by L.H. Cosway
“Do you like living here?” I asked, my palms growing sweaty. The camper felt so small, but that was probably just because Jack had such a presence. He had this way of filling up empty space like no one I’d ever known before.
He rubbed at his stubbly jaw, finally coming and sitting down beside me. “Ah, it’s hardly a palace, but it does the job.”
I nodded, eyes roaming the space so I wouldn’t have to look at him. There was an intensity about his demeanour that I found difficult to absorb head-on.
“You should see the room Lola and I share. It’s so tiny you can hardly fit between the beds without standing sideways. And she has so much stuff. I swear, I’m going to go crazy from all the clutter pretty soon.”
Jack gave me a soft smile, and I continued to ramble, joking, “She thinks Violet is grumpy, but I wonder if it’s just because she’s had to live with Lola for so long. She talks in her sleep, too. Some nights I wake up thinking she’s trying to talk to me, but it just turns out she’s mumbling nonsense to herself.”
“I could see that getting old very quick,” Jack offered, and my heart leapt that he was engaging me.
I laughed. “Oh, yeah, big time. You don’t have a spare bed, do you? Maybe I could come and live here if it all becomes too much.”
When I looked at him, his gaze grew heated. “No spare bed. Just mine.”
I gulped down a wad of saliva and endeavoured to change the subject. “So, eh, anyway, why did you run off back there?”
He stared at me, a thousand stories passing over his face. I was fascinated by him and all his layers. When he didn’t answer me for a long time, I began to worry if he would at all.
“I just thought….” He sighed and ran a hand down his face. “Fuck, it was just time for me to leave, you know.”
Well, that was a lie if ever I heard one.
“You seemed upset.”
He arched a brow, his arm resting along the back of the seat, his fingers almost touching me. I wished he’d touch me. I loved it when he touched me.
“Has anyone ever told you that you pay far too much attention, Lille?”
I laughed gently. “Actually, no, it’s more the opposite. Mum always says I’ve got my head in the clouds. I feel like I’m oblivious a lot of the time.” I went quiet, practically whispering the next bit as I looked up at him from beneath my lashes. “But when something really captures my interest, I notice every detail.”
My words caused a reaction in him. Surprise, maybe? His body seemed to lean closer. “Outside,” he began, “you said you wanted to be my friend. Is that true?”
“Of course. I’d very much like to be a friend to you, if you’ll let me.”
He seemed to be considering my answer, and while he did so, I couldn’t stop staring at his mouth. It was wide and masculine, the bottom lip fuller than the top.
“I feel like I could tell you anything,” he said then, shocking the hell out of me. “I watched you a lot back at your job in the restaurant. There was something about you…I don’t know. Your face was always so…open.”
My heart literally plopped right out of my chest at what he said, and I was a goner. Gruff, moody, boorish Jack McCabe was opening up to me, and it felt like I might be dreaming.
“You watched me?” I said quietly.
“All the time.”
“I never saw. I thought I was the one who watched you.”
“You were. That’s why I started watching back.” And there it was again, one of those almost smiles that gave me tingles all over. The idea of him watching me while I worked brought on strange, foreign emotions. I didn’t know what to think. It was almost overwhelming.
“And what did you see?” I asked, inching closer.
He moved the arm that was resting along the top of the seat, took a strand of my hair, and rubbed it between his fingers. “I saw a girl who smiled at everyone like they were her best friend. It made me worry for you, because the world eats up that kind of openness, Lille.”
“If you’re not open, then no one can ever come inside,” I countered, not really knowing what I meant. I realised Jack read some kind of innuendo in my words, because his nostrils flared and his eyes grew heated. “Tell me why you went away before. Did something bother you?” I asked, bringing the conversation back around again. When his expression went guarded, I knew I was on to something, and I just couldn’t let it go.
“You can tell me anything. You can trust me,” I urged him, reaching out for his hand, and he let me take it. It was so big and heavy that my hand felt encapsulated. He watched me like a wild animal sussing out another wild animal in the jungle. It felt like I was waiting for years for him to say something. When he finally did, it wasn’t at all what I expected.
“That video Lola was showing you of the magician,” he began, and I nodded for him to continue. “That’s my brother.”
“Really? The American guy? That’s so cool. So performing must run in your family then,” I said, and Jack’s brows knit together in consternation as he shook his head.
“No, you don’t understand. He’s my brother, but I haven’t seen him in over sixteen years.”
A quick breath escaped me. “Oh, right.” A pause. “Are you estranged?”
He looked away, his gaze focused on the raindrops clinging to the window, the weak ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds. “Something like that.”
“You can talk to me, Jack. Whatever you say will never leave this room, I promise,” I said, and squeezed his hand in mine. For a tiny second, I saw a man crying out for comfort, for somebody to confide in. It was such a stark contrast to the stern, stoic person he came across as most of the time.
Crossing one foot over the other and shifting his body on the couch, he started to tell me his story. “When I was ten, my family’s house burned down in a really bad fire. It’s where I got my burn scars from.”
