My Blue River (6 page)

We stood a little longer in silence, both still holding the glass, fingers still touching. I couldn’t help it. I needed to leave, but I really enjoyed peering into those beautiful brown eyes. I didn’t resist the feel of his skin. He no longer seemed like “psycho boy.” In fact, he didn’t seem like the slightest psycho at all. I wasn’t sure why, but it suddenly struck me that I would probably never again meet anyone as authentic as Jackson Cooper. I could have stayed right here in this moment all day, basking in his presence.

He made the first move, finally releasing his hold on the glass. I pulled the glass to my chest, still feeling the excitement of his touch. I barely knew him and none of this was making sense. I was lost in thought when he said, “Oh, hey, I’ll be seeing you at school, too. We’re in the same grade—small school. I’m bound to see you—see you a lot, actually. And I only live a mile that way. You can see my house from here.” He pointed south and he was right. I could see his house.

I gulped and hoped it wasn’t audible. I felt a slight tingle that he lived so close. “Oh, that’s…that’s…great, yeah…okay, then, see you tomorrow…and then at school”
Shut up! Addy!
Now I was just rambling and I knew I sounded foolish. I was an over-confident teen queen turned blushing teeny-bopper. Even though I was choking on emotion, I managed to say, “See you later.”

I turned to leave, throwing my hand to my heart, as if to keep it in place. I looked up to the heavens and whispered, “Well done—well done.”

********

Jack’s Journal

Wednesday, June 30

I surrender.

4. Just Friends

The sound was a pattern of thumping, then the sound of trickling water, then scraping. It started over again like, lather, rinse, repeat. I had been up late so I struggled to pry my eyes open. I didn’t need to look at the clock to know it was so early the sun had barely even made its appearance for the day.
Doesn’t anyone or anything sleep in anymore? Of course not
, I answered my own question. Ever since we moved to the place I now called One Horse, my parents woke up early every morning either working in the yard or in the house and at times, both. “Get up early, Addy, enjoy the fresh morning air,” they would say. The move to Blue River alone was not appealing, but the addition of hard labor made it almost unbearable.

The amount of work that needed to be done was overwhelming. It all needed to be completed by the time my parents started their new jobs. My mom would be Blue River High School’s new school counselor—a sure change from her private practice in family counseling, but she swore it still provided an opportunity to counsel and that’s what mattered. In California, my dad had been successful business man but in Montana, he would be a college professor. This wasn’t just a move to another state it was an entire Davis Family shakeup. Dad would be teaching at one of Montana’s largest universities in the College of Business and commute forty minutes to work. According to my dad, a forty-minute commute was nothing compared to the traffic he was usually stuck in on the highways of California and you “couldn’t place a monetary value on saving his son’s life.” That was yet to be determined in my eyes, but hey, whatever made him sleep at night. He had even taken a cut in pay claiming the cost of living difference made it possible and vowed everything was going to work out.

I sometimes wondered if he was just making the facts up as he went along or if he actually knew what he was talking about but either way, this was happening. My parents had made wise investments with the sizeable inheritance Mom received from the passing of her father. We left California extremely, financially stable. In other words, we were a wealthy family. Thanks to the soaring California property values, my parents made a haul on the house Aaron and I had grown up in. It saddened me to think they had brought each of their newborn babies into that house, and then left it seventeen years later without looking back. It was as if the house and all those memories meant nothing to them now. The move was well planned and they were able to take the entire summer off, but this still seemed insane. It still felt like there was a missing piece to this puzzle.

There it was again. Thump, trickle, scrape. I heard the annoying sounds again and again so I ran outside to see what it was all about. I was still in my pajamas and my hair was unkempt. I rounded the corner of the house and there stood Jack, already hard at work. If I had put more thought into this moment, I would have realized Jack would be here and put more effort on my appearance. I skid to a halt and started to comb through my hair with my fingers.

