When The Rain Falls

39. Better Not Muck Things Up

39 BETTER NOT MUCK THINGS UP

AIMEE

The evening has been non-stop comedy hour. Or, in Finn’s words, a goddamn shitshow . Tyler, Finn, and Jenna are constantly ribbing each other. At the dinner table, Finn and Tyler took a bite before Missy could say grace and she made them empty their mouths into paper napkins. Lars acts like he’s checked out, but it’s clear that nothing gets past him.

They’re loud, irreverent, and a constant source of laughs. But above all, the thing I love about them most is that they don’t have a predetermined idea about who I am. About my failings and weaknesses. It’s freeing. To have space to be the person you are now, without the shadows of your past threatening to swallow you whole.

They’ve just brought me into their circle. And I like it here.

I’ve never met anyone’s family before. If there are rules, I’m pretty sure I’m breaking them. I’m pretty sure I broke them the moment I stepped out of the pantry and waved hello.

“I’ll take that, Madam Pantry .” Tyler winks and drops into an exaggerated bow before collecting my dinner plate. He adds it to his ever-growing stack and walks them into the kitchen, right past where Missy is fussing with the oven.

I don’t miss the dirty look Finn gives him.

"Dessert anyone? Aimee?" Missy's voice cuts across the room.

"Oh God. I'm so stuffed. Your eggplant parmesan was too amazing," I tell her as I pat my belly and lean back in my chair.

"Finn? You won’t say no. I made your favorite. Apple pie," Missy exclaims. Something tells me that Finn is not allowed to say no.

"Of course, Mr. Baseball likes apple pie. Isn't that so cute," I coo playfully at Finn. He held my hand during most of dinner, letting go only to help pass dishes around the table. Or to squeeze my thigh. Or brush my hair back from my face. Or to sneak a highly inappropriate hand between my legs. Or to lean close and whisper in my ear.

Tyler noticed all the PDA and tried to give him a teasing look. But Finn grunted obscenely at him and that ended the teasing. He’s been standing near me all night, like he’s afraid I’m going to bolt or something. The way he’s protective over me makes my heart melt in my chest.

"I'm not cute . We talked about this," Finn harrumphs back to me. The chiseled features of his face soften every time he looks in my direction. My panties have not survived this dinner.

"Yes you are. So cute." I squish his lips together into a pucker and kiss the thick creases of his lips. When I pull back, I see that Finn’s face has turned crimson red. Maybe I wasn’t supposed to do that?

But then he playfully grabs my wrist with his large hand and snakes a finger into my armpit.

"Stop!" I wiggle free and push him away. He gives me one of his giant smiles. The kind that could melt stars from the sky. I swear, every single time he smiles, I'm at risk of temporary paralysis.

"Ma, sit down. I'll dish up." Finn stands. He lets go of my wrist and walks into the kitchen. I immediately feel the void that he left as I stare down at his empty chair. When he’s near me, I feel warmer. And it’s not just because I’m sitting so close to his hot, muscular body. But he warms me from the inside out, too.

I glance up to see Tyler, Finn, and Missy keeping themselves busy in the kitchen. The girls vanished upstairs as soon as Missy excused them from the dinner table. Lars somehow found his way back into the living room recliner. It looks suspiciously like he’s napping. Missy is probably going to have a fit about it.

“Should we do something about that?” I ask Jenna, nodding towards the recliner. It’s just her and I around the table at the moment.

“Eh.” She shrugs. “He’ll wake up for pie. Always does.”

“Ma, bowls don’t go there,” Finn exclaims impatiently. Jenna and I both peer into the kitchen to find Finn arguing with Missy about the proper way to load the dishwasher. Come on, Missy. Amateur mistake. Never stand between Finn and dirty dishes. Also, let the man scrub. I could use a show.

"You know," Jenna says quietly, jabbing a finger on the table in front of me. "You are the best thing to happen to him in years,” she says, “and I mean years .”

I smile at her. Because I think I might agree.

"Actually, forget Finn. You're the best thing to happen to me ."

"What do you mean?" I ask with a laugh.

"Now that Mom knows about you two, that's going to take some of the heat off me for a while. She’s determined to get us all married before she turns sixty-five. And now, Mom's going to fixate on you and Finn for months. This is great for me.” She leans back and relaxes, a smile of satisfaction across her face.

