by Lola West
My father continued. “He worked hard. Didn’t put up a fuss at all and honestly seemed interested in learning.”
“What were you guys doing?”
“Covering plants, moving the goats out to exercise, mucking the barn, feeding, moving the goats back in, the usual.” The goats didn’t usually house in the barn, but in the snow, they would have been moved inside. Caring for the goats and the barn was hard work.
My dad sat down on the little bench by the door and unlaced his boots as he continued to talk. “He was interested in it all. Asking about making milk and cheese. Trying to understand how we get our spring plants to survive a cold snap. I mean really asking questions. And he worked hard too. He’s still out there shoveling the snow. Lasted way longer than Joe. Joe cut out as soon as it was time to muck the barn.”
Of course, he did. Joe hated, I mean, hated mucking the barn.
My dad stood up from the bench, solid, hands on hips. “He’s a strong kid, Lu. I like him,” he announced before he dropped his arms and started to move. As he passed me, he nodded his head toward the door and dropped the tone of his voice a smidge. “Honestly, he did better than I expected, and in that getup too.” My father chuckled to himself.
Wait, what getup? I jumped off the couch and went to the window to peer through the blinds. Drew was clearing off the stones that made a path to my front door. He was wearing jeans, a kind of neon lavender tight waffled long-sleeve shirt that showed off every muscle, sparkly, rainbow Mudruckers that I knew Joe painted himself, a leopard scarf, and a neon-pink hat, which he had tried to stuff into the back pocket of his jeans, but it was mostly sticking out. Clearly, Joe had struck again.
But the thing was it didn’t work. Drew looked absolutely delectable. Lavender was clearly his color and honestly, ruddy, sweaty, and tousled from hard work was pretty much good on anyone, but it was particularly yummy on Drew.
41
Drew
I kept meaning to leave. I did, really. The second night, I crashed from sheer exhaustion. I fell asleep in a chair in the living room still wearing Joe’s lavender shirt. Side note: I already knew that I was totally keeping that thing. I could tell Lua liked me wearing it. Her gaze lingered a beat too long when I came inside. So, I hoped Joe wasn’t looking for a return because if he was, we were gonna butt heads about it. Also, I was a frat boy. I’d been hazed before, and I knew that the best way to mitigate future hazing was to dominate the original course of teasing. If you looked unfazed and embraced the suck, you earned your tormentor’s respect. At this point in my life, I fully realized that it was fucked up to put your potential friends through trials. I so got it that this behavior was philosophically flawed and straight-up stupid. But there was something in human nature that drove us to test each other, so I wasn’t offended that Joe and Jack were pushing me to see what it was like in their world. They wanted me to physically prove that I deserved their respect, to earn it. There was some kind of honor in that, even if it was stupid.
So I wore my new favorite shirt with honor and grace. I smiled and spent the day learning about why Lua knew so much about so many things. I got to see firsthand all the different jobs that people on the thrive managed to accomplish and it was downright impressive. And then, after shoveling, mucking, feeding, covering, and herding, I came back into the house, planning to get my things and leave, but Jack offered me food, and I was hungry. Lua, Jack, and I sat at the dining table and ate sandwiches. Lua was still in her cute little pink pajamas, clearly enjoying the comfort of being home. I sat quietly and listened to her tell her dad about her semester. She made it sound chipper, but I knew she was just putting on a good face. As far as I could tell, she’d mostly been miserable.
After our late lunch, we stood and carried our plates into the kitchen. Lua told Jack and me that she baked cookies and suggested that we take a seat in the living room and she’d bring them out there. I never got to eat a cookie. When I woke up, it was dark, the dead of night. I had a kink in my neck from sleeping on a recliner and there was a Post-it Note stuck to an empty plate in front of me. In Lua’s bubbly cursive, it read:
Drew,
Dad ate all the cookies. He can’t help himself.
Shower, you’re stinky. See you in the morning.
Lua
P.S. Nice shirt.
