Trace rolled over and slammed his fist onto the top of his alarm clock. Another day of the same boring routine. His job gave him a good amount of money but it was tedious. Most days he went in at the normal time only to realize that later in the day he could’ve slept in by the time they actually needed work done. Trace was mulling over the idea of skipping when he heard a key in the lock of the front door. He looked at the time and figured it wasn’t his mother so it must’ve been his father and grandfather finally back from their hunting trip.

Trace got out of bed and changed his clothes as quickly as he could and then took the stairs two at a time to get to the kitchen. His grandfather was sitting in ‘his’ chair at the head of the table. His red and black plaid shirt was unbuttoned, revealing a white dirt-stained wife beater. His belly moved with every jovial laugh that came out of his mouth and stamped his thick dark boots onto the ground.

“Ah, Juan, you’re a sight for sore eyes,” Mr. Rast said as soon as his sights were set on his grandson.

“Hey Granddad,” Trace said happily, moving over to where he was and pressed a kiss onto his grandfather’s wrinkled face. “How was hunting?” He asked, turning to his father and giving him a ‘man hug’ with loud claps on the back.

“A success as usual,” Mr. Rast replied. “We’ve got a good buck this time. Should make for some mighty dine jerky.” He smiled at the thought and rubbed his round stomach.

“Where’s your mother?” Mr. Ayala asked.

“Why? Don’t tell me you’ve brought her a ‘souvenir’ again,” Trace said with finger quotes. “You know how she reacted last time. Almost flipped her lid.” At the stern look in his eyes he replied, “She went out for some groceries I think.”

“Good, take a gander at this.” Mr. Ayala reached into the pocket of his muddy jeans. He pulled out something flat and held it out to his son.

Trace took it and looked at what was written on it. “A Caribbean cruise?” he questioned.

“For our anniversary next week,” Mr. Ayala explained. “I’m taking her on a cruise for the entire week.”

“Mom’ll love that for sure,” Trace said, handing the tickets back.

“Have you thought anymore about what you’re going to do after you’re done with your maintenance job?” Mr. Ayala asked.

“I haven’t had any good offers yet but I like where I work,” Trace replied.

He was lying through his teeth. He got paid well but he didn’t enjoy the job in particular. He wanted to do something else that made him feel useful but he hadn’t gotten any good offers. He wanted to do something that let him use his mind in a creative way but those kinds of jobs were hard to find in Memphis. For the longest time he felt the urge to leave and pack up his things to start over in a new city. But how was he going to explain to his mother that he now wanted to leave when, before, he didn’t see himself ever leaving his home?

“My offer is still open,” Mr. Ayala told him.

“Thanks, Dad, but I want more before I go with yours.”

Mr. Ayala merely shrugged. “Times running out.”

“I realize that but something might come. Have faith in me, why doncha?” He grabbed his hat off of a nearby coatrack and shoved it down over his head. “I gotta go.” Trace didn’t mean to slam the door shut  ehind him but his father made him so mad sometimes.

Why was it so hard for him to realize that he didn’t want to work in the ‘family’ business? There was a bigger world out there for him that was calling to him. Trace smiled at a thought that reached his mind as soon as he got into his car. What if he just stowed away on *NSYNC’s bus while they left to continue their tour?

His dad wouldn’t be able to say anything then.

He’d be long gone.

“Rachel, stop!” Mack ordered, pointing at her friend. “Put the bride magazine…down,” she said slowly, as if talking any faster would set her off. Rachel’s red-painted fingers dug into the cover of the Brides magazine, her fingers distorting the image of the woman on the cover. Her stance on the other side of the coffee table was tense and her eyes were wild. The other two magazines she had been looking at, Modern Brides and Elegant Bride, were left on the table.

“Just one more,” Rachel begged.

“Rach, he hasn’t even proposed yet!” Mack cried out, throwing her arms into the air.

Rachel’s finger whipped out and pointed at her. “Ah-ha!”  She practically screamed.

