Page 12 of First Chance

Jo

It’s been raining nonstop since yesterday, and the drive into SCS is thick with mud.

When I pull into my usual parking spot in front of the old farmhouse and step out of my car, my foot pauses, floating in the air. There is a large square paving stone directly under my foot that wasn’t there yesterday. There are multiple, making a path from my car to the porch steps that is completely mud-free.

Did he do this for me?

When I go into the kitchen, there isn’t any sign of him, but there’s a new sticky note attached to the table.

Working fences all day.Callif you need me.

Okay, I get it. Don’t go looking for him, just call his dinosaur cell phone.

Lochlan is hardly a conversationalist, but sitting in here alone for hours at a time is getting old. I don’t have many friends or many reasons to socialize that aren’t politics related, and these sticky notes are stagnant to stare at.

Still, I’d rather be here than at my parents’ house when I’m not at school. I walk on eggshells around my family, notwanting to do anything that could be critiqued. The way I dress, what I’m eating, or if I say the wrong thing. God forbid I have an opinion on anything.

It’s easier to be invisible.

I could never live up to my older brother anyway. Conrad is running for Governor this year and has been deemed the most eligible bachelor in the state. If only they knew how unappealing he truly is.

He is my father’s mini-me, and I’ve always been the black sheep. No matter how hard I tried, I was never good enough for any of them. The only reason I entered the beauty pageant world as a teen was because I thought if I started winning, they’d be proud, but it only drew harsher opinions.

My father was concerned about his image, my brother always told me that I looked hideous, and my mother made sure to point out every dress that didn’t fit me in excruciating detail.

“What’s wrong?”

I jump out of my skin hearing a voice from behind.

“Jesus, Lochlan. How are you so big and so quiet at the same time?” I bury my head back into my hands, not expecting an answer from him. “I thought you’d be out all day,” I mumble into my palms.

I hear him open the fridge and rummage through it before closing the door. He starts making a sandwich, silently answering why he’s here.

His back is to me, and I take my chance to look at him uninhibited. His shoulder blades flex as he’s making his food, his muscles visible even through the fabric of his shirt. He wears nearly the same thing every day. Carhartt pants, Carhartt shirt or hooded sweatshirt, and his hair is alwaysslightly unkempt as if he lets it air dry after his shower and doesn’t touch it again.

Seeing his socked feet on the kitchen linoleum makes him less intimidating, knowing that he took the time to remove his dirty work boots before coming into his home.

I have no idea what it would be like to live in a place that’s been in my family for so long. Lochlan clearly lives in the house that his grandfather lived in; it’s homey and full of memories from the past.

I’ve snooped around some and seen the photographs on the mantle in the living room. His grandparents’ wedding photo sits in the center, surrounded by old family photos of even older generations.

The TV is dusty and as old as the kitchen appliances, and there are a few large paintings, but no other decor.

I’m so lost in thought I forget to avert my gaze when he turns around. “Did you want something?” He asks with a mouth full of food.

“No, I had a salad for lunch.” He visibly cringes and continues over to the table to sit down.

I’m hyper-aware of him being so near me. It’s a kitchen table meant for six people, but his legs are so long that they take up more space than the average person. I continue working on my computer, trying to ignore his presence just as he’s ignoring mine.

“Thank you for the paving stones,” I mention quickly, before I lose my nerve. He grunts in response. Typical.

“Would it be okay if I stayed an hour late? I have a paper to finish and I’m afraid I’ll run out of time before it’s due if I wait until I’m back home.”

“Sure.”

“Thanks.”

We go back to sitting in silence, and I conclude that it will be the extent of my social interaction for the day. I had class this morning, but I was in and out without talking to any of the other students.

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