Something about the words made me feel light and dreamy. I knew it wasn’t a gushy poem or a sappy love letter, but in a certain way it was a sort of love note. I sat there in the dark, a sliver of light filtering toward me from a hall light, most likely left on to light my way to bed and read and re-read Lua’s simple words. There was a lot love in them, really. The kind of love that poured out of Lua, even when she wasn’t trying. In my head, I could see her incredulous smile at her dad’s inability to save me a cookie, her snarky self-satisfaction at teasing me about my need to bathe, the softness in her smile when she conceded the guest bedroom to me for another night, the blush in her cheeks when she attempted to joke about the lavender shirt that she actually liked because it hugged my body in a way that turned her on. It was a simple little note. To someone else it might have meant nothing. But for me, it set the world aflame because it was happening. Lua was letting me back into her heart.
When I awoke in the morning, it was to the sound of Joe singing. Even from the guest room I could tell that he was in the kitchen, preparing something, and performing a rendition of “Hey Big Spender” from the musical Sweet Charity. The only reason I even knew the song was because as a kid my mother dragged us to Broadway shows every time we were in New York. It was a funny song to hear first thing in the morning and Joe was at it full tilt, his voice booming. Having showered in the middle of the night, I pulled on my jeans and a t-shirt and padded my way into the kitchen. I wanted to tell him that I was keeping the lavender shirt and thank him for offering me kindness in the face of my mistakes.
When I got to the kitchen, I leaned on the wall at the entryway for a second, taking in Joe’s nonstop personality. His back was to me, and I don’t think he realized I was watching but I couldn’t be sure, although I was certain that if he knew, nothing about what he was doing would have changed. He had his arms out long, his head thrown back a little, and he was shimmying his chest as he belted out, “Speeeeeeeeeend a liiiiiiiiiiiiiiittle time with me.”
Watching him, it was hard not to smile, but not because he was funny. Well, he was funny. He was also a big dude, tall and fit. There was so much about him that was manly, but he was completely free of the burdens of acting macho. He was just joy-filled, a delight. Totally fucking outrageous, and arguably before I met Lua, I would have been trying to catalogue him and figure out which boxes he fit into but now that I lived in this space where I was working hard to eradicate boxes, I could see him for what he was, boundlessly unique, endlessly free, happy in his own skin and, like Lua, genuinely kind. Chopping up what looked like crudité, Joe began the verse again. “The minute you walked in the joint, dah dump, I could see you were a man of distinction. A real big spender. Good looookin' so refined…”
Right before I could announce myself, Lua came up behind me, touching my shoulder to let me know she was there. It had been months since she touched me, and I think she did it instinctually, not intentionally, but the heat of her hand on my shoulder was like a salve to my aching heart. I had missed her so much. I’d hidden it, buried it under the belief that someday she would forgive me, but in that moment, that tiny touch brought it all to the surface. My eyes fluttered closed, and I sucked in a hard breath. Her hand smoothed over the crest of my shoulder and then dropped to her side as she moved to stand in the kitchen entry with me, leaning on the opposite wall. I looked at her but couldn’t discern if she realized how the graze of her hand had affected me.
Still in her pajamas, she crossed her arms over her chest and leaned her hips against the wall, facing me not Joe, but she looked toward Joe before she whispered, “You shouldn’t give him an audience.” She shook her head. “It only encourages him.”
&n
bsp; Struggling to find the calm in my chest, I managed to squeak out, “I quite like his performance.”
In the background Joe continued. “So let me get right to the point, da dump, I don't pop my cork for every guy I see-eeee. Hey big spender.”
She full-on rolled her eyes at me. “Do not tell him that.”
His voice changed as he sang the echo of the chorus. “Hey big spender,” and “Speeeeend, a liiiiiiiiiiiiittle time with me.”
As he finished, quietly through her teeth, she said, “Or I’ll be waking up to renditions of Sweet Charity for years to come.”
Joe spun toward her. “Honestly, Cakes, would that be so bad?”
She looked at me. “See.”
“Uluch,” Joe pretended to gag, but he was smiling. “You, Cakes.” He pointed at Lua. “Are a Debbie downer. Who doesn’t like Neil Simon, Cy Coleman, and Dorothy Fields? Sweet Charity was choreographed by Bob Fosse for heaven’s sake. It’s a treasure. A high point in the canon of musical performance as far as I’m concerned.”
