by Katie Ashley
But at the desperate look on her face, I drew in a resigned breath. “Sure, Mrs. Nelson. I’ll try my best.”
She smiled. “Thank you, Noah. I appreciate that.” She threw a wary glance at the others before she flounced back in the house and slammed the door. Mr. Nelson rolled his eyes and followed her.
As soon as his parents were safely inside, Jason punched me on the arm. Hard.
“Ow, what the hell was that for?” I cried.
“Man, why didn’t you tell us about the ring?” he demanded.
Uh, oh, I hadn’t thought about that one. Yeah the Asshole made me promise not to tell Mrs. Nelson, but he hadn’t mentioned anything about Jason and Jonathan. At the expectant look on his face, I decided to fudge the truth a little. “You heard me. Your dad said not to tell anyone.”
Jonathan snorted. “Figures. The asshole.”
Jason rolled his eyes. “Could we focus here for a minute, Johnny Boy? You do realize our brother must’ve thrown down a hunk of change to buy that ring!”
I knew Jason was right. A ring like that must’ve cost a small fortune. Sure, the Nelson’s were fairly wealthy—the Asshole was an executive with Coke, but at the same time, they weren’t giving their sons thousand dollar monthly allowances or anything. With Jake’s intense sports schedule, he didn’t get in a lot of work hours either.
Suddenly, Jonathan smacked himself on the forehead. “Baseball cards!”
We all exchanged looks. “What the hell are you talking about, bro?” Jason asked.
“Remember like a month ago when Jake decided to sell some of his baseball cards on eBay?”
Jason nodded.
“I bet that’s where he got the money. I mean, he had some that were worth a lot of money that Grandpa Nelson had given him.”
“I’ll be damned,” Jason muttered.
Jonathan sighed. “Course, we’re forgetting something.”
“What’s that?” Jason asked.
“Um, how about the fact our baby brother was thinking about marriage? That’s pretty damn near shocking if you ask me,” Jonathan replied.
Alex, who had been quiet for most of the morning, cleared his throat. “Yeah, I was pretty shocked when I saw that ring. I mean, Jake didn’t impress me as the marrying kind—well, at least not until he was thirty or forty.”
Jason grunted. “I figured he’d be more like some Hugh Hefner and have about three women living with him.”
Jonathan laughed. “Me too, man.”
Sean shook his head. “Forget about marriage. I can’t believe he was actually in love for once.”
The others murmured in agreement. “Knowing Jake, it wasn’t about love,” Ryan said.
“What do you mean?” I asked. Nibbling my lip, I debated telling the guys about the flashback I’d had the night before about Jake admitting to being in love.
“Probably some chick heard about his reputation and told him she wouldn’t sleep with him without a ring on her finger—you know to prove she wasn’t just some conquest. Since there wasn’t a piece of ass Jake couldn’t have, he probably liked the idea of the challenge, so he bought the ring.”
“Man, that’s a pretty screwed up theory and screwed up view of Jake!” Ryan argued.
Jonathan shook his head. “Yeah, it is, but it also sounds like something Jake would do. Hell, he’d probably let the chick keep the ring in the end, too.”
Scratching the back of my neck, I said, “Nah, I don’t think so.”
Jason raised his eyebrows. “Oh really? You think Jake actually had a conscience and wouldn’t do something like that?”
I nodded.
Jason scoffed at me. “Words of wisdom coming from the kid Jake duct taped to his chair in kindergarten.”
While the others howled in laughter, I merely shook my head. “He was changing. You know—like maturing or something.”
“Are you serious?” Jonathan asked.
I thought of the brilliantly vivid flashback I’d had last night. “I know he was sincere about the ring because he told me he’d fallen in love with a girl.”
“Really?” Jason asked.
“Yeah. But he wouldn’t tell me who she was because he hadn’t had the chance to tell her yet. He thought she deserved to know before I did. So like I said, he really was changing into this caring and compassionate dude.”
“Wow, that’s deep,” Jonathan replied. He stared out over the water. “Deep like the deep end of the pool…”
I exchanged a glance with Alex. “Um, Jonathan, what the hell are you talking about?”