“Ah-ha, what?” Mack asked in exasperation and shoved Rachel’s finger out of her face. “You finally realized you  lost your marbles?”

“You said ‘yet’,” Rachel replied.

“Yeah, so?”

“So that means he could propose to me any day now,” she replied.

“OK, even if he does, I’m telling you now that I’m not going to be in your wedding party,” Mack announced, clearly giving up and going back to her forgotten breakfast. She made a mental note to ask Abigail if she knew that her daughter had a few screws loose in her head.

“Why not?” Rachel asked, following her back into the kitchen. “You’d look cute in this bridesmaid dress,” she added, turning the magazine around and showing her the page.

“For one, I don’t do ‘cute’,” Mack replied, waving her spoon around to emphasize her point. “And two, if you’re this crazy before he even proposes, you’re going to go off the deep end once you do get proposed to. You’re going to go nuts finding the perfect dress, the perfect venue, the perfect flowers, and blah blah blah. Makes me consider eloping if I ever decide to get married.” She dunked her spoon into her cereal again and took a bite.

Rachel tossed the magazine onto the table and sat back down in her chair, taking a bite of her toast. She studied her friend as she chewed, noticing how odd it was that she was still carrying herself as if she were guarding herself from something. Or someone. As soon as that thought crossed Rachel’s mind Mack’s phone rang. She glanced at the screen and let out a sigh before answering.

“Hello?” She asked dully. Rachel remained as quiet as possible while sipping her coffee. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m alive and talking to you, aren’t I?” She sounded annoyed with whoever she was talking to. “The tour was almost over anyway, what did it matter when I left?” She rolled her eyes and opened and closed one hand as if imitating someone talking. Rachel cracked a smile and let out a little snort of a laugh. “You’re what?” Mack’s eyes widened and her mouth opened in horror. “Two weeks!?  Why? I don’t care if he’s freaking homesick, you guys have a tour to finish! Waddya mean it’s none of my business? It’s going to screw up your fucking schedule! You get a fucking vacation in about a month, why the fuck do you need one now? Yeah, whatever.” She jabbed the end call button with her thumb and put her cell phone down. Her eyes squinted a bit as she muttered something to herself.

“Something wrong?” Rachel finally ventured to ask.

“That was JC,” she replied. “Instead of coming here for two days like their tour allowed they managed to clear with Johnny that they can stay for two fucking weeks. Apparently Justin was homesick,” she said and stuck her tongue out at the end of her sentence.

“Is that…a bad thing?” Rachel said slowly. “It’s about time my cousin came back. I’ve been worried about him lately, what with him breaking up with—“ She stopped when she noticed the glare that settled into Mack’s eyes. “You-Know-Who,” she finished. “Maybe,” she ventured slowly, “it’s a good thing that they’re staying for so long. You can talk out whatever’s wrong and then things will go back to normal.”

“Normal’s never been a word that could ever be applied to us,” Mack replied.

“You have a point.”

Rachel turned her head when she heard the front door open and then was accompanied by heavy footsteps. “Hey Trace,” she called as soon as she saw it was him. “Did you come for some breakfast? Mom made plenty.” She waved her hand at the spread of food that was on the kitchen table.

“Thanks but no thanks, I already ate,” Trace said as he patted his stomach. “I came to get her for work.”

“Hmmm, can I take a personal day?” Mack asked.

“It’s your first official day and you want to flake out already?”

“I’m not doing much, probably just grading some papers.”

“Get yer ass up.” Trace rolled his eyes at her over exaggerated sigh. “Hey, did Justin call you?” He asked, turning to Rachel.

“No, but JC just called her. Said they now have an extended vacation,” Rachel replied.

“Yeah. That’s what he told me,” Trace said with a nod. “Said he was homesick?”

“Which is odd since he usually never gets homesick,” Rachel replied.

“I was thinking the same thing.”

Rachel glanced at Mack and then lowered her voice. “You think she has something to do with it?”

“No doubt. They’ve hardly gone a day without talking to each other. But almost a week? That’s unheard of.”

