Second Chance

Chapter 11 Reese

I got up early this morning. Tiffany kept moving in her sleep and stealing the covers. Sharing a bed with Tiff was not my best idea, but it seemed like the only solution. I didn’t think that when I asked her to sell the couch, she would do so before I got here. I should have thought about that.

The first thing I do after a shower is start some coffee. I also didn’t sleep well because I kept thinking of Steve in my bed. I wanted to join him a few times, but I knew that was not the right thing to do. We never got to sleep together overnight. I never learned what it would be like to fall asleep in his arms and wake up the same way.

As Tiff would toss and turn, I wondered if Steve would toss and turn or if he would lie reasonably still. Would his cologne last through the night, or would it wear off? What would it be like to have his strong arms wrapped around me, holding me in place as I slept? These are all things that I will never be able to experience, but that didn’t stop me from wondering.

I am blaming my thoughts on his casual touches yesterday. It felt like he was finding any excuse he could to touch me. That reminded me how much I craved his touch.

About the time the coffee is done, I hear a knock on the door. I open it to find Tiffany’s parents there. “We brought some bagels and cream cheese,” Tiffany’s mom announces as I let them in. I thought that if my mom showed up to help me move, she would bring donuts and coffee, versus bagels and cream cheese—another difference between them.

“Thank you so much. I am making a pot of coffee now.” I tell her. “Tiff went to the store yesterday and got some disposable coffee cups and plates so we don’t have to worry about dishes.”

“Yes, that was my idea,” Tiffany’s dad tells me. It doesn't matter who came up with the idea, but he makes sure I know Tiffany can’t think of a practical or helpful solution on her own.

“Well, it was a good idea,” I placate him.

“So what is left to be done?” he says as I pour myself a cup of coffee.

I have a large dresser, the dining room table, and my bed need to go. Steve said most of my art supplies would need to be shifted or possibly unloaded so the heavy items could go to the front of the moving truck. I didn’t think about that as I needed to be out of my studio last night. I believe Tiff has all her things packed up. She has two dressers, I think, her boxes, and her bed.”

They hate it when I say Tiff instead of Tiffany, so I tend to make a point of using Tiffany’s nickname when talking to her parents. I can tell her mom is not happy with me as she rolls her eyes.

As if on cue, Tiffany comes out of the bedroom. Her red hair is a frizzy mess. So she takes a hair tie off her wrist to pull it back. “Tiffany,” Her mom exclaims What is wrong with your hair?

“Nothing, Mom. I figured we had too much to do for me to worry about straightening it this morning, so this is what happens when I don’t straighten my hair. The curls I always straighten are trying to return, and I get frizz instead, " she explains to her mom.

You would think her mom would understand her curly hair’s nature. Tiff always straightens her hair before going out in public. I never understood why she had such beautiful curls right after she washed her hair. Yet seeing her mom’s reaction to the little bit of frizz and curl today, I am starting to understand.

“There is always time to be presentable.” Her mom argues. I can’t with her mom. Tiffany looks fine. Was her hair a bit of a mess before she put it up, yes, but it looks great now.

“Well, my straightener is packed, and now my hair is up there, so there is no issue. So this is what you get today.” To make this already fun family reunion even better, Steve decided now was the best time to walk out of my room. I thought Tiff’s mom was going to have a stroke seeing him. She takes in the denim shorts he is wearing and the faded band t-shirt he has worn since High School with disdain in her eyes.

“Good morning,” he greets Tiffany’s parents.

“Mom, Dad, this is Steve. He came to help us load up our stuff.” Tiffany explains.

“But why did he spend the night… I thought you ladies never had men stay over the night.” Tiffany’s mom exclaims, horrified as if Tiffany isn’t 22 and can’t live her own life.

“We typically don’t, Mom, but it seemed silly to have him have to drive to a hotel and pay for the night when we had space here.” If Tiffany’s mom had pearls on, she would have been clutching them. I don’t see how someone so down-to-earth as Tiffany could have parents who are so opposite to her.

Steve stretched out his hand to ignore this exchange and shake hands with Tiff’s dad. “It is a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“You are not seeing my daughter, are you, son?” Tiffany’s dad responds to Steve as he begrudgingly shakes Steve’s hand.

“DAD,” Tiffany exclaims, “So what if he were?”

