Sweet Nothing Read online

  Thankfully, we were heading south, where ice and snow wouldn’t be an issue.

  “Are you sure this is okay?” she asked for the tenth time as I pulled off the highway, into a gas station.

  “Yes.”

  I could feel her watching me as I put the car into park next to a pump.

  “You’ve barely said anything in the last hour,” she said.

  “Sorry. I’ve been thinking.”

  “About what?”

  I sighed loudly, rolling my neck from side to side, needing to stretch my stiff muscles. “A lot of stuff, baby. Do you mind getting us snacks?”

  She thought for a moment before she smiled and shook her head, causing her messy bun to bob back and forth.

  I handed her a twenty from my wallet. “Could you grab me a vanilla Frappuccino while you’re at it?”

  Avery took the bill from my fingers and pushed open her door. She walked across the lot, giving me a reprieve from her line of questioning. A couple of guys noticed her tiny skirt that was barely visible beneath my Adidas hoodie, and I bristled.

  I got out of the car and began pumping gas while watching Avery through the large glass window of the gas station. She hated road trips, but she was excited to drive down with me to meet my family. I struggled to create a better memory for her, knowing what waited for us in Richmond Hill. I was dreading having to see my mother again. Last time I had been home, she was falling down and incoherent for the majority of my visit. But, if enduring her for a few days would make Avery happy, then I would gladly suffer through her presence.

  While I waited for my tank to fill, I pulled out my cell phone and called my mom. After several rings, she answered, uncertainty in her tone.

  “Hello?”

  I squinted one eye, already regretting the call.

  “Hello?” she said again.

  “I’m coming home for the weekend,” I blurted out.

  “Josh? This weekend? You could have let me know a few days ago. The house is a mess.” I rolled my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose. My mother hadn’t cleaned her own home in years. She paid someone to come do it every few weeks.

  “I’m not worried about the house. I’m bringing a friend.” I glanced up at the window to see Avery standing at the cash register, waiting to pay. “Is that going to be a problem?”

  She was silent for a moment before responding.

  “Of course not. Your friends are always welcome here.”

  I mumbled a good-bye before disconnecting the call.

  Avery returned, smiling brightly with her hands loaded with candy. “I thought you said it would be warm when we hit South Carolina?”

  “I said it would be warmer. I told you not to wear a dress.”

  She narrowed her eyes as she handed me my drink and made her way to her side of the car, slipping inside.

  I hung the gas nozzle back on the pump and pressed the heels of my hands against the top of the car. I needed a second to get my head right before climbing into the car next to the girl I was trying to marry.

  “I just wanted to look good for your parents.”

  Rubbing my palm against my stubbled jaw, I spoke without looking at her. “I know, baby. I’m just … a little stressed.”

  “If you don’t want me to meet your parents—”

  “It’s not that, Avery. It’s my mom. She’s going to make this weekend hell.”

  “I can handle one weekend.” She touched my leg. “Nothing she can do will ever change the way I feel about you. You know that, right?”

  I recoiled from Avery’s sympathetic frown. Her feeling sorry for me was the last thing I wanted. I didn’t want her settling for the pathetic paramedic with a sad story instead of choosing Italian leather and a house in Alapocas. Even if she didn’t want to admit it, that fantasy sparkled in her eyes every time she looked at Doc Rose.

  “Josh,” she prompted.

  “I may have … downplayed Mom’s drinking problem. Last time I saw her, she could barely function.”

  “Oh …” She fell silent.

  “It’s okay, Avery. You didn’t know. I didn’t tell you how bad it was. I haven’t told anyone,” I said, sighing.

  “Josh—”

  “It’s not a big deal, Avery. I should have told you. It’s just a tough topic.”

  “But it is … a big deal,” she said. “If you want to talk more about it, you can trust me.” She blinked her big green eyes, hopeful.

  From the beginning, my past had been off limits. To Avery, talking things out made everything better. “Trust has nothing to do with it. I just don’t want to keep reliving it.”