Rachel’s eyebrow twitched slightly at the trace of bitterness in his voice but she let it go. She chuckled as the two left her house, bickering along the way, which was replaced by the sound of the screen door slamming shut. Sighing, she gathered up the dirty plates and put them in the sink. She turned to look at the phone as it rang and then looked at her wet hands. She made a face and rushed over to the phone, bending oddly to get it up and onto her shoulder. “Hello?” She answered.

“Rach?” Justin’s breathy voice came in on the other line.

“Yeah, J,” Rachel said, automatically concerned. “What’s up?”

“…Not much.”

“Trace said you called? How much longer until you’re home?”

“Five days.”

Rachel’s eyebrows crinkled together. He sounded distracted which meant that he was worried about something which, in turn, worried her. “What’s going on?”

“Are you alone?”

“Yes, but why?”

“Good, I need to talk to you.”

“What’s it about, J? You’re starting to freak me out.”

“Did Mack ever say why she went home?”

“Yeah,” Rachel said slowly. “She said something about relationship drama between you and Britney and she felt responsible for it and something to do with Wade.”

“Well, she should feel responsible but Wade isn’t directly connected.” He paused and let out a breath. “God, this is so screwed up.”

“J, what’s going on? What happened?”

“You won’t believe me when I tell you.”

Mack smiled and waved at the little kids who gathered their books and rushed out of the room. She chuckled at the little voices calling “Bye Miss ‘Kenzie” on their way out. The children were great. Most of them had a desire to learn new things each day; it was keeping their attentions on some tasks that were the hard part. After a bit the teacher ‘bribed’ them with extra recess to get their work done but they did eventually buckle down and get it done and worked harder than she’s seen them work before.

She waved to a few teachers on her way out the door and crossed the parking lot to Trace’s truck. She groaned inaudibly when she saw that Brett was hanging around the truck. She arched an eyebrow at the fact that both he and Trace were shirtless. A basketball was sitting by Trace’s feet. Brett suddenly turned away from talking to Trace and looked up. A smile formed on his face once he spied her. She fought the urge to barf at his lack of subtlety. Which part of no didn’t he understand?

“Hey Mackenzie,” he said in which she guessed was supposed to be a charming tone. It just got on her nerves.

“It’s Mack,” she corrected him, tossing her back into the trunk. “Hey Trace,” she added, nodding at him. “What’d you do today?”

“Paint stuff,” he replied. “Same ol’, same ol’.” Then he took a swig of his beer.

“You know you two could be arrested for having alcohol on school property and for indecent exposure,” she told them.

Brett smiled in a smarmy way. “Were you checking us out on your way over here?”

Mack felt her lip curl in disgust, but she couldn’t deny his assumption. She was human, a female even, she couldn’t help what her eyes were doing. It was as if they had a mind of their own. “In your dreams,” she replied with an eye roll for affect.

“How’d you know what I dreamed about?” Brett asked. He got a scoff as a reply. “You really need to lighten up. Want some?” He held his bottle out to her.

“Peer pressure,” she sneered. “But no, I don’t drink. Alcohol ruins lives.”

Brett glanced at Trace who lightly shook his head, staying out of the argument. He was having too much fun watching to get involved. Brett chuckled a little. “No it doesn’t,” he said.

“Ever heard of AA?” Mack asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Yeah, it’s filled with people who don’t know when to stop. I, though, know my limits.”

“You sure about that?” She asked, cracking her knuckles.

“OK,” Trace said stepping in before she broke her fist on her face. “I think you guys talked enough.”

“You coming out with us tonight?” Brett asked as Trace pulled his shirt on over his head. “We’re going to Neely’s and maybe hit up the pool hall afterwards.”

“Naw, man, I gotta get home,” Trace replied as Mack brushed past them and got into the passenger side of his truck, telling herself to get a car instead of relying on Trace. She adjusted the side view mirror and slumped in her seat while she waited. She ran her fingers through her now wavy hair and cursed the Southern humidity and what it did to her hair.

