, I hurried to the front door and opened it. I saw Jake’s truck pull into his driveway.

  His door opened and he stepped out. I say stepped because if it were me getting out of his truck, I’d have to jump. Not Jake. He was tall enough to just step right out. He opened the back driver’s side door and I watched as he reached for Sadie and helped her down.

  My heart gushed a little.

  I don’t have anyone… because the one I had… she’s dead…

  At that exact second, Sadie looked right at me. I wasn’t sure if we actually saw each other clearly or not. Jake looked over his shoulder.

  I backed up and turned.

  “Needs another coat,” I said, pointing to the wall.

  Painting kept Jake and his situation off my mind.

  I normally avoided gossip at all costs, but that was killing me. Maybe it was the sense of freedom now that I didn’t have to take care of my grandmother. That I had time to kill. That I had time to gossip, getting into other’s business, or maybe just because I could do something for myself.

  I finished the entire first coat in the living room when the doorbell rang.

  I dropped the paint roller, hitting the pan, splashing the drop cloth and my white sock.

  At first I thought it was Jake.

  But it was Carrie.

  She stood at the door holding two bags of food and a bag dangling from her mouth.

  I hurried to the door and opened it. I grabbed the bag from her mouth.

  “You’re crazy,” I said.

  “Hello to you too,” Carrie said.

  “What’s in the bag?”

  “Which one?”

  “All of them.”

  “We’ve got…” she lifted her left arm. “Sushi for me.” She lifted her right arm. “Sushi for you.” She nodded to the bag in my hand. “Booze for us.”

  “I thought I said no…”

  “We paint and get drunk. Or get drunk and paint.”

  “That doesn’t sound like a good combination.”

  “It’s not my house,” Carrie said with a wink. “So, give me the tour.”

  I walked to the dining room and remembered I had no table. So I put the bag of booze on the kitchen counter. Carrie put the food on the counter.

  “Where’s your table?” she asked.

  “It broke. It’s out front.”

  “Yeah I saw that. You have a hot quickie on it and break it?”

  I laughed. “That’s exactly what happened. Busted.”

  “Yeah right. You prude.”<
br />
  “Prude,” I said. I grabbed the bags of sushi. “When have I had time to pick up a guy?”

  “I saw a hot guy with tattoos right next door,” Carrie said. “So yummy.”

  “Well…” I shook my head. “No.”

  “No? Why no?”

  “There’s a story there.”

  “He’s married.”

  “Carrie.”

  “Taken at least, I’m sure. A guy like that… then again, maybe he likes to fuc-”

  “He’s got a daughter,” I said.

  Carrie pointed to the floor. “I guess we’re sitting to eat?” she asked, changing the subject, which was a good thing.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Unless you want to paint first.”

  “I need a drink before I touch paint,” Carrie said. “Come on, let’s celebrate the new house.”

  I sat on the floor with my back against the wall. Carrie brought her bag of goodies. A mix of all kinds of drinks. I shook my head.

  “What?” she asked.

  “In the fridge. I have beer.”

  “Beer? What, are you a guy or something?”

  “Women drink beer.”

  “Women drink vodka,” she said. “Let me make you a drink. I have a special rum drink for you.”

  “Rum? I thought women drink vodka?”

  “You drink rum,” Carrie said.

  She made me a drink. And it was a dangerous drink. It was so fruity and smooth, I wouldn’t have believed there was alcohol in it if I didn’t watch her pour the rum myself.

  “Okay, we go in order,” Carrie said.

  She opened the containers of sushi. She broke two sets of chopsticks and gave me one. I pretended like I knew how to use them. My version of a fancy meal had been getting pizza delivered. Or whatever my grandmother wanted in her last months when she was able to actually eat and enjoy it.

  “What’s the order?” I asked.

  “Well, first, you eat. You don’t ask what’s in this. You just eat. Tell me what you like and don’t like.”

  “Is it cooked?”

  “Do you trust me?”

  I took a container of food.

  “Good,” Carrie said. “Now. How are you holding up? With everything.”

  “I’m steady,” I said. “That’s about it. Steady. I start a new job tomorrow. So I can’t get drunk tonight.”

  “It’s hard when things change so fast,” Carrie said. “You’re allowed to have moments. Just so you know.”

  “Moments?”

  “Crazy moments. Enjoy them.”

  “Thanks for the advice.”

  We ate. It wasn’t that bad. Some pieces were better than others.

  Carrie bit into a rubbery, maroon colored looking piece of sushi and started to talk. “So what’s with the hot guy next door?”

  “Wow,” I said. “Took you that long to bring him back up, huh?”

  “I’m a changed woman,” she said.

  “No you’re not.”

  “I’m dating someone.”

  “What?”

  “He’s six-four. His dick is the same size. He doesn’t call or text to bother me. I’m in control of him. And he pays for everything. It’s perfect. Now, enough about me. I need to know about next door.”

  I shook my head. “Start painting and I’ll talk.”

  Carrie was quick to put a lid on what we hadn’t eaten. I directed her to the living room for its second coat. She was quick with the refills for herself, that was for sure. It took me all of thirty minutes to assume she’d be spending the night. Which was fine. I didn’t need her out driving around drunk.

  “He’s rude,” I said. “He helped me move the table outside after I broke it. Then he got mad when I offered him a drink.”

  “Interesting. Jealous woman at home?”

