Miss Me Not

The next hour passed with Dean regaling me with stories of summers he spent at his papaw and nana's house. I couldn't help chuckling with him as he talked about his first and only lemonade stand.

"I guess in my ten-year-old brain I never considered the fact that if I set the stand up smack dab in the middle of the property, my only customers would be my cousins, who all claimed they didn't have to pay for it since they were family. Needless to say, the stand lost its luster awfully quickly, with me sitting in the hot sun, serving my cousins, while they ran around acting like ninjas, and I was stuck working," he said chuckling.

"So, your first business endeavor was a bust. I'd leave that off your college applications," I teased.

"Oh, it wasn't a bust. I set up shop again later that evening when everyone showed up for one of Papaw's barbecues. I sold more than a hundred glasses that night," he said smugly.

"I bet your cousins were singing a different tune after that."

"Yeah, they were pretty jealous, but I turned out to be their hero when I bought the new Spider-Man game we were all dying to play," Dean said, turning off the main road.

It didn't surprise me that he shared his earnings with his cousins. That's the kind of person he was. Just an all-around good guy. I destroyed lives while he built them up. Together, we were literally a cosmic joke.

"My papaw's property started back there as soon as I turned off the main road," Dean said conversationally, driving slowly over the ruts in the unpaved road.

I took in our surroundings as he navigated his small vehicle over the uneven road. I was enthralled with the large trees and bushes that encroached on the road from both sides. The road forked off several times as we approached a couple of large houses.

"That's where my Uncle John and Aunt Cindy live," Dean said, stopping in the middle of the dirt lane and pointing to one of the houses. "And across the way there is my parents’ house. We use it when we come down here for vacations," he added, pointing toward a two-story wooden house painted a buttery yellow off to my left. "It was built back in nineteen twenty and still has the original hardwood floors. My dad and I renovated it this last summer, updating the electrical wiring and plumbing. We changed out the appliances, but tried to keep the house as authentic as we could," he boasted passionately.

"Sounds like you really enjoyed it," I said.

"I better. That's what I plan on majoring in next year," he said laughing. "My dream is to be able to restore houses back to their former glory. Next summer, I'm tackling one of the other houses on the property all by myself. I'm going to live there while I work on it before I head off to college in the fall."

"Sounds like you have it all mapped out," I said enviously. My long-term goals were zilch. For so long, long-term goals weren't even in the cards. I really hadn't given much thought to where I would go when I graduated. Past comments by Donna pretty much made it clear that she expected me to move out after graduation, leaving me without a whole lot of time to decide what I wanted do with my life. I knew I should start making plans and thinking ahead, but the task up until now seemed so daunting, and quite frankly, pointless. Listening to Dean's long-term plans made me feel like I'd been doused in cold water. It was time for me to man up and start making my own plans. >"Wow, you look amazing," she squeaked, switching off the hair dryer and running her hands through my hair while admiring her handiwork. "What do you think?" she asked, turning my chair so I was facing the mirror.

I hesitantly lifted my eyes, studying my reflection. Who the hell was that? The pinched, drawn expression I had grown accustomed to over the years was gone. With the snip of her scissors, Ginnifer had somehow softened my facial features, making my face appear less haggard and more approachable. I couldn't quite discern how I felt about the change. Did I really want people to suddenly think I was approachable? Being normal was beginning to feel like a kick in the ass.

"Madison, you look amazing," Sarah said, coming up to stand behind my chair. "Your hair looks and feels like silk," she added, running her hands over my hair. I kept my grimace to myself at being petted again for the second time in the last few minutes.

"Thanks," I answered, uncomfortable from the attention. I was acutely missing my shadow life at the moment.

"Her hair is absolutely breathtaking," Sarah said, beaming at Ginnifer like she had just found the cure for hair loss or something. "Okay, let's go prettify our toes and fingers," Sarah said, picking up my bags off the floor where they had been resting.

I didn't see the use in arguing so I followed behind Sarah as she led me to the far side of the salon where they had a specific section set aside just for pedicures and manicures. Forty-five minutes later, both my fingers and toes were lacquered in a deep purple color that almost looked black. I was pretty convinced both were a waste on me, but they made Sarah happy, so I went along with it. I wasn't sure if I had ever made anyone happy before.

***

"So, Mom says your day together went great," Dean said later that night as we talked on the phone.

"Yeah, it did. No thanks to your meddling though. I wanted to seriously hurt you this morning when I opened the door and saw her standing there."

He chuckled in my ear.

"Not funny, dickhead," I said, shooting the phone in my hand a dirty look. "You're lucky I was able to control my inner freak for the day."

"You're not a freak," he said, no longer laughing. "I really wish you'd stop putting yourself down."

"Just keeping it real."

"Well, your reality of yourself doesn't match mine. And I don't like you putting down the girl I like," he said, seriously blurring our friendship line.

"Like as a friend," I reminded him.

He sighed loudly in my ear. "Yes, like as a friend. I'll be there early tomorrow to pick you up," he said, changing the subject.

"Don't you eat in the afternoon?" I asked, confused.

"Thanksgiving with my family is an all-day event. There's going to be football, gorging on food, games, complaining about how much food you've consumed, then more gorging. You get the point. The Jackson clan makes Thanksgiving their beeotch," he said sniggering.