Kendall’s body relaxes against his, and he brushes a loose strand of her hair behind her ear. I turn back to the gray wall as he leans forward to kiss her. This couldn’t be any more awkward.
“So she wants vertical stripes, huh?”
“Spaced four inches apart,” Kendall answers Jameson.
He blows a low whistle as he looks around. “Max, you want to help me measure and mark while the girls tape?”
“Let’s do it.” Max’s answer is that simple, like he doesn’t find this arrangement uncomfortable. Am I the only one struggling to know what is a memory and what is reality? Unable to always decipher if Max is truly relaxed and smiling, or if I just want him to be.
Max and Jameson move and work seamlessly with one another. Each knows what the other needs or expects without verbalizing it. I briefly wonder if that’s what it’s like to watch my sisters and me when we’re doing something familiar. If so, it’s kind of beautiful.
Kendall and me taping however is not beautiful. Multiple times we have to pull a piece off the wall after realizing we started on the wrong side of a pencil mark again, or because we have a crease from trying to straighten a line.
“Ace, what are you doing?” I look up at Jameson from where I’m lying on my belly, scrutinizing the wall for a marker.
“I can’t find where the dot is.”
“Why are you laying down to tape?”
“Because when I stand up, I keep applying it so that it leans right.”
“And laying down helps that?”
“Kendall suggested it.” My eyes turn to see my smiling sister.
“And after twenty-one years, you still fall for her brilliant ideas?” Jameson grins and shakes his head. “This is you two TP’ing that house all over again.”
I push off the ground with my hands. “Not even close. We’re completely sober and doing something to help,” I object.
“And dressed,” Jameson adds.
Max turns away and coughs. His palm hits his chest a few times and his head shakes. I wonder if he’s trying to forget the memory, or if I’m just being selfish thinking his reaction has anything to do with the conversation at hand. It’s possible he only took a breath in wrong.
“This nothing,” Kendall says, smiling mischievously. “Your birthday last year, when I convinced her to go skinny dipping in the lake was noteworthy, this is just mildly amusing.” Her eyes quickly dart to Max and then return to the wall.
“The bear, that’s right.” Jameson’s head shakes and the tape measure snaps as it contracts. He climbs down the ladder and gets on his knees beside me and runs the tape along the trim.
“You mean the perverts,” Kendall corrects him.
Jameson’s lips tug up into a grin as he leans forward and marks the wall. “Landon was telling Wes that story when we were out last weekend.”
“For what purpose?” Kendall sounds slightly indignant.
I reach toward the wall with the tape and Jameson stops me by placing a hand on my wrist. “Other side.”
“It’s a good thing my brain understands science.” Jameson smiles too broadly for my lame excuse and then turns to Kendall.
“I don’t know. I came in on the tail end of it.” He sits back on his heels and watches me hand the tape over to Kendall, already on the step ladder to run it to the ceiling. “You guys are doing really good, but you should try going floor to ceiling this time.”
I laugh and my face heats. I don’t know if we’re excusing common sense because we’ve never done this and are so intent on making it perfect, or because the guys have us distracted. I’m fairly certain it’s the latter, at least for me.
We’re moving to open the gallon of satin pink paint, when Abby walks in. “I ordered pizza. Max, do you mind picking them up?” She runs a hand along her stomach.
“Out!” Kendall demands. “We just had this conversation!” It’s been over an hour, but we’ve had to remind her to stay out repeatedly all afternoon.
“I’m hungry though,” she whines in reply.
“Sure, I’ll go. Where’d you put in the order?” Max rubs his hands across his stained shorts, leaving a smear of light pink paint.
“Antonio’s of course. You probably need some help. Ace, you should go too.” Abby’s implication is so blatant I would laugh if it wasn’t me she was putting on the spot. Instead, my chin juts forward and my eyes widen.
“That’s a good idea. Your seats are slick and it would suck to get pizza sauce all over.” My mouth opens to protest at Jameson’s comment. He has been spending WAY too much time with Kendall.
“We’ll see you guys in a few. Don’t worry; we’ll wait until you’re back to paint.” Kendall smiles, portraying a false illusion of charm and innocence.
“Oh, and no caffeine.” Abby’s hands wrap around my shoulders. She walks me toward the doorway where Max is standing rigid, his hand gripping his keys, and eyes wide with uncertainty. I think we’re both fearful that if we keep spending time together, things are going to blow up.
His throat clears and my cheeks heat. He’s going to say this is a bad idea. He
should
say this is a bad idea. So should I. But, this feels like another rejection—it stings. “You guys have to get better at this.”
My fingers toy with the hem of my shorts. Having Max clarify their intentions—though subtly—makes this situation even more uncomfortable.
Max’s eyes turn to me and he inclines his head to the door. “Pizza.”
Walking the short distance through the apartment and down to the parking lot, time slows down, allowing me to fixate on the fact that I look like a mess, and feel like I’m walking too straight. I slump my shoulders slightly to try and look more relaxed and then feel even more awkward, and straighten again and feel even more rigid.
He unlocks the truck with the press of a button and unlike he did when we rode in his Jeep together, he doesn’t come to open the passenger door. I’m still debating if I wanted him to when I notice a water bottle lying in the middle seat. It was mine. I carried it in here from the hospital Sunday. I never would have remembered it if I didn’t see it again, that entire night is sort of a blur, but at some point, someone had passed it to me while we waited for the doctor. I don’t remember carrying it out. It’s still mostly full, showing proof I barely touched it.
Did I carry it out?
The truck starts with a soft rumble. It sounds so different than his Jeep. My mind turns with the gears. What do I say to the guy that was everything and is now supposed to mean nothing to me? This silence is unbearably uncomfortable. I can’t stop from guessing what he’s thinking. Is he wishing I wasn’t here? In his truck? In California?
