Jaq With a Q (Kismet)

by Jettie Woodruff

  “Bro,” Silas called with a huge smile, our hands meeting as I stepped out of my car.

  We both tugged, pulling each other into a brotherly hug. I hadn’t realized how much I missed him until I saw him. Silas and I talked a few times a week, but it wasn’t the same as getting together. We didn’t do it often, once or twice a year, if we were lucky. It was basically a conflict in schedules more than anything. I spent so many years in school, always staring at a final, plus a job, and Silas was busy saving the world, one company at a time. It just never seemed to work out.

  “I was trying to get here before you did, always gotta up me one,” I teased, my smile genuine and full. Silas gave me two quick slaps on the back and I pulled away, scoping out the place. “This doesn’t look too bad. Have you been inside?”

  “No, just got here. Look, the boat’s still flipped upside down on the dock.”

  I turned to the lake, a flood of nostalgia affecting me more than I had expected. A vision of Silas and me, laughing, swimming, fishing, stargazing in the middle of the lake on inner tubes, and sometimes fighting, one trying to out scream the other. “Home sweet home, huh?”

  “Dude, if this isn’t God’s country, I don’t know what is. Man, I’ve missed this place.”

  “Come on, let’s go check out the inside.”

  Silas and I walked side by side, my eyes being pulled to the French doors, where Jaq would stay. Where she could roam free, and even walk out to her little sitting area on the covered porch. Sure, it needed some tender loving care, but in all honesty, I sort of looked forward to the task.

  It was so perfect. Like one of those weird life things being tossed in your path. That’s what Jaq was, an obstacle placed there for a reason. As an expert quantum physicist, I believed that. Things like this didn’t just happen. Girls like Jaq don’t accidently call the wrong hit man. It just wasn’t fathomable, not in my mind.

  “Oliver?”

  I blinked away my thoughts, my brother coming into focus. “Huh?”

  “I said the porch is in good shape. Needs a paint job.”

  I climbed the four steps, a creaking board whining below my feet, and looked around. Chipped stain and a few rotten boards spread out over the covered porch, more nostalgic feelings manifesting from a swing still hanging on the end. “Yeah, I can paint this. Remember the last time we painted it?”

  Silas gave me a thumbs up, pointing it toward the square concrete pad where a makeshift lab once occupied the garage. “Look at that cut. Dad stitched me up in his lab. How could I forget? I still owe you for that one.”

  I turned my back to him, pointed to the one-inch V in the back of my head, a horse shoe, Silas on the giving end. “Done, nine years old, right over there, stitched up in Dad’s lab,” I retaliated, reminding him with a cocky nod and a wink.

  We laughed, remembering the incident, both fishing keys from our pockets. I slipped mine in first, thinking about Silas still carrying his as well, wondering why. Was it for the same reasons as me? Did he sometimes need to hold onto it, come back here for one of our summers, too? What stood behind the door took precedence over my key inquisitiveness and I refrained from asking, squashing the wishy-washy feelings with awe. I felt like a kid again, the wistful recollections plethoric, every one smile worthy.

  “Check it out, our gloves,” Silas said, his leather mitt sliding over his left hand.

  I caught the baseball midair, the feeling of leather and another memory in the palm of my hand. “It’s not that bad,” I said, the ball flying up, landing in his glove.

  “I mean if this is what you’re into.”

  I pulled the white drop cloth from the sofa with a memory of hanging out with Silas and my dad, usually watching some science documentary. That was about all we were allowed to watch back then. He didn’t want us to catch the TV dumb, his way of assuring that he and who he said were the only ones who influenced our minds.

  “I can live with this. I mean, yeah, it needs a lot of cleaning, a new roof, some paint, and a brush hog with a thirty-foot mower deck,” I said, my mind on the hay field that had taken over the yard, “but other than that, it’s in good shape.”

  “The gutters are falling off.”

