Rebelonging

Chapter 56
"For someone who's about to put me through the ringer," he said over the engine's roar, "you don't look too happy."
I opened my eyes and stole another glance in his direction. "That's because I can't just send you in my place."
Still holding the salad, I fumbled for my cell phone to check the time. "We've got ten minutes," I said. The next road sign passed in a blur. If we'd been going the speed limit, we'd be at least fifteen minutes away. I didn't need to look at the speedometer to know we were going quite a bit faster than that.
"Oh c'mon," Lawton said. "What are they gonna do? Lock the doors?"
"You don't think they wouldn’t?" I tried to keep my tone light, but somehow missed the mark. "You poor, misguided fool."
I leaned down to shove the cell phone back in my purse, and before I knew what was happening, the salad toppled off my lap. The clear wrapping came loose and half of the lettuce spilled onto my shoes.
"Oh my God," I said. "Stop the car! No. Wait. Keep going." Desperately, I righted the bowl. With the lost lettuce, the salad looked way too small. This was bad. Maybe if fluffed it up or something—"
I glanced over at Lawton. His gaze shifted briefly in my direction. His brow wrinkled.
And then it hit me how rude I was being. "Oh jeez, sorry about your floor mat," I said. I pushed a hand through my hair. "I guess I should've apologized first, huh?"
"Don't worry about it," he said. "It's just lettuce. No big deal."
"Yeah, I guess," I said in a distracted tone. "Good thing it wasn't soup, huh?"
"Salad, soup, whatever, it all cleans up." He turned briefly to look at me, and his tone grew serious. "Baby, what's wrong?"
I glanced down at the salad. I shook my head. "It's too small." I reached up to rub my forehead. "This is bad. What am I gonna do?"
"Chloe," he said in a low, soothing voice, "it's just a salad."
"No," I snapped. "It's not just a salad. You don't get it. This? It's a big deal. Because everything's a big deal."
Still driving, Lawton reached for my hand. "C'mon, what is it?"
I couldn't bring myself to pull away. And for once, it had nothing to do with my crazy, mixed-up feelings for him.
His hand felt big and strong, and so much steadier than my own was. Between the car trouble and my own clumsiness, I was feeling a growing sense of dread. What if things went downhill from here?
"Nothing," I said with a shake of my head. "It's fine. Watch the road, alright?"
It wasn't fine, of course. If the salad turned out to be the thing that sent Loretta over the edge, I'd be kicking myself all the way there and back. I took a deep breath and tried to steady my nerves.
I dealt with Loretta all the time. But today, she was already on the warpath. I'd be inside that house for at least a couple hours, tripping over land mines everywhere I stepped. If one of those things blew up, it wouldn’t be just me getting hurt.
Our last holiday had been so awful. What if this one went the same way?
I couldn’t let it. No way. I wouldn't let it happen. Not this time. I leaned back and shut my eyes as tight as I could, and not because of our decidedly unsafe speed.
"Aw c'mon," Lawton said, "it can't be that bad."
"I hope you're right," I said. "And this time, you'll be there, so—" I shrugged and let the sentence trail off.
"So? Go on."
"Well, normally they're a lot nicer in front of strangers." I opened my eyes to look at him. "And you're a stranger to them, so—" I shook my head. "Crap, I don't know. What if it backfires?"
"Chloe?" His voice was low. "Are you scared?"
I turned to look out the window. "No."
He was quiet for a moment, and then he said, "Baby, what is it?"
I remembered my vow. No more lies, no more secrets. "Okay, here's the thing." I blew out a breath. "I almost never go there, and when I do, it's always awful."
"What's so awful about it?"
"Like my dad," I said, "Whenever he has company over, he starts talking funny."
"How so?"
"Well, he's a commercial real estate broker–"
"A salesman?"
"Basically," I said. "So he's always trying to bond with whoever he's talking to, but he never gets it quite right."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, one time, Loretta had this Australian couple over for dinner, and by the time we hit dessert, my dad's talking in this weird accent, more English than anything."
Lawton's brow wrinkled. "But you said they were Australian, right?"