“When’re you going to come out with us, man? Sam’s been gone for two years, surely you’re over it by now,” Brett said quietly.

“What does Sam have anything to do with this?” Trace asked. Mack’s eyes squinted slightly at the expression on Trace’s face that was reflected in the mirror. It was hard to read but she’s seen it on Chris’s and Joey’s faces whenever they were in the ‘off’ position of their relationships.

“It has everything to do with this,” Brett replied. “You’ve been in a funk since—“

“I haven’t been in a funk and Sam is none of your business, OK?” Trace said, his tone hard.

“OK,” Brett said, holding his hands. “I guess I’ll see you later then, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Trace said slowly. He walked around the back of his truck and got in. Mack quietly buckled up and moved the side view mirror back to its original state. Trace’s posture was tense, the muscle in his jaw was twitching like an anaconda waiting to strike.

“You’re still not over her?” Mack ventured to ask.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Trace mumbled.

“It’s been two years.”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it.”

“OK, OK, fine.”

The silence was excruciating but Trace couldn’t talk. Why did they always bring up Sam? She wasn’t the reason for him not feeling like going to the pool hall or the local barbecue place. He just didn’t feel like partying. Besides, it wasn’t as good going to parties when Justin wasn’t there. They looked out for each other and without him there he didn’t trust himself around alcohol. He got drunk pretty easily lately. Sometimes he had to call Rachel in the middle of the night to take him home so he wouldn’t have to face his father. His dad would pop him a new one if he ever found out how often he had gotten drunk.

“Trace!” Trace blinked at Mack yelling his name and turned to look at her. She was staring at him in a peculiar way, the same way her mother used to look at him to get him to confess whenever he did something wrong while he was playing at her house. It kinda scared him how much she looked like her mother, almost the exact same but the hair and eye color were different. While Charlotte had dark brown hair and green eyes, Mack got her father’s black hair and blue eyes. But sometimes Trace swore he saw flecks of green in them. “Trace!” Now she sounded annoyed.

“What?” He asked, blinking.

“I asked if you wanted to come in,” she replied, pushing open the door. “My mom and dad are busy all night so it’s just me and the dogs.”

“Uh…yeah, sure,” Trace said, a little disoriented, as he killed the engine. As soon as she grabbed her bag from the back he followed her into the cool house. For some reason it felt odd for him to be alone with her in the house, although he’s been there with her before. Usually her parents were around or, if not them, some of their other friends. It just occurred to him this was the first time he was actually alone with her and it left him unsettled.

“Is macaroni OK?” she asked while pulling open the refrigerator. “I think all we have is Kraft so it’s not that Velveeta crap you people like.”

“Velveeta’s amazing. You’re the weird one around here,” Trace replied.

“Yeah yeah,” she said with a wave of her hand and filled it with water. Then she transferred it over to the stove and turned on the heat. Trace watched as she moved around, getting dinner ready. He then felt he could at least help a little and set the table, putting the fork and knife down on the right sides of the plates. If he didn’t get that right he would get an earful from his mother.

“So, since when are you and Brett friends?” Mack asked during a lull in activity.

Trace shrugged. “Hung out a bit during senior year and had some college classes together,” he replied.

“Is he always that stubborn?”

“’Bout as bull-headed as you are,” he replied, ignoring the finger that was saluting him. “Why?”

“For someone who got through college you’d think he heard the word ‘no’ before,” she replied. “The kid tormented me all in school, basically chased me out of Memphis, and now he’s hitting on me like there’s no tomorrow. I mean the attention is flattering…”

“But?” Trace asked, turning to fix a napkin that didn’t need fixing at all.

“He’s abrasive and I hate that.”

“Right, you want someone that you can boss around.”

She smirked. “He has to at least have a brain and goals.”

“He wants to be a doctor.”

“The shoe doesn’t fit,” she replied. “What about you?” He looked at her. “What’re your goals?”

