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I turn and leave her, mouth still open, every fiber of my body yelling at me to turn around, but I get into the car and leave instead. I can’t help but glance in the rearview mirror, and I’m pleased to find her still staring after me. She shakes her head before stomping back inside. I’m glad she can’t hear me laughing at her.
As I turn down the street, I pass the road my family lived on until I graduated. My parents decided they should live in a fancier home to symbolize their new status as the famous college football player’s parents. Now I know that was mostly my father’s choice.
It’s odd to think that someone else lives in my home now, when we did for so long, but I hope they’re happy there. I decide to drive down that way for old time’s sake, and when I see the one-story brick building, my chest aches a little. That’s where I learned to throw a football, in that front yard, my dad clapping as he prepared to catch it and my mom watching from the front porch. Then when Rachel and I became close, she’d join me, running around too but never catching anything, bless her heart.
To my surprise, there’s a For Sale sign in the front yard, and at the sight of it, my heart skips a beat. There aren’t curtains on the windows, and the yard is perfectly manicured. I’d bet money the family has already moved out. Before I take my next breath, my phone is in my hand and I’m dialing my accountant’s number.
My dad has taken a lot from me and my mom, but my childhood home doesn’t have to remain on the list.
* * *
Just as promised, I arrive right on time the next morning, and I’ll be damned if Rachel isn’t already at it.
Junior sends me on my way to the barn with a sheepish grin. “What are we gonna do with her?”
The door is cracked open, so I slip inside without knocking but still want to make my presence known. I don’t want to start the morning off by scaring her to death. The whole barn looks completely different.
“What the hell,” I whisper, glancing around at the bean bags and lounge chairs. “What is this?”
Rachel’s head pokes out from a small area that’s been closed off. It only has a window. I make my way over to her, and upon closer inspection, there’s a small kitchen in the room. I spot a popcorn maker on the counter.
“Hey.” She greets me confidently, but she’s not smiling widely or any of that shit. “We’re cleaning in here today. We have a group renting out the barn this weekend.
“For what? Where are the stalls?” I throw my hands up, looking around. “I thought we’d be taking care of animals today when he said to come to the barn.”
I turn back to her, and her amused expression rubs me the wrong way. “What are you grinning at? This is serious. Where’s Jack the Donkey?”
She bursts out laughing now, and I can’t hold back a chuckle of my own. “Jack the Donkey. I forgot about him. Two years ago, we moved away from animals—a lot of work, not something we could do. Jack and the other animals went to live at a local zoo.”
“A zoo?”
“Yeah, but it’s really nice. They don’t even have pavement. Everything is made for the animals to live in a natural habitat.”
“Okay. Well, that kinda sucks. I’ll have to go visit him.”
“From what I’ve heard, he’s quite the charmer. He’s had several children since you last saw him.”
“I still can’t believe you named him after me.” I shake my head.
“You dared me to! I wasn’t backing down.” She comes out from the kitchen, the saloon-style door swinging behind her. “Now, first we have to clean the kitchen.”
“Wait. What do they rent this out for, anyway? To hang out on bean bags all evening?”
Rachel shoots me a dirty look. “First of all, there’s nothing wrong with hanging out on bean bags all day. But no, for movies.” She points to the back wall. “There’s a screen we pull down, and then the movie projects on that wall. If someone is renting the barn out, they can include concessions or whatever. People have birthday parties, baby showers, stuff like that. And in the fall, we do scary movie nights and they can buy concessions.”
“That’s really fucking cool. Like our scary movie nights?” I risk teasing her, and god, when she blushes, that red spreading across her cheeks, I want to re-create our last night in this barn. Our eyes meet, and a sea of emotions fills my chest, waves of regret and nostalgia lapping at the shore.
“Jack, no. There’s never been anything like our movie nights.”
Her words take my breath away because she’s absolutely right. And there never will be again.
“C’mon, let’s get busy,” she says. “This place won’t clean itself. I’ll start with the popcorn machine.”
I follow her into the kitchen, the memories lying in wait, unspoken between us but still on my mind at least. Is she thinking about the nights we spent here? I know she had movie nights with her friends too—and dammit, even Parker—but surely ours were special. Different.
She hands me a bottle of kitchen cleaner and a sponge. “Why don’t you wipe down all the counters starting over there?” She points to the side furthest away from the popcorn machine.
I get to work without another word, spraying down the surface and scrubbing away.
