Such a bad influence a n.., p.20
Such a Bad Influence: A Novel, page 20
“Mom.” Wade kissed his mother on the cheek. She took him in with discerning eyes but made no comment as he opened the fridge and grabbed two beers. I declined when he gestured toward me with a bottle. The last thing I needed was alcohol.
“Felicity.” Mary finally acknowledged my presence.
“Thank you for having me for dinner, Mary. Your house is beautiful.” My mother hadn’t raised me to be impolite, no matter whom I was talking to.
Behind the counter, Lauren gave me an encouraging smile. I was about to address her when a loud shriek erupted behind me.
“Waaaaaaade!” A girl with long brown hair ran into the kitchen. Bethany, I thought, the oldest daughter who was around seven years old.
Her sisters came running behind her, shorter legs not carrying them as fast. They had a stethoscope and one of those hammers a doctor bangs against your knee.
Wade smiled as they bolted toward him. “Oh, good, the monsters are here.”
“I’m not a monster,” Bethany shouted, but she was smiling from ear to ear.
“He’s sick!” Kate pointed a finger at him. She looked at her sisters for support in her assessment. Her hair had been jaggedly chopped across her forehead, making me wonder if she or one of her sisters had cut it.
“He needs the hospital,” Bethany said. Willa dropped her stethoscope in her excitement.
Mary eyed them with impatience. “We’re having dinner in five minutes.”
“A local hospital, then,” Lauren responded, cutting across Mary’s harsh glance. “Go ahead, girls. He’s looking a bit pale.”
I was shocked when Wade shrugged, taking a sip of beer before allowing himself to be led from the room by his nieces. “All right, but don’t tell your dad, or he’ll bill my insurance.”
“What’s that?” Kate asked, pulling at his arm.
“Something he doesn’t have,” Ben shouted from the living room.
With Wade gone, I was awkwardly left in the kitchen. I considered offering to help cook, but that would probably offend Mary. I settled for helping Lauren set the table in the dining room.
“Sorry about the chaos. With Halloween coming up, we’re encouraging the girls to be something other than princesses this year,” she said.
I set a plate on the far end. “Cinderella?”
“Elsa,” she responded. “Always Elsa. She’s cool and all, but I want them to try something else. Ben had the stethoscopes already, so . . .”
“No, I think that’s great. And they’ve got the perfect patient, because I doubt Wade has been to the doctor in years. They’ll find tons of things wrong with him.”
She glanced toward the kitchen, then lowered her voice. “I think Mary’s upset because the girls took him away before she could comment on his shirt.”
“He doesn’t come over here much, huh?”
“Almost never. We’re in for a fun evening.”
I grew anxious once the table was set and Lauren fetched the girls.
When Mary took a seat at the end of the table, I retreated to the opposite side, sitting to Jeff’s left. Wade slid into the chair on my other side. He had a pink Band-Aid on his arm.
“What’s the diagnosis, girls?” Lauren asked, pulling Willa into a chair beside her. “Is he going to make it?”
Bethany, whom I understood to be the boldest of the group and the lead doctor, spoke up. “He’s got the flu. But we gave him a shot, so he’ll survive.”
“A shot of what?” Ben asked. “Flu shots are given to prevent infection, not after.”
He stopped talking when he saw the look Lauren was giving him.
“It was a special shot,” Kate said, missing the exchange between her parents.
To my right, Jeff started filling my wineglass.
“Oh, none for me, thanks.” I didn’t want to waste his wine. The bottle looked expensive.
He kept pouring. “Trust me. It will help.” His devilish smile reminded me of Wade’s. Maybe this was where he got it from. “Besides, congratulations are in order.” He pulled the bottle away with a flourish. “On selling the farm.”
I nearly knocked the wineglass over. “What?” My hands shook. “What are you talking about? I didn’t sell anything.”
Jeff looked confused. “I saw the construction plans a week ago . . . for your lot.”
