//14// If You Ever Said You Missed Me Then Don’t Say You Never Lied

It was three o’clock in the afternoon when I heard Pink Floyd’s “Mother” playing from a distance; I was still asleep.  The sound grew louder, coaxing me from a dream I was already starting to forget.  As the fogginess of subconscious lifted and was replaced with the blinding light of reality, I began to understand the presence of the song:  I nearly fell off the bed reaching for the jeans I had left my phone in.

“Hey, Mom,” I croaked.

“Zachary.  Were you still in bed?”

I rolled my eyes at her disapproving tone, replying as calmly as I could.  “I was up late working on a song,” I unsuccessfully tried to stifle a yawn behind my words; I was pretty sure what actually came out of my mouth sounded more like Charlie Brown’s teacher than actual words.

Thankfully my mother, who had gone through seven different toddler stages of her own, not to mention the nine grandchildren, had no trouble understanding what I had just said.  “Oh!  Well, I guess I can cut you some slack this time,” she chuckled.  “So, I was calling because Ryland is in town and I wanted to get everyone together.  I know it’s short notice, but your father is grilling ribs, burgers, and hotdogs, and I’ll have potato salad.  Be here in an hour?”

“I dunno, Mom,” I yawned again. “I was up late, I didn’t sleep very well…”

“I’ll see you in an hour, Zachary.”  Her voice was even, resolute, and before I could offer another argument, the line was silent.

She had hung up on me.

I got up from the bed, despite grumbling about how inept I was at telling my mother no, and made my way through a shower.   I was dressed and out the door in under twenty minutes, arriving at my parents’ house fifteen minutes after that.  The front door was open, Chuck–my dad’s golden retriever–silently sitting behind he screen door, keeping watch.

“Hey, buddy,” I said, opening the screen door.  Chuck’s tail began to wag, fiercely sweeping the foyer floor.  “Where’s Mom, Chuck?” I asked, patting his head.  He let out a low “wuff” in hello, then got up and walked toward the kitchen.

I followed behind him, my nose picking up the scent of Dad’s charcoal grill crisping up some delicious animal meat.  My ears were alerted to the faint sound of laughter coming from the back yard, and my feet carried me in that direction, despite the overwhelming desire to run in the opposite direction I began to feel.  I paused in the French doors that opened from the kitchen to the back patio, my body rooted in place by what I saw in the back yard.

Taylor and Natalie were already over; Tay was helping Dad at the grill, and Natalie sat with Mom–who had Willa in her lap–at the glass-top table.  Out in the yard, Jessie, Zoe, and Ryland were chasing my niece and nephew around with yard hoses and squirt guns.  Penny seemed to be trying to join forces with her aunts and Ryland against the boys, taking a water gun out of Zoe’s hand.

My eyes settled on Ryland, her hair wet and matted across her face, as she chased Ezra with her water gun.  She was laughing, her bare feet leaving foot prints in the muddy grass, as Ezra darted toward the old tree fort.  He climbed it effortlessly, pulling up the rope ladder behind him.  “Don’t think that’s gonna stop me!” She called up to him.  “You’re gonna need to use the little boy’s room eventually, Ez, and I’ll be here to get you!”  She bounced a little, her wet t-shirt clinging to her in all the wrong places so well.

The sight made me smile, the first smile in I don’t know how long that wasn’t fake and forced, and I took that opportunity to announce my presence.  “I would just surrender now, Ez,” I called as I stepped out on to the patio.  “Ryland holds the World Record for Longest Stand-Off With a Squirt Gun Aimed At An Eleven-Year-Old.”

Four tiny mouths simultaneously exclaimed “Uncle Zac!”, and eight tiny feet came barreling toward me, Ezra a little behind having to lower and then climb down the ladder.  I gave out hugs as arms circled around my legs and waist, ruffling hair and giving a noogie or two.

My mother was standing next to me now, Willa on her hip, and she leaned over and kissed my cheek.  “Hi, honey!  How are you?”

“I’m fine, Mom.  How are you?”

“Happy you’re here,” she replied with a smile.

