“You’re not even a homeowner.” He’s trying to seem calm, but the vein in his forehead is starting to protrude. “Are you even eligible to run?”
“This rule shit is why people hate the HOA. Between this conversation and your threat to fine my parents over their oak tree, my folder of dirt is bursting at the seams.”
His hazel eyes go wide at my not-so-implied threat. “You wouldn’t.”
I laugh at the thought of keeping this election civil, aka boring. I mean, has he even met me before?
“Obviously I would. Playing dirty is the only reason I’m running.”
His eyes narrow to slits. My skin tingles and electricity shoots through my veins. I’m primed and ready to go head-to-head with my favorite opponent.
“Oh my goodness gracious.” My mom’s sweet-as-sugar voice cuts through the air and extinguishes the fire in Nate’s eyes. “Nathanial Adams, is that you?”
“Mrs. Carter.” He closes the space separating them and wraps her in a giant bear hug. “How are you?”
When Nate and I stopped being friends in high school, my mom grieved the relationship maybe even more than I did. From the time Nate and I became friends until the summer we stopped, he was at my house more than his own. He never really told me much about his mom, but whenever anyone brought her up, you couldn’t miss the way his eyes would gloss over and his jaw would tighten. From the little he did tell me, she called on occasion—always from someplace new—but he hadn’t seen her since he was two or three. I know she wanted to be a singer or something, and from what I could gather, having a family was never her goal or priority.
His dad, on the other hand, only wanted a family. It’s just that the family he wanted mainly consisted of a wife. He was so desperate for someone to love him—and if we’re being honest, take care of him—that he ignored the amazing family he had in front of him. He was such a flake, always forgetting Nate’s sports and parent-teacher conferences because of a blind date or worrying about impressing the newest woman in his life. We invited his dad over for dinner with us often, but I think he only took us up on the offer once. Nate tried to make excuses, claiming he was a hopeless romantic, but really, he was just hopeless.
And Nate paid the price.
They lived at the apartments on the edge of the neighborhood. Close enough in distance that we rode the same bus, but far enough that it felt like he lived in a different universe. It wasn’t long before my mom reached out to his dad and insisted that Nate spend the afternoons at our house. There’d always be two snacks waiting for us when we walked through the door. She helped him with his homework and took him shopping to get supplies for his science fair projects. And until his grandparents started sending for him to spend the summers with them, we spent more days than I’d like to remember in the stands cheering at his baseball tournaments.
“I’d be better if you ever stopped by to see me.” Her smile widens past the point of natural. “I was coming out to see if Collins wanted some lemonade. But since you’re here now, why don’t you two chat and I’ll bring you both a glass? Like the old days.”
“Oh, I don’t know. I—” Nate starts.
“Nonsense.” My mom, never one to be denied, cuts him off before directing her attention to me. “Collins, honey, you and Nate go sit on the porch and I’ll be there in a second with some drinks.”
I want to object, to offer a resounding hell no, but it’s pointless. What Kimberly Carter wants, Kimberly Carter gets. Plus, I need to save all my energy for fighting Nate.
“Okay, Mom.”
I don’t question if he’s following me. I know he is. He might love to give me a hard time, but there’s a good chance he’s more eager to please my mom than I am.
Although my parents have updated many of the things around the house, the porch still feels remarkably similar to when I was a kid. The planters are updated, but still in the same places. The old rug has been replaced with something slightly more modern, and the swing that my grandparents gave us is still bolted to the exact same spot I remember it being my entire life. As Nate follows me onto the blissfully shaded area, it’s almost as if by instinct we fall into the same pattern we did all those years ago.
He grabs on to the chain holding up the swing as I plop down, giving it one gentle shove before taking a seat on his side. I tuck my ankles crisscross-applesauce while his long legs use the carpet-covered concrete to keep the swing moving slow and steady. Memories come rushing back of us, young and innocent, sharing secrets and snacks as we rocked back and forth on these same hot summer days. The thick echo of our childish giggles swirls around me, shrouding my bitterness in the sweetness of moments I’m incapable of forgetting.
“Wow,” Nate whispers, his voice as soft and tender as I remember it being all those years ago. “Never thought we’d be here again.”
“Me neither.” I keep my eyes trained on the empty sidewalk in front of me, too afraid to look at him. “Leave it to Kimberly to get us here.”
We might not have much in common anymore, but falling victim to my mom’s tenacious drive will keep us bonded forever.
“Seriously. Your mom is a formidable opponent. I have a feeling your dad has never won an argument against her.”
His deep chuckle, both bone-achingly familiar and deeply foreign, washes over me.
“I honestly don’t even know if they argue.” I mean, I’m sure they do; all couples argue. But I’ve never witnessed it. “When I walked into the kitchen this morning, they were holding hands while they drank their coffee. It’s sick.”
“It’s nice,” he corrects with a bite in his voice that wasn’t there seconds ago. “You’re lucky.”
I am lucky.
Kimberly and Anderson Carter are my touchstone. When it felt as though the world was crumbling around me, I still knew I’d be okay. There’s a safety that comes from knowing, no matter what is happening, you have a support system who will love you through everything. It gives you the confidence to conquer the world and the grace to regroup when you don’t.
Even if you have to go to Ohio to do it.
“I know,” I say simply.
I can tell Nate was expecting me to say more, but my family is the one thing I don’t feel the need to argue about or prove.
“I’m back!” My mom bursts through the front door with the subtlety of a rhinoceros. She’s holding a tray with two glasses of lemonade and a plate of snacks, but it doesn’t distract from her blond hair, which has been brushed, or the fresh pink lip gloss that wasn’t there before.
She’s so extra. I love her so much.
“Ooooh!” I forget about any and all tension and awkwardness lingering between Nate and me when I set my eyes on the cheese plate my mom threw together. “I didn’t know we had all of these cheeses. And cashews!”
I scoot over to make room as my mom sets the tray between Nate and me. I’m giddy. If I could have charcuterie for dinner every single night, I would.