Page 19 of The Way I Hate Him
Can you tell how much Ethel loves Hayes? Pretty sure the only people who like Hayes in this town are his grandma, Abel, and Rodney, who owns the Model Railroad Museum up the street, and I think that’s only because he’s always had a thing for Hayes’s grandma.
“Hayes is back?” Aubree says.
“Apparently, his tour is over, and his grandma took a nasty fall, so he’s here to care for her.”
“Well, that should be fun,” Aubree says sarcastically.
Ethel leans in. “Word on the street is he fired Matt.” Ethel glances up at me. “Did you know this?”
Aubree whips around to look at me. “Did you?”
“Uh . . . yes,” I answer. “He was the first one I saw. He told me.”
“That’s right, Yahnoosh said he heard you two fighting in his apartment,” Ethel says.
Of course he did. Because nothing is ever freaking sacred in this town.
“That’s because he broke up with me,” I say because I might as well just put it out there.
“He did?” Aubree asks. “Why?”
“Said I was too boring,” I answer, wanting to throw him under the bus because, why not? “Said I was moping.”
Ethel clutches her heart in shock. “Your sister just passed. Of course you would be mopey.”
“That’s what I told him.” I shrug, glad he broke up with me because who says that to someone? Maggie was right. He is the ick.
“Well, that just won’t do. I shall have a conversation with his mother.”
“Uh, that’s all right, Ethel. I’m sure he heard enough from me.”
“Still, you poor dear.” Ethel walks up to me in all of her redheaded glory and pulls me into the type of hug where her bosom greets me first and then her arms. Her signature scent of Chanel No5 fills up my nostrils. “I’m so sorry you’re experiencing so much pain lately. And now, with dropping out of school.”
“Uh, hold up, she’s not dropping out of school,” Aubree corrects quickly. “She’s doing an internship. Please, Ethel, please don’t get the two mixed up.”
Ethel lets go of me but holds me close as she looks me in the eyes. “My apologies.”
And I swear on my right boob, the look she gives me, it’s almost as if she knows the real reason I left school. But how? Does she have someone keeping tabs on me in San Francisco? Some secret teleportation where she can be in multiple places in minutes? Has she tapped my phone?
I wouldn’t be surprised if she did. This is Ethel O’Donnell-Kerr, after all.
“Well, I best be on my way,” she sing-songs. “The lunch hour is coming up, and you know my guests love a good reprise while they eat.” She clears her throat and starts singing octaves on her way out. With a twiddle of her fingers, she’s gone.
Aubree returns to the counter and starts looking at her iPad again.
“So,” I say awkwardly as silence falls between us. “Do you need some help around here?”
“No,” Aubree says without looking up. “I just had one stressful night, and the Peach Society caught me. Everything is fine.”
“Okay, because if you need my help, I know this store in and out. I’d be more than happy—”
“I need you to focus on school and graduating,” Aubree snaps. “That’s what I need you to do. So if this internship will do that, then focus on that.”
Caught off guard by her irritated tone, I take a step forward. “Aubree, if you want to talk . . .”
“I don’t,” she says and then takes a deep breath. When her eyes connect with mine, she says, “I don’t need to talk, okay? I’m fine. Everything is fine.”
“Okay,” I reply, not believing her for a second.