  She opened her mouth to speak, but saw me readjusting my grip on the steering wheel. I started the car and headed to the on-ramp of I-95.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to push.”

  “I know you want to help, baby, but there isn’t much to say.”

  “You’re stressed. I just thought that maybe talking about your mom would make you less worried about seeing her.”

  Stepping on the gas, I hurried to get up to speed with the other drivers. I drifted in and out of the passing lane as my memory was assaulted by visions of my childhood.

  “She never recovered from losing Kayla. Their marriage suffered because of it. Nothing was the same after that. It was bad, and then it got worse. A lot worse. She turned to vodka, and he turned to other women.”

  Avery’s fingers pressed into my leg. “That’s awful.”

  I tossed those words around in my mind. Awful. Was it? She had checked out of our lives years ago. Not only had she withdrawn from me when we lost Kayla, but she had completely ignored my father. He was hurting too, and she had forced him to grieve alone. I didn’t blame him for seeking companionship from other women. He had suffered as much as she had, but he had been forgotten.

  “He never blamed me. Not once.”

  “Because you were a little boy, Josh.”

  “They should have gotten a divorce a lot sooner than they did,” I said, picking at the steering wheel.

  “Maybe they were afraid to lose anyone else.”

  I glanced over at her, seeing a familiar, old hurt in her eyes. “Dad was finally able to make peace with the fact that his family could never be the same. That’s when he bought our first Mopar, a sixty-eight Dart GTS in Rallye Red with a 383 Magnum. We worked on it together every free moment we had. She was beautiful. When she was finished, Dad sold it and bought a sixty-nine Frost Green Road Runner with a big-block. We found comfort in restoring old cars. It was cheap therapy. I don’t know what I would have done without my dad.”

  “Do you have to see your mom every time you visit your dad?”

  “No, I guess not, but I feel like I should. She makes it harder than it has to be. She blames me, with every drink, every glare, every breath. Probably why I don’t come home as often as Dad would like.”

  Avery covered her mouth and shook her head. “I am an asshole. I should have talked to you more before insisting we come here.”

  I offered a small grin. “You were right, though. You need to know what you’re dealing with before you shack up with me.”

  “That’s not why,” she said, shaking her head. “I just thought maybe … if I met them, somehow things would get better. That’s stupid, I know.” She became more flustered with every word.

  I looked over at her, her cheeks pink, her eyes glossed over. I was complaining about having parents when she didn’t have any.

  “Jesus, Avery. I’m the asshole.” I took her hand in mine, pulling it to my lips and pressing a kiss to her fingers.

  “No, I get it.”

  “You … you wanna …”

  “Talk about it?” she asked with a knowing look. She raised an eyebrow. Damn it if she wasn’t rubbing off on me.

  I shook my head and squeezed her hand. “I’m just nervous. You know that, right? I’m honestly not purposefully being a dick to you. If I didn’t think it was important, I wouldn’t be so worried.”


  “You’re supposed to be trusting me,” she said, squeezing back.

  I glanced over at her and then let my shoulders relax. “Okay. Let’s do this.”

  She beamed, and I pressed my foot on the gas.

  “I wasn’t sure you were really coming,” Mom said as we stepped inside the living room. I could tell she was as nervous as I was, and the smell of bourbon wafting in the air around her didn’t escape me.

  The paint, carpet, and furniture still looked the way it had when I lived there.

  “Mom, this is Avery. Avery, this is my mother, Mary.”

  Mom grinned, pulling Avery in for a tight hug. “You are a pretty little thing,” she said as she pulled back, looking her over.

  I could tell Mom was shocked that the friend I had brought home was female. I could have told her I was seeing someone, but I hadn’t called her since the accident.

  “Pleasure to meet you.” Avery’s voice shook, but she kept a smile on her face. It occurred to me why she was nervous. She wasn’t judging me, or even my parents. She wanted this to be perfect because she loved me. Guilt panged in my gut from what a jerk I had been for most of the trip.

