Bunches

by Jill Valley

  I look at him like he’s crazy.

  “Gram dances to her own soundtrack. It’s slow. Sinatra or something,” Noah murmurs to me.

  “My grandfather would be honored that you remember him,” says JJ.

  Mrs. Avery snorts. “He wouldn’t blink twice.”

  “I believe,” says JJ, turning his coffee cup around in a circle, “that you were the one who dumped him.”

  Mrs. Avery gives a wicked smile.

  “Your grandfather was the most decent man I ever met. Unfortunately, I was already engaged at the time,” she sighs. “I can’t regret it. I wouldn’t have this hellion if I had done things differently.”

  “And when she says ‘hellion’ she means most wonderful grandchild ever,” says Noah.

  She cuffs him playfully on the ear and he grins.

  “Gram, this is Nora,” says Noah. “She’s here for the summer.” Once introductions are made, the four of us finish our coffee together. It’s the most fun I’ve had in years. Five, to be exact.

  Chapter Twenty-One - JJ

  How could I have suggested tonight? I brace my hands on my dresser and glare at my own reflection in the mirror. I want her to be comfortable with me. I was even close to using the dreaded word friend.

  And here I suggested hanging out and clearing the air.

  I shake my head, still glaring at my own reflection.

  I want her to trust me. I don’t want her to become like a skittish animal around me.

  I just want to see her. I go crazy when I don’t.

  To be fair, it’s clear a bar isn’t her scene. At least not yet.

  But what about Jessie? Luckily, she’s gone to her parents’ summer place for the weekend. I couldn’t go because I have to work, but I know, I just know, that she wouldn’t be happy about this if she found out.

  To be even more fair, I told Nora she was the best part of my day. The fact that it’s true is irrelevant. She’s like a skittish horse around me. She’s like that with everyone, it seems, but I want her to trust me. I spend too much time looking for her to come into the Remember.

  It’s going on eight o’clock and I’m ready to go. When she agreed to meet me, her eyes got as big as saucers, and I’ve spent all day afraid that she’ll back out.

  But she hasn’t.

  For part of the day I’ve kept my phone near me and checked it constantly, while at other times I’ve paced into another room so that I wouldn’t know when she sent her apologies.

  It’s evening, but night hasn’t fallen when I leave my apartment, saying bye to Anabella on my way out.

  “Mom would like you even today when you’re old and crabby,” I murmur to the cat. She only purrs more loudly.

  Outside there’s a light drizzle and I swear softly. My nerves are humming; of course the first time Nora actually agrees to see me, it’s raining.

  I have an umbrella, so I’m not too worried, and Nora said she wanted to do something casual, so I suggested a walk on the beach and a concert by the water. Her eyes lit up when I said the word concert, but I’m not sure why.

  She explained that her friends were already going to that concert, and I said I’d invite Sylvan and we could all meet up. I don’t want it to be some awkward thing, and I know Sylvan would approve of my hanging out with anyone but Jessie. Even though Nora and I are JUST FRIENDS.

  One of the things I wondered all day was if she remembered my past. I figured she must have heard about my mom, but I didn’t really know. After I pick her up, though, when she comes hopping out of her apartment in skinny jeans and a tight white t-shirt that hugs her in all the right places, I don’t have to wonder much longer.

  She looks incredible. Something in my chest tightens.

  “Hey,” she murmurs. She’s holding her own umbrella, so I don’t bother to unfold mine. The rain is gentle but steady.

  “We can go eat somewhere or something,” I say. “It doesn’t look like we’ll get that walk on the beach.”

  “Afraid of a little water?” she asks. At first I’m so surprised she’s teasing me that I start to answer her seriously, but when I see the sparkle in her eye I stop and grin.

  “I’m fine,” I say.

  “Good,” she says, giving me a curt nod. “I don’t hang out with sissies.” We both laugh at the ridiculousness of it.

  “Of course you don’t,” I say.

  “What time’s the concert? Will they still play in the rain?” she asks.

