Effortless With You (20 page)

The next day brings more hurt, frustration, and isolation as the day wears on. Justin’s completely lost all interest in our friendship. Not even saying hello.

I finish the accounting books during lunch break. I take off my bandages, easily flexing my fingers without pain. My stitches are nearly dissolved and the cuts are healing well.

There isn’t any good reason I can’t paint.

Justin leans against the shady side of his truck listening to his iPhone while eating chocolate pudding. At ease, he’s oblivious to the agitation that surges through my system as I walk past him. I climb into the truck bed, grab my ladder and an empty bucket with a paintbrush and rag. Justin clears his throat. “And what do you think you’re doing?”

“I’m done.” I climb out, pulling the ladder behind me and throwing it over my shoulder. My palms protest a bit but I don’t care.

As I walk away, I expect Justin’s refusal. It doesn’t come. I'm victorious. Ready to work and he can’t stop me.

Suddenly, the weight on my shoulder lifts. “What?” I snap.

“You aren’t painting.” His voice is stern.

I throw down the bucket and tear off my bandages. I wiggle my fingers and flex my palms. “They work fine.”

Justin shrugs. “I see that.”

“I’ve finished all of your busy work. I’m working.” I glare back at him. I watch him take a deep breath before he answers.

“Fine. You can work. But not with these.” He nods toward the ladder that now rests on his shoulder and my bucket on the ground. “You can go back to yesterday’s house and check the trim lines.”

“Isn’t that your job?”

“Technically, yes.” He won’t meet my eyes. I want to shake him. I can’t keep my anger in check any longer.

“So, is that my role now? Anything that keeps me away?” He won’t look at me. “Justin, am I that bad to be around?” I bite my lower lip, fearing the answer to the question.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

I grab his arm. He glares down at me. “What did I do?” The words slip out before I can stop them. I sound desperate. Justin’s face grows momentarily sorrowful. My stomach violently flips. It scares me.

“Nothing,” he says, looking into my eyes. The depths of their green startle me. Gorgeous.

I try to recover my argumentative momentum but my desire for the truth wins out. “So what’s with the shut out?” I take a step closer to him. My brain screams at me to run away.

He purses his lips before shaking his head. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He nods toward the green house’s front door. “Check the trim around the door and porch windows. If you need something, let me know.” His words are cold.

He leaves me standing alone on the porch, watching him walk away. He has no idea what I was talking about. Have I imagined the whole thing? In desperation to deal with Marissa and Zach, have I concocted a bond of friendship out of nothing?

I face the trim, pretending to review it.

No. I haven’t made up my connection with Justin. We had a unique relationship before I discovered Zach and Marissa. I admit that it stemmed from frustration and annoyance. It was not a romantic bond. But we have a bond. Normally people become closer after a tornado runs them down. Instead, everything changed. I will my heart to harden toward him. I can’t deal with any more loss.

***

Troy calls the day’s end as I’m finishing my review of Justin’s work. Of course it is flawless. No wonder he owns this stupid company.

I walk to my car, avoiding Alex’s attempt to catch my eye. I’m going home.

“Lucy,” Troy yells from behind me. “Don’t forget court time.” That’s exactly what I was
forgetting
.

“Yeah, come on. Best time of the day.” Alex’s voice makes me stop. I can’t blow him off. I explore my mind for excuses. I don’t feel well. I have to take care of Eric. My parents need me home. I am moving to Utah.

Justin pulls the ball out of his truck. He turns toward me and shakes his head. “Lucy doesn’t play. Let her go home.”

I glare back at him. I’ve had it with him ordering me around. I don’t care that he is my
boss.
I can’t take any more of his crap. “No.” I grab the basketball out of his hands and my palms spark with excitement. “Actually, I think I will play.” We glare at one another. My challenge hangs thick in the air.

“Oooo. You think you got it, huh, Lucy?” Alex whoops in the background. “You think you can handle me?”

