Before he left, I also got Amber’s mobile number and I’d texted her to see if she’d like to join Ethan and me at the mall after school.
It took her an hour to reply but she’d politely excused the tardiness of it by saying she was in class, which I found gratifying, as politeness wasn’t Amber’s strong suit, not to mention, she shouldn’t be texting while in class. She went on to take me up on my offer and she did this exuberantly (yes, even via text).
Thus, I was able to continue pretending that my life included Jake Spear and his family.
I did this by taking Amber and Ethan to the mall directly after school, Amber meeting us at Lavender House in her car before we went.
I learned during this experience that Ethan might enjoy cooking but he did not enjoy shopping. As we had a list of specific cosmetics to buy and I knew what suited me even before I tried it on (I still tried them on), our forays in the women’s athletics store as well as at the cosmetics counter were short. Even so, Ethan still vociferously shared that he was not enjoying himself.
The only time he seemed placated was when he declared he was starving and I’d purchased an enormous soda for him along with a big bag of soft pretzel bites that included a tub of liquid cheese that was an alarming orange color. Nevertheless, Ethan found it delicious and I knew this because the entirety of this rather large snack was gone within five minutes.
We got him home and Amber and I sat at the kitchen table with a hand mirror as she tried out one of the looks Jean-Michel suggested. Watching her do it, I found she was quite adept with the brushes I bought her and, in the end, we were both pleased with the results.
Me specifically.
She was lovely normally.
Made up like that, she was beautiful and I didn’t hesitate to tell her this. Then I made a note never to hesitate to share things such as that with her because the look on her face was very much worth the energy it took to utter the words.
However, during this, I learned that Ethan was not a fan of “girl stuff” on the whole. I learned this as he shared it in disgust, staring at the cosmetics and brushes on the kitchen table. This he did before he took himself off to watch TV.
This he did with me smiling at him, for even when he was disgusted, he was endearing.
Shortly after, Jake arrived to take us to dinner and then the game.
And I kept pretending when he took one look at his daughter made up in a soft, subdued, romantic palette of colors.
And what I was pretending was that he was mine and in doing so, I daydreamed a variety of ways I would reward him for what he did with Amber when he saw her.
This was catch her chin with his fingers and let his eyes roam over her face.
They finally caught hers and he said quietly, “Jesus, honey. Knew you were beautiful. Didn’t know how much of that beauty you were hidin’ until just now.”
It was then I watched Amber’s face change, turn radiant with a hint of hopeful and I felt a lovely feeling gather tight around my heart as she smiled at her father.
He bent in and kissed her cheek and that feeling around my heart tightened brilliantly.
When Jake let her go, she turned her smile to me and said, “Thanks, Josie.”
“It was my pleasure, lovely girl,” I replied.
She kept smiling when she declared to both her dad and me, “Gotta get to the Taylors. Later.”
“Later, babe,” Jake returned.
“Have fun tonight, Amber,” I said.
She grinned at me then turned her head toward the family room and yelled, “Later, runt!” to her brother.
“Don’t call me runt!” Ethan yelled back.
I smiled at Jake when he did.
Jake returned my smile but his wasn’t about the engaging way his children teased each other. His smile was different, deeper, filled with gratitude and something else I didn’t completely understand but knew was meaningful in a way that was gravely important and also very good.
It said he liked the way his daughter looked. Very much so.
And he liked that I gave her that.
Very much so.
And I liked that.
Very much so.
Not only for Jake, but for Amber.
Feeling the lovely feeling Jake’s smile gave to me, I kept pretending when he took us to Weatherby’s Diner in Magdalene for dinner. I pretended I belonged to him and Ethan as we walked in, Jake’s hand holding mine. I pretended that the looks we got were looks I deserved, the women’s eyes going to Jake then going to his hand clasping mine and turning despondent.
I continued pretending when Jake slid in the booth beside me.
I kept at it when he slid his arm across the back of the booth, fantasizing this was done in an act of not only affection but also possession when it was more likely that he was a big man and it was simply more comfortable for him to spread out in this manner.
Even knowing this, I didn’t let go the fantasy. I was enjoying it too much.
And it was the only thing I’d ever get.
Therefore, I carried on pretending when we left the diner and Jake drove us to the high school football field as Ethan chattered animatedly (something he also did during dinner making Jake and my participation in our dinner conversation mostly responding to Ethan or smiling at him because we couldn’t get a word in edgewise).
Combat Raptor was the main topic, his enthusiasm that his wait was finally over as well as an in-depth description of the characters and actors who played them and how he felt about all of that.
I continued to pretend when Jake again took my hand at his truck and we walked through the parking lot and into the stadium.
I persisted in doing it as we made our way to our seats and more glances came our way. Some from people I didn’t know but Jake did and he lifted his chin to them. Some from people I’d made the acquaintance of and I smiled at them or gave them a brief wave. And then there were the others, from men who looked at me then to Jake and their faces closed down. The women who did the opposite but with the same final reaction.
