Instead of You(13)

But then that nasty and sneaky part of my brain would surface and compel me to believe that even after Hayes left, I'd never stop wondering why I had those needy feelings in the first place. Something told me that even if Cory were alive and Hayes had returned, I'd still want him, and that even if I could convince myself to never act on those feelings, I'd never be able to force myself to love Cory like he loved me.

I went straight to my bedroom, closed the door, shut the curtains, and slipped under the covers of my bed, and surprisingly managed to fall asleep almost instantly.



When I woke, the first thing I noticed was it was much darker. The sun had obviously set. The second thing I noticed was the sound of my phone ringing in my backpack. I got to my phone just in time to see I'd missed a call from my mom. Her phone call meant she wasn't home, so I listened to the quiet house to see if I could hear my dad, but there was nothing. A ping from my phone told me I had a text.

**Hey sweetie, I need a favor. I thought I would be home by now, but I'm still stuck at work. There's a casserole in the fridge for Chelsea. Can you take it over, put it in her oven for 20 minutes at 350, then just sit with her until I can get home? How was your first day back at school?**

I replied immediately, even though my stomach plummeted at the thought of being at the Wallace household.

**Sure, no problem. School sucked. Everyone whispered about me as I walked past them and looked at me like …  well …  like my boyfriend had died.**

**I'm sorry. I wish you didn't have to go through any of this.**

**I'll make it. You'll come over when you're off?**

**Yeah. Shouldn't be too long now.**

**Okay, see you there.**



When I arrived at the Wallace house I knocked gently. I'd quit knocking on their door when I was eleven years old and Cory's mom had told me that if I knocked on their door again, she'd tan my hide. She was kidding, of course, but I got the message. From that day forward I walked right into their house. Suddenly, though, it felt wrong to just go in. Not only had my link to that household been taken from me, Mrs. Wallace was in a delicate position, and walking into her house felt a lot like barging into her sadness.

When no one answered my soft knocking, I gently turned the doorknob, not surprised to find it unlocked. I inched the door open and quietly called out, "Mrs. Wallace? Are you awake?" I figured she wouldn't be, and even if she were awake, I doubted she would answer me. I knew she'd just lie in her bed, staring out the window, just as she'd been doing since the day Cory and Mr. Wallace had been killed.

I moved right into the kitchen and turned the oven on, then started peeling the foil off the casserole.

There were quite a few people who had come together to help Mrs. Wallace out in the last three weeks. There was a calendar hanging on the wall and every day had a name on it of a person who had committed to providing dinner for Hayes and his mother. My mom's name was listed two or three times a week, and she still didn't think it was enough. My mom had been over every day, trying to do anything she could to help her best friend. I was proud of her for it, but I knew it took a toll on my mother as well. Not just physically, burning the candle at both ends, but also emotionally. She wanted so badly to help her best friend, but the longer Mrs. Wallace stayed in her bedroom, the more worried my mother became.

The casserole was halfway done when the front door opened and Hayes walked through.

"McKenzie," he said as he closed the door.         

     



 

"It's my mom's night to provide dinner and she was running late. I just came over to heat up the casserole."

He came toward the kitchen, stopping at the table and placing his brown leather bag atop it. It was a grown-up bag, not something a college student would normally use, I thought. It was a step up from a backpack and a step down from a briefcase. It looked somewhat expensive. I knew the leather would feel buttery and soft if I ran my hand over it.

"You don't need an excuse to be here," he said softly, his eyes asking me for something, I just couldn't figure out what. "I was just surprised to see you." He ran his hand straight through his hair which was, once again, down and loose, framing his face and hiding so much.

"You put your hair back today." The words toppled from my mouth. "At school, I mean."

"Oh, uh, yeah. I thought it looked more professional." He ran his hand through it again, unconsciously, then continued. "I'm thinking of cutting it."

"Don't," I blurted, immediately mortified as a blush heated my face. "I mean, I don't think you have to. You've already got the job, ya know? Why cut it now?"

"I guess you're right," he replied quietly, with almost a sad tone to his voice. "Listen, about the job, I'm sorry I didn't tell you beforehand. I wanted to, but I didn't want to upset you or cause you any more stress, and then there you were … ." His voice trailed away and I was left with just his eyes peering at me from the other side of the table. While everyone else that day had looked at me with pity, Hayes had something else in his eyes.

"It's okay, you don't owe me an explanation."

"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.