  “It’s not until nine,” I say. “And no, but this is supposed to clear up. Just a freak storm. Maybe afterwards we’ll see a rainbow.”

  “You like rainbows?” she asks, looking surprised and cute. As we walk I see guys glance at her and then at me, checking her out. I want to put a protective arm around her, but know it’s not my place to do that.

  “My mom used to love them,” I say, staring up at the sky.

  “I’m sorry about your mom,” she murmurs. She says it as if she understands. Maybe she does.

  So she does know.

  “Thanks,” I say. “She was the best.”

  “Did you know her?” I ask. “Not very many people will talk to me about her. They get this stricken look on their faces, as if she shouldn’t be mentioned.”

  Now it’s Nora’s turn to nod her understanding.

  “I met her a couple of times. She was really nice. I’d walk past your house sometimes and she’d wave. She had that beautiful garden.”

  “Yeah, she loved that garden,” I say. “It was her pride and joy.”

  “I’m pretty sure you were her pride and joy,” says Nora generously.

  “I was trouble,” I say, laughing. “She told me so all the time. That’s part of the reason she sent me to live with her father whenever she could.”

  “What was the other part of the reason?” Nora asks.

  We’re almost to the beach now. I can see endless sand stretching in either direction, and in front of us the ocean.

  “To get me away from the beatings,” I say.

  I’ve said it before. My good friends know. Jessie knows. Somehow it’s different saying it to someone who knew her.

  Nora reaches out a hand and gently touches my arm. Despite the rain her fingers are warm and comforting.

  “I’m sorry,” she says.

  My chest is tight and I give a curt nod.

  “Me too,” I say. “People tell me it wasn’t my fault, but I always think I could have done more.”

  “I would say it wasn’t your fault,” she said, “but people tell me the same thing.”

  That brings me to a dead halt. I remember this, Michael’s mother screaming at the top of her lungs, for minutes, hours. Well of course she did. Her only son was dead long before his time. But I also remember her blaming Nora, and that, I find, is unforgivable.

  “Maybe it was neither of our faults. Just unlikely,” I say quietly.

  “Unlucky that the people we cared about most in the world died in our arms?”

  We’re standing still and facing each other now. I’m not sure if I should continue the conversation or stop here forever. I see both in her eyes. A whirring of pain and hurt, but also of hope.

  We’re both silent for a long time.

  Eventually she says, “Isn’t it strange that we should meet again and talk about this?”

  We’re still standing still, and she’s still looking up at me. Those sad eyes are locked on my face and I can’t move. Someone could yell fire, or tidal wave, and I’d stay rooted right to that spot. I’m experiencing a different kind of tidal wave.

  A drop of rain has landed on her nose and is gently rolling down. I want so badly to reach out and wipe it away, but I don’t. Her face is framed by blustering clouds as the last dregs of light sprinkle over her hair and cheeks.

  I smile. My face stretches easily into the motion. It’s easy to smile with her. “Strange indeed.”

  We keep walking, still not touching, but closer now in the ways that truly matter.

  Chapter
Twenty-Two - Nora

  The sun is coming back out from behind the clouds as we walk side by side. I’m careful to keep a little distance between us and too aware of his shoulder, connected to his arm, running through his elbow and down to his wrist and hand just mere inches away from my hip. At one point we stop at a beach vendor’s stand and pick up hot cinnamon rolls.

  While we stand in line I’m able to give him a little more space. I’m comfortable with him, but not that comfortable. I don’t know what his touch, even unintentional, might set off inside me. I ache for things I don’t understand.

  “These are delicious,” I say with my mouth half full.

  JJ watches me and laughs. He’s holding his own cinnamon roll, only eating it more carefully so that crumbs aren’t falling everywhere. “Yup. A summer staple. I don’t know who had that brilliant idea, but I’ll be forever grateful.”

  “I should try baking these,” I say thoughtfully.

  “You bake?” JJ asks, full of interest.

  “Yeah, like those cookies for the block party. I mean, it’s not a serious thing. I just find it relaxing.”