I made my way around and said hello to everyone; Natalie asked three times if I was sure I was OK, and Jess gave me an awkwardly long hug.  Tay gave me a cold “Hey” when I walked over to where he and Dad were at the grill.  It was as if he was indifferent to my presence, not even lifting his gaze from the ribs he was slathering with barbecue sauce.

“Heard Tay got that shiner from you,” Dad said, indicating the bruising around Tay’s eye.

“Yeah…we uh, didn’t exactly see eye to eye on something,” I mumbled, stuffing my hands in my pockets.

“I think you’re both old enough to know better,” My insides churned at Dad’s words, my already guilty conscience hurling insults at myself.  Dad may have been talking about the both of us, but he was most certainly speaking only to me.

“I let my emotions get the best of me,” I confesses.  “Won’t let it happen again…at least not on your face.”

“Really, Zachary?” Dad reprimanded.

“I’m thirsty, I’ll be back,” I turned an walked back toward the house, my head down as I moved briskly across the patio.

I had made it all the way to the French doors without incident when I saw her leaning against the island in the center of the kitchen.  Her hair was still matted to her forehead, the wet t-shirt she had been wearing removed to reveal a bikini top, it’s purple and pink tie-dyed strings tied in a bow between her shoulder blades.  There was a tattoo on her left side, words scrawled in a fancy script I wasn’t close enough to read.

Jess was standing on the opposite side of the island, and her eyes finally found me hovering by the door.  She straighted up, clearing her throat.  “Hey, Zac,” she greeted, an awkward smile curving her lips as she began moving toward me.  “I’m gonna go see if Natalie needs any help getting the kids cleaned up,”

She brushed by me, leaving me standing alone in the kitchen with Ryland.  She turned around to face me, brushing the hair off her face.  “Hey,”

“Hi,” my voice didn’t sound like my own, and my body wasn’t responding.  All I could do was stand there, my hands in my pockets and my eyes avoiding hers, like a fool.

She cleared her throat, pushing away from the island and walking to the fridge.  “Would you like a soda?”

“Um, sure.”  Finally, my feet moved and I took a few steps in the kitchen.  Ryland walked over to me, holding a can of Mountain Dew out.  Our fingers brushed as I took the soda from her, and I felt my cheeks grow warm.  “H-how have you been?”

Ryland shrugged, leaning back against the island again.  “I’ve been alright…how have you been, Zac?”

I didn’t like the tone in her voice; it was full of pity.  I braced myself for the anger to boil within me, but it never came.

Something about the way her blue eyes surveyed me, exposing all the concern the rest of her face tried so desperately to conceal, made me crumble instead.  Tears I hadn’t known I was holding back began to trickle down my cheeks, my shoulders slumping forward.

Ryland was at my side a moment later, wrapping her arms around me in a hug.  “It’s OK,” she whispered.

Instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her as well, the soda can falling from my fingers with a “thunk” as it hit the floor.  I breathed on the scent of her–an odd mix of sunscreen, vanilla, and coconut–my body shaking against hers.  “I’m sorry,” I whispered in to her hair.

“I know,” she was rubbing my back; slow, gentle strokes that sent fire coursing through my veins.  Then, all too soon, she was pulling away, my weight being shifted back to my own two feet abruptly.  “We don’t…we don’t have to talk about it, Ok?  We can just pretend that it–pretend that it never happened.”  Her voice caught in her throat, tears threatening her.

“Ryland…I don’t want to forget,” I whispered, taking a step closer.  I watched, absorbing every detail a her face tilted up toward mine–the way her lips parted ever-so-slightly, the flutter of her eyelids as her gaze found mine, the rise and fall of her throat as she swallowed.  I was close enough to touch her now, and my hand reached out across the space between us, pulling her toward me.  “I want every moment of my time with you etched in to my skin, burned there forever.”

A soft whimper escaped her lips, and in that moment it all became clear:  she was not the cause of my plight but rather the anecdote to it.  I felt my body moving without the consent of my brain, my lips crushing hers in an ardent kiss.  At first, her body softened into the kiss, her lips parting slightly against mine.

A moment later, Ryland stepped away from me, her open palm making contact with my cheek.

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