“Oh, I know.” Lua smiled, crossing to the coffee pot. “Because I’ve seen it performed a thousand and one times in my kitchen.”
I stayed leaning against the wall, amazed by their ability to argue and adore each other at the same time. Lua turned to me. “Coffee?”
I nodded. Then I watched her cross to the fridge for the milk jug. She didn’t ask, and I knew that she didn’t take milk in her coffee. Late nights at S.A.F.E. made us both knowledgeable about those kinds of details about each other, but still it made me happy to see that she remembered. Joe watched her pour the milk into the cup for me and I caught him smiling. Then he winked at me like we had a secret, only I had no idea what that secret was.
“What about me?” Joe asked. “You gonna offer me a cup?”
Lua rolled her eyes again. “You’ve clearly already had too many.”
I laughed. Joe spun on me “Es tu, Brute?” he asked, referencing the notorious backstabbing of Cesare by Brutus.
I held my hands up. “Oh no, I am just an innocent bystander.”
“Well then, bystander, come hither. I am packing our picnic.”
“Our picnic?” I asked.
“It’s too cold for a picnic, Joe,” Lua argued.
“No, no, sleepyheads. The sun is shining today. And we are going on an adventure. To the lake!” He announced that last bit like a captain instructing his soldiers.
Lua sighed. “Well, at least the cabin is there if we get cold.”
“Yes, exactly. The cabin is there,” Joe nodded vigorously, a little too vigorously if you asked me.
42
Lua
I could sense Joe’s mischief all around me, but I still didn’t know what he was up to. He made us breakfast, and then he shooed Drew and I back to our rooms to get dressed. Drew protested, saying that he should probably get on the road and head back to school. To which Joe scoffed, “Nonsense. You live here now.”
Obviously, Drew didn’t live in my house, but I was glad Joe wouldn’t let him leave. I wasn’t ready for him to go, and at this point it was only a couple of days till spring break was over, so he might as well stay and drive me back too. I mean, he had nowhere to be, right? I didn’t actually come out and say that though. I didn’t know how. I wasn’t ready for him to know that I was warming to the idea that he had changed because I was straight-up scared of him. He made me feel too vulnerable. He could hurt me, and I knew it. I also knew that I was happy Joe demanded he stay. But that wasn’t enough for Drew. He looked to me to confirm that it was okay for him to be in my house, now that the snow had cleared. His need to make sure that he wasn’t infringing on my feelings was just more evidence that he wasn’t the same Drew I met last summer.
I shrugged, trying to come off as what I thought was totally indifferent. “That’s up to you. I don’t have a problem with it.”
In response Drew beamed, like in a matter of seconds, he turned into the damn sun. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to hide how happy I was that he not only wanted to stay but staying made him glow.
“See,” Joe said, “You live here now. Get dressed.”
I had to shower, which infuriated Joe, like somehow the extra time was making us late for something, but what could we possibly be late for? Honestly, I didn’t think we were late for anything. I was pretty sure I was just delaying Joe’s mischievous plans and he was frustrated that he had to wait to enact them.
I couldn’t help myself. I slowed all my movements, luxuriated in the shower, shaved my legs, lotioned my body from head to toe, and blow dried my hair. Joe yelled and banged on the door the entire time.
“OMG. What is taking you so long?”
“What are you doing in there?”
In the background I could hear Drew trying to calm him down. “Come on, Joe. Let her be. It’s still early.” Joe ignored him.
“Is that the hair dryer?”
“You have two minutes before I come in and drag you out.”
“I’m gonna count to three and if you’re not ready I’m gonna…”
I opened the door. I was dressed and ready. Joe was smiling like the Cheshire cat, delighted. “You’re gonna what?” I made my voice sound demure, even though I wanted to be angry because I knew frustrating me was part of his fun. “Expose my naked body to Drew? News flash, he’s already seen it.”
Behind Joe, Drew blushed instantly at the mention of me naked.
“Holy moly, Cakes, don’t be so brash. I was just going to pull out your baby photos. Oooooh, or maybe show Drew where you keep your granny panties.”
