Spark

by Erin Noelle

  He slides the rolling papers toward me with a small crooked smile that reaches his eyes. “I promise.”

  I jump up to snag the additional pot we brought from his coat pocket, hastily breaking up enough Twilight Zone—a strain known for its peaceful, tranquil high—for a medium-sized joint. It takes me less than thirty seconds to roll, lick, and twist up the ends, and not a moment too soon, I’m leaning back in the chair, inhaling a lungful of much needed comfort.

  I’m uncertain if he’s going to smoke too, but Crew surprises me when he takes the joint from my offering fingers and begins talking openly about when Caleb first began his battle with epilepsy. Passing it back and forth, we smoke as he tells me about the debilitating headaches, seizures increasing in frequency and intensity, and dreadful side effects from the prescription drugs that led them to choose Colorado for not only the medical marijuana, but also a complete lifestyle change.

  Mary, freshly showered and in a pair of modest, flannel pajamas, joins us at some point during the conversation, and really shocks the hell out of me when she takes a few puffs off the passing doobie. In spite of the horrible events from earlier in the evening, the mood is relatively light, their calm composure at the familiarity of the situation—along with the THC—soothes my anxiety, and I pay close attention when they teach me what to do in case I’m ever alone with Caleb and he starts tremoring. The risk of choking, suffocating, or crashing into something is potentially more dangerous than the seizure itself, possibly life-threatening if he’s not closely monitored for his own safety. I deflate a little, realizing Caleb can’t be cured, that no matter what kind of custom strain of marijuana I cultivate, epilepsy will always be part of Caleb’s reality.

  When all that’s left of the joint is a tiny roach in the ashtray, I’m much more knowledgeable about epilepsy and how it effects Caleb specifically, and although I’m still a bit traumatized over what I saw, I feel better knowing he wasn’t in grave danger from the seizure itself.

  “I really should get back home. It’s getting late, and you two need to get to bed.” I scoot the chair back and stand up, glancing over at where the younger Elliott brother remains asleep. “Thank you both for explaining this all to me, and I’m sorry I froze up earlier. I promise it won’t happen again.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry about, Hudson.” Mary peers up at me with contented satisfaction in her eyes. “You, your parents, and your siblings have not only been gracious hosts, but have welcomed us in like extended family, and we couldn’t be more thankful. I think the man upstairs knew exactly what He was doing when He sent us here to start up our new life.”

  I offer a genuine smile, silently agreeing with her last comment. As a strong believer in fate and destiny, I know for a fact this is exactly where they’re supposed to be. “I’ll see you tomorrow at breakfast. Sleep well.”

  “Wait. I’ll walk you home,” Crew announces as he slowly stands up. His movements and reflexes are more sluggish than normal from smoking—one of the main reasons no one should ever drive after getting stoned, much like after drinking.

  “It’s okay; you don’t need to get out in the cold,” I insist as I slide into my jacket and Uggs, not wanting to get back out in the subzero temperatures myself.

  He ignores me and slips on his parka, shoes, and beanie, then hooks his hand into the crook of my elbow and guides me to the door. “I’ll be right back, Mom,” he calls out as we walk out of the cabin, and all I hear is her light laughter.

  Thankfully, the wind has eased up a bit as we traipse across the snow-crusted ground, and a few short minutes later, we’re standing on my front porch. His closeness yet again proves to be an internal heater as I feel the fire in my belly roar to life when he glides his fingers around the base of my throat and threads them through the hair at the nape of my neck. The simple touch of his skin against mine eliminates the shivering cold surrounding us.

  Tugging gently on the loose locks, he angles my face upwards a split second before he lowers his full, tasty lips to mine. Our breaths soft and steady, his tongue curls around mine in a kiss that’s not quite as passionate as the previous times he’s claimed my mouth, but just as purposeful. Somehow, I just know whatever is happening between us is something special…

  Something that’ll influence my life greatly.

  Something I’ll never forget.