I enjoyed doing it so much I got lost in it when Jake choose our seats and I stood in the bleachers watching him spread a thick woolen blanket across the metal bench. But before he did this, he shook something from the blanket. And once the blanket was arranged, before we sat on it, he turned to me.
I held my breath as he wrapped a long maroon wool knit scarf around my neck and tied it at my throat, doing this murmuring, “Gotta keep my girl warm.”
His girl.
Oh, how I wished.
The night was chill and overcast and Jake had remembered my scarf that morning we had breakfast at The Shack.
Oh yes.
How I wished.
Even though the scarf didn’t quite match my outfit.
I was forcing myself to breathe when he lifted his eyes to mine as he lifted a hand to my jaw and informed me, “Lydie knitted that for me three Christmases ago.”
Gran had made it for him.
The soft wool at my neck got warmer and instantly I felt my eyes get wet.
I said nothing mostly because I couldn’t.
Jake didn’t miss it and I knew it when he bent slightly toward me and stated, “Looks good on you, baby. But it bein’ from Lydie, I’ll want to keep it close.”
I nodded and forced out, “Of course.”
His smile was slight—it simply tipped up his lips and softened his eyes.
But it was beautiful.
So beautiful, I leaned into him. When I did, his eyes changed completely. They went from soft and warm to intense and something else.
Something that looked darker.
Heated.
Even more beautiful.
I was trying to understand that reaction when Ethan broke the moment, crying loudly, “Dad! There’s Josh and Bryant! Can I hang with them?”
For a moment, Jake’s gaze held mine captive even as the pads of his fingers dug into my jaw.
Then he unfortunately dropped hi
s hand and turned to his son.
“Not out of my sight, bud,” he ordered.
“Got it,” Ethan confirmed, jumped on the empty bench in front of us and dashed along it to the steps. He raced down the steps to two boys who were standing by the fence by the field.
“Sit, Slick,” Jake invited.
I looked from Ethan to him and I sat.
He sat next to me, curved an arm around my waist and pulled me the mere inches that separated us so that we were hip to hip, thigh to thigh.
Oh.
My.
I took in a trembling breath and looked about the space.
The field was bare as were the player’s benches. The away crowd bleachers were filling up fast but not as fast as the home crowd’s section around us. There was a lot of yellow and blue, which I knew were the school colors.
I saw the cheerleaders milling about behind the team bench, preparing for their work that evening. The air was very chilly and the spectators were suited up to battle the chill in hats, scarves, heavy parkas and jackets and even gloves. And there were many children and young adults about, the young adults not nearly as prepared to face the cold evening, as it was clear they preferred their peers to see their fashion selections and not to cover them with heavy coats that would keep them warm.
It was then it occurred to me that the last sporting event I attended was a football game at my own high school decades ago.
And it also occurred to me that back then for a brief period of time, I’d loved football.
My clandestine boyfriend Andy played thus I never missed a game. I never even missed a play. I was enthralled by watching him on the field. And I looked forward every Friday night to going to the game with my girlfriends, watching my boyfriend play football then sneaking in a date with him after, and after that, sneaking in kissing him for as long as we could do it before it became too dangerous to continue and we’d have to stop so I could get home.
I’d been happy then.
I’d been normal then.
I didn’t have to pretend.
I had it all.
And then my father took it all away.
“You good?”
Jake’s voice pulled me from my maudlin thoughts and I looked to hm.
“Yes,” I answered.
“Warm enough?” he went on.
“Indeed, Jake.” I quieted my voice when I said with feeling, “Thank you for the scarf.”
I got the slight smile with soft eyes before he carried on, “Can you see okay?”
He was so very kind, considerate…amazing.
I nodded.
“Good,” he murmured, looking to the field and giving me a squeeze, which pressed me even deeper to his side.
I wanted to keep pretending. I really did. And how I wanted to do that was to press even closer. Put my head on his shoulder. Wrap my arm around his back and hold him to me too. Even wrap both my arms around him, stomach and back, keeping him close.
But I couldn’t keep pretending.
And further, I had to find a restroom.
“Before things start, I need to use the facilities,” I told his profile and got his eyes, which were now not softly smiling but openly doing it, as was his mouth.
“Right, Slick. The facilities are behind the concession stand, south end of the field,” he informed me, tipping his head to the left.
“Thanks, Jake,” I murmured. “I’ll be back.”
“You got time. Game doesn’t start for fifteen minutes,” he told me as I stood but he carried on. “Sayin’ that, hurry.”
I looked down at him to see him looking in the vicinity of my behind in my jeans exposed by my gray suede jacket before his eyes drifted up and caught mine and they were still smiling.
“I’ll hurry,” I assured him then I did just that.
I hurried.
Or, at least I started out hurrying.
After I washed my hands and left the restrooms, I mentally shook myself from the fantasy world I’d allowed myself to live in all day.
It was pleasant being there and it was lovely giving myself that but I couldn’t stay there for long. I had to remember how things were. If I stayed in that world too long, I knew I’d eventually get a reminder that it wasn’t mine and the pain that would cause would be harder to overcome the longer I allowed myself to pretend.