He turned back at me. “No, you’re right. Jake really was a good guy sometimes.” Jason coughed next to him. “No, man, he was. You and I both know that. He was better than the both of us put together.”
Jason sighed. “Yeah, maybe you’re right.” He shook his head. “Sure as hell doesn’t say much for us, does it?”
“So, just how do you propose to find this girl?” Jonathan asked.
I shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“It’s not gonna be easy!” Jonathan remarked.
“I realize that.”
“Jake may have been changing like you say, but man was he ever a player. Hell, he got more ass than Jason and I combined!”
Jason nodded. “I don’t know what it was about him. I mean, yeah he was good-looking and all, but man, did he have the way with women!”
Alex started laughing with the others. When I shot him an exasperated look, he abruptly stopped. Once he’d regained his composure, he leaned forward in his pool chair. “So what are you going to do? Start taking depositions from girls like some wacked out Law and Order or CSI show?”
I refused to answer him. Instead, I fumbled under my chair for the beer I was drinking before Mrs. Nelson’s appearance. It was half full. I quickly chugged it down. I cut my gaze over to the guys who were waiting expectantly for my answer.
I sighed. “Look, I haven’t a freaking’ clue how I’m going to do it, but I do know it’d be nice if I you guys had my back a little more.”
Jonathan nodded. “Hey man, you’re right. We all need to be in on this for Jake.” He grabbed his beer can out of its hiding place. “For Jake,” he said and raised his can.
We all brought our cans together—even mine that was empty. “For Jake,” we murmured in unison.
CHAPTER SIX
I left Jake’s house around four after I’d sobered up enough. Visitation at the funeral home was to start at six. But instead of heading home to an empty house with Mom at work, I swung by Grammy’s because I was sure she’d cook for me.
“Hey Grammy!” I called as I headed side door.
She was bustling around the kitchen in her favorite apron that read ‘Kiss the Cook, Sugah!’ She glanced up at me, and her face fell. “Noah sweetie, I wasn’t expectin’ you.”
“It’s okay. I should’ve called.” I leaned in as she gave me one of her signature wet kisses on the cheek.
Grammy is one of a dying breed of Southern women—right down to her twangy drawl. My Granddaddy’s people, who were all Irish ‘Yankees’ from New York, use to love sitting around listening to Grammy talk. Nowadays there’s nothing she loves more than to be in the kitchen cooking or out in the yard working in her flower beds. She still goes to the beauty shop every week to get her bouffant hairdo cemented into place.
After kissing me, Grammy pulled me into her arms. “Oh baby, I’m so, so sorry about Jake. I’ve done cried my eyes out all day and night after your mama told me.” She patted my back, and for that moment, I closed my eyes and let her comfort wash over me. Instead of letting my arms lie limply at my sides, I wrapped them around Grammy’s waist and squeezed. “You poor, poor thing. Losing your best friend in the whole wide world. Besides ol’ Jake, there wasn’t a person you were closer to besides your Granddaddy.”
At the mention of my grandfather, I stiffened. It had been two years since he’d died of cancer, and I still missed him each and every day.
With one last pat,
Grammy said, “Now you just go on and sit down. I’ll whip you up something real quick just as soon as I finish this cake. Okay?”
“Sure Grammy.”
I slid onto one of the bar stools and propped my elbows on the counter. Grammy’s house was home to me. After all, I’d grown up here since my mom couldn’t afford for us to have our own place until she finished medical school. Besides, Mom and I both needed the love and support we got while living with Granddaddy and Grammy.
“So whatta you doin’ in the neighborhood? I was expectin’ you’d be at school or at the funeral home.”
“I was over at Jake’s…”
Grammy whirled around from the cake batter she was stirring. Tears eyes welled in her eyes again. “Lord almighty, I don’t believe I’ve evah heard anythang so sad and so tragic as what happened to Jake—to be killed like that...”
I shifted on my stool. “Yeah.”
Grammy eyed me. “How you doin’, dahlin? I mean, how you holdin’ up?”
“I’m fine, Grammy.” At her pointed look, I sighed. “Really, I’m fine.”