He stopped and a long quiet followed. I wasn’t sure if he was going to continue, but when he finally did his voice bore a distinct strain. “The fire killed both my parents and put me in a coma for almost a year. When I woke up, I was all alone, and when I was well enough to receive the news, I was told that my parents were dead and my brother had been taken to live with my uncle in America. They wouldn’t give me any more details than that, but I overheard the nurses talking. They spoke of my uncle and how he’d reacted when he saw how badly injured I was. He told the medical staff that he didn’t have the resources to care for a sick kid, so he only took my brother, who hadn’t been hurt so badly by the fire. I was put in foster care, and the rest is history.”
I swallowed, trying to absorb his sad, terrible story. Thinking of him as a boy all alone simply broke my heart in two. “You never saw your brother again? But how do you know this magician guy is really him?”
“Fields was our mother’s maiden name. I can understand why he took it, because he hated our father. Long story short, Dad was a violent drunk, and Jay took the lion’s share of the beatings because he was older. When I aged out of the foster care system, I had nowhere to go. I’d always felt too proud to try to locate my uncle and ask for help, but this time I was desperate. When I called him, he was cold and dispassionate on the phone, telling me that neither he nor Jay wanted anything to do with me. I backed off, angry. Then, some time later, I saw a story in the news about how my brother had won this big legal battle against some tabloid that had been slandering him, and I knew it was Jay from the picture. He’d become famous. He had all the money and resources in the world at his fingertips, and he still hadn’t tried to come look for me. I could forgive him before because he was just a kid, but not now. So that’s what upset me. I don’t like being reminded that I have a brother who couldn’t give a shit about me enough to check if I was even still alive.”
“That’s…wow,” I breathed, unsure what to say. “Thank you for telling me all that.”
His eyes were on my lips when he replied, “Thanks for listening.”
The air between us
thickened just as somebody knocked on the door of the camper. Then a male voice called, “Jack, you have a rehearsal in twenty minutes.”
“I’ll be there,” Jack answered, and I saw Antonio pass by the window as he continued on his way.
Seeing Antonio reminded me of the fight earlier between Winnie and Julie, and I couldn’t help but ask, “How was Julie today? She seemed really upset.”
Jack cocked his head towards me. “Do you really want to hear about Julie, Lille?”
“I’m just concerned, that’s all,” I lied. The look in his eyes told me I wasn’t fooling anyone.
“She was fine. The tears come at will for her,” he said as he stood and went to pull a drawstring bag from the closet.
“What does that mean?”
He chuckled low. “She knows how to manipulate people, is what it means.”
“Oh.”
Opening the bag, he began to pull out the torches he used in his act, running his hand along their lengths as though inspecting them for damage. I was still hung up on what he’d said about Julie. I didn’t want to voice the thoughts in my head, but I couldn’t seem to hold them in.
“If that’s how you feel about her, then why are you with her?”
I probably sounded horribly jealous, which I was, but it just made me angry to think someone like Julie could have Jack in the way I wanted him. Yes, I’d set out on a path to be his friend, but that didn’t mean I didn’t still find him attractive, intensely so.
Jack’s brows drew together as he set the torches down on the table. “I’m not with her. I will never be with anyone, not in the way you mean.”
“You don’t ever want to fall in love, have a family?” I asked, sorrow seizing my chest.
“All of that isn’t meant for the likes of me,” he answered as he slotted the torches back in the bag. “The things I desire most are not something I’m sure I could ask another person to give.”
I didn’t really get what he was saying, but the overall sentiment made me sad. No person wants to end up alone. “Everybody deserves love. They just have to find the right person.”
He grew agitated all of a sudden. “Christ, let it go, Lille.”
His dismissive tone irritated me, and I stood. “You don’t have to talk to me like that.” I folded my arms and waited for an apology, but none came. He simply indicated the door.
“I have to leave now,” he said, and what he didn’t say was clear. You have to leave now. I felt like I’d broken such ground with him today, only to have him close down on me again. I hated to admit it, but it hurt.
Without giving him another look, I walked by him and out the door.
Seven
Under the sun, Jack watched Lille paint
Since I’d destroyed my phone, that night I convinced Lola to lend me hers so I could look up Jack’s brother. I felt like a bit of a dirtbag doing it, but my curiosity was too much to bear. This Jay Fields must have been some piece of work to abandon his sibling like that. Wikipedia told me that he was a stage illusionist with a growing cult following, but aside from a tiny paragraph about his personal life, there wasn’t much else in terms of details. There was definitely no mention of a younger brother that he had all but left for dead.
I was more interested in hearing him talk than watching his tricks. I needed to see his personality so I could determine what kind of a person he was. Despite Jack indicating he was done with his brother, I had a feeling he was harbouring a lot of pain on the inside. I hunted down an interview and hit “play.” The interviewer was a woman, but you couldn’t see her because she was off camera.
“What’s most important to you?” she asked at one point. To which Jay replied, “My family, always my family.”