  The open concept gave us full view of the cabin, the kitchen and dining area flowing right into the living room. I couldn’t wait to sit in front of the fireplace with a good book and cup of hot chocolate. I hadn’t had hot cocoa in years. “I’ll replace them with the roof.”

  “What the hell are you doing, Oliver?”

  “Wow. That was faster than I thought it would be. Come on. Let’s go check out our room.”

  Silas followed me to the east side of the lodge where he and I had once shared a room, the living area that separated ours from the master suite, Jaq’s room. “You’ve lost your mind little brother. I’m serious. You’re not using your head.”

  I walked into our room, the door already opened, observing the space I had occupied with him for thirteen years, every summer, Christmas vacation, spring break, and many, many weekends. It was just like we had left it, me thirteen and Silas fifteen. A poster of Napoleon Hill, a photo of Silas and me at a Red Sox game, and my one and only trophy. Ten years old, summer camp, potato sack race. The only reason I beat Silas to the finish line was because he tripped, a cute little redhead off to the side killing his mojo.

  I scanned the room, calculating square footage in my head and turned to Silas. “The bunk beds have to go.”

  Silas wasn’t even paying attention. “Remember how obsessed I was with these things?”

  “How could anyone forget? You took that shit serious.”

  Silas laughed and placed the stack of Yugio cards back into an old shoe box. “Yeah, but you don’t know the secret big XY breakpoint.”

  My phone and Jaq calling for the third time kept me from commenting on the dumb card collection. I figured that shit out six months before he did. I just didn’t tell him because I didn’t want to ruin it for him. “Hello.”

  “I don’t have measuring spoons.”

  “What?”

  “Measuring spoons. I don’t have any. You told me to cook. I need them.”

  My eyes slowly looked up to Silas staring at me with content while I searched my mind for something to say. Something that didn’t make her look like a total crazy.

  “You can guess, it’s a recipe. It doesn’t have to be exact.”

  “But I don’t know how to guess what a half tablespoon is.”

  I narrowed my eyes and walked out of our bedroom to the bathroom with crusted orange in the toilet, the shower, and the sink. Jaq didn’t need to call me for that. There was something hidden going on here, I just didn’t know what.

  “Just use a teaspoon, Jaq.”

  “I don’t have measuring spoons. Hello, didn’t you hear me?”

  Yup, there was definitely an underlining reason for the call. “Use the same spoon you eat oatmeal with. What’s going on? What’s wrong?” Jaq didn’t say a word, her quietness surrendering to my suspicion. “Jaq?”

  “I feel like something’s wrong.”

  I turned right into Silas, and ignored his stern look, stepping around him and continuing to calm her down. “What do you mean? What’s wrong?”

  “Like, I don’t know. My fingers are numb, my chest hurts, and—and, I can’t breathe.”

  “Jaq, listen to me. Slow you’re breathing, your fingers are numb because you’re hyperventilating.”

  “No, it’s not that. This is different.”

  “No, it’s not. Listen to me. Breathe in,” I coaxed, “Think about a bowl full of Skittles.”

  “What? I’m dying of a heart attack and you want me to think about Skittles?”

  “You’re not dying, and yes. Think about the candy. Tell me what color you see.”

  Jaq’s breathing was too quick, her tone panicked, and her words raspy. “This is dumb and I can’t. I can barely even talk.”

  “What color Skittles do you see? Breathe in. What colo
r, Jaq?”

  “I don’t see Skittles.”

  “What color?”

  “Red. There’s red ones.”

  “Yes, breathe out. What else?”

  “Yellow?” she questioned.

  “Yes, yellow. What else?”

  “Orange.”

  “Good, girl. Breath in, what else? What other colors?”

  “Green.”

  “Right. Breath out.”

  Jaq and I played this game until we made it all the way through the candy colors, breathing in and out, slowly. “See, you’re fine. What triggered this? What happened?”

  “I don’t know—I was.”

  “You’re fine.”

  “I think someone’s in the hall.”

  “Maybe there is. That doesn’t mean they’re there for you. I bet your neighbor has company or something. What are you cooking?”