“Ma, that’s a bowl. It goes with the bowls,” Finn scolds from the kitchen.

“Finn, dear. It’s a plate. A plate with a curved lip. It goes with the plates.”

Jenna and I exchange glances and snicker right as Tyler brings several plates of pie to the table. And right on cue, Lars walks into the kitchen.

“Told ya.” Jenna nods.

Lars inspects the pie plates and finally settles on what he has determined to be the largest piece of pie. He slides it across the table in front of the seat next to me, Finn’s seat, and sits down.

“How’re my girls?” he asks. And my tiny little heart explodes. My girls? He picks up a fork and runs a hand through his hair in the same way Finn does.

"Mr. Hudson, you have the most magnificent silver hair,” I tell him.

"Thanks, my dear. I need a cut, though. You know they want to charge me $40? They won't give me a discount even though I only have seventy percent of my hair left. A receding hairline should be good for something, right?”

"Dad, you have plenty of money for a haircut," Finn cuts in. He shakes a plate over the sink, sending water droplets through the air, and sets the plate carefully into the dishwasher. “And that’s my seat,” he mumbles, turning towards us.

"It's the principle of it, son," Lars explains. Behind Finn’s back, Missy takes the plate that Finn just set in the dishwasher and moves it. I cover my mouth to hide a snicker.

"You know, I could cut your hair,” I offer. “No charge. I learned on YouTube. I used to cut this guy's hair in exchange for weed gummies."

"Excuse me?" Finn sets his hand on his hip and looks at me in mild shock.

"What? It was a good arrangement," I tell him, shrugging my shoulders.

"Finn. Don't be such a tight ass," Lars grumbles. "Miss Aimee, I would love a haircut from you."

Finn turns his back and mumbles something under his breath.

“Goddammit, Ma. Stop moving the fucking dishes.”

Finn

Aimee coos at my dad as she runs her fingers through his hair. Just what he needs. Someone to inflate his ego. I’ll never hear the end of this.

After Dad insisted on receiving a haircut from Aimee, I set him up in a chair in the kitchen. I made a makeshift apron with a plastic tablecloth and managed to scrounge up a pair of hair shears.

To the whole family's amusement, Aimee gives Dad a haircut with much fawning over its texture, and silver color, and how it compliments his skin tone. Tyler and Jenna keep leaving the kitchen to laugh together, casting amused glances my way. I'm not even involved in this thing and somehow I feel like the butt of the joke.

Who knew Aimee could cut hair? She’s full of surprises. I never really cared for surprises. Until now.

Eventually things get settled. Dad gets his haircut. Aimee keeps gushing over how handsome he looks. And I finish cleaning up the dessert dishes. I keep clearing my throat and mentioning the time, but my family is showing no interest in leaving.

"Well, I better get home," Aimee says. "It was really nice to meet you all."

And it’s my family. And they’re a giant pain in my ass. So of course, they make a big fuss, the lot of them stepping in to give her a hug. My dad, twice. The bastard.

"I'll walk you out," I tell her. I guide her out the front door and follow closely behind. We step out into the cool evening air and I shut the door behind us. For the first time all evening, it’s quiet. And calm.

"I'm sorry about today. And them." I hike a thumb over my shoulder. “I know it was a bit much.” We haven’t talked about what we are. What this is. And I hadn’t planned on introducing her to anyone so soon. But I think everything went well.

"It’s ok. I like them.” Aimee takes my hands as we’re standing face to face. As I twine my fingers through hers, I realize she fits in all the parts of my life so easily. Nothing has ever been so obvious.

“Well, they like you, too. Especially my dad. Maybe too much, in fact.” I pull Aimee into my arms and rest my chin on the top of her head. Aimee met my family. And it wasn’t a disaster. I’m unaccustomed to things in my life not turning into a complete fucking shit show. It’s going to take a bit of time to get used to.

I look over Aimee’s head in time to see the curtain of the front window move and the distinct shape of Jenna’s head disappear. I take it back. The night is not over. There’s plenty of time for everything to fall apart.

“Bear, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Aimee says as she gives me a squeeze and prepares to pull away.

“You’re fucking kissing me goodnight, woman,” I scold her, holding her tighter.