“No, sir. While your daughter is a wonderful young lady, she and I are not dating.” Steve says as he moves to my side and kisses me. “My heart is already spoken for.” I blush. This is a show for Tiff’s parents, so they understand Steve is no threat to their daughter, but it is a bit over the top.

“Well then, it is nice to meet you, son.” Tiffany's dad responds. I can’t get over how condescending he is calling Steve's son, and it is only nice to meet him because he isn’t thwarting any plans they have for Tiffany to date some guy they hand-pick. “Shall we see what we need to get done?”

They head to the trucks to see about shifting my stuff around. Tiffany and her mom head to her room to pack the last of her things. Her mom complained, “I told you we should have hired movers.”

“Mom, there is not that much. Steve and Reese are here to help. It won’t take long.” Tiffany rebuts.

I will never understand how it must be to be able to hire someone to do the mundane things in life. I will never think of some tasks beneath me, like helping a friend or family member move. I am thankful Steve doesn’t think it is beneath him to help me move.

I head into my room to pack up my sheets and my bedspread. I can’t help but notice that I can smell Steve’s cologne on my sheets along with my vanilla fabric softener. I take a deep breath, fold the sheets, and put them in the box I had saved for my bedding. I add the pillows on top and tape them up. My bedding represents the last of my smaller items to pack. They signal that my college life is over.

I was taking apart my bed when I heard a voice say, “I can help with that.” I don’t have to look to recognize it as Steve, yet I look up into his brown eyes.

“I put this up myself when I bought it, so I figured I could take it apart. You have other things to do.” I shift out of his way so he can access my dresser as Tiffany’s dad walks in to help him. “ I take it the art stuff has been moved so you can load my furniture.”

It is all pretty light, so we were able to move it quickly, he tells me. They make quick work of getting my dresser, nightstand, and table. They came back for my mattress and box spring. By the time they load those, my bed frame is broken apart, and the headboard is off to the side. I struggle not to shed a tear as they walk away with the last remnants of my life loaded into the truck.

By lunchtime, they have everything, mine and Tiffany’s, ready to go. We decide to head out to grab something to eat before going our separate ways. We went to a nearby fast-food place, Tiffany. I spent way too much time when we were studying.

I can tell Tiffany’s parents are in a hurry to eat and get out of there by how they keep looking around, as if they don’t trust the clientele or the food. Tiffany can’t help but smile at me, knowing they are uncomfortable, but she doesn’t care.

After we ate, I said goodbye to her. We hugged, and I told her, “Now you must come see me! I will see you as soon as possible, but in the meantime, my door is always open to you.”

“You don’t even have a place of your right now.” She reminds me.

“It doesn’t matter; my mom will make room for you, and I plan to get my place as soon as possible, but what little I know. There will always be room for you there,” I remind her. She smiles at me. It is good to see her smile.

I am not sure what she is going home to, but what little I know, I can’t understand. I could not live the way she does. I could not give up autonomy like her parents expected her to. Her parents wanted her to go straight into a Master's Program of their choosing. Somehow Tiff managed to get them to agree to her going into an internship this summer and possibly getting a job in the fall. It is a hand-picked role in a company owned by a friend.

Tiff is happy it gives her time to see what she thinks of the hand-picked career before investing more time in school. She got them to agree she would take a part-time program in the evenings when she is ready to go for her Master's. She told them she wanted some experience before continuing her education. That is not why, but she can’t explain it to them to have them agree.

“Your mom is too good to me,” she exclaims.

“I think my mom loves you more than she loves me,” I tell her. Tiff laughs. My mom does love Tiff.

“Tell your mom I send my love. I promise I will visit at least for the weekend soon, " she tells me.

With one last hug, it was time to leave. Her parents and Steve were in the living room while we said goodbye, as if they were trying to give us space. I appreciate that. We went out and joined them.

“Tiffany, you need to make sure to visit Reese soon,” Steve tells her. I smile. Tiffany’s parents look upset at the invitation. I think they are worried Steve is interested in dating Tiff. She could do much worse than Steve.

I tell Tiff’s parents goodbye. We hug one last time, and then it is time to hit the road. Steve seems nervous, and I can’t understand why. Things feel like they are becoming less awkward, so I don’t understand why suddenly he looks more put off by my presence.