He also hung with his wife, Ashlee (one of Lou’s clients, a sweet lady, though she had a strange sadness about her all the time that I’d always wondered about) and all of us for pizza and beer when all the big work was done.
We’d joked and laughed and chatted and shared stories, and it was clear they all loved Shaw to death and the same with Hix.
It felt good being around them. It felt good being a part of this new beginning that had such hope. It felt good that there was no tension, no worried looks, no caution, just friends hanging together after helping out a bud. It felt good being in that great house, the kind of house that Hix belonged in, where he could give his kids what he wanted them to have.
It felt real and natural and mellow and they’d all been welcoming to me at first, but that had melted into a feel like it wasn’t the first time I met Larry and Tommy and Toast and Herb and Hal, but like I’d known them ages.
It had been awesome.
And part of that awesome was knowing that Hix was going to be taking the afternoon off on Monday because his girls’ bunkbeds, dressers and desks were going to show, the sectional for the basement was as well, since he’d already bought them. I also knew that when the girls came back Monday night, they were going as a family to J&K’s Electrics to buy a TV for downstairs. The girls had already bought new sheets and comforters for their beds, they got them online and they were in big boxes in their room, ready for the furniture to arrive (except the sheets, I put them in the washer to prepare for the girls’ arrival the next day).
So it was all happening. They were all settling.
Sure, Hix needed some rugs and some stools for the island in the kitchen and things up on his walls. And he hadn’t lied. He might have bought furniture and towels but he didn’t go whole hog on anything else, had the bare minimum for his kitchen, so unpacking boxes didn’t take hours.
But they were there, and all that would come whenever it came and it didn’t matter when that would be.
They had the important stuff.
And another part of that awesome was knowing that Andy would be there that next day, as would I, sharing Junk Sunday with Hix and Shaw.
And the reason I was pissed, and getting more pissed, was the fact that, although that day had started great for Hix and me, Hope had screwed it all up.
She’d screwed everything up.
Hix and Shaw couldn’t enjoy their first day in their new house kicking back, watching football, relaxing and eating a lot of garbage.
No, because Hope’s crap had leaked in in the form of a desperate, sad, angry, sobbing young girl, who should be feeling none of those things, and they’d all been given no choice but to deal.
It didn’t surprise me that it was Andy who kept the vibe as sweet and smooth as it could be. Mamie was withdrawn. Shaw was showing signs he might be even more pissed than his dad. And Hix was trying to hide it, but I could feel the struggle he was having in controlling his anger and frustration.
So Andy being jokey and playful and excited about donuts and enthusiastic about Hix’s house and downright thrilled at how cool it was Shaw was going to be a marine (and so on) was semi-saving the day.
No one had forgotten the drama and everyone was on edge because Hix had called Hope to come get Mamie, and we were all waiting for her to show, but at least Andy got to be Andy. He might have sustained damage to his brain that forever challenged his abilities to live what was considered a normal life, but he’d never displayed any alteration in his functionality at being able to read a room and react to that, in this instance, being himself—loving and sweet.
So it was his eyes I caught first when the doorbell rang.
Shaw was cuddling his sister in the loveseat. Hix and I were in the corner of a couch. Andy was in the armchair. And when the bell rang, any smooth and sweet in the room vanished and Andy bit his lip then stretched out the lower one before his shoulders slunk up to his ears.
I gave him a careful smile as I felt Hix’s arm around me give me a squeeze before he set me aside and pushed out of the couch.
I turned to look at Shaw and Mamie, who had been lounged together, but now Mamie was on her behind with her knees pulled all the way up to her chest, her arms around her calves, her chin to her knees and eyes to the door and Shaw was standing, facing the door.
“It’s gonna be okay, guys,” I tried to reassure them, but Shaw’s lip just curled and Mamie only glanced at me before looking back toward the door so I figured it didn’t work all that great.
Right.
For me and Andy, it was time to clear the donuts away and set about making French onion dip and whatever else we could do in order to stay in the kitchen and give the Drake family privacy.
I started to open my mouth Andy’s way and fold out of the couch when I heard Hix mutter, “Hope, Jep.”
But I froze when Shaw hissed, “Unbe-freaking-leivable.”
I looked to Shaw then over my shoulder at the door where Hope was walking in, face a mask of fury as her eyes lighted on me and that fury didn’t change when they took in Andy. It only minutely changed when her attention swung to Mamie.
Hope’s father was walking in behind her.
He seemed to be feeling ill at ease, but I didn’t know the man and I didn’t get to take time to analyze his demeanor because Hope spoke.
“I love you. I love you more than you will ever know, until you have a child of your own. But Mamie, you scared me to death this morning and that is not okay.”
“I can’t believe you,” Shaw clipped and didn’t make anyone wait to find out what it was, precisely, that he couldn’t believe. He shared it. “You brought Gramps? You’re, like, forty-one years old and you got your butt in a sling and you bring your dad?”
“Shaw,” Hix muttered warningly.
I shoved to the edge of the couch and said softly, “Andy and me will just—”
“Yeah, why don’t you just,” Hope spat and I froze again, looking over my shoulder at her hate-filled face aimed at me.
“Hope,” her father murmured irritably.
Before I could snap myself out of it and get a move on, Mamie stopped me by speaking.
Or, more accurately, with what she said when she did.
“You’re mean,” she whispered then spoke louder. “You’re just mean. Like, you’re a grown-up mean girl. Like, so mean, they could make a movie out of you and everyone would hate you, that’s how mean you are.”
I decided not to look at Hope’s reaction to that because I felt the sting of those words snapping in the air, it hurt something awful and it wasn’t even directed at me.
I also decided not to speak again. I just pushed out of the couch and reached a hand out to Andy who was already getting up. He took my hand and we started to move toward the kitchen but stopped when Mamie spoke again.
“Greta, don’t go.”
Shit.