“Umm, hmm,” she harrumphed. She continued eyeing me over her shoulder as she snapped on the antique mixer. Its archaic hum echoed through the kitchen. “You still runnin’ from your emotions, Noah?”
Grammy was another one who could always see through my bullshit. “I’m not running from my emotions.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Grammy pointed her chocolaty spoon at me. “Don’t say ‘yeah’, young man. You sound completely common!” Her worst fear was for me to sound vulgar or common. The poor woman would have probably had a heart attack if she’d heard the way I talked sometimes.
“Yes ma’am,” I replied.
I eyed the clock on the stove. “I’ve got to be at the funeral home at six. You think I could get ready here?”
“Of course, sugah. You go right on upstairs and get ready. I’ll just be fixin’ you somethin’ to eat.”
I grinned. I could always count on Grammy. “Okay.”
After heading up the familiar staircase, I went into my old bedroom. Grammy had basically kept it the same way I’d left it. Mom had bought us all new furniture—a symbolic gesture for our fresh start at the new house. I still kept a few pants and shirts in the closet.
I took a quick shower and then put on a pair of black dress pants and black shirt. I’d talked to the guys, and we’d all decided to wear black pants, black shirts, and a silver ties. Yeah, we sounded like a bunch of silly girls coordinating what to wear, but at the same time, we wanted to show our unity—the same way the football team was all going to wear their jerseys in honor of Jake being a four year letterman.
Grammy was just taking up the fried chicken—my all-time favorite—when I came back into the kitchen. She’d fixed all my favorites vegetables too with green beans and creamed potatoes. Since I wanted to enjoy my meal, I knew I needed to mention the unmentionable.
When she and I sat down at the table, I held up a hand. “Can we not talk about Jake anymore?”
“Sure honey.”
Relief momentarily flooded me as I took a giant bite of chicken. My elevated mood was only short lived when Grammy went for the throat with another question. “So, whatcha think about Greg?”
I kept my eyes firmly on my plate. Greg was my mom’s new boyfriend. Well, he wasn’t actually new. They’d been dating for almost a year—she’d waited several months before she sprang him on me. Her excuse was she wanted to make sure they were serious first, but I didn’t buy it. He was an anesthesiologist at the hospital. In all honesty, he was one of the few boyfriends Mom had had in the almost eighteen years since my dad. I guess the old Sperm Donor had left a bad taste in her mouth for quite a while when it came to men and dating.
“Didn’t you hear me, Noah?”
I fought the urge to snap at Grammy. The last thing I wanted to do before Jake’s visitation was to talk about my mom’s boyfriend. “Yes, I heard you.”
“And?”
“He’s fine,” I grumbled.
Grammy harrumphed. “By the way you’re actin’, you’d think your mama was datin’ the devil himself. Greg seems like a pretty nice fella.”
“Yeah, he’s a real peach.” I glanced up from my cornbread to see Grammy giving me the stare down. I sighed. “I don’t know what you want me to say. I’ve probably been with Greg six or seven times since Mom introduced us at Christmas. Whenever I’ve been with him, he seems nice. Okay?”
She responded by tapping her fork on her plate. “What if they were serious?”
I furrowed my brows. “Serious?” I pondered. “You mean like marriage serious?”
“Yeah, that kinda serious.”
Suddenly, Grammy’s usually mouth-watering chicken wedged in my throat, and I had to take a long gulp of iced tea not to choke. The thought of my mom getting married to Greg or anyone else for that matter wigged me out completely. It’d always been just the two of us against the world, and after all this time, I couldn’t imagine her being anyone’s wife. Now that I thought about it, she did seem to be spending more and more time with Greg. Whenever he was over, Greg seemed crazy about her. Well, I could have lived without the fact he couldn’t seem to keep his hands off of her. That was pretty disgusting.
Grammy stared expectantly at me for an answer. After I swigged some of her sugary sweet tea, I shrugged. “I guess it would be fine.”
She slowly shook her head. “Noah Andrew Sullivan, when are you goin’ to stop lyin’ to me—better yet when are you going to stop lyin’ to yourself?”