  “I expected you earlier,” Mom said as she made her way toward the kitchen. I slid my fingers in Avery’s and gave her hand a gentle squeeze as we followed. Mom’s back was to us, but I could tell by the sound of glass clinking she was refreshing her drink.

  “You didn’t know I was coming until a few hours ago.”

  “It’s my fault. I made him stop at least a dozen times,” Avery said.

  Mom smiled at Avery, but once she glanced in my direction, her lips pressed into a hard line.

  “Well, at least you made it.” She shook her head in disapproval as she picked up a tea towel, folded it, and dropped it back on the table.

  “Did we miss dinner?” I asked, rubbing my thumb over the back of Avery’s hand.

  Mom laughed. “You know I don’t cook.”

  “I’ll order something, then. We haven’t eaten. You have a menu for Wok n Roll?”

  Mom pulled open a kitchen drawer, sifting through a few menus before holding one out to me. Avery’s eyes lit up at the thought of Japanese food.

  “They don’t deliver anymore. You’ll have to pick it up,” Mom spoke as she swirled the amber liquid in her glass.

  “No problem.”

  “Are you hungry?” Avery asked, her voice almost shrill.

  “Whatever,” Mom said, waving us away. “Just something, I’m not picky.”

  I pulled Avery from the house, unable to walk fast enough. Once we sat in the car, Avery touched my knee.

  “You okay?”

  I nodded, pulling back my cheeks to form some sort of a smile.

  “You don’t have to pretend for me. It’s okay. We can leave if you want.”

  I looked down. “If you’re looking to marry into a new family, mine isn’t it, Avery. I shouldn’t try to cheat you out of that.”

  “You’re my family, remember? And I’m yours.”

  I kissed her knuckles and started the engine, pulling out of the drive and onto the road. “We should stop by Dad’s.”

  “Is he close?” Avery asked.

  I breathed out a laugh. “Just down the road.”

  She smiled, and I made a detour to my father’s home. I hadn’t let him know I was coming. Part of me had been afraid that after Avery met my mom, she’d want to go home.

  When I pulled off the main road onto the dirt path leading to his trailer, I felt like I had been gone too long. I grabbed Avery’s hand and squeezed.

  “You look happy,” she observed with a surprised grin. “Thinking about dinner?”

  I parked my car next to my dad’s flat-black Impala and turned off the engine. “But you’re getting ready to meet the best damn cook this side of the Mason-Dixon.”

  My father stepped out onto his porch as we exited the vehicle, his grin widening as he recognized who had come to see him.

  “My boy,” he called out proudly as he hurried toward me with open arms. I grunted as he pulled me in for a bear hug that knocked the air from my lungs.

  “And who is this?” he asked as he pulled back from our embrace.

  “Dad, this is Avery. Avery, this is Silas, my father.”

  “Wow,” she said. “The resemblance is incredible.”

  “Your name is Avery?” Dad asked, fighting a laugh. “You’ve got to be shittin’ me.”

  “God has a sense of humor,” I said.

  “He sure does. That’s how you got this ugly mug,” he shot back, winking at Avery.

  The worry in her eyes had all but disappeared, and she seemed more like the girl I’d fallen in love with.

  “We don’t look that much alike,” I said. “My hair isn’t gray.” I laughed as my father hit me lightly on the chest with the back of his hand.

  “Watch it, boy. I can still kick your ass,” my father warned. He grabbed Avery in a playful hug, lifting her from the ground as she squealed.

  “You wish, old man.”

  With Avery’s feet firmly planted back on the grass, we fell silent as he took us in.

  “It’s been too long, Josh.”

  “I know.” I nodded in agreement as I looked over his old Impala.

  “But I see you’ve been taking care of Mabeline.” He nodded his chin toward my car. “I must have taught you somethin’ right.”

  “Avery, if he’s half as good to you as he is to that car, you’re one lucky lady.”

  She looped her arm in mine and snuggled against my side, and I felt a little taller, seeing her so happy, and maybe even a little relieved to be around my dad.

  “He’s a good man. He works hard. I’m very lucky. You should be very proud.”