I couldn’t afford the ice cream Alex was currently eating, let alone construction for the farm. I felt faint. “You’re mistaken.”
“I could’ve sworn it was your place. Not many spots in town with blueberry bushes.”
The mere thought of not owning the farm made me spiral. I had to get out of here. I had to run home and lock the front door and tell Alex to barricade all the windows. No one was getting my house or the blueberry farm. I’d die before I relinquished my control over that property.
“Who gave you those plans?” I asked Jeff, but Wade turned to me, trying to draw me into his spat with Sam, clearly not reading the anxiety on my face.
“Did you know that Sam peed his bed when he was thirteen?”
Jeff rolled his eyes. Wade’s immaturity knew no bounds—not even at his parents’ dinner table.
Sam pointed a fork at Wade’s head. “I was eight, and I’d just watched Halloween.”
“You were at least twelve,” Wade insisted.
“Well, now your story’s changing,” Sam said, eyes lighting up at the potential for a counterargument. “So why should anyone believe you?”
“Knock it off, boys,” Jeff said, eyeing Mary with caution. “No fighting at the dinner table.”
Their squabble slipped beneath my conscious thought, as I was still focused on what Jeff had said about selling the farm. Why would he think I’d sold my house? Someone could offer me a billion dollars and I’d still never sell an acre. Per the tax certificate letter from J&C, I still had time to pay off the lien before they initiated foreclosure proceedings.
Jeff was mistaken: That was the only logical conclusion. He could’ve seen the plans for any number of farms in Elswood. Half the town dabbled in growing fruits or vegetables on their property. He probably didn’t know the difference between a peach tree and a blueberry bush.
“Bed wetter,” Wade slipped in, getting the last word, completely oblivious to my panic attack. Bethany and Kate laughed at their uncle’s expense. Now I understood why they liked Wade so much. He and his nieces were all at the same maturity level.
“So nice you could join us, Wade,” Mary said, silencing Sam’s retort.
Jeff nudged me with his elbow and picked up his wineglass. I did the same, trusting the man to his ways. He knew the routine better than I did.
“Even if it took a two-month crime spree and a broken window to get you to walk a mile to your mother’s house for dinner,” Mary said.
“My work hours don’t leave a lot of time for dinner parties.”
Ben rolled his eyes, but Mary narrowed hers. “How is that bar of yours?”
“It’s still there. You thinking of stopping by for happy hour? We’ve got two-for-one shots on Mondays and Wednesdays.”
Mary looked ashamed. “I’m shocked the health inspector hasn’t shut it down.”
“They tried, but the lady lost the paperwork.”
Lauren laughed until Mary gave a look that silenced her. I took another sip of wine, steeling my nerves.
“I like the bar,” I chimed in. Holding a wineglass made me feel like a true adult with opinions. “It’s got a certain charm to it.”
“We all know your taste is flawed, Felicity,” Mary said.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
Wade stared down at his plate, suddenly fascinated with the heap of chicken and potatoes he’d assembled.
“Only that your taste in friends leaves something to be desired.”
Jeff stirred beside me. “Mary, we agreed we weren’t going to discuss it.”
“No, you suggested that we shouldn’t discuss it, but this is my house, and I’ll discuss whatever I want.” Mary turned from Jeff to me, not quite done with her rant. “Do you have any idea how much trouble you’ve caused, Felicity? You deserved to lose your festival slot. The council should’ve gone one step further and banned your criminal friend from the town once and for all.”
Her words knocked the breath from my lungs.
“Mom!” Wade set his beer on the table with a thud. “We haven’t even started dinner yet. Save the eternal damnation for dessert.”
“That girl tried to steal from me,” Mary said. “Broke the window to my store and cost me several hundred dollars in repairs. I’ll speak about her however I want.”
“No, you won’t,” I said, matching her tone. “Not in front of me.” Anxiety over losing the farm, coupled with my anger over Mary’s insults, made me bold. “If the choice is between Alex and that elitist, embarrassing Founders’ Day Festival—it’s going to be Alex every single time.”