  A light inside my house flickers on, startling us and causing us to pull apart. He places several more affectionate kisses to my tender lips prior to whispering goodnight and trekking back to his cabin. I watch him the entire way until he waves one last time before disappearing behind the door, and then I go inside.

  I stop by my parents’ room to let them know I’m home safe and that Caleb is resting, agreeing to talk more in the morning about what all happened. Once I’m in my room, I change into my nightclothes and get ready for bed, not looking forward to my five-thirty alarm. Climbing into bed, I turn the TV on and press play on the DVD remote, curious to see which movie Crew had chosen for us to watch.

  When the opening scene of True Romance appears on the screen, I snuggle down into the covers with the silliest grin on my face and drift off to sleep wondering if Crew Elliott is possibly too good to be true.

  “Any idea where this is heading?” My mom’s voice, sincere but resilient, greets me the moment I shut the door behind me. “And ‘to bed’ isn’t the answer I’m looking for.”

  Chuckling under my breath, as I knew this talk was coming, I shed my heavy coat and toe off my shoes before turning around to look at her. “I haven’t got a clue,” I admit honestly, knowing exactly what she’s referring to without even having to ask.

  While I was gone, walking Hudson home, she moved from the table to the bed, now sitting cross-legged atop the comforter while aimlessly flipping through one of her celebrity magazines. “She’s not like any of those girls from back home, especially not Lila. I don’t want you playing games with her.”

  “I’m not playing games, Mom. At least, not on purpose.” I fall back onto the pillows of the other bed with a heavy sigh. “She’s different. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel it. It still doesn’t mean I know what I’m doing or where it’s going.”

  Tossing her reading material to the side, she raises her chin and gives me the all-knowing Mom look. “She’s an old soul. There’s nothing shallow with Hudson. Everything she does, everything she feels, she does it bone-deep, from the heart. Even if you showed no interest in her whatsoever, she’d still do everything she can to help Caleb. She’s a healer; you can see it in her eyes. It’s part of the reason why she’s so passionate about the marijuana stuff; she does it ‘cause she knows it helps people who are suffering. I’m just not sure she’d know how to heal herself if she was ever the one hurting.”

  I don’t reply at first as I mull over her words, the hard truth of them slamming home in my chest, particularly the insinuation I could be the one to hurt her. That’s not my endgame with her, not my intention, but I also know the likelihood of it happening is probably pretty high considering my track record. I didn’t come here looking for a relationship, but I wasn’t expecting to find someone like Hudson either.

  She caught me by surprise.

  I mean, yeah, when I see her, my cock notices and wants to come out to play, but it’s more than that. She’s so much more than just a pair of tits and some warm holes. Other than Caleb and my mom, I’ve never wanted to take care of someone else before. Never cared enough. It was more about what they could do for me.

  But with her? I roll my neck, trying to dislodge the unfamiliar sensation settling over me. I’m just a guy whose future plans include homeschooling my little brother during the day, slinging drinks for tips at night, and looking to get my rocks off sometime in-between. A girl like her deserves someone a helluva lot better than a guy like me.

  “Don’t you even start thinking like that, Crew Thomas Elliott,” Mom warns, as if my every thought is scrolling across my forehead. “You’re so much li
ke her you don’t even realize it. You’ve sacrificed everything to move here with Caleb and me…gave up your friends, college, put your dreams on hold, all for the love of your brother and your determination to make him feel better. I told you just yesterday that you don’t need to lose yourself in all of this. You have the right to live your own life as well.”

  “But he’s my brother…my blood. Of course I’m going to be there for him. But she…” I pause, struggling with how to say it. “It’s like she shares the same feelings about him, and he’s basically a stranger to her.”

  Making a tsk-tsk sound with her mouth, she gets up and pads over the few feet between the beds, scooting me over to make room for her on my mattress. “You better not go screwing something up before you even give it a chance. Don’t think I don’t notice the way you can’t help but smile when you see her, or the way you both can’t stop touching each other when you’re close. I’ve never seen you like this before and I like it.”

