Hard to Love

1. Laura

Every time I see this house, it hurts. The jingle of the keys and the sound of a car driving down the road behind me are all that I have to comfort me as I walk through the front door.

When I was a kid, I loved the slate floors of my grandma's house. I remember thinking the coffered ceilings were the kind of thing castles had. I remember rocking on the front porch swing and the thoughts I had of stealing Mr. Timms's roses from next door. His front yard was always prettier than Grandma's overgrown shrubs. She worked at the diner until the week she died. She didn't have time to smell the roses, let alone tend to them in her small front yard.

Whenever I'd pluck a few roses, Mr. Timms always knew it was me and Grandma would make me go over and apologize once he told her. Stubborn old man liked his garden.

That was then. Seen through the eyes of a child. I know better now. It's a run-down house on a busy street in an old city. To add salt to the wound, the roses next door are grown over with weeds even though Mr. Timms still lives there. This street was destined for failure. I didn't know it back then, and I'm sure Grandma didn't see it when she bought the place after her husband of two years ran off with someone else and never looked back, abandoning her and her only son.

The train, the highways, the steel mill behind the development. It's all undesirable. My grandmother watched the neighborhood change as she aged. She hated what this town became when the steel mill went out of business decades ago and half the people here didn't have a job anymore.

I still remember the roses though. And I'll never take down that porch swing.

Shutting the door behind me, I take in what's left of her home. Half the furniture is gone since holding the last estate sale. I kept Grandma's chair though. I had it refurbished for her when the chemo stole her energy. I don't want to sit in the chair. I don't want to move it either.

I just want it to stay in the corner by the lamp where she read the newspaper and gossiped on the phone to Esme, another waitress from the diner.

Breathing out a tired sigh, I push off from the door and stare down at the bills in my hand. Grandma had plenty of them. And they keep coming.

I should sell this place, pay off the debts, and move in with Seth. At least that's what he says. But that's a little too much like moving on from the only person who was a constant in my life and putting all my faith in a man. A man who won't even tell me he loves me. Even if I love him, he scares me. All of this scares me.

The sound of the door creaking open startles me and I reward the newcomer with wide eyes and taking the Lord's name in vain.

It's only Cami.

"Shit," she says and cringes when she sees my hand over my chest. "Didn't mean to freak you out." She ducks her head a little with a grin as she shuts the door and says beneath her breath, "My bad."

"You could have knocked," I tell her and toss the stack of envelopes onto the side table at the entrance. It's butted up against the stairs that lead to the second floor. The hard maple side table has been there for years. When I was a kid, I thought about jumping off the balcony on the second floor and landing on the table. A neighborhood friend was chasing me when we were playing tag. I was a reckless and stupid girl. Hell, I'm still lacking in that department.

"Since when do I knock?" Cami walks right past me down the narrow hall and I follow her then stop when she gets to the kitchen. Leaning against the threshold and crossing my arms, I watch her open the fridge and take out a can of cola.

"You kinda look like hell," Cami comments with a wrinkled nose and then adds, "and you need to go grocery shopping."

"And to think... you're the bright light in my world," I say to mock my closest friend and her constant peppy tone.