one
Clyde Andrews
I knock once on the Fisher front door before letting myself in. I grew up across the street with my own family. My parents and younger sister still live there, of course. I've been walking in this front door since I could walk. This is my second family. The Fishers have always been there for me, just like my own parents.
"Yo, Mrs. Fisher," I shout. She is my best friend Kellen's mom. She is also the mother of the girl I've been in love with for far too long. The girl I am about two seconds from claiming.
"In the kitchen, Clyde," she shouts back. The hallway goes from the front door directly to the kitchen and further out to the backyard. The Fishers are one of the only family's in the neighborhood to have an in-ground pool. Many weekends have been spent out there. Grilling out, chilling by the pool. As we got older, the parties got more and more chaotic, but they were always fun.
"How are you?" I ask my second mom.
"I’m good, Clyde, but you are a grown man. How many times have I told you to call me Ayla?” she scolds. She’s doing dishes. There is little radio on the counter that is always on when she’s in here. Led Zeppelin’s Kashmir plays softly.
“Where is everyone?” I ask, and she turns to look at me over her shoulder.
“Everyone?” she asks, raising an eyebrow at me.
“When will she be back?” I ask Ayla. She knows how I feel about Kerry. I think everyone in Pine Grove does, except for Kerry and probably Kellen. If he does know, he’s never said anything about it, back to Kerry. She doesn’t know it yet, but she’s mine. She’s my reason for breathing, but she was seven years younger than me. When I was in diapers, I met Kellen, and we became inseparable. He was an only child for just a little bit, then Kerry was born. As she grew up, she was just an annoying little girl. I don’t know when it happened to be honest, sometime after I returned from college for sure. Gone was the little girl in pigtails with dirt on her knees who followed Kellen and me around like a lost puppy, and in her place is now a woman who sets my body on fire. As I said, I can’t pinpoint when it happened exactly, but it did so gradually that I am consumed by her, and she doesn’t know it. I waited for her to turn eighteen, which she did last week. I was in England, though I made sure my sister, Annika, delivered her birthday present, but I haven’t heard a word from Kerry in weeks. I wrestled with the idea of how disgusting it was to be waiting for her, but then I’m over that. I love her. True love makes you do crazy things. I waited for her for everything. A date, a kiss, making love. I’ve done nothing without her. Everything I have and everything I am is for her.
“Oh, Clyde. I’m not sure. The college isn’t far, but she might spend the night after the tour.”
“Why didn’t you go with her?” I ask, wondering if she’s all alone. Maybe I should go there. Would it be creepy to just show up under the guise of protecting her? Protecting her from what, I don’t know.
“She’s eighteen years old, Clyde. Should I have gone and held her hand? Besides, I have to work tonight,” she says, exasperated. Since Mr. Fisher died last year, Mrs. Fisher has had to go back to work after twenty-five years. She works crazy long hours at a doctor’s office during the day and a bar at night. Kellen and I run a restaurant, Rebel Cafe, just outside of Pine Grove. Kellen is the chef while I handle the business side of things. While Kellen went to culinary school in New Orleans while I went to New Orleans University. We had an apartment that was near both campuses. Neither of us dated through college, choosing to focus on our studies. If either of us thought that was weird, we never talked about it either. We’d discuss sports, school, and everything else you can think of, but nothing personal, ever.
It's crazy how much I want to be the pillar of support for this them as Kerry’s husband. Besides the restaurant, I inherited a ton of money from my grandparents. I invested it in a few companies that I believe will go the distance. Even so far, the dividends I’ve seen are impressive.
“I still think that someone should have gone with her.” I hate the idea of her all alone in New Orleans.
“I get it, Clyde. I really do, but she’ll be fine.”
“If you so say so,” I reply.
“What are you waiting for, Clyde?”