“So, how’s medical school?”
Max’s head turns and his eyes focus on me for a second before he turns back to the road. I keep my attention on him, confused by his delayed response. Of all topics, this seems like a safe route. “I have my own set of flashcards.”
I smile out of relief more than humor. “I used the wrong set of flashcards to study for a test last semester.” I shake my head and release a short breath. “It’s amazing that I passed it.”
“I bet you got an A on the paper, didn’t you?”
I glance at Max and he’s looking at me. His head shakes and a soft chuckle mingles with the music. “You’re the smartest person I know. You’re astrophysicist material.”
“Says the guy studying to be a brain surgeon.”
“Neurosurgeon.”
My laughter fills the truck. It’s not even that his joke was all that funny, but having an easy conversation with Max makes laughing easier. Better. When my laughter fades into a smile I expect to feel the same stab of nostalgia I experienced earlier with the knowledge that I will miss this, but I don’t. I simply appreciate the moment, and attempt to stretch it. “Do you remember the Maximus flashcard?”
Max’s truck pulls into a parking spot, and he shifts into park before turning to me. “I remember everything.” His tone is solemn, but his face is relaxed. I keep his stare without abashment. I want to stay here and continue to draw out this moment. To feel this emotion that’s flushing through me, warming me, and filling me with something I have forgotten about. I don’t know how to describe it: it’s not the same comfort that I get from being around my sisters, or the adrenaline I receive when I reach that point while running; it’s a rightness, a completeness that makes my heart swell and my smile broaden. My head starts to race with interpretations of what this means, but a fog fills my thoughts because I know. My heart understands exactly what he’s saying to me … I think.
“I do too.” My admission makes me feel brave.
My phone rings, and we’re back in his driveway almost two years ago when his phone rang, back to where neither of us knows how to say the right thing to one another, but this time it’s both of us walking a gray tightrope, one that felt less intimidating to cross because I could see him at the other side.
His eyes close and he looks embarrassed, or possibly ashamed. It awakens old tendencies, making me question the reality of the moment. My phone rings again, and Max’s entire body shifts away from me. Opening the door, he climbs out in one fluid movement.
I don’t know if I can go out there and face him right now. I feel as though he’s rejecting me all over again, and it makes my eyes and throat burn. I need to stop being so sensitive. There’s nothing to reject. He’s already moved forward.
My hand fishes out the offending phone to shut it off when I see it’s Abby calling.
“Hey.”
“Sorry, would you mind asking for some parmesan cheese and some extra garlic butter? You know, the good stuff to dip our crusts in?”
My hand closes the truck door behind me, and my feet navigate their way up to the storefront. “Parmesan cheese and extra garlic butter, I’m on it.”
A cooler breeze blows against my bare legs as Max holds the door open for me. I haven’t worn shorts in so long every gust of wind seems to be catching my attention this week. My eyes move to the counter of the pizza parlor, unable to look at Max with the unease still prominently flowing through me.
“Harper?”
My eyes slide to the far end of the counter. Melissa’s eyes are bright and friendly. I think I’m smiling as I move closer to her.
“Hey.”
“How are you?” Her question triggers thoughts of Kitty. I’m still angry about our conversation the other night, I’m even more afraid of her prognosis. It’s bothered me greatly how accepting she seems to be of her fate.
My cheeks feel uncomfortable as I try an assuring smile. “I’ve been well, thanks. How are you?”
“Good. Really good. I switched majors after last year. I have been hoping to run into you on campus. I thought after our class last year with Professor Parker, I would see you in some classes this year. I’m taking his Issues in Applied Ethics and Mr. Grant’s Conceptual Foundations in Modern Science this semester.”
“Wow, that’s really awesome, Melissa. You were so great in philosophy it doesn’t surprise me at all to hear you’ve chosen to go into it. You’re going to do great.”
“Did you continue with it?”
I feel Max’s shadow behind me like a physical weight as she looks to me for an answer. “I actually decided to go into medical science.”
“Really? That’s exciting! And really impressive! I mean, that’s big! Are you enjoying it?”
“I don’t know.” My answer surprises both of us. I have woken up asking myself this question every single day since Kitty and I discussed my reasoning for going into the field. I have enjoyed learning more about the human body, I have loved working at the lab with Fitz, I appreciate the experience I received with working with the doctors before him, however, the passion I have felt when learning other subjects in school has been absent. I really haven’t addressed it, I attributed it to still not being fully comfortable and in the right mindset for learning. Lately I haven’t been so sure.
I swallow back words that want to be heard. Kitty has done this to me. She has opened the floodgates of my feelings and the need to express them. “We have an order for pickup. It should be under Abby.” Melissa is still staring at me with a calculating expression.
Her eyes blink in quick succession several times and then she smiles and pushes away from the counter. “Let me see if it’s ready.”
The hot pizzas taint the air, masking Max’s scent that I’ve worked so hard to find when the truck still smells so new.
“I don’t know about you, but I can’t eat pizza again.”
My head turns toward Max. I have avoided looking at him since we arrived at Antonio’s with success. His eyes are gentle. It’s obvious that he senses my unease.
“We should probably pick something up that’s fast, but we could get tacos, or a burger. What sounds good to you?”
“Can we go to In-N-Out?”
Max smiles at my quick response and does a single nod. “Absolutely.”
The ride to the fast food restaurant is silent but for the radio and the rumbles of the road. I still can’t shake my embarrassment, and I’m not quite sure why I’m this uncomfortable. It’s not as though I’ve said or done anything that warrants this nervousness.
“Why don’t you call Kendall and see if she and J want something, too?” There are several cars in front of us, but he still pulls to the side of the drive-thru as if he’s not in a rush.