  She pauses to tousle my already messy hair, her mouth turned up in a happy smile. “The point of the conversation wasn’t to imply you’re not good enough for her—quite the opposite actually. You’re my son, my first baby, and if anything, I think most girls don’t come close to stacking up to you. I just wanted to make sure you realize how unique Hudson is, and how girls like her don’t come around very often.”

  “I know, Mom,” I drape my arm over her shoulders and pull her close to me. “I’m just not sure with Caleb and working I have the time to put into something else. I need to stay focused on helping you two out.”

  “If someone’s important enough to you, you’ll make time to fit them in your life, but for now, take it slow and listen to your gut.” Giggling, she pokes me in my stomach. “Whatever this spark is between y’all may blaze into something spectacular, or it may simmer out, but either way, I think you’ll be short-changing yourself if you don’t give it a shot.”

  Kissing my cheek, she returns to the other bed and slides under the blankets, leaving me staring at the ceiling, lost in thought for the third straight night. Over and over again in my head, I replay chunks of the conversation with my mom, mixed in with images of Hudson from the last couple of days—the way her bright blue eyes crinkle up in the corner when she laughs, how she takes Caleb’s smartass comments in stride and is always ready to dish them back out, the way her full lips form the perfect O when she exhales perfect smoke rings. My last thought is Mom’s advice to listen to my gut.

  For the past four-plus years, I’ve always followed my dick when it came to girls, and though it’s rarely led me down the wrong path, I’m not so sure it’s led me down the right one either. I’m a long damn way from listening to my heart on any of this shit, but my gut seems like a happy medium between the two.

  And my gut wants Hudson.

  At some point in the middle of the night, I hear Mom up moving around, getting Caleb some water and the vaporizer, but once it sounds like they have everything under control, I pass back out until I’m woken up by someone jumping on my bed.

  “Wake up, lover boy. I’m hungry!” Caleb shouts while using my mattress as a trampoline, alternating between bouncing on his knees and his feet.

  “What in the world are you doing?” I grumble as I roll over and hide my head under the pillow. “It’s way too fucking early to be this damn chipper.”

  He snickers and jumps harder, the little shit. “It’s almost nine, assface. You need to take a shower when Mom gets out so we can go—”

  As he’s talking, it hits me. If he’s the one waking me up, that means he didn’t have an episode this morning. Stunned at the realization, I spring up from under the fluffy down comforter and tackle him down on the bed.

  “Nothing this morning?” I ask, my words gruffer than I intend them to be, my throat catching.

  He shakes his head, with a grin on his face spread ear-to-motherfucking-ear. “Nope. Not even a headache, though Mom says I scared the shit out of everyone last night.”

  “Hell, yeah!” I hoot loud enough for the neighboring cabin to hear…shit, maybe even the whole resort, but I don’t give a damn. We’re still a ways off from deeming this an effective treatment, and even though he had a pretty bad seizure last night, this is the first morning in months he hasn’t woken up with one, and I call that a fucking win. “Don’t worry about last night either, man. They’re all cool.”

  An hour later, the three of us are floating on air—or maybe that’s the celebratory joint we shared—as we enter the main lodge for breakfast, eager to share the good news with Hudson and the rest of her family. Doug approaches our table almost immediately after we sit down, greeting us with a friendly smile.

  “Mornin’, Mary,” he tips his head in my mom’s direction, then does the same to me and Caleb, “and gentlemen. Everyone sleep okay? Can I start you off with some coffee or juice?”

  It doesn’t go unnoticed on my part how he doesn’t mention what happened after dinner last night, and I greatly appreciate it. Despite the fact Caleb puts on a great show around other people about how happy-go-lucky he is and how he pretends having epilepsy doesn’t bother him, I know for a fact he’s embarrassed after he has an episode in front of people.

  I was the one who had to listen to him quietly cry himself to sleep at night after kids made fun of him, and no matter how many little shits’ asses I kicked for picking on my brother over the last couple years, there was still always someone who made a snide remark or dig at him. I can only hope we’ve left that life behind for good.

  “I’ll start with some coffee, please,” Mom replies, then looks at me. “Crew, you too?”