“Yeah,” I shout back to him as I turn away from Justin. “I’m pretty sure I can keep up.”

Troy claps his hands, ready to take charge. “Okay, Lucy you’re with me and Jake. Emmanuel, you ref. And Justin, Alex, and Luke — Good luck!” Troy's hand lingers on my upper back, leading me down the hill and to the court. “Lucy, be careful. They play a bit rough sometimes under the boards.” I try not to roll my eyes. They didn’t even box-out. “I’m going to take Luke because I’m great under the boards and he’s our only threat there. Jake always takes Alex because, well, they have their love affair thing going on.” I nod, understanding. “That leaves Justin for you.”

Perfect.

Troy continues, “Now, Justin is good. … No, he’s the best. Watch for his outside shots. He’s quick on his feet so stay low. He prefers the—”

“Left, baseline shot. Yeah, I know. I’ve been watching you guys, remember?”

Troy smiles. “You’ve been watching us?”

“Well, you know. It’s kind of part of the job.” I echo Justin’s requirement.

Troy nods before pulling me close, blocking my view of the court. Good, I don’t need to see it until I get on it. I can do this. Anger is my fuel. Justin is going down.

Troy leans in and whispers, “Just keep Justin off the left side and Jake and I will do the rest. Don’t worry about it.” I gently push him away but he keeps standing in front of me like an oaf.

I bat my eyelashes at him. “The game?” My ankles dance. No fear. Just delicious adrenaline.

“Oh right. Let’s do this!” Troy hands me the ball. “Take your time getting us
the rock
,” he nods down toward the ball in an informative way. “We can win this.”

Somehow, I get to the top of the key. Justin walks forward to meet me. “You’re really going to play?” He offers me an out. My gut wants to dash but my feet hold firm.

“Yes,” I say. “I’m done with all of this. I’m playing, now.” My soul speaks. Justin backs away. Totally freaked him out. Good. All for my advantage. He’s going down.

“So Troy, I pass it to him, checking it? Right?” I say.

Troy glows. “Right, Lucy. Check it to Justin and then the game starts.”

“Oh, alright.” I put on a clueless face.

This is going to be awesome.

“Okay.” I toss the ball feebly to Justin. “Check.”

Justin smiles back at me but my heart does not sway.

I am unshakable now.

“Okay, Lucy. Now the game is on.” Troy informs me from below the hoop.

I smile back at Justin while I give the ball a few clumsy dribbles to the right.

“Good job. Now pass it,” Troy instructs again.

I ignore him, allowing my brain to assess the game. Luke is keeping Troy out of the lane, which is easy because Troy only shuffles back and forth on the right side. Jake and Alex are shoving each other on the baseline. This allows the left side of the lane for driving. As I'm looking down at the ball, fake dribbling, I notice that Justin is at complete ease.

That lady after the tornado was right; he severely underestimates me.

I look up at him while dribbling like a klutz. “Ready?” I ask with a wink.

He pulls up, confused, giving me an opening to drive the lane.

I push the ball down close to the ground, going in quickly on the right. He follows a step behind. Crossing the ball behind my back, I turn with my left leg forward, using my back to force Justin to my outside. I redirect, finishing my drive down the left side of the lane before passing underneath the basket and throwing up a reverse lay-up.

Swish.
HELL YES. I want to sing. It's like being ripped open and all the past comes flying out of my chest. I'm free.

Everyone stops moving, mouths dangling.

I turn toward Troy, “Umm, Troy, is that what you had in mind?” He nods with large eyes.

“WHA’, WHAAAAAAAAAT?!” Alex shouts from the top of the key. “Justin just got schooled!”

Justin’s mouth hangs open. I glare at him, giving him a few moments to take it in before I walk up to him, ball in hand.

“You play?” he asks.

“Oh. I play. Do you?” I hold out the ball to him. Challenge made.

He closes his mouth. His green eyes grow more intense. He takes the ball from me and smiles. “Be careful, Lucy.”

I roll my eyes. “I can handle it. Trust me.”