“What are you doing?” I snapped. Then I yawned, making sure he knew he’d awakened me. Surely that would excuse my shabby appearance. “And what is that?” I pointed to the equipment he was using.

“This?” he asked as he held up a brass nozzle attached to a blue hose. “This is what we call a
pressure washer
.” His tone was condescending. It was as though he thought it was a stupid question.

“And you’re spraying the house with water because?” I asked, waiting for him to complete my question.

He let out what seemed like a frustrated sigh then replied, “Well, before we can paint the house, we need to get the old paint off. We use a pressure washer and a hand scraper to do that.” He dropped the tone and the hose and added, “And I’m sensing you’re mad.” He started to walk toward me, which made me very aware of my morning breath so I took two steps back. Jack was a smart and intuitive guy. He picked up on my body language and stopped in his tracks.

“Yeah, your senses are good. I’d like to be sleeping at this ungodly hour but I can’t because someone is thumping on the house with a stupid
water sprayer
.” I was snapping at him even though I knew he was only doing his job. I knew it was wrong to be mad at him but I almost couldn’t stop myself. I certainly couldn’t get made at my dad. Mom, maybe. Dad? Never.

“Okay, again, it’s a
pressure washer
.”

I gave him a snotty look for correcting me.

He offered, “I’m sorry. I’m just doing my job. Besides, I thought we have a truce in place.” He wiped his dirty hands on his t-shirt. “You still mad about the artery clogging butter joke at the cafe? That was nearly a month ago. You can’t possibly still be mad.”

I opened my mouth to speak, but in that same moment, my dad rounded the corner.

Surprised, Dad exclaimed, “Oh! Addy! I’m glad you’re up. Great! Get some work clothes on and come behind Jack with a hand scraper. We want the house painted before school starts.”

“Oh, yippee,
work
clothes,” I said flatly. I rolled my eyes and threw my hands in the air, reluctantly leaving to change my clothes. I found some old blue Capri sweat pants and an old, plain white t-shirt and returned to find my new work partner still spraying chunks of old, white paint from the house.

I admired his physique for a moment before announcing my arrival. I reluctantly asked, “So, what do I do?”

“Well, pick up that hand scraper and come behind me. What the pressure washer doesn’t remove, you scrape off,” Jack instructed. It was disgusting how seriously he took his job, which bugged me a little but mostly because it made me realize I didn’t have any work ethic when it came to physical labor.
I really hate recognizing my flaws
.

“Great, sounds
fun
,” I sarcastically replied.

I picked up the scraper and began to work. I couldn’t take the silence, so I decided to clear the air. It really wasn’t his fault he had awakened me at the crack of dawn and it most certainly wasn’t his fault I had to live in this Godforsaken town
.

“I’m not mad about the car thing, or the butter thing, or every other bad encounter we’ve had and yes, we have a truce.” I paused, waiting for him to respond but he said nothing. It was like he knew I had more to say and for that, I was grateful, so I continued. “I’m just irritated about all this slave labor. I don’t want to be here…meaning, Montana,” I clarified.

“Really? Why not? Montana is God’s country!” He spread his arms out. “I can’t imagine anyone
not
wanting to live here.”

I raised one eyebrow. “You’re so weird.”

He laughed and I had a feeling he didn’t take my jab seriously. It was so odd to me that he considered this to be God’s country.

“So you haven’t heard our story, huh?” I asked.

He was suddenly serious. “Oh. I’m sorry. I didn’t know there was a
story
. I just thought it was your basic move. A lot of Californians relocate to Montana.”

“Well, we’re here because of Aaron. He can’t seem to get his act together. He loves weed and alcohol a little too much. My parents think it’s enough of a problem to move him here where they think he can’t get into as much trouble instead of getting him into rehab. I think they’ve got it all wrong and I know he’ll still get into trouble.” I had not intended on telling him so much and it almost felt like I couldn’t stop myself from talking.