  “I am.” Dad’s smile wrinkled the skin around his eyes. “Did Josh ever tell you about the time he grabbed the neighbor’s horse fence and pissed himself?”

  “We gotta get back to Mom’s,” I said, rubbing my hand roughly over my hair.

  Avery struggled to keep a straight face.

  “You’ll be back before you leave?” His question was more of a warning. I nodded, letting him pull me in for another hug.

  Avery spoke up as he released me and embraced her. “I will make sure of it.”

  “All right, old man. That’s enough. Let my girl go.”

  Dad stepped back as he looked us over, nodding approvingly.

  “You did good, son. You did real good.”

  “Thanks, Dad, but I already knew that,” I said with a grin. I hooked my arm around Avery’s shoulders and walked with her back to the car.

  After stuffing ourselves with sashimi, teriyaki chicken, and chicken fried rice around Mother’s kitchen table, Avery went into my old bedroom to take a quick shower.

  Mom was stumbling around the kitchen while Avery dressed for bed. Avery groaned from the bathroom, and I knocked on the door.

  “Everything okay?”

  “Fine!” she said with the chipper voice she only seemed to have around my mom.

  I joined Mom in the kitchen, watching her pour herself another drink.

  “Hey. Why don’t you ease up since Avery’s here,” I chided.

  “Mind your business,” she grumbled.

  Avery appeared, forcing a smile. She waved me away when she saw the concern on my face.

  “You look a little green, young lady,” Mother said, talking with her glass of bourbon.

  “Fine,” Avery said, sitting at the table. “I feel fine.”

  “Well, you don’t look it,” Mom snapped.

  “Jesus Christ, Mom. C’mon.”

  Avery shook her head, silently asking me to stand down.

  “How was the drive down?” Mom asked. “Besides the constant bathroom breaks, of course,” she said, eyeing me.

  “Fine,” Avery said, pressing her lips together. A thin sheen of sweat formed on her skin. She swallowed.

  “Baby,” I said, reaching across the table.

  “I’m f—”
Before she could finish, Avery covered her mouth and ran down the hall to my room. Sounds of her heaving traveled to the kitchen, and Mom shot me a smug look.

  I chased after my girlfriend, stopping in the bathroom doorway. The mirror was still fogged from her shower.

  “Go away, please,” she whimpered, spitting into the toilet. “Oh, God …” She heaved again.

  “You were feeling fine earlier. Maybe it was the candy?”

  “Food poisoning. Has to be the Japanese,” she said before hurling again. “I’m dying. I’m going to die.”

  “I’ll get you a cool rag.”

  “Thank you. Then please leave. I don’t want you to see this. It’s going to get ugly really fast.”

  I rubbed her back, knowing exactly what she meant. I wouldn’t want her to see me like that, either.

  I fetched her a cold rag and then shut the door behind me. “I’m going to check on you in ten minutes,” I said through the door.

  “Please don’t.”

  I pulled back my old gray and black comforter, and then placed a garbage can on the floor. Mother was still in the kitchen, watching me search through the cabinets for a clean glass.

  “For fuck’s sake, Mom. Glasses.”

  “Watch your language,” she said. “Water bottles in the fridge.”

  “You have something to say?” I asked, grabbing two bottles of Aquafina.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  I spun around to see her struggling to light her cigarette from a match, her eyes nearly closed.

  I sat the bottles on the counter and took the matches from her. She watched me with a frown and heavy eyes as I effortlessly tore one away from the matchbook and lit it for her.

  Leaning toward the flame, she puffed and then exhaled, enveloping her face in a cloud of smoke before inhaling and choking out a cough.

  “I know something is on your mind. Spit it out.”

  “She’s sick, huh?” Mother blew out a cloud of smoke and I waved it away.

  “She’ll be fine by morning. It’s been a long trip. The cigarette smoke isn’t going to help, if you’re wondering.”

  “I wasn’t,” she said, blowing out another puff. “So, this is why you’re really here? You got another girl knocked up and now you want my help.” Still the mother I remembered. After Kayla had drowned, she didn’t enjoy life sober.