A few minutes pass before I hear the door creaking open and his heavy footsteps on the wooden porch.
“Hey,” Landry says when he approaches, his head bowed. “Mind if I join you?”
I study him for a second as I continue watering my plants. “Only if you’ve come to apologize.”
“I have,” he replies, holding back a smile.
“Let’s hear it, then.” I move to sit on the front porch steps and pat the space beside me.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbles, groaning softly as he lowers himself to sit.
“That’s it? Really?”
He sighs. “Fine. I’m sorry for taking my stress out on you yesterday. You didn’t deserve most of that. But this is exactly why I hesitated to move in together. So if you can’t handle?—”
I click my tongue in disappointment. “You’re crummy at apologies, Landry.”
“Yeah, well, you’re shit at cussing,” he says with an eye roll.
“Look, I can’t begin to understand what you’ve been going through. I’m sure it’s killing you, having to stand by and not being able to help. But it doesn’t exempt you from being kind to everyone else. You’re still responsible for working on yourself, even in hard times. Just think of it as an opportunity to grow as a person.”
He rears back in surprise. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“How we handle tragedy and setbacks says a lot about us, and offering up one’s suffering for the betterment of others is more rewarding than you’d think.”
“And I’ve told you before that I don’t need your helpto grow as a person,” he retorts indignantly.
I shrug. “Sure seems like you do.”
I know I’m pushing my luck, but he needs to hear this, so it might as well come from me. And after the hissy fit he threw last night, I think I’m entitled to call him out on his bad attitude.
“What would you know about adversity, anyway?” he blurts out, but he looks regretful as soon as he says the words. “I’m sorry,” he adds softly. “Forget I said that last part.”
“Like I toldyoubefore, I can handle more than you think. You’re not the only one who’s had a rough childhood, you know, even if my problems looked different than yours,” I tell him, reaching out to pick one of my flowers.
“Yeah, I’m sorry,” he repeats after a while. “I’m just not fond of getting lectures from a kid.”
“I’m twenty-five, you know, old enough to need a period cup,” I say dryly as I roll the pink camellia’s stem between my fingers. “And despite the way it looks, I’ve lived through more than most people my age.”
“Maybe you have endured a lot, but you still haven’t learned that most people aren’t as inherently good as you and the rest of your family. The majority of us aren’t looking to grow or better ourselves. We’re trying to survive and take care of the people we love, and we don’t have the time or energy to bother with the rest.”
“I refuse to believe people aren’t inherently good,” I reply. “Especially you, Landry.”
He clears his throat and looks away. “Good luck holding onto that philosophy as a high school teacher.”
“Yeah,” I admit. “I know they’re all good kids, but some of them just act like downright … twerps.”
He snorts. “Twerps? No wonder they’re having a field day with you.”
I shove him playfully. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Come on, Daisy,” he says, glaring at me incredulously. “You’re young and beautiful, and you flinch every time you hear a bad word. You’re practically begging them to give you a hard time.”
My jaw lowers. “That’s not true at all.”
“If you don’t think you’re locker room fodder yet, then you’re even more naive than I thought.”
I frown and bring my knees up to my chest. “I’m sure those kids don’t care enough to give me a second thought once they leave my classroom.”