I paused on that bit, frowning, and replayed it a number of times, looking closely at his face to see if he was lying. If Jack’s story was anything to go by, he had to be. The problem was, all I could read from him was sincerity, and it made me feel like there was more to this than met the eye. If not, Jay Fields was an exceptional liar. He was certainly charismatic enough to pull it off. He had a frisky sort of charm that Jack didn’t. Looks-wise, they didn’t resemble each other much, either. Jay wasn’t as dark as Jack; however, there was something in his mannerisms that was similar, in his facial expressions and the way he moved his body.
The interview was only a couple of minutes long, and the interviewer mostly asked him questions about his magic show and his new wife. Still, I didn’t get the feeling that he was a bad person. There was a warmth about him that made me think he wouldn’t do something as callous as abandon Jack. Then again, people did all sorts of unexpected things in life. I pondered on the matter for a while until I was too tired to think anymore. Then I gave Lola back her phone and went to bed.
***
The next morning, I went into town early and visited an art shop to buy some supplies. I was running out of face paints, but I needed supplies for my paintings, too. There was an easel for sale in the corner of the store, but it was too expensive. I stared at it longingly and settled for some cheap paintbrushes, oil paints, and a few small canvases instead. I longed for the day when I wouldn’t have to care about storing things and could buy canvases as big as I liked. If that day ever came.
When I got back to the campsite, they were serving lunch in the gazebo, some kind of paella. I took a bowl and ate quickly. Jack was sitting with King again. He met my eyes for a prolonged moment, and I felt an intense shiver. As soon as I was finished, I left. I had something important that I needed to do.
The other day I’d spotted some disused bits of wood lying around at the back of the circus tent, and I thought maybe I could salvage a few pieces and fashion a makeshift easel. It was a long shot, but I had nothing else to do with my day anyway. Unfortunately, I didn’t count on the wood being so difficult to carry. I had to split it into two runs. On the second, as I made my way back to the camper, I felt the muscle in my arm spasm, and I had to set the load down for a moment.
“What are you doing?” Jack’s voice came from behind me.
I dabbed the sweat from my brow and turned to face him as he approached. “Oh, I need the wood to make something. Don’t worry, I’m not up to anything sinister.”
He smirked a little and stepped forward, easily hefting the wood up with his big arms and looking to me for direction. “Where to?”
“Violet’s camper. Um, thanks. You don’t have to….”
Jack cut me off with a chuckle. “You’re going to do yourself a mischief if you try carrying it the rest of the way. And I’d rather not have to rush you to the hospital just because you’re too stubborn to ask for help.”
Scowling a little, I walked alongside him, having to work to keep up with his long strides even though he was the one carrying the load. “I’m stubborn? You’re the most stubborn man I’ve ever met.”
He flashed me a rare smile, laughing, and when we made it to the camper, he laid the wood down on the grass for me.
“So are you going to tell me about this big secret project or what?” he asked, rubbing his hands on his thighs.
I tried not to stare in that general area, which was difficult. Going to lean against the side of the camper, I folded my arms. “Well, I had this hare-brained idea that I could make an easel out of it, you know, to paint on. It might be a little far-fetched, though, because I don’t have any tools.”
I must have had a hopeful look in my eye, because he let out a long sigh. He didn’t seem annoyed, though. He seemed playful, which I hadn’t seen on him before, and it was very appealing. “Is this you hinting for me to make the easel for you, Lille?”
“Well,” I said, “you were a little snippy with me yesterday. This could be the perfect way for you to make it up to me.”
His smile was fading now, but there was still a hint of it playing on his features. He took a step forward and gazed down at me. “I can think of a few other ways that’d be much more fun,” he murmured, and ran his hand down my arm.
I swallowed visibly and started to blush, my eyes fixing on the toes of my worn Converse. The quiet between us dragged out for a long moment before he moved away, calling over his shoulder, “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
When he left, I could finally breathe again. God, why hadn’t I just grabbed him then and kissed him? He was obviously being suggestive. I hated how I was always so hesitant.
Friends, I reminded myself. I was supposed to be trying to be his friend.
Deciding to make the most of the sunny weather, I set up a chair and brought out my sketchpad to start outlining the portrait I’d promised Bea. I thought I had her face memorised well enough that I could do most of it without needing her in front of me. I was lost in the drawing when Jack arrived back, carrying a toolbox and a saw.
He definitely looks good with tools. He’ll probably look even better when he’s using them, I thought to myself as he set to work. I had something of a dirty mind of late. His fault, obviously. About two hours passed, and somewhere within that time I’d set aside my sketchpad in order to watch him. The view was pretty fine. He was wearing the T-shirt with the sleeves cut off again, his muscles moving as he hammered a nail into a length of wood. His skin glistened with beads of sweat.
His back had been turned to me the entire time, which was why I got a little fright when he asked knowingly, “Enjoying the view?”
I didn’t even bother to act coy. “Uh, yeah. I am, actually.”
I could tell from his profile that he was smiling. Wow, Jack really was in an unusually good mood today.