“Listen to you, such a gentleman,” Aimee teases. “What would your mother say?” I guide her against the exterior wall and lean into her.

“I don’t want to think about my mother right now. I want to think about you.” My hand cups the side of her neck and she cups her hand over mine. And when I lean in to kiss her, I feel suspended. Lost in her. Full of her. The world falls away as I hang there, in the moment, on our kiss. But then the world is back. Our kiss swirls of warming rays of sunshine and the chill of rain on heated skin. It swirls of soft clouds overhead and quiet, midnight skies. Aimee is everything. And she’s mine.

“Aimee, I want to talk about this. About us,” I tell her quietly. “But not here.”

A noise behind the front door tears me away. I glance towards it, but Aimee’s fingers pull my head back to her. She kisses me again. With her eyes open. The warmth of her irises telling me things like, I wish you were bending me over and I don’t ever want to let go .

“I’d like that,” she says, pulling back slightly.

“For now, I just need you to know that I like you. I like us,” I say as I cradle her face in my hands. Like has never seemed like such a flimsy, pathetic word more than it does right now.

"And I like you ," she says. “Maybe almost as much as I like your dad.” She laughs as I pinch her round ass. Then I kiss her one more time, brushing my thumb across the front of her throat. Delicate. Dainty. I feel her swallow.

Then she pulls away. And I don’t like it. She should always be with me. I should always be with her.

"I better go," she whispers. I nod and, reluctantly, let her go. She gives me one more smile before she turns to walk across the street.

"Aimee," I call after her.

"Hmmm?" She spins and takes a step backward.

"What's your favorite flower?" I shout into the night.

"Why?" She tilts her head to the side.

"Just curious."

"Canadian thistle,” she says before she spins and walks away. That’s not one I’m familiar with. I decide to Google it later.

I somehow make it back into my house even though I don't remember how I got there. I don't realize I'm grinning like a buffoon until I close the front door and practically run into Tyler, Jenna, and Mom. The smile plastered across my face slowly falters as I face them.

"Alright,” I scold. “I expected that peeping garbage from him," I point at Tyler, "but not you, Jenna."

"Oh, I did it, too," Tyler confesses proudly. "I just didn't get caught."

My mom is beaming. Her hands clasped under her chin. "Finn, she's lovely." I glance over my shoulder out the front window. She's already made it to Alicia's porch. Her approach triggers the automatic light sensor.

Lovely? No.

Funny? Insane? Sexy? Mine? Yes.

"Ma, don't," I say. “Don’t make things weird.”

“Son, you better not muck that up,” I hear my dad say from the recliner. “We like her. And I’m counting on a lifetime of free haircuts.” I roll my eyes at him.

“Yeah, but you may want to watch out what kind of tip he tries to give her,” Tyler warns under his breath.

Goddammit.

“Can’t any of you be fucking normal? Just for once, for Christ’s sake,” I scold the lot of them. “I’m lucky you didn’t all fucking scare her off.”

“Finn, language!” my mom scolds.

I'm laying in my bed, tossing and turning. But I can't fall asleep. I roll over and look at the empty space where she lays when she stays over. It was the space where Laurel used to lay. I consider the fact that I must be one of those people who just can't be alone. Despite the fact that I've been alone for nine years, I'm not good at it. I'm miserable alone. I reach out to the empty side of the bed and flatted my hand against the mattress, palm up, fingers reaching for the ceiling.

I remember how Aimee's hand feels in mine. I can't remember what it was like to hold Laurel's hand. Was it the same? Was it different? Pieces of Laurel feel like they're slipping away lately.

Canadian thistle.

What's a Canadian thistle?

I roll over to face my side table. I grab my phone and set it on my chest as I open a web browser, typing in Canadian thistle.

The images that pop up make me smile. Purple starburst flowers, oddly resembling sea anemones, perch on long, tall stems. This looks exactly like the type of flower Aimee would like. It's bright, bold, different. A little wild.

I click on the first website and read the description. I drop my phone onto my chest, close my eyes, and laugh to myself.

It's a weed.

A noxious weed.

Figures.

I set my phone safely on the side table and fluff the pillow beneath my head.

Aimee's favorite flower is a fucking noxious weed.