by Kata Čuić
I stifle a laugh that threatens to turn to a sob, so I won’t wake my sleeping angel. “Jess, she’s out for the night. You don’t have to come back. We’ll be fine.”
He raises his eyebrows at me. “I ain’t breakin’ my promise. That’s not what best friends do. I’ll see ya in a bit.”
Just as I’m drifting off to sleep, the door creaks open. Firm lips press against my hand that’s fallen over the edge of the bed.
“I’m here, darlin’.”
“Jesse, you can’t be serious,” I whisper. “You’re not sleeping on the floor.”
“That ole bed of yours ain’t gonna fit all three of us.” He shuffles around on the carpet beside the bed. “I’m not even sure it’d fit the two of us anymore.”
It takes me forever to fall asleep after that. When I wake up in the morning, there’s an empty pillow and a familiar, old quilt on the floor. A note on the nightstand in his neat handwriting advises me he’s docking me a personal day from work. And that he’ll be back later.
Nine Years Ago
“Nora.”
My unfocused eyes flit about the room in a haze. The setting sun casts my bedroom in an unearthly orange glow that makes my dream feel like it’s come to life.
Dreams are the perfect pretending. My favorites are the ones so vivid, they play behind my eyeballs just like a movie. The best feeling in the world is waking up and still thinking I’m in the dream. I try to hold onto those ones as long as I can before letting them slide back into the fog of my sleep.
“Nora. Ya awake, darlin’?”
I’m definitely still dreaming. Even nice Jesse don’t call me darlin’.
A calloused hand brushes over my forehead and cheek as my eyes slide closed again, the touch too familiar to be a figment of my imagination.
“Jesse?”
“Yeah,” he whispers. “I’m here. I was worried when ya didn’t show up at the bus stop. Figured ya overslept after last night. When ya never came to school, I had half a mind to go lookin’ for ya. Are ya still hurtin’ that bad?”
I move my thighs together a bit under the quilts, testing the level of pain. It’s not nowhere near as bad as last night, but walking has been out of the question today, so I spent the whole day in bed. When Mama tried to get me up for school, I told her it was my monthly time, and I didn’t feel right well. Lying to her left me feeling sicker than I already felt.
“Yeah, I’m still hurtin’,” I finally respond.
An awkward laugh tumbles out of his throat. “And here I was hopin’ ya was sick.”
A sigh of contentment passes through my lips when he strokes my wild hair with his big hand.
“I brought your homework for ya. Figured ya wouldn’t wanna get behind.”
I blink up at him. He’s sitting on the edge of my bed, watching me with careful eyes.
“How’d ya get into my locker?”
That small smile makes an appearance on his bruised face. “I’m your best friend. I make it my business to know everythin’ about ya. Even your locker combination.”
“But ya ain’t my best friend at school.”
The smile fades away. “I got the combination from Mr. Walker.”
Mr. Walker is our guidance counselor. He must be going on nigh eighty years old. If anyone would give out someone’s locker combination, it’d be him.
“How’d ya get in here?” I ask, recognizing he never bothered to deny my accusation. Jesse likes to be in my room about as much as he likes to be my friend at school. He says it ain’t fitting.
“I knocked on the front door, and your mama told me ya was back here sleepin’. She said it was all right if I came to check on ya.” He laughs a little, trying to lighten the mood. “She tried to get me to stay for supper like old times.”
My chapped lips form a small smile. Jesse ain’t had supper with us since he started working. He’s gonna turn into a pizza for as much of it as he eats. It’s a wonder he ain’t put on any weight. He’s still skinny as ever.
Jesse studies me for a minute, his face growing serious. “I’m so sorry, Nora.”
“It’s all right.” I asked for it after all. No sense placing blame where it ain’t warranted.
“It ain’t all right. Even I didn’t know it would hurt ya this much.”
That don’t make me feel no better at all. Jesse knows everything there is to know about everything. If he didn’t reckon it was gonna hurt me so bad, might be we did something wrong.
