The Wanderers

Chapter 7 || Happier Times

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2013 Lacey

"Sweetheart, could you drop off the check on your way to school today?" Mom asked, grabbing the last bit of luggage and putting it into the taxi. She's leaving today for a business trip to Texas, where she has to train teachers on how to use new software for transcripts.

"Yeah, no problem," I tell her, giving her a huge hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Have a safe trip. I love you."

"I love you too, and don't forget Damien should be by sometime tomorrow to stay here with you, so you won't be by yourself for three days." I just nod, she's told me every day this week and today's Friday! Even though, I'm well into my freshmen year in college mom still feels uncomfortable with the idea of me being on my own. Ugh. The curse of being the baby of the family.

After she leaves, I quickly get dressed and ready to go. Collecting all of my books and stuffing my English 122 homework into my bag. Mr. Baxter has a pretty strict policy about homework and tardiness. It's simple. No mercy. I respect it, but it can really be a pain in the butt sometimes. Especially, when you are running late because you just couldn't take your eyes away from Netflix long enough to function.

Something I had to learn the hard way was once you leave high school, Netflix enters your life and together you two embark on a love-hate relationship that will fill your life with joy and misery. Not to mention, turn you into a master at procrastination.

I look at the clock and see I have a few extra minutes, so I decided, what the heck. I can drop the check off now, and save me some time later.

When I get to Easton's house I pull my car to the side of the house, get out, and walk the same pavement to the entrance. Right as I'm slipping the check under the old welcome mat, the door opens and Easton steps out.

"Oh hey," I say, trying to see his face, but he's wearing a weathered baseball cap effectively hiding his eyes from me.

"Hey, Lacey," he says casually, but his voice cracked on the 'Y'. So I know there's something wrong. Instead of asking him because boys just sweep whatever it is under the table, and give answers like "nothing", or "everything's fine" when it's not. I wait until he's standing directly in front of me. Then, I get on my tippy toes and lift his hat up just enough to see his eyes.

He looks defeated. In the deep blue eyes that have captured my attention time and time again, I see a boy lost and hurt. He's eyes are swollen red from trying not to cry, but the rims are wet from losing the battle.

I still haven't said anything. I just loop my arms through his until I'm hugging. After a moment of awkwardness, he hugs me back laying his chin on top of my head. It's not long before I feel drops of tears falling on my cheek. We stay like that for a while; eventually, we end up in my car.

"My Mom is leaving my Dad, for another man," he says stone cold. "She gave him the papers today. They have been having troubles ever since we moved into this stupid house. Mom loves the money and Dad has to work too much to get it," he says to himself then he zones out deep in thought. "We use to be happy, well not happy, but happier. Now everything is just wrong."

"This might be completely wrong, but would you like to come to the house and look around. Maybe remember some happier times." He nods and that's all I need. No class today.

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2013 Easton

I'm sitting on a purple beanbag in my old room a.k.a Lacey's room. We had just explored the backyard. She asked me about the handprints in the concrete. I told her it was my mom's idea. I was five, and she decided we should leave our mark on the place, so Dad went out and bought concrete, laid it down and we stuck our hands in it at the same time. Elsa had gotten concrete on her face and thought it was going to stay with her forever.

In Lacey's room I notice where my transformer posters once hung proud and strong there are picture collages of the family I've watched from afar. There's a picture of Luke and Lacey in the driveway washing the car, they have soap all over themselves, the widest grins across their faces, and both of their cheeks turning red from the sun. Another is of her family gathered around Damien in a cap and gown after he graduated college. Another is an old photo of a young man, who looks almost identical to Luke and Lacey.

Across from her blue and green bed is a desk piled high with books, and a purple laptop being charged. The blue carpet now has a rug with various browns, blues, and greens. The wall next to the closet has various bags on hooks and a display of CDs. 

The room is still small. It still has four walls, and blue carpet, but they no longer hug me. They hug her. The room is Lacey, I thought as I watched her laying on her stomach with her legs rhythmically swaying in the air, while she reads a book on the bed. She let me just sit here looking around her room. Only asking every now and then if I needed anything. She didn't push me or question me, just waited.

"Hey," she said, catching my eyes on her.

"Um...thanks," I told her, starting to feel a little awkward about coming into her house because it is her house. It's not mine anymore and it hasn't been for a long time. No matter where we were my parents were bound to end up the same way they are today. I can't change that, but I can stop living in the past. "I like what you've done with the place."

She laughed, "This room has seen many different stages of me, but I like that it doesn't judge and it's there for me no matter what." She's right, as weird as, it may be, in your room, you never feel judged you feel alive, real. It's a place where you can truly express yourself. And I love that she gets that.

I look over at the girl, who started out as my enemy and became my best friend. Watching her I can't help, but wonder could the renter's daughter and the landlord's son ever be more than friends?

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