  “It could be a serious thing,” he says, thoughtfully, taking a bite of roll. “You could make these. I bet they’d been even more wonderful.”

  I blush at the compliment. I had always thought about opening my own bake shop, with muffins and cookies and cakes, but my mother thought I needed a practical career goal, “Especially after what happened.”

  We talk and we walk and we lose track of time. In the heat of conversation I forget to worry about being too close to him and I forget to worry about what the people we pass, joggers, dog walkers, and fellow strollers alike, might think of us. At some point I put my umbrella away. At another point I notice that JJ has very long, dark eyelashes. He swipes a drop of water from my nose. We match steps.

  The sun sets. I shield my eyes to stare at the horizon, which is painted in gold and dark blue.

  I see a rainbow and excitedly point it out to JJ who takes a picture on his phone. I’m not cold anymore.

  Being with JJ is a relief I can’t even begin to describe. He knows me and he knows my history, in a very personal way.

  But he doesn’t judge me, and when he looks at me I don’t see pity. I see respect and interest, as if I have something important to say. I see a warmth of character and an understanding that set something wild and worried deep inside my core at ease.

  The gold of the sky is becoming molten, dripping into the navy and mixing with the puffy clouds. I take my sandals off and hold them, along with my umbrella, walking barefoot and enjoying the feel of the thick, cold, wet sand under my feet. JJ walks beside me, his hands casually stuffed into his jean pockets.

  I turn my face to the wind and let it blow the stray strands of my hair back.

  “Hum?” I ask, marveling that I have marveled at the fact that I’ve befriended a bartender.

  He gives me a sidelong look. “Nothing,” he murmurs. His expression is thoughtful.

  “Do you like it here?” I ask when there’s another lull in the conversation. We have covered a range of topics, from the food at the Remember (mostly his grandfather’s secret recipes) to the merits of having friends who will distract math teachers on your behalf (Lizzy, for me, in high school).

  “Yeah,” he says. “It’s strange. I love the Remember, and I love that it brings me closer to my gramps and my mom-”

  “But?” I prompt when he doesn’t immediately continue. I pull my jacket tighter around my body. “But I don’t know that I’ve found my real place yet.” He shrugs. “Maybe it has more to do with people than place.”

  I don’t have any idea what that means, except that I know in my bones my first real home was with Michael.

  “We should probably go stake out places for the concert,” says JJ, not appearing to notice my sudden silence. He’s watching me closely, his eyes filled with something I don’t understand.

  There’s a crowd of people all wandering in the same general direction, and we follow them. Some are carrying blankets and lots are wearing thin coats. The evenings are still chilly. I notice girls checking out JJ and I’m reminded of red shirt/wine girl, so I just wait for others to approach him. I wonder if this is how his girlfriend usually feels.

  Probably not. She probably doesn’t worry about JJ, because she knows he’s hers. But thinking about JJ’s girlfriend is like taking an ice bath that brings me back to reality. Our conversation, the warmth between us - at least on my end, I let go of it and feel it blown away by the wind.

  “There you are,” says Noah, racing up to us. His hair is windblown and his jeans are rolled up at the ankles. Trailing behind him is a guy who looks a lot like him, who I assume must be his brother, and Lizzy. Sylvan is standing a few feet behind them, in plain clothes. He waves and comes over. It looks like he’s been talking to Lizzy, and her cheeks are flushed.

  “Hey,” I say to her. “Where’s Aimee?”

  “She decided to go visit her parents for the night,” says Lizzy, shrugging. She’s wearing jeans and a black jacket to protect against the wind. She leans closer to me, brushing her hair out of her eyes. “Hey, how’d it go?”

  “How’d what go?” I whisper back. Noah is busy making introductions and providing a distraction.

  “The date,” she hisses, like it’s obvious.

  I glare at her. “We weren’t ON a date.”

  Then I close my mouth. The shift in wind direction makes it very likely that the guys can overhear our conversation. Lizzy rolls her eyes.

  “Not technically, but it’s close.”

  I shake my head. “He has a girlfriend.”

