Chadwalked through the entryway and into the living room, hands in his pockets andturning his head this way and that, like he was walking through a park on aspring afternoon. Taking in the sights and cataloging it all into his memorybank.
“Youhave a nice place,” he complimented quietly.
“Thanks.”I sounded breathless and hurried. “I can’t believe you still live at home.” Myeyes immediately pinched shut as I silently cursed myself for saying it. God,whyhad I said it? He didn’t want tohave that rubbed in his face, I’m sure. Well, unless, of course, hewantedto live with his parents, and whowas I to judge? Still, I knew he had a girlfriend, and—
Hechuckled heartily, the sound surprised my ears and I opened my eyes. “Yeah. Ikindacan’t believe it either. But, you know,” he shruggedand turned to face me with his lips quirked into a half-smile, “life.”
Inodded. “Yeah. Life.”
Anunknown something hung between us. Words left unsaid. Feelings left unspoken.That awkward tinge was there in full-force and I twisted the hem of my tank topbetween my fingers, as I said, “Um, so, you can help yourself to whatever’s inthe fridge. I’m justgonnago change.”
“Molls,you can’t give me permission to raid your fridge, or I’ll go and eat everythingyou got. You should know that.”
Ilaughed and relaxed just a bit as I headed toward my room. “Yeah, well. We’ll seeif you actuallywannaeat what I have, and if you do,then I’m notpromisin’ I’ll ever let you leave.”
Again.
***
“Okay,so Igottabe totally honest with you.” Chad leanedforward, pressing his elbows to his knees. He brushed the crumbs from his bristledchin and turned to me. “These things,” he pointed at the bowl of cauliflowertots on the coffee table, “are fuckin’ amazing. I could eat a thousand of thoseand not get tired of ‘em. Butthatstuff, isnasty as hell,” he admitted, gesturing toward the plate of vegan cheese andseaweed crackers. “Cheese shouldn’t be imitated. Period.”
Mylaugh nudged toward giggle territory. “You don’t like fake cheese. Noted.”
“Ijust don’t understand. If youwannaeat cheese, justeat somefriggin’ cheese.”
Ishrugged playfully, tipping my head. “I’m a lactose intolerant vegan.”
Pursinghis lips, he nodded slowly. “Yeah, I guess that’d be an issue. I’m just lactoseintolerant, but I can’t give up cheese. Therealthing,” he winked, “notthis stuff.”
Thesubtle admission triggered a memory. He’d always had problems with his stomachwhen we were kids. He’d always been sensitive to foods, often complaining abouthaving stomach aches or being afraid of getting one. I thought about asking ifit was still an issue, or if he’d figured out what was wrong, but I decidedagainst it. This was good, what we were doing, but asking such an intimatequestion seemed like overstepping. Maybe I’d save it for another time, but nottonight.
“So,”Chad relaxed into the couch and crossed his arms over his chest, “when did youdecide to startsingin’?”
Thatwas also an intimate question and I thought aboutrefusing,ortelling him it was a question for another day. But the familiarity inhis eyes was comfortable, and I felt I could be honest with him. I alsothought, that maybe if he knew one of my truths, he’d divulge some of his withme one day.
“Ialways liked to sing,” I replied simply. “But I was shy.”
“Yeah,”he nodded, “I remember.”
Ihesitated as I lingered on my tormented high school years. Did I really need toreflect on that? It seemed unnecessary, so instead, I skipped ahead. “Collegewas sort of a new beginning for me. I went out of state and didn’t know asingle person in my school. At first, I was terrified, because I never did toowell on my own.” My eyes lifted to Chad’s, and I saw a tinge of mournfulrecollection in his eyes. “But it didn’t take long for me to realize, I couldactually use that to my advantage. I could reinvent myself and finally feelcomfortablebein’ who Ireallywanted to be and without any expectations from othersboggin’ me down. I realized I didn’t need anybody else tobe strong and to change, so that’s what I did. I went vegan, enrolled in yogaclasses, got a guitar, and taught myself how to play.”
Chadnodded reflectively, and it seemed like he almost went somewhere else in thatmoment. His eyes narrowed and he stared beyond me. “Makes sense,” he muttered,still nodding. Then, he brought his attention back to me. “You’re really good,Molls.”
“Thanks.I love it,” I confessed, smiling warmly. “I mean, maybe I’m not as good assome peopleI know, but …”
Hescoffed. “Oh, knock it off. You write your own songs?”
“Yep.”I nodded pridefully. “I have a lot of feelings, so I write ‘emdown and sing ‘emlater.”
“Then,you’re better than I am, by a long shot. Iain’tanygood at writing lyrics. I leave that up to Devin and Jon.”
Ileaned my elbow against the armrest and propped my chin in my palm. “You likeit, though? I mean, it’sgottabe pretty cool,tourin’ the world andplayin’your guitar for a living.”
Witha deep chuckle, he nodded. “I’d say it’s the one thing about my life Idolike.”
Itwas a loaded statement, begging to be questioned, and I immediately asked thefirst thing that popped into my mind. “Why do you still live at home?”
Witha snort, his lips quirked into a half-smile as he glanced at me sidelong.“Whoa. You just come out with the big gunsblazin’,huh?”
