Ch 17
FOURTEEN GRADE NINE
When we get off the plane, I can't wait for the car ride home. Uncle Paul and Aunt Jem pick us up from the airport, our bags bursting with crap we've dragged home. I have presents for Ian and Chris from all over and some new clothes, and that's about it. My time in Europe might have been educational, but it was a far cry from fun, and it certainly wasn't a vacation. I was lonely for a whole year.
"How's everything been here?" Daddy asks.
"Well, we checked on your tenants a few times, but mostly everything was good. The house needed a new hot water heater, but that's it. I think you'll find everything else is pretty much the same."
I wish Uncle Paul was right, but he's very, very wrong. As we pull in the driveway, I notice a huge change right away. Chris and Ian are sitting on our porch swing, obviously waiting, but there is something off and they are different. When the van pulls to a stop, I hop out the back, right away, and run over to greet them, pulling them into a hug.
"You've changed," Ian bluntly states.
"So have you, you're both taller and, Wow, you look older." I grin at them. They do look older, I can't quite explain it, but it's like their chests got broader and their muscles are more pronounced. There is a leanness to them that wasn't there before, and I feel cheated. They are my home, and my home is no longer the way I remember it.
"Well, you've turned into a girl—look at that skirt. Is that make-up?" Chris points out as Ian looks me up and down. I cross my arms over my chest, suddenly self conscious. While I was away, I got taller, my hips widened, and I filled out some on top.
"I guess there are some differences, but I'm still me." I really want everything to be okay. I'm sick and tired of being a stranger.
"Of course you are, Gracie." Chris breaks into a big grin, putting his arm over my shoulder, and I plant a little kiss on his cheek.
"There's a taste of Europe for you," I say, trying to cover my awkwardness. "Everyone kisses everyone."
"Well, in case you haven't noticed, this isn't France, so just don't." Ian's rudeness is like a slap, and my face falls.
"I'm sorry?"
"Enough, Grace, I know you're better than us, you know you're better than us, just keep it to yourself." Why is Ian so angry with me?
"Just ignore him, Grace, Ian's just turned sour since you've left, like a puckered little asshole." I am surprised at Chris' choice of words, but it does seem accurate so far.
"What happened?"
"Aside from you being gone? Dad moved halfway across the country and hasn't even called really." Chris informs me. I wish he had emailed me about it.
"Oh, guys, I'm so sorry." I wish Mr. Reed could be a dad like Steve is.
Ian kicks at the ground, obviously angry, "Screw you Chris, it's not like it matters."
I can feel a fight brewing, "Guys, please, I just want to be home, I've missed you both so much."
"I know Grace, us too." Chris tries to make me feel better, but it doesn't really work. Home isn't home anymore.
We unload the car and take everything in, our house full of strange smells from other people's cooking and other people's lives. It's also so much bigger than everything and everywhere we stayed in Europe, there's so much space. I'm happy to get out from under my mother's thumb, but I'm also sure that I've forgotten how to interact with other people my own age. That's pretty obvious from the way Ian treated me.
I struggle to put my clothes in my closet. Everything I own now, we accrued in various stores over the past year and all of it is somewhat foreign looking. I have no idea how I'm going to dress for the yard or for school with the cultured blouses and skirts that I now own. Digging around I drag out the bag of souvenirs from the trip for the boys. They seem silly now, the trinkets I got them, miniature Eiffel towers and Leaning Towers of Pisas, one for each of them so they don't fight. The are a few shirts from different places, too. I am determined to give them to them though, to try and regain something of the past. I can't bear to be a foreigner anymore, I want to be comfortable in my own skin. Sitting at my desk, I look up to the pictures taped there years before, colours faded, but the messages still the same. We are best friends, and I am strong. I pull out the framed picture I dragged all over Europe and put in a place of honour on my dresser.
Combing over my clothes, I find the least school girl uniform type clothes I can, but it's still a pleated skirt and a blouse. I don't have any jeans that fit and most of my pants aren't very comfortable. Thankfully a pair of running shoes from the back of my closet still fit, so I slip them on, take the bag and go out to the back yard.
Chris and Ian are lounging by the pool, both without their tops, just in their trunks, making me feel inadequate next to their very teen boy-ness. They both have some decent looking abs and a little bit of hair, and I look anywhere and everywhere else before I get caught staring. I am going to have to get over whatever it is that makes me squirm inside, because these are my best friends, even if they are really hot. With a little effort I am sure I can make things like they were before.
"Hi guys!"
"Hey Gracie, what's in the bag?" Chris asks, rolling onto his side.
"Just some presents for you guys. I missed you both and I wanted you to know I was thinking about you."
"What, you thought you could just buy our friendship?" Ian sneers.
"Look Ian, I don't know what your problem is, but I thought about you two all the time. It's not like I was running around with other friends or that I chose to leave you." I am getting defensive and upset.
"I'm sorry Grace, you're right. Going to Europe for a year must have been really difficult." His voice drips with sarcasm.
"It was. Sure it was pretty and I did some neat stuff, but I was also really alone. Daddy spent hours in meeting or at libraries, so I saw the inside of a lot of small hotels or stuffy old buildings getting taught by my mom. And you remember my mom, right? Nothing I did was right and a lot of days I had to stay in and just watch her lay in bed." I want to hit him, the anger in me is threatening to boil over. Ian is so bitter I just don't understand.
"You sent us lots of really happy emails, great pictures. Not once did you say things were bad, so it must have been a total hardship," Ian counters.
"I didn't even know you got my emails for as much as you answered them, but what, you'd prefer I tell you how horrible I felt a lot of the time? How alone, how lost? When there was nothing anyone could do about it? Nothing you guys could do to help? Should I have stayed in bed for days at a time like my mom?" My voice is hoarse and I hurt. How dare he think I was just whooping it up. He's met my parents.
"Can we see what you brought us, Grace? I, for one, am not going to turn up my nose at gifts." Chris steps into the conversation, not happy at the direction it was taking. Ian stands to leave.
"Please stay Ian? I really just want to spend time with you both." My eyes start to water with exhaustion, jet leg and confusion.
"Oh for fuck's sake Grace, you win." Ian sits down and leans closer to where Chris and I are on the edge of a lounger.
I pull out various trinkets and explain them as best I can, the boys getting into the conversation. After giving them a pile of little things, Chris and Ian get up. "Stay here, Grace, we have something for you, too." They run in the house and I am happy that even though Ian was a jerk at first, he seems to be a bit nicer after spending some time with me.
"Happy Birthday Grace," Chris calls out as Ian holds the door. They have a birthday cake for me, a picture of the three of us at my fifth birthday in the icing. It's so fantastic to know they care, that they were thinking of me, too. I'm pretty sure my parents don't have anything for my birthday, I think they're just happy I'm finally out of their hair.
I blow out the candles and make a wish, but it's not something I would ever admit out loud.
"Can we eat it in the treehouse? I really missed it."
"Sure, Grace, it's your party." Ian shrugs.
We eat cake in the dark and reminisce and it feels almost like it used to, except we don't all fit in there the same way as before. Where we used to all lay side by side, Ian sits across from us, reminding me that he's different, or I am, and as much as it's nice for us all to be together, the feeling is fleeting.