He stopped what he was doing and shut off the pressure washer, giving me his full attention. “Seriously? Doesn’t that seem…wrong that your mom of all people would think that’s the right thing to do?”

My head snapped in his direction. “Thank you! Finally, someone understands what I’m saying!”

“I totally understand. That just seems, not quite right, if you know what I mean.”

“Jack, I totally know what you mean. It’s what I’ve been thinking all along. I keep feeling like there is no way my mom would think this is the way to handle Aaron’s problem. It’s like there’s more to the story but I don’t know what it is.”

“Yeah, it does sound like there’s more to this than you know. I hear you.”

I let out a huge sigh of relief.
Finally, someone is listening to me and not just listening, they are agreeing!

He pondered our conversation and then a look of understanding washed over his face. “Well, as far as Aaron is concerned, knowing that about him brings some perspective. I couldn’t quite put my finger on it, but when I first met your brother he seemed a little out of it. I thought maybe he was…mentally challenged or something so I kept calling him
little buddy
. He must think I’m weird. It’s been confusing so I’m glad you told me. At the café he seemed so…together.”

I laughed as I pictured Jack looking at Aaron like he was mentally challenged, then pictured Aaron looking at Jack with a perplexed look, which probably only made him look more mentally challenged.

“Oh, I’m sure he thinks you’re weird, but that’s just by virtue of you being a
hillbilly
,” I teased.

“I’m a what? Did you just say
hillbilly
? I can’t believe you just said that!” He tried to sound as though he was offended but he was smiling. I could tell by the twinkle in his eyes he took it as a joke.

“You know, people from small towns are not as weird as you think,” said Jack. “You have a really distorted view of Blue River and those who live here, don’t you.” He said it more like a statement than a question.

“I guess after I spend a year living here, we’ll know if it was distorted or not,” I replied.

“I can’t wait. I wonder what we’ll be saying to each other when I see you off in a year.”

“Me, too.”

We both laughed. Something in the air had changed and it wasn’t the scent of freshly plowed fields that had just passed by. This was a moment in time I would remember because it marked a turning point in our relationship and a turning point within me. I didn’t fully comprehend how much I was letting go of some of my anger and that Jack was the guy making it happen. I had spent so much time plotting my departure that I hadn’t thought it could be remotely possible that I would find someone interesting in Montana. Just as Jack couldn’t quite place his finger on what was up with Aaron, I couldn’t quite place my finger on what made Jack so different from any other guy I had met before, but I was looking forward to finding out what it was.

I had dreamed a few dreams about Jack since the day in the parking lot, and especially after the day our fingers touched on the lemonade glass, but none of my dreams revealed anything in particular.
Who am I kidding? I can never figure my dreams out anyway.
But seeing him in my dreams each night and finding him here in the flesh each day had been very pleasant.

There was a lag in conversation, but even when we had moments of silence, it was still comfortable to be with him. After one of those short moments of silence Jack said, “So tell me about yourself, Addy.”

I considered my words.
How much do I want to say?
“Me? I, uh, well, I love California—I hate small towns. Shall I go on?”

He laughed. “Tell me something I DON’T know.”

I giggled then continued. “I love photography, but I’m realistic. I can’t make a living at that so I’ll probably follow in my dad’s footsteps and get a business degree, but I may shock my mother and go into psychology.”

Jack nodded his head as if he understood. “Have you always known college was for you?”

“Hmm.” I looked to the sky, thinking about my answer then looked back at Jack. “I guess so. I never really thought about it because it was just always understood in my family that there is no stopping at a high school diploma. I’ve just always planned on going to college.”

“Do you know where you’ll go?”

“Definitely somewhere in Southern California. I’m thinking of the University of California, San Diego. No offense, but I already can’t wait to get out of this crappy little town.”

He stopped what he was doing and turned to face me. “Now, see, typically, when people start with
no offense
, they really do mean to offend, but I’ll let it slide this time.” He smiled and resumed his work.