Finding Home

Finding Home

Brandon and Mandy

The Home Series

Megan Nugen Isbell

Cover art by Keary Taylor

For Nikki

Thank you for helping me

figure this one out!

One

Summer in Kansas is hot.  Not just hot, but blazing hot, and muggy too.  The sun beats down relentlessly until you think your skin might boil, like literally peel off.  Sometimes I thought about what it would be like to live somewhere else…someplace cool or at least not as humid.  Humidity was not a friend to my wavy blonde hair.  It either made it frizz like I’d stuck my finger in a light socket or coil up like Shirley Temple.  Either way, it was one more trait to add to the very long list of my undesirable ones. 

My thighs had always been too thick, tree trunks I called them, and while some girls would dream of a chest like mine, I’d always hated it.  It wasn’t huge, but it was definitely more ample than I would’ve picked for myself.  They were just a pain, a nuisance really, but there wasn’t anything I could do about it, unless, of course, I decided on a breast reduction someday and I was too much of a baby to undergo voluntary surgery. 

I was short too.  Not freakishly short, but short enough to prevent me from being able to reach things on the top shelf of the grocery store, or my own kitchen cabinets for that matter, as I was doing at the moment.  I was on my tippy-toes, stretching as far as I could for a Tupperware container on the top shelf.  I finally gave up though and slid a stool over.  I grabbed a dish, but I knew it’d be a miracle if I actually found a matching lid.  I felt a bead of sweat slide down between my boobs and I just sighed.  The damn heat.  Our overworked air conditioner was having a heck of a time trying to keep up and it didn’t help matters that I’d had the oven going at 400 degrees for the past thirty minutes.  The kitchen felt more like a sweat lodge and I hoped maybe the sweltering heat would melt some of the fat from my thighs. 

I finally found a lid and climbed off the stool just as the timer went off.

The cookies looked awesome, just like I knew they would, when I pulled them from the oven.  The melting chocolate chips had that delicious gleam you can only see just as they’re done baking and they hit the air outside of the oven.  I wanted to bite into one right away to see that gooey chocolate string clinging desperately between the piece in my mouth and the remainder being pulled away by my hand.  I couldn’t do that though because these cookies were for Brandon, not for me. 

They needed to cool before I could put them away so I went over to the sink to clean up my mess before my parents got home from another one of their activities at church.  They were sticklers for order, and everything else for that matter, and if they saw a mess after one of my baking ventures, they’d probably ban me for life from the kitchen.  I just sighed as I scrubbed the mixing bowl I’d used and set it in the drain pan.  I hated living at home still.  I’d just turned twenty-one and I prayed soon I’d be able to get my own place.  It didn’t have to be anything fancy, but at least it’d be away from their tyranny.  I’d always been described as the funny girl, the ditzy girl who made people laugh, and it was sometimes hard to keep my positive outlook with two parents who could only be described as sticks in the mud.

“Why’s it so hot in here?” I turned from the sink to see my younger sister, Shay, walk inside.  She looked annoyed and hot as she set her violin case on the table. 

“Sorry.  I just finished baking cookies,” I said, turning back to my dishes as she walked over to the fridge and took a long swig of orange juice straight from the container. 

“It’s like a thousand degrees out there. I thought I’d get some relief in here.  The air conditioning is broken at Mr. Fielding’s house,” she said, referring to her violin teacher.  Shay had practice twice a week with him.  She was an amazing violinist, but I never knew if she actually liked playing or if she just stuck with it because our parents basically made her.  There was no denying my sister was gifted musically and they were determined to see her do something with it and actually make something of herself, unlike me: a lowly waitress and community college student who’d probably die in Carver. 

“I said I was sorry.”

“You know how miserable it gets in here when you bake, Mandy,” Shay continued to groan and I had to bite my tongue. 

“What do you want me to do, Shay?  I can’t undo the baking.”

“Why are you baking cookies anyway?” She walked over and grabbed one from the cookie sheet before I could stop her. 

“They’re for Brandon,” I said and she nodded.

