“I know I don’t owe you an explanation, but I feel like you deserve one, that I want to give you one.” His voice was pleading, his eyes were asking me for something I couldn’t quite pinpoint, and my own body was betraying me by shortening my breaths and weakening my knees.
All of that, however, was interrupted by the sound of the shower turning on at the back of the house.
“Will you help me with something?” Hayes asked, his voice suddenly a little rushed.
“Anything.” Again, my mouth went and said something before my brain could process it, and once I heard the word, heard the honesty with which I said it, I knew I couldn’t deny it any longer. Hayes was more than just Cory’s older brother. Was more than just my temporary history teacher. He’d been more than just Hayes for quite a while, but I’d hoped and prayed with time his importance would fade, that I could go back to regular life and be happy with the hand I was dealt. But just then, in that moment, something changed, and I wanted something I knew I could never have.
“When she showers is pretty much the only time I can change the sheets. Will you help me?”
“Of course.”
He gave me a sad, small smile, and I followed him down the hall. “She lies in bed most of the time, and only showers every three or four days, so the sheets get dirty pretty fast,” he said, whispering to me as he grabbed a clean set of sheets from the linen closet. “I change them while she’s in the shower, and I’m not even sure she notices.”
I was torn between feeling terrible for Mrs. Wallace and the depression she must be living with, and feeling equally terrible for Hayes, having to watch his mother fall apart slowly right in front of him. Obviously the hope was that eventually Mrs. Wallace would pull herself out of the darkness she’d been thrust into, but it was unsettling watching someone as young as Hayes having to care for his mother as if she were suffering from some other illness besides just grief. It made me wonder, if I were put in a similar situation, would I be able to keep it together as much as Hayes seemed to be.
The answer to the silent question was more than likely a resounding no.
We stood on opposite sides of the bed and pulled sheets off, along with pillowcases, then hastily worked together to replace them with clean ones. Just as we finished and I had scooped up the dirty linens, we heard the water shut off, so I scurried out of the room. I had just closed the lid on the washer when I heard the oven timer go off.
I entered the kitchen and stopped mid-step when I saw Hayes pulling the casserole out of the oven. Perhaps it was stupid, but watching him taking something out of the oven, doing something so domestic, made him seem so much older than he had just a week ago. He was a grown man, an adult, my teacher for crying out loud. We were worlds apart, with so much more than time and space between us.
“Well, is there anything else you need help with?” I asked. But I immediately followed up with, “If not, I’ll just head home.” I was halfway to the door, ready to go home and sleep away the rest of that weird day when his voice stopped me.
“Would you like to have dinner with me?”
Chapter Nine
Hayes
I watched her eyes get wide with my invitation, and I should have expected that reaction, should have anticipated her surprise. It didn’t make it burn any less.
I’d spent over an hour ignoring her during class, and that felt wrong. It felt like the biggest crime against nature to purposefully ignore her. To not look at her, to not admire her, or watch her expressions change and wonder what was going through her mind. I’d spent the last two weeks doing just that; using all my time with her, any I was lucky enough to happen upon, to take her in. So, having to pretend I didn’t see her all the time while in class, well, it made me hungry for the sight of her.
“Sure,” she said quietly. “I can stay.”
Not, “I’d love to stay,” or “I thought you’d never ask.” No, she was just able to stay. I berated myself for acting like it mattered. I’d take pieces of her any way I could get them, even if it was a pity casserole.
I brought the big baking dish to the table as she gathered plates and utensils. I tried not to think about how many times she must have stayed to have dinner with Cory, how she knew where everything was. She might have even known the house better than me at that point. I hadn’t come home much in the last two years. Not since I kissed her on my brother’s birthday and realized how big of an asshole I was for it. No. I’d stayed away after that. I had tried not to think about them together often, but I knew if I saw them together, once they’d crossed the line from friends to more than that, it would probably hurt more than I could imagine.