  “Well, I was going to make your favorite, but it called for broccoli.”

  “I bought you broccoli.”

  “Yeah, I threw it away. I don’t like it.”

  I laughed, an instant smile taking over my lips, but only for a second. Silas was right behind me, arms crossed, wearing a condescending glare, intense green eyes on me. “Are you okay now? I’m a little busy.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Just checking out the house. It needs some work, but I think we can have it in ship-shape condition in no time. You have your own little sitting area, maybe you can plant some flowers or something.”

  “I can’t.”

  I didn’t go into that with her. There was no sense in even touching on it. Besides, I had Silas breathing down my neck. “We’ll talk about it later.”

  “When? When are you going to call again?”

  “Later, after supper.”

  “What if—.”

  “No, Jaq, no what if’s. There are no what if’s. Go watch a movie. A happy one.”

  “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. How about something with Adam Sandler? He’s hilarious. Log onto Netflix and find something.”

  Jaq took a deep breath and agreed, speaking her words through a long sigh. “Okay. Bye, Ollie.”

  “Goodbye, Jaq.”

  Silas didn’t even give me time to turn around before he began reading me my rights. “I mean; doesn’t this feel pedophilic to you?”

  My concentrated expression changed to that of confusion, my brows curving inward. “What?”

  “She sounds like a kid.”

  “You’re an idiot. It’s not like that. Not everyone only wants girls for their vagina.”

  “Vagina? Seriously? What are you, a doctor? It’s a pussy. I chase pussy, not mentally challenged girls.”

  I walked away, across the open hardwood floors to the other side of the house, Jaq’s room. “Actually, I am a doctor. Sc.D. That’s a doctor of science in case you weren’t aware,” I said, eyes gazing around the room, ideas bouncing through my mind. White. That’s what I pictured. I would do it all in white. Pink and white. Her favorite color was pink, and I approved. The spring light colors was just what she needed. “You’ve got it all wrong, Silas. I’m not after pussy. It’s not like that with her.”

  Silas followed me into the bathroom, a reflection of a wagging finger staring at me from the mirror. “I know what this is all about. You’re bored with your job again. You’re looking for something new. You can’t keep doing this Oliver. You’re going to be twenty-eight soon, and you’re still walking around in circles with no direction. What are you going to do next? You planning on going back to school again? Oh, I know. How about music? You could go waste another four years on a music degree, play in a symphony for few months. There you go. Do that.”

  Again, I refrained from telling him I was awarded my bachelor of music degree two years ago. Night classes, a full time job as a researcher, and a weekend gig as a piano player. Been there, done that. It didn’t matter. Nothing worked. Learning something new became old to me very quickly. What Silas accused me of was the truth. I got bored. But not with Jaq. Jaq had been the only intellectually stimulating thing I had ever come in contact with, and for the life of me, I didn’t know why.

  I looked inside the claw foot tub, thinking about how much Jaq would love it, stepping around Silas’s pompous ass. “Where do you think the box of composition notebooks are?”

  “What? Are you listening to me, Oliver? I’m not going to let you do this. You’re not thinking clearly. Hey, I know. Come into business with me. It’s very easy to appreciate, extremely gratifying. You get to travel all over the world, eat the most erotic food, and the chicks. I can get you all the pussy in the world.”

  My first response was to skew my expression, matching it with sarcastic words, but I caught myself. No point in feeding a fire that would only exculpate more negative conversation. It didn’t support the situation at all. “Yeah, we both know I’m not getting on a plane, and we both know this isn’t about pussy. If you can’t trust me and back me up, then there’s no need discussing it,” I explained in a calm, nonchalant tone as I moved about the room, opening drawers, closet doors, and then the French doors, a deep breath of country air filling my lungs.

  Silas stepped out with me, his hands holding his weight on the banister while he, too, breathed in a deep fresh breath. The only difference being the expression behind it. Silas’s deep breath was edgy, full of exasperation. “What are you plans here, Oliver?”