“That totally sucks what happened to him.”

“It more than sucks,” I said, looking over to my sister.  I don’t think she understood what he was dealing with.  I didn’t really expect her to though, being sixteen and completely consumed with her own life.  She’d always been like that though.  I loved my sister, but she pretty much thought the sun and the moon revolved around her and could rarely be bothered to concern herself with the troubles of others. 

“Is he okay?” she asked and I was surprised at the concern on her face. 

“He says he is.  I’ve only seen him once since he’s been home.  His mom invited me over for dinner tonight though.”

“Hence, the cookies,” she said, grabbing another one, but this time I slapped her hand and she dropped it. “I’m gonna go take a shower to get all this nasty off me.  You’d better pick up this mess or you know Mom and Dad are gonna kick your butt.”

She disappeared upstairs and I was glad to see her go as I finished up the dishes; washing, drying, and putting everything away in its place.  I put the cookies in the Tupperware and turned to look at the kitchen.  Sparking clean, just like my parents expected.

It was almost five o’clock and Mrs. Seaver asked me to be there at five-thirty.  I needed a shower too, but Shay was still hogging the bathroom we had to share.  There was another bathroom in my parents’ room, but we’d never been allowed to use it.  I settled for body spray that smelled like cucumbers and melons to freshen up and I changed into a white sundress.  Looking in the mirror, I realized my hair was hopeless.   If I pulled it up, it’d look like a giant puff ball, so I chose to leave it down instead, long and wavy, to the middle of my back, running some argon oil over it, hoping to tame some of the fly-aways.  I went back downstairs, grabbed the cookies and went outside to my crappy car: an old white Honda Civic.  I’d scrounged up enough money to buy it a few years before and even though it had nearly 200,000 miles and was in desperate need of a paint job, it got me where I needed to go and that, along with the fact that the a/c worked, was all that mattered.  I turned it on, put it in drive and headed to Brandon’s house.

Brandon Seaver had been one of my best friends practically my entire life.  I doubted anyone had a group of friends better than mine, which made it even harder when they all left.  For the most part, we’d known each other since kindergarten.  The only exception was Riley.  She’d shown up during our senior year from Boston. She was one of those girls you see walking down the street that instantly makes you feel like a troll.  She was tall with one of those perfect bodies that almost makes you sick…thin with just enough curves to keep her from looking like one of those airbrushed freaky models you see in magazines.  Her thick dark hair that hung down her back and olive skin set her apart from everyone else in Carver.  There was no denying she was stuck-up at first, but I liked her for some reason and she ended up fitting in with our group, especially after she and Jesse got together. 

Jesse Baylor was another story entirely.  He was probably the most decent guy I’d ever met and just like Riley, too good looking for his own good.  Once they ended up together, I pretty much thought they’d get married someday and have ridiculously beautiful children with the world’s most perfect hair and live happily ever after.  However, happily ever after they lived not.  The summer after graduation changed everything.  His dad died unexpectedly and Jesse changed.  We all watched as he spiraled into someone we didn’t know, eventually joining the Marines and breaking Riley’s heart.  We hadn’t seen him since.

Shortly after Jesse left, Riley and Holly headed to college at Kansas State.  Holly was probably the most grounded one of our group.  She’d always been that way though.  Friendly and accepting, which is how Riley ended up with us in the first place.

Laura stayed around for the first year after graduation, going to the community college with me, but then she got the itch to hightail it out of Carver and picked up and moved in with her cousin in Tulsa.  I was sad to see Laura go since she was all that remained in Carver of our group, but I didn’t miss her as much as the others.  She loved to point out my mistakes or roll her eyes at one of the many stupid things I was known to say.  I knew I was an airhead.  Everyone knew that, but Laura liked to draw attention to it.  All.  The.  Time.  It was annoying, so when she moved to Tulsa, I was kind of relieved, although I’d never tell anyone that.