"Yeah, and the harder my dad tries to show that he's exactly like them, the worse everything gets. They start talking less. He starts talking more." I shook my head. "I'm pretty sure they thought my dad was making fun of them."
Lawton laughed. "Aw c'mon, that's not so bad."
"I guess," I said. "And actually, it's a lot better than how he acts when it's just family."
"How so?"
"Well, when no one's there except us and Loretta, he's either giving me and Josh a hard time or kissing Loretta's butt."
"Who's Loretta?"
"My stepmother, who totally hates me, by the way."
"Oh yeah? Why?"
"Mostly, she hates everyone, well, except for her own daughter." I paused. "And my dad. Sometimes."
"What about your brother?"
"That's the worst part," I said. "She doesn't loathe him quite as much as she does me, but she still has this way of tormenting him, even when she's pretending to be nice."
Lawton said nothing as he down-shifted to pass an oversized pickup truck. We blew past him like he was standing still.
"Oh, I know what you're thinking," I said. "You think I'm exaggerating, right?"
"I never said that."
"Uh-huh." I felt my stomach churn at the memory of my last holiday there. "You'll see. It doesn't take anything to set her off."
"Like what? Gimme an example."
"Well, a couple of Easters ago, it was oyster gravy."
I glanced in his direction. The look on his face said it all. Disgusted. And he was right.
Our shared loathing of seafood was just one of the many reasons I loved him. Correction – one of the many reasons I used to love him, before everything had gotten so messed up.
Before he locked me in his basement. Or assumed I was a hooker.
He shook his head. "That's just wrong."
No kidding. If I were willing to have sex for money, my life would've been a whole lot simpler.
"So," he said in a prompting tone. "The gravy?"
Oh, right. Loretta. Gravy.
I nodded. "Supposedly, it's a delicacy. Or at least, that's what Loretta keeping telling us."
Lawton's tires squealed around the next turn. "I've got this friend from Texas," he said. "Know what he'd say to that?"
"What?"
Lawton assumed a Western drawl. "You can call it Nancy and put a dress on it. But I'm still not gonna eat it."
"Say that to Loretta, and you're a dead man." I felt the corners of my mouth lift just a fraction. "As much as I'd totally love to see that."
"So about Easter?" Lawton said. "What happened?"
"Anyway, Loretta made this special batch of oyster gravy, and then flipped out when we didn't want any."
"You and your brother?"
"Yeah. And Lauren Jane too, except she didn't get in trouble for it."
"Who's Lauren Jane?"
"Loretta's daughter."
"Ah."
"And then there was my dad, no help as usual. I lowered my voice in a decent imitation of him. "Loretta spent all morning in the kitchen making this for us, and the least you kids can do is have some."
"So did you?"
I nodded.
"How was it?" he asked.
I shuddered. "Awful. Like fish-barf."
"But your dad likes it?"
"Nope."
"So he doesn't eat it."
"Nope."
Lawton was shaking his head. "I don't get it."
"Don't get me wrong," I said. "He'd probably eat a smoking turd if Loretta asked him to."
"Better than fish barf," Lawton said.
"On second thought," I said, "you know what? He wouldn’t eat it. He'd make us do it. That way, he gets the credit, and we get the shaft."
I glanced again at Lawton. His expression was stony, but his tone was carefully neutral as he said, "So Loretta likes the gravy?"
"I dunno," I said. "Couldn’t tell you either way. She's always on a diet. So it's not like she actually eats the stuff herself. Mostly, she just picks at a salad or something and goes straight for dessert."
Lawton's eyebrows furrowed. "So this gravy, who exactly was supposed to eat it?"
I shrugged. "Me and Josh, I guess."
There was no trace of humor as he said, "Go on."
"So like I said, there's no getting out of it. At least not for me. So I put some on my potatoes, and take a bite."
"And?"
"Like I said, it's awful." I swallowed at the memory. "Worse than awful actually. But I know what I've got to do, so I smile and tell her it's delicious."
"Was she happy?"
"Loretta?" I said. "Never. But at least she's not throwing plates. So I keep shoveling it down, figuring that once it's gone, the whole thing's over, right?"
"It wasn't?"
"No," I said, glancing out the window. "It was just beginning."