  “He said something about her dying,” I whispered as though Jake could hear me in his own house.

  Carrie stopped rolling the paint and looked down at me from a step ladder. “What?”

  “Yeah. You heard me.”

  “So he’s got a daughter and he’s single because the woman he was with died?”

  “That’s what I’m gathering.”

  “Stay away. Far away.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Think about what you just said,” Carrie said. “I don’t care how hot he is, that’s a wild ride to take.”

  “I don’t even know why we’re having this conversation,” I said. “I’m not interested. I met him twice. Not a big deal at all.”

  “It is a big deal when you’re living next door,” Carrie said.

  “Nope. See, he keeps to himself, I keep to myself. Neighbors don’t have to get along.”

  “But a guy that sexy and you desperate…”

  “Desperate?”

  Carrie stuck her tongue out at me.

  She climbed down the stepladder and put the paint roller down. She grabbed me by the shoulders. “I know you. I know how you get with people. You want to help. You want to love everyone, Emily. You want to take care of everyone. But sometimes in life some people just don’t want to be bothered or taken care of. I see it all the time. You just spent how many years of your life taking care of someone else. Take time for yourself now. I know you just bought this beautiful house but you should think about going somewhere. Take a vacation.”

  “I can’t do that. I’m starting a new job.”

  “Okay. Skip that. Just take care of yourself, Em. Please. Okay?”

  Em.

  Only my closest friends called me that. But Jake had done so too. It just slipped from his mouth with ease.

  “Em?”

  “Yeah, okay,” I said. “Can we paint now? Get this done? This is what I want to do. Take care of myself by taking care of my house.”

  “I need another drink.”

  Carrie got another drink and I set everything up in the dining room.

  She painted one strip on the wall and stopped. She looked back at me. “It is a shit deal though. For the record.”

  “What is?”

  “If that’s true, about your neighbor. I don’t want to come across like a bitch.”

  “Since when do you care about coming across like a bitch?”

  She laughed. “I’m being serious. Raising a kid on your own is so hard to do. As a guy with a daughter, I can’t even imagine. So if anything, maybe you should just keep your door open, as a friend. You know?”

  “You missed a spot,” I said, pointing to the white wall.

  “Right,” Carrie said.

  Another two hours flew right by and the painting got done.

  Carrie took a shower, got changed, and made use of one of the extra bedrooms upstairs. I showered next and found myself walking around the downstairs, admiring the work. The fresh paint. The fresh colors. Everything new and fresh.

  New and fresh was good. Very good.

  I got myself one last drink - a beer - and walked to the back door. I slid it open and went out to the deck. The sky was clear. The stars twinkling like millions of fireflies. I grabbed a chair and opened it. I still had to unpack the furniture for the deck. Get it set up the way I wanted it. But for tonight, just a chair and a drink would do.

  I sat no more than a minute before I heard the scratch of another door sliding in its tracks. I turned my head and saw a silhouette step out of Jake’s house. It was definitely Jake. I could tell by the size of the figure.

  Quickly, I slid from my chair and crouched down.

  Hiding from the neighbor? Seriously?

  I watched as Jake walked to the end of his deck and leaned against it. He lifted a drink to his mouth and threw his head back. Then he put the glass down. He grabbed the railing and lowered his head.

  And there he stood.

  Head down.

  I was just there, crouched down, watching him.

  There was something there though. Whatever the story, it was bitter, it was raw, and it was painful.

  I thought about what Carrie had begged me. Not t
o get involved. Not to try and save someone else. To take care of myself.

  In the back of my mind I thought about Sadie. Growing up without a mother. Something I knew about. But it wasn’t my place.

  It wasn’t my…

  Jake pushed away from the railing. He grabbed his drink and had another gulp. He did something interesting. He picked up a cushion from a chair on the deck and stepped back and slumped down, in the corner.

  I could have sworn he was hugging the pillow.

  That’s when it all started to really sink into me.

  Jake was alone… and he was in pain…

  Chapter Seven

  First Day of School

  (Emily)

  I made a fresh pot of coffee for Carrie and left her a note just reminding her that I was going to work. It was my first day. Something very far from normal for me, but something so very needed.

  I left the house with a bag on my shoulder and my travel mug filled to the brim with coffee. The first thing I did outside was look at the dining room table that I had messed up. I noticed the morning paper on the walkway to the house. Pausing for a second, I looked up and collected myself.

  That was the one thing my grandmother loved. Getting the daily newspaper. No matter how far her mind slipped she would read that thing beginning to end. And if she ever got the wrong date, you’d get hell. I remember one time the paper didn’t come for some reason. So we gave her an old paper just to keep her daily routine. She looked right at it and knew. Threw it to the floor. Amazing how she knew it was the wrong date on the paper, but thought I was her baby sister who had been killed in a car accident over sixty years ago.

  That doesn’t matter now, Emily. Forward. Move forward.

  One foot at a time, I did just that.

  I tossed the paper to the porch.

  I walked by the broken table and gave the dangling leg a little punch.

  The only way to move forward was to move backward, briefly at least, because I had to back out of my driveway.

  As I did so, I glanced over at Jake’s house. The big pickup truck in the driveway. The rest of the driveway empty. It was still in the early hours of the morning, the sun not throwing much of its light around. There was a light on in one upstairs window at Jake’s house. I looked for a few seconds, my car halfway out of the driveway. My mind raced with thoughts.