“You sound like your mother,” Mary said. “It would’ve been just like Josette to take in a teenager who had problems with the law.”
The corners of my mouth twitched upward. “That might be the nicest compliment anyone’s ever given me.”
She hadn’t said it to be nice, but warmth flooded my body. Mary was right: My mom would’ve taken Alex in and defended her, no matter the consequences to her own reputation.
Despite the tense atmosphere around the table, I found myself thinking about my mom and her compassion and generosity—two qualities that defined her life, two qualities she’d tried to instill in me.
When Brenna Walsh hadn’t invited me to her birthday party in the fourth grade, my mom said I still had to be nice to her.
“But I invited everyone to my birthday party,” I’d said through tears. “It’s not fair.” My mom didn’t understand that everyone else was going to get to go to the bowling alley and eat cake.
Everyone except me.
“Sometimes the best thing you can do is continue to be kind even when someone disappoints you. I don’t want you to give up on people, Felicity.” My mom had put her hand under my chin, raising it. “Because you, my dear girl, have so much love in your heart. And one day, that love is going to change lives.”
Despite the entire Londergan family looking in my direction, a tear trickled down my cheek. Wade squeezed my knee under the table.
“Does anyone want an onion ring?” he interjected, taking the attention off me. He held up the box, grease seeping through the bottom and onto the polished wood table. Sam shook his head, and Ben grabbed Kate’s arm as she reached for one.
“No takers?”
Mary’s eyes narrowed as Wade set the box on a white dinner plate between the asparagus and homemade dinner rolls.
Grateful for the distraction, I took an onion ring and put it on my plate. Solidarity. Somehow Wade and I were in this nightmare together. He smiled as I ripped the fried vegetable in half. It was greasy, but much better than the baked yams. Maybe the extra calories would give me enough energy to go another round with Mary.
Thirty
“Only four dinners to go,” Wade said as he shut the door behind us. He looked shorter than when we’d begun the evening three hours ago.
“I don’t know if my self-esteem will survive four more dinners. By the time we finished passing around the mashed potatoes, Mary had already carved out my heart to serve next week.”
He laughed without humor, then gently yanked my sleeve. “Come with me. I’ve got a cure for that.”
The sky had turned almost black, but streetlamps lit the way as we walked through the town square. Wade disappeared inside the ice-cream shop, then reappeared with two cones. We made our way to the gazebo and watched cars pass as we ate our dessert.
Wade stretched out, crossing his ankles in front of him.
“What’s the deal with the onion rings?”
He smiled my favorite devilish smile. “Mary doesn’t approve of anything bar related.”
“Why not?”
“I was supposed to take over the construction business from my dad, but I nixed that idea after a few days of manual labor.” He gestured in the general direction of his parents’ house. I liked that he didn’t have huge ambitions or a demanding job. He was content with his bar—happy, even, living the life he wanted. I smiled warmly, knowing he couldn’t see my expression in the dark. “She’s upset she can’t control my every move.”
“I don’t think that’s true. She wouldn’t have traded Alex’s freedom for your presence if she didn’t love you and want to spend more time with you. Sometimes it’s nice to be needed.” That was how I felt about Alex. There were days after my mom died when I didn’t shower, eat, or get out of bed. But after Alex had called and needed me to do something, to be somewhere, things had changed. I had a reason to get up and start the day because Alex needed me, whether she wanted to admit it or not. And in return, I’d needed her, too. “Mary wants to spend time with you because you’re her kid. I’d give anything to have dinner with my mom one more time. Or think of Alex, whose mother gave her up for adoption.”
He tensed beside me on the bench. “I shouldn’t have complained.”
“Relax,” I said. My goal hadn’t been to guilt-trip him. “I’m just saying you could let some of her comments slide because you still have a mom. But I get it. Mary’s no picnic.”