Trace hesitated. He already knew what he wanted to do but he never told anyone afraid that he’d get laughed out of the state. His father wouldn’t support his decision, probably call it some fairy tale and that someone like him shouldn’t even bother. “I want…to design stuff,” he replied slowly.

“Like clothes?” She asked, lifting an eyebrow.

“Yeah, that’d be cool, but designing anything in general would be good. Something that lets me use my head in different ways. I want to do that and help people as well.”

“That’s noble of you.”

He couldn’t tell if she was teasing him or not. “And you?”

“Oh, I’ve already done what I wanted to do,” she said with a wave of her hand. “Travel the world by dancing.” She chuckled. “Didn’t think I’d get to it by the time I was twenty though. Kinda leaves my future empty.”

“Gives you more time to do whatever else you wanted to do.”

“Just gotta find out what that is.”

“Shouldn’t take you too long. You’re not keen on staying put.”

“Too true.” She paused. “I don’t know, I think I want to slow down for a bit. Stay out of the spotlight for a while, get back into riding again. The simple stuff. Maybe settle down and have a few kids.”

Trace scoffed. “What happened to marriage?”

“That too.”

She turned to the microwave to get the chicken that she had heated up. it was amazing how fast she could help him get out of whatever mood he was in without even trying. It’s probably the only reason he kept her around because, otherwise, they were bickering about something insignificant. But then she would do something nice to throw him off. Like she was doing now…

“What’re you up to?” Trace demanded.

“I’m making…dinner?” Mack replied slowly, putting the stealing plate of chicken into the middle of the table.

“You’re trying to distract me from something,” he replied. “What do you want to know? Something about Sam, right? That’s all anyone talks to me about nowadays anyway.”

“Ah, so now you know how I feel,” she replied, taking off her oven mitts.

“That’s different. You just showed up with no plan or anything.”

“Yet you people are still breathing down my back about it.”

“We wouldn’t have to if you’d just tell us why you skipped out on tour.” Trace wanted to pull his hair out. Usually her determination was endearing but not when it was used against him.

“OK.” She slapped the oven mitts down onto the table. “OK, fine. You really want to know why I’m here?”

“Yes!” Trace replied. “I want to know why you skipped out on tour. I want to know why you’re back early. I want to know who made you cry because I want to make them cry for doing that.”

“You know very well Justin’s the only one that can make me cry,” she pointed out.

“OK, what did he do?”

She shook her head. “He didn’t do anything. It’s something we did.”

“Fine, what do you two do?”

He wasn’t in the mood for guessing games. He didn’t even think he’d get it right anyway. The only thing he could think of was that they—

“We slept together.”

—got into a fight about who got a certain side of the hotel room.

Wait, what?

Trace blinked. He didn’t hear her right. He couldn’t have heard her right. They slept together? Trace stopped himself from jumping to the same conclusion. She couldn’t mean what he thought she meant. They’ve shared beds, floors, even sleeping bags on some occasions but she couldn’t mean that. A tiny monster clawed at his stomach at those words and he felt like he was about to puke.

“You…you two…?” He couldn’t even form the words.

“Slept together,” she repeated, nodding. She said it so casually; she mustn’t mean what he was thinking.

The shrill ring of the phone made Trace jump. Mack sighed (in relief?) and reached for the phone. “Yellow?” She drawled. Trace blinked. When’d her accent come back? “Yeah. He’s here.” She turned and held out the white phone. “It’s your mom.”

Trace took the phone from her and turned away. He couldn’t look in her eyes. “Yeah?” He answered the phone. Mack took the pot that was still on the stove and dumped the water and noodles into a strainer. “What?” She almost dropped the pot in fright but managed to keep her grip on it to transfer it back to the stove. “Yeah, I’m on my way,” Trace said quickly and hung up the phone.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Mack asked, noticing the expression on his face.

“I have to get to the hospital,” he mumbled. He was numb. He couldn’t feel his feet moving but the sound of his footsteps falling on the floor let him know that he was.

“Why, what’s wrong?” He heard her ask from behind him.

“It…it’s Grandad. He had a stroke.”