And then there was Brandon.  He was the first to leave.  He’d joined the army and I still missed his stupid jokes.  He was one of those people you don’t know why you’re friends with, but also can’t imagine not having in your life.  He was crude, inappropriate, and tactless, but also totally hilarious.  He made me laugh like no one else, so when I got the call that he’d been injured in a roadside attack in Afghanistan and lost his leg, I was devastated.

That had been almost a year ago and now he was finally home. 

I don’t know why I was so nervous when I pulled up to his house.  It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen Brandon since he’d been home.  Riley and I had come to see him about a week before and it had been easier than I thought it would be.  Maybe I was nervous now because I was here by myself or maybe it was because I knew I’d probably say something stupid.  I always did.  It was what I was known for.  I’d open my mouth and say something, not realizing it was probably not the best choice of words once they were out and couldn’t be taken back.  I always told myself I had to stop being such an idiot, but I knew it was probably something I’d never be able to change. 

Pushing the nerves aside, I grabbed the cookies and walked up to the front door.  I’d always liked coming to Brandon’s house.  It was yellow and cheery and the ribbon his mom had tied around the porch railing nearly matched the shade of the siding.  Mrs. Seaver had put it there when Brandon left for his first tour in Afghanistan and I wondered if she’d take it down now that he was home. 

Mrs. Seaver was like the mom everyone dreamed of having, like one of the mothers from the old black and white TV shows…definitely the polar opposite of my own mother.  She was always happy and she never raised her voice, which was a feat in itself considering her son was one of the most obnoxious people I’d ever met.  He was always saying something inappropriate and Mrs. Seaver would just shake her head and ignore him.  I think she had to do that to keep her sanity. 

I’d come over and visit with her sometimes after he left for the army, especially after his accident.  It was hard watching her because she was so scared for Brandon.  I never saw her cry though.  She came close, but I think she was trying to save her tears, because like she’d told me on more than one occasion, at least her son was alive. 

I rang the doorbell and she greeted me, smiling like always.

“Mandy, honey,” she said, pulling me in for a hug. “I’m so glad you could make it.”

“Thanks for having me.  Here,” I said, handing her the Tupperware. “I made these.  Oatmeal chocolate chip.”

“You didn’t have to do that, but thank you,” she said as I stepped inside.  I loved this house.  It was always so put together, but not so much that it didn’t seem lived in like in my own house.  It always smelled good too. Today, it smelled like lemons. 

I could hear chatter and laughter and I don’t know why, but it made me smile.  It was just so different than my own house.  I followed Mrs. Seaver down the hall and when we reached the kitchen, I was greeted by Brandon’s whole family.  I hadn’t seen them all together in a long time.  Brandon’s two sisters were a lot older than us, so I didn’t know them very well.  Brandon always told us the age difference between him and his sisters was so big because his parents realized the older his sisters got, the more disappointed they were and decided they needed to try once more to obtain perfection.  He insisted they hadn’t had any more children after him because they had achieved that perfection.  I knew he’d been kidding, but knowing Brandon, I also figured part of him actually believed it. 

They were all together though now and I noticed how happy they all seemed.  Brandon sat on the couch, his little nephew on his lap, while his sister, Jennifer, and her husband took up the remaining cushions.  His other sister, Nicole, was pouring a drink and Mr. Seaver was leaning against the counter, dipping a carrot into ranch dressing.  They all looked at me when I walked in and the way his sisters smiled at me helped ease my nerves, but when Brandon smiled at me, I finally relaxed. 

He seemed so much like the Brandon I’d always known, even though inside, he had to be very different, even if he was acting like he wasn’t.  His light brown hair was cut shorter than he’d ever worn it before joining the army and he still had the pretty blue eyes I’d always envied.  Any girl would kill for his thick eyelashes and he hated when I’d tease him about them.  When he saw me, his mouth curled up into a smirk.  Not a bad smirk, but a Brandon smirk.  That was just how he was.  Sarcastic and annoying, but very loveable too.

“Hi,” I said cheerfully, waving to everyone.

They all greeted me back and his sisters came over to hug me and afterwards I settled into the recliner next to the couch.