  “Yeah, I’ll have a cup too,” I nod, “though I’m already so alert this morning I’m not sure the caffeine is needed.”

  Not paying attention to the conversation, Caleb is too busy scanning the dining room to realize it’s his turn to order a drink. “Caleb, dude, what do you want to drink?” I nudge him with my shoulder.

  “Where’s Hudson? She usually takes our orders.” He completely ignores my question, though I’m glad he does, ‘cause I was wondering the same thing, but didn’t want to ask.

  “She left just about fifteen minutes ago for the university…something about an exam today that she needed to get there early to review for,” Doug explains. “She asked if I’d seen you guys before leaving, but I hadn’t.”

  I swallow back the disappointment, having completely forgotten she has classes in Denver three days a week. “What time does she normally get back?”

  “Usually a little before dinner, depending on the weather and traffic. Would you all be interested in joining us for dinner again tonight?”

  “That’s not necessary, Doug. We’re not going to intrude on your family time at home,” Mom’s voice drowns out both mine and Caleb’s quick ‘yes’.

  Throwing his head back with laughter, he winks at me and Caleb. “It looks like you were outvoted, Mary, and you’re not intruding. The kids seem to get along,” he lifts his brow at me, emphasizing he’s noticed how well Hudson and I get along, “and Mel and I enjoy your company. Dinner’s around six, but you can come over whenever you’d like. Now, Caleb, what can I get you to drink, son?”

  It’s a little after noon when I walk into the Half Pipe Pub, ready to meet my new boss and fill out whatever paperwork is necessary to make sure I’m ready to get to work as soon as we return from the move. I’m more than a little surprised at the bustling venue during a weekday lunch, but bodies are packed shoulder-to-shoulder at the bar, and nearly every table is claimed.

  “Take a seat anywhere you can find one. Someone will be with you shortly,” a guy behind the bar calls out over his shoulder as he fills a pilsner glass with an amber beer from the tap.

  Nodding my acknowledgement, I hang my coat on one of the free hooks right inside the front door then stride up to one of the open high bar-top tables that seats two, sliding onto one of the wooden chairs. While I wait for the server to come over, I take a few minutes to scan the
entire area, acquainting myself with my new place of employment.

  Comfortable and cozy, the place exudes a homey, welcoming atmosphere with a gigantic rock fireplace that spans the girth of the entire back wall. Numerous loveseats and recliners are positioned around the room’s main focal point, giving almost a coffeehouse-type feel to the area. The dark mahogany wood bar lines one of the sidewalls, stopping just before a hallway, which, according to the signs, leads to the restrooms. Five U-shaped booths with hunter green vinyl benches line the opposite wall, each sitting six to eight people comfortably, and the center of the room is scattered with rearrangeable tables, like the one I’m sitting at.

  Snowboards, skis, and poles hang from the ceiling, and the walls are covered in framed posters and photographs, every one of them a different action-shot inside a half-pipe, staying true to the place’s namesake. In one of the corners close to the door, a jukebox—currently playing one of my favorite Mumford & Sons’ songs, Below My Feet—is situated not far from a mall-style photo booth, both of which currently have small crowds hovering around them. All in all, the place looks exactly like I pictured a mountainside pub in the middle of a ski resort to look, and strangely, I feel relaxed in the unfamiliar setting.

  “Hey, baby. How’s this hump day treating you?” A hot, college-aged ginger, wearing a plaid flannel shirt tied up underneath her boobs with tiny khaki shorts and knee-high furry boots—an outfit that shows off an ample amount of cleavage and even more bare thigh—approaches the table with an impish grin and unmistakable twinkle in her eye. Her breasts accidentally brush up against my bicep as she leans over to place a coaster on the table in front of me. “What can I start you off with to drink? A Screaming Orgasm your style, or do you prefer a Slow, Comfortable Screw?”

  “I, uh, I’m here about a bartending job,” I stammer momentarily, feeling the tips of my ears burn with uninvited arousal, but quickly rebound. “I’m supposed to meet a Brody here today?”