  Without much thought, I clarified my ideas, hearing them for the first time myself. “I’m going to live here. I’m going to sell my condo, and bring Jaq here. I think I’ll build a new lab. Fire proof this time. I’m going to teach her to be happy instead of afraid.”

  “Why?” Silas questioned, the word dragged out in frustration.

  I shrugged and answered with the truth. “I don’t know. I honestly don’t.”

  “Why her?”

  Again, I shrugged, but my words didn’t come out the way I had planned. They sort of just fell out. “Nobody will miss her.”

  Of course Silas took it out of context. I knew he would. “What the fuck does that mean? What are you going to do, Oliver?”

  “I meant that she doesn’t have anyone else. I’m all she has.”

  “No. No, that’s not what you meant. What are you doing, Oliver?”

  “I’m going to take her.”

  Chapter Six

  Silas dropped it, but only until dinner. We sat on whisky barrel stools at a local bar, eating ribeye’s and drinking beer. The argument about me trying some dish that started with a Q with vegetables I had never heard of carried on until Jaq called. In a synopsis, it started the exact same way as it had the first time. I could tell Silas was just waiting to say something. Jaq had another panic attack, this time because of a pain in her right side. She’d already had her appendix removed, and made it a point to tell me, assuring me that it had to be a tumor. Silas sat there and stared at me with a blank glare, once in a while shaking his head.

  “You good now? I need to go. I’m having supper with my brother,” I questioned, a quick glance his way.

  “Are you going to call later?”

  “Yes, I’ll call later. I promise.”

  “What time?”

  “I don’t know, Jaq? Do you have a date?”

  Jaq blew out a puff of air, an almost nonexistent giggle escaping her lips. “Bye, Ollie.”

  My mind went to the smile on her face, and I said goodbye.

  “She calls you Ollie? Seriously, Oliver?”

  “Steak’s delicious,” I said around food in my mouth, trying like hell not to talk about it again. He wasn’t on the same page, he wasn’t about to give an inch, and I saw zero reasons to continue speaking with him about it.

  “You know those books burned up in the lab if that’s what you’re thinking, and if it is you need to stop. There’s no miracle drug, Oliver. She needs to be seeing a regular doctor, taking prescribed medicine from a qualified professional. Not you. You’re doing more harm tha
n good.”

  I dipped a fry in ketchup and omitted the words I wanted to say. Defending myself from his intelligence insulting wouldn’t lead anywhere good. “I don’t think they burned up in the lab. They’re in that house somewhere. The attic,” I said, a curly potato dangling from my fingers, thinking about it out loud.

  Silas didn’t care about my plans to fix Jaq anymore. A cute little blonde in shorts and cowboy boots walked by, smiling right at him. His meddling mind left my business at the same time his eyes followed her ass. “Yeah, I might not be staying at the cabin tonight. I’m going to go buy that young lady a beer.”

  A rush of guilt hit me when I got excited about the new idea. I wanted to do things. Search for the notebooks, pack up my dad’s room, and call Jaq. Silas leaving with a girl was the best news I’d heard all day. “I’m not staying here while you chase a piece of ass, Silas. I’m leaving.”

  Silas patted my back with one slap, pausing to squeeze my shoulder before leaving me alone. “Relax little brother. You can go. I’m an expert at this. Don’t wait up.”

  Silas never came back, and I never found the notebooks. I did bag up all the clothes, packed away accumulated junk my dad had hung on to, carried them to the back patio in boxes, and I called Jaq.

  I tested my weight, easing onto the wooden swing with my finger on my number one favorite, Jaq. The creaking chains and her ringing phone sang in unison while the loyal old swing kept me from falling. Hearing the neglected chimes at the end of the porch brought me back to so many memories. Three hollow tubes clanked together, two of them missing, one on the ground and one on the porch. Silas and I sat on this swing to eat our lunch, to read, to listen to cosmic stories and adventures our dad told, to still our thoughts while listening to the sounds of nature, the chimes hanging at the end of the porch a part of that peace.