I finished the last of my ice-cream cone. Wade had finished minutes before me, having bitten straight into the cold dessert like a savage.
“Unlike your mom, who was probably the nicest person in town,” Wade said.
I looked around the gazebo. “She used to love sitting in the square and watching the sunset. After she died, I tried to donate money and get a bench named after her, but all of them had sponsors already.” I bit my lip, not wanting to think about that time of my life. I tried to lighten the conversation. “Did you have her in class?”
“Algebra, sophomore year. Got a C plus.”
“Really? You did that well?”
“She was an easy grader.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And of course, I had her before the homecoming incident. I imagine she would’ve graded a bit harder after that.”
“Well, she did pop champagne after you tore your ACL.”
He turned to look at me. “Did she really?”
“She didn’t say anything about you, but the day after your injury, she came home with a bottle, and we drank it out of teacups.” I smiled at the memory. We’d toasted to karma. Wade Londergan had been the only person my mother couldn’t stand. What would she think about me sitting on this bench with him after having dinner at his parents’ house?
“I suppose I deserved that,” he muttered. “One of the worst days of my life, when that tore during practice. Stupid Grady Wellser tackled me from behind during a drill.” His hand went to his leg as if the pain was still there. “But what I did to you was way worse than a torn ligament.”
My first thought was to act like it was no big deal. Like I had magically gotten over it. But I knew I wouldn’t fool him. That dance had stood between us for years, and we wouldn’t get beyond it without addressing some uncomfortable truths.
I looked at the ground when I spoke. “If you think your mother messed with my self-esteem, you have no idea what something like that does to a fifteen-year-old girl who hadn’t even been kissed yet.”
He flinched. “I’m sorry. I was so used to people giving me whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted it, because of football. It took me a long time to realize how terribly I acted.”
So I was finally getting my apology. Twelve years later.
“At least you have an excuse. You were a teenager. I was twenty-seven when I decided to hurt you.”
“Yeah, well . . . like I said, I deserved it.”
“It was still wrong, Wade. I shouldn’t have done it. And then you came through for me with Alex, even after some of the things I said the next day.” I knew what I needed to say, even if it took me a second to build up to it. “Thank you for that.”
“Five dinners isn’t exactly torture. I think I can handle it.”
“But it’s not easy for you, and I appreciate it. I owe you for what happened with Alex.”
“Can we call it even? I can’t keep track of who owes who for what. You may not remember, but I wasn’t the brightest guy in high school.”
“2.6 GPA.”
He laughed loudly. “It went up, actually. Graduated with a 2.84.”
“What an accomplishment.”
He sat back against the bench, draping one arm around my shoulders.
“So, are we friends now?” I asked after a moment.
“Friends?”
“You know, like no more throwing loud parties to piss me off, no more half-dressed women leaving in the morning, and—”
“No more stealing my truck or egging it, or yelling that I’m an asshole . . .”
“Well, maybe not in public,” I countered.
He squeezed my shoulder once. “I’m game if you are.”
“Then we’re friends.”
“Fine.”
“Fine.” I couldn’t help grinning. It felt significant, past regrets mended and closed up so that I could move on. One down and about two hundred to go before this town accepted me again. I hoped everyone would be as forgiving as Wade.
We split up at the end of our street as he went toward his house and I went toward mine. I waited on the porch, hand on the doorknob, till he reached his door and turned back. I waved at his smile, then went inside, feeling better than I had in weeks.
“How did it go?” Alex asked from the couch. She had her feet propped up on the footstool. Had she moved since I left?
“Well . . .” I sat down beside her. “We’re friends with Wade again.”
She smiled. “Good.” Then she cleared her throat and tried to act like she didn’t care. “’Cause we’re out of eggs.” Her focus returned to the cop show on TV. From the music, I surmised that the hero was closing in on the murderer. Most episodes ended with a neat bow—a rectified wrong. The predictability was comforting, but life had more nuance than good versus evil, cop versus killer.