My fork clattered noisily onto my plate. “Grammy,” I started calmly, trying to keep my temper in check so she wouldn’t ride my ass. “I would really appreciate you dropping the subject of Greg considering the shi—the stuff—I’m going through right now. I mean, isn’t it enough I have go to the funeral home for…” I broke off when my voice wavered at the thought of Jake being connected to Whitfield’s.
She sighed. “I’ve raised five boys, Noah. I’ve seen evah range of emotion possible since all of my boys are different in their own way. Life is hard, but it’s even harder when you don’t wanna face it.”
“But I am facing things,” I protested.
“Facin’ means acknowledgement and acceptance.” She shook her head. “You’re not there yet, baby.”
Suddenly, my favorite meal wasn’t so tasty anymore. I put my napkin on my plate and stood up from the table. Knowing how she was a stickler for manners, I said, “Excuse me, Grammy, but I’ve gotta go.”
“Wait, you can’t go yet.” She hopped up from the table and hurried over the countertop. “I want you to take this cake to the Nelson’s for me.”
“I think you did enough last night,” I argued.
Grammy waved her hand dismissively at me. “Grieving bodies need fuel.”
My heart constricted a little in my chest when she lifted the lid on the ancient Tupperware container. It was her signature chocolate cake, and it was Jake’s favorite. She always made him one for his birthday. Even without closing my eyes, I could see him perched on a stool at the bar with a mixture of a chocolate and milk mustache smeared across his face—even when he was seventeen.
I took the cake from her. “Thanks, Grammy. I’m sure the Nelson’s will really appreciate this. And thanks for cooking dinner for me.” Giving her a weak smile, I added, “I really needed it.”
Grammy smiled. “I know you did, sweetheart.” She held the door open for me, and then hurried out to my Jeep to open the passenger side door. I eased the cake down on the floorboard. I wasn’t about to tell Grammy that I wasn’t going in the funeral home with a cake in my hands. That was the last thing my reputation needed. I doubted anyone would wait around long enough for me to explain my grandmother had baked it. I’d already decided I’d wait until the crowd died down to give it to Jonathan or Jason.
After kissing Grammy goodbye, I buckled my seatbelt. With a heavy heart, I started my pilgrimage over t
o Whitfield’s. The parking lot was packed when I pulled in. It was quite a difference than last night when Maddie and I had come to drop off Jake’s things. I eased into a space next to a SUV full of football players. “Noah!” they called as soon as I hopped out of the Jeep.
“Hey guys,” I said. I glanced around the parking lot. “You all waiting on somebody?”
The four hefty full-backs eyed each other before staring down at the pavement. “Uh, no,” Paul Monroe muttered.
At any other time, it might have been remotely funny that four hulking football players were afraid to go in a funeral home. But I think I’d left my sense of humor back at Grammy’s.
“Yeah, well, I think I’ll go on in,” I said.
They nodded. As I started to the side door, I heard a scuffle behind me. The guys were following me.
The moment I opened the door, I cringed. Weeping wafted out of the viewing room into the corridor. I took a deep breath and pushed on through the doorway.
Jason and Jonathan were stationed at the double doors leading into the room with Jake’s urn. They looked quite different than how I’d seen them earlier in the afternoon. Their dark hair was slicked back, and they were wearing our “planned” outfits along with a black suit jacket.
A line formed out of the room and down the hallway. Kids from all groups of the Creekview caste system were lined up to pay their respects. The guy in front of me had dyed black hair and a studded dog collar on.
When Jonathan saw me, he motioned me forward. I felt kinda shitty cutting in line at a funeral home, but I did it anyway.
The crying got louder the closer I got to the room. It came together like a tragic symphony of sobs, sniffling, and rattling tissues.
I craned my neck to find Mrs. Nelson. She was weaving erratically around the room. One minute she would be laughing with someone after they shared a funny story about Jake, then in an instant, like flicking on a switch, she was sobbing hysterically. Whenever she did that, Mr. Nelson would obediently go to her side. As if he could sense it, his hand would hover at the small of her back until she was overcome. Then he would catch her just before she slumped into the floor.