  “I intend to find out more about that, by the way,” she says, nodding at Sylvan.

  “They’re really good friends,” I say.

  “I like him,” says Lizzy.

  “Who? JJ?” I tease. She glares at me.

  “Not like that,” she groans. “I have a boyfriend.”

  “Yeah, and where is he this summer?” The truth is that Steven likes to keep busy. When they first went off to college, Lizzy and Steven agreed that they would spend summers together, but because of internship opportunities, that became impossible. Steven is now in New York, actually very close to Ellis.

  “We’re fine,” she huffs. “I’m going to visit him next weekend and then he’s going to come here. Just because we aren’t together all the time doesn’t mean we aren’t fine.”

  The concert lasts almost an hour. The music is by a local band that plays at the Remember sometimes, and after the show JJ wanders over to say hi to the musicians. He asks Sylvan if he wants to come along, but Sylvan has decided to glue himself to Lizzy’s side. I watch the muscular cop smile down at my friend and feel a twinge of jealousy.

  I know my friend well enough to know that she has noticed, but is pretending not to.

  “So,” Noah whispers to me as we walk back toward the street, “how well do you like Lizzy’s boyfriend?”

  I glance up at him. He doesn’t miss much. My look seems to confirm his suspicions, and he whistles softly.

  “I can see how Sylvan feels about her, but how does she feel about him?” he murmurs.

  “She’s been dating Steven for six years,” I say, remembering when they got together at fifteen. “She loves him.”

  Noah nods, but he doesn’t look convinced. “I can’t wait to meet him then.”

  I look again at Sylvan. He’s obviously a good guy, and I mean, come on, he’s a cop, which means he’s upstanding and brave, but that doesn’t mean he’s in love with Lizzy, or that he would give her everything that Steven does. Then again, given some of Steven’s antics I sometimes wonder what my friend is still doing with her high school sweetheart.

  JJ meets us by the street lamp as most of the rest of the crowd streams past.

  “Anyone up for a late night snack?” he asks, glancing at me. “I know most of you have to work tomorrow, but we all gotta eat.”

  “We have to get h
ome,” says Noah. “My grams will be angry if we’re late.”

  “Yeah,” says Noah’s brother, who’s been quiet most of the night. “Making her angry is like waking the dragon. Always a bad idea.”

  Once Noah has left, the four of us keep walking. We break into natural pairs, Lizzy and Sylvan walking in front while JJ and I bring up the rear.

  “Where was your girlfriend this weekend?” I ask, before I can stop myself. Ever since I remembered her a little while ago, her existence has pulsed in my mind. I hate that he has a girlfriend almost as much as I hate how I feel about relationships and love. Angry and broken.

  JJ doesn’t look at me.

  “She went to stay with her parents for the weekend,” he explains. “They have a nice summer place and she goes there a lot.”

  He stuffs his hands into his pockets again, a gesture I’ve decided he makes when he’s nervous.

  “Oh, I see,” I say. “How long have you two been together?”

  “Two years,” he says. “She’s a sweet girl.”

  I don’t know what else to say. I could ask the normal questions, how they met, what she does for work, but I don’t want the answers. I know that if I have them I will just obsess over the details until they drive me mad. They don’t matter. He’s taken, and he’s my friend. We have a history and he’s a nice bartender to me. Nothing more. Ever.

  After that I have another question. “Why were you and Sylvan at the diner so early the other morning?”

  JJ sighs, but he still seems happier with this topic than the last one.

  “We have trouble with vandals at the Remember sometimes. Sylvan called me to tell me some stuff was spray-painted on our windows. After I finished dealing with it, Sylvan and I got coffee. It’s become something of a ritual for us.”

  I nod. There’s been gossip around town that the two most popular bars, the Remember and the Black Jack, are feuding, although what they’re feuding about I haven’t heard.

  “Does it have something to do with the Black Jack?” I ask. I’m trying to have a normal conversation with him, but it’s hard. There are too many emotions coursing through me like rivers, all running in different directions.