On this thought, I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and looked right to see Conner standing under a light pole some distance away from the bleachers but also not close to the concession stand.
He was standing with a flaxen-haired girl who was quite curvy, quite tall and very attractive. I also liked the way that it didn’t seem she cared what people thought of her attire. She was trussed up warm but she’d managed to do it fashionably with a thick loosely woven oyster-colored scarf around her neck and a dusky pink corduroy jacket. She was even wearing a cute pair of mittens.
She was also standing close to Conner, looking up at him and smiling in an appealing way that was genuine if a little timid.
She must be Ellie and just seeing her made me agree further with Ethan that I hoped Conner chose her in the end.
Jake’s eldest must have sensed my eyes for his came to me; he grinned and jerked up his chin. Ellie looked my way and as she did so, slid slightly closer to Conner who took that opportunity to curve his arm around her shoulders.
Yes, they looked lovely together.
I gave them a wave and a smile and decided not to approach. This was a high school football game and he was with his girl (or one of them). He didn’t need an adult intruding.
But as I moved away, I took in the lines standing in front of the concession stand. I also noted that the game had not started although the players had taken the field and were warming up. And finally, it occurred to me that hot drinks might warm Jake and me from the inside.
Therefore, I moved to the back of the somewhat long line, pulled my phone out of my purse and called him.
He answered with, “You get lost?”
I laughed softly and replied, “No, Jake. But I’m in line at the concession stand. I thought we could use a hot beverage. Would you like a coffee or cocoa?”
“I’ll meet you there.”
So.
Very.
Amazing.
“Jake, I can handle a few drinks. What do you want?”
“I’ll be there in a minute and I’ll get it.”
“Jake,” I said softly. “You bought dinner at The Eaves, and our omelets, and dinner tonight. In return, the least I can do is purchase two beverages and carry them back to the bleachers. Further, if you leave our seats, we might lose them.”
“The blanket’s here,” was his reply and at hearing it, I burst out laughing.
Yes.
So.
Very.
Amazing.
When I stopped laughing, I asked, “You’re quite determined to take care of me, aren’t you?”
His voice was low in a way my stomach dipped when he returned, “Glad you noticed.”
I couldn’t not notice, and with the way he behaved, I was finding it hard not to pretend.
My voice was just above a whisper when I requested, “Please let me buy you a drink.”
“Hot chocolate,” he finally ordered and I smiled into the phone.
“For Ethan?” I asked.
“Ethan’s got ten bucks. He wants something, he’ll get it. But it won’t be hot chocolate. It’ll be a load of crap.”
I was still smiling when I replied, “All right,” then moved the two centimeters forward that the line had moved. “I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“Later, Slick.”
“Later, Jake.”
I rang off at the same time I became aware that the young man in front of me was staring at me openly, his lips parted.
As I became aware of this, I noted that he was somewhat short, very slim, obviously effeminate and he was wearing a daring pair of houndstooth trousers. He’d accompanied these with a
rather stylish pair of black suede loafers and a black turtleneck sweater.
The ensemble could use a fedora as a finishing touch but regardless of that assessment, I was taken with his flair for fashion.
“Hello,” I said when he continued to stare at me in apparent astonishment.
“You’re Josie,” he informed me of a truth that was nevertheless surprising that he knew.
“Indeed I am,” I confirmed. “And you are?”
He stuck his hand out. “Taylor. I’m Amber’s bestest bestie. Or one of them.”
Ah.
The Jean-Michel devotee.
This explained the trousers and the loafers.
I took his hand and gave it a squeeze. “Delighted to meet you, Taylor. Amber’s spoken of you.”
He squeezed my hand back and let it go, saying, “She’s spoken of you too, like lots. She thinks you’re the bomb.”
I had learned this was good and I knew it felt good so I smiled.
Then I shared, “Your ensemble is very fashion forward and you carry it off with aplomb. However, it needs a fedora.”
His face lit up, he leaned in and exclaimed, “I know! Right?” He leaned back and smiled, finishing, “But not sure I could pull off a fedora at a Magdalene High game. I’ll be lucky I don’t get tripped, pushed or run down before the night is through just wearing these trousers.”
He waved a hand to his lower body but I felt my brows draw together.
“And why would you get tripped, pushed or run down?” I asked.
“Uh…I’m a seventeen year old gay guy wearing houndstooth at a high school football game?” he asked back as an answer.
Ah.
That certainly answered that.
“I see,” I murmured. “Well, I wish I had some sage advice for you, young Taylor, but alas, I don’t. Small-minded fools are everywhere and those with the courage to be who they are often have to suffer them. It’s your lot, I’m afraid. But at least you can rest in the knowledge that you are true to yourself knowing they live in a narrow world, a narrow world is a barren world while yours is vibrant, and that’s their lot.”
When I finished speaking, he was staring up at me again with his lips parted, astonishment awash in his features and I was just about to say something (such as that he should move forward the seven centimeters the line had moved) when I felt others joining the line at my back.
The Will Page 23