And so it begins. I fly off my adrenaline. I move effortlessly with the ball around the top of the key. I thrive on defense, stealing the ball from Alex anytime he mocks Jake. I keep Justin off the baseline, enjoying his surmounting frustration. I show off. Justin needs to feel the sting of defeat with every shot I make. There's no way I'm losing this. Not to him.

The game ends quickly. I clearly have the advantage because no one has ever seen me play. In the end, we win twenty-one to thirteen. I score fifteen from drives alone.

Justin only scores eight.

Jake sinks our winning shot. It's the first time that Troy and Jake have won. Troy runs toward me, with his arms open. He suddenly scoops me up and throws me over his shoulder. He runs with me around the court, circling Justin, Alex and Luke while yelling, “She’s ours. Look who’s the star now Justin.” I can’t help but smile. Troy says everything I want to say. After a few circles of the court, I get dizzy. I pound on his shoulders. He finally swings me down as he continues to swagger.

I walk off the court without a word.

My work is done.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I arrive home in time for dinner. The smell in the kitchen is intoxicating. Roasted rosemary chicken, garlic mashed potatoes, and green beans—Dad, always the culinary genius. I can’t resist. I grab a glass of water and sit down in my spot at the table. I love this place in the corner, on an old wooden bench near the window where I can watch the pond. My pond. It is the only thing I initially liked about our new house. When we moved here, I imagined it was whispering life’s secrets to me but I just couldn’t hear them yet. So I’d sit and wait patiently, hoping the ripples would reveal something magical about my future. This was before I started my horrendous freshman year. I look out onto the water, shamefully surprised that that same gullible hope remains. The sun bounces crystals off the ripples on the surface. I listen but don’t hear any secrets. No surprise there.

It takes me a moment to escape my nostalgia. I blink and really look at the actual scene. The pond has changed a lot. Our neighbors have landscaped a waterfall into it. How did I miss that? Has it really been that long since I have sat in this corner, waiting and listening?

The kitchen door swings open and the air in the room becomes thicker. Mom has joined us. For a brief second her eyes pass over where I sit and then she doubles back. She blinks as if I am a dream and then settles her face into a blank expression.

“Lucinda.” Her tone is low and her speech slow. I take a deep breath, bracing myself for impact. Mom stands in silence, a rarity. I take a second to look at her. Like the pond, she has also changed. Her eyes are deeper, making her crow’s feet more pronounced. Her favorite pink shirt hangs more loosely off her shoulders. She takes a breath as if to speak, but no words follow.

She is exhausted.

All of the adrenaline from the game quickly drains from my body into the floor. My heart follows, sinking below, where it belongs. I look into her eyes, looking for some sparkle of life. I see her blue eyes, the same as mine, except they are empty. It’s gone, like before she got well.

I don’t know how long we look at one another. Dad coughs so I look away, refocusing on the water. I don’t know how to begin a real conversation so it is easier not to. Our silence remains, only interrupted with a few bumps of glasses and plates while Mom prepares the table. The kitchen door flies open as Eric plows through it with his new truck. The moment he sees me in my spot his lips part into his huge, toothy smile.

“Lucy.” Eric’s speech whistles through a hole in his smile. He claps his little hands together. “You’re eating tonight?” Not waiting for a response, he pulls Dad toward the table. “I want to sit here. Please?” He points to Dad’s spot, which is right next to mine.

“Sure, kid. I’m sure Lucy would love to sit with you.”

“Lucy, I can sit here.” He runs to my side, using his hands to try to hoist himself up. I grab the back of his jeans, helping him up with a quick tug. He’s a little guy.

Dad walks up behind Mom at the kitchen island, giving her a kiss on the cheek. Mom continues mashing the potatoes. Her eyes swollen. She seems close to broken, stress written in the lines on her face. I cringe, knowing exactly who the stress is from. Dad stands behind her, his hands hugging her tiny waist, holding her together. I struggle to keep composed.