I dropped my head into my hands and snickered. “Seriously, what is wrong with you?”
“I was raised on a commune, duh?”
I rolled my eyes at him, and he hugged me. Into my hair, he said, “You’re ready now, right?”
Crushed in Joe’s hug, I caught a glimpse of an expression that Drew schooled as soon as it appeared. I couldn’t put a name to it exactly. The look plagued my thoughts as we gathered the supplies for Joe’s picnic. As we left the house, Joe prattled on about his plans for the day, but I wasn’t really listening. Instead, I kept picturing the way Drew’s eyes grew calm watching me in Joe’s arms. The look was a mixture of things: curiosity, joy, and something like reverence. But no matter what it was exactly, one thing was clear; my relationship with Joe beyond pleased Drew. In fact, I felt like Drew seemed thankful to Joe in a weird way.
I stayed quiet as we passed the barren but soon to be bustling vegetable fields. Joe was right; the snow had all but disappeared and the sun was shining. Normally, I would have had my face turned to the sun, my eyes closed, basking in the glory of a fresh day. But my mind stayed fixated on trying to decipher Drew’s reaction to Joe and me. Usually, the men in my life were threatened by Joe. Joe is a lot. His personality is gigantic. He’s protective and mischievous. He meddles in my life like a gossipy old biddy. The men I date don’t like him because we love each other, and I don’t question or overthink that love. It’s a given. So, in my past relationships (Lucas), there was this unspoken reality that if a building was on fire and it was Joe or him, I’d pick Joe. But the thing about that momentary look on Drew’s face was, it let me see that Drew would choose to rescue Joe too, for me. Drew would save Joe because he wouldn’t want me to be without him.
As that realization dawned on me. I realized exactly what the look on Drew’s face was. Devotion. To me. Drew was devoted to me. Well, that was sickeningly confusing. Ugh.
“You okay, Lua?” Drew asked.
“Huh, yeah, I’m fine. Why?” I looked up into those green eyes of his. They were different than they used to be, calmer but still so incredibly intense.
“You’re doing that thing you do with your eyebrows when you’re frustrated.”
“I do a thing with my eyebrows?” I said breathlessly. We were so close.
He nodded, and I watched the hard line of his jaw as his head bobbed in confirmation.
Joe butted in. “Also, be
yond the eyebrow bit… you’ve stopped moving.”
“What?” I asked.
Never one to sugarcoat a situation, Joe turned and pointed ahead and then turned back, and slowly, like I wasn’t in my right mind, he said, “Cakes, we just walked back to you. Drew here”—he pointed to Drew—“realized you weren’t straggling behind us anymore. You’re just standing at the edge of the field, looking dumbfounded.”
I felt the embarrassment flood through my entire being like it was a physical thing, a syrupy thick liquid, something like Pepto Bismol, rushing under my skin. Clearly unable to discuss my actual thoughts, I frantically searched my brain for something, anything that could explain how I had been so distracted that I forgot to keep walking.
Drew smiled at me. “It’s okay,” he said.
“I…” Still nothing. My brain, which was normally filled with thoughts, had suddenly become a vacuum, like the dark black endless expanse of space.
Drew lifted his hand and touched my cheek. I felt myself lean into his touch, just a fraction of a movement, but it was undeniable. God, I just wanted to hug him. Wrap my arms around his chest and press my face to his neck. “It’s okay,” he said again, softer and sweeter than the first time. “Doesn’t matter what you were thinking about, Lu. You don’t have to tell us. We all get caught up sometimes.”
He was right. This was not a big deal. If I wasn’t thinking about him, it wouldn’t be embarrassing at all.
Joe cleared his throat. Realizing I was a breath away from falling into Drew, I took a step back. Drew stayed where he was, smiling peacefully, like just being in my orbit was enough. How did I not see it before? He was absolutely crazy about me. And why did that make me so insanely nervous? Was I happy nervous? Did I want him to be crazy about me? Was I crazy about him? I mean, I was certifiably obsessed with thinking about him. But did I want to be with him? No matter what, being with him felt a little like opening Pandora’s box, tempting but deadly.