He bends down and places a soft kiss on my forehead. “Sayin’ I’m sorry ain’t enough. Actions speak louder than words, I know. So, I’m gonna show ya.” He straightens up and caresses my cheek with the back of his hand. “I gotta go to work now, but I’ll bring ya somethin’ later. Ya want chocolate or pizza?”
Seems like those are always my only options. His offer ain’t nothing special. He’s probably saving all the real special stuff for whatever pretty woman he wants to date. “I ain’t real hungry today. Ya don’t have to bring me nothin’. I know ya weren’t tryin’ to hurt me. Ya just wanted to help.”
My eyes slide closed again. Looking at him is unbearable to me today, and I can’t quite put my finger on why. It never occurred to me last night that what we did might mess up our being friends, but in the light of day, that thought weighs me down.
I feel the mattress shift as Jesse gets up. His hot breath fanning across my face surprises me enough to open my eyes again. I reckoned he was leaving.
I find him resting his head beside mine on the pillow. He’s crouched down at the side of my bed. “I’m gonna bring ya chocolate then. Ya don’t have to eat it tonight. Ya can save it for tomorrow. Leave the window unlocked for me, and I’ll be by after work. I don’t want ya tryin’ to climb up into the treehouse in your state, all right?”
He doesn’t wait for me to respond, just brushes his lips across mine in the ghost of a touch. Another small smile, then he gets up and walks out my bedroom door.
The front door slams shut. Soon enough Mama pushes her way into my room. “That was awful nice of Jesse to bring your homework for ya. I reckon he’s a right good friend to ya, angel.”
“Yeah,” I whisper, tears pricking my eyes. “I reckon so.”
Mama frets about a bit, feeling my forehead for fever and chattering on about women bearing the load of the world, but I ain’t paying her no heed.
My mind’s too busy working through the puzzle of what exactly Jesse Yates is to me. Since kindergarten he’s been my best friend in secret only. In front of other people, he don’t want nothing to do with me. I always reckoned it for being ashamed of having a girl as his friend. Boys stick with boys and girls with girls. Even I know that.
Of late, he’s been trying harder to be the kind of friend to me I’ve always been to him, but he still don’t want us to be seen together outside of the treehouse or my little home. His small presents were nice at first. Now they feel like a burden. It ain’t fair for him to think he only needs to give me stuff because I do nice things for him. That ain’t why I do nice things. It’s not about wanting something in return; it’s about being a good angel.
Then there’s the whole kissing and fucking business. Maybe Jesse was right all them years ago. Might be my idea of being each other’s first kiss is where things all started to go wrong. He said back then that friends like him and me had no business kissing on each other. I reckon he was right. I should have listened to him. Jesse’s the smartest person I know.
It feels right terrible he wasted his night fucking me to help me get over my fear of dating Kenny. That weren’t fair to Jesse at all. Even if it was his idea, he should have saved all that for a beautiful woman he wants to date and mate with all the time like all the other pairs at school.
It didn’t help none anyway. After feeling how much it hurt and still hurts today, I don’t reckon I’ll accept Kenny’s invitation. I don’t never wanna have sex again. Nothing about it was pleasing, and I sure don’t feel like a real woman now. Might be I’ll always
be a scared, little girl with no real friends. I close my eyes and give myself over to dreams, where my mind plays pretend for me with no effort at all.
It’s late at night, judging by the moonless dark in my bedroom when the squeak of my window sliding open wakes me. Jesse’s shadowy form climbs through then closes the window on the brisk cold filtering in.
I reckon he’s here to leave the chocolate for me, so I close my eyes again and pretend to be sleeping. Pretend’s the only dang thing I’m any good at. It won’t take Jesse long to leave his guilty present before heading out to the treehouse or back to his own trailer. Then I can go back to my happy dreams of leaving Martins Landing and traveling the whole wide world.
My eyes snap open when the quilts lift off me. Jesse climbs into my bed then pulls me to his chest, wrapping his arms tight around me. The cold from outside seeps off him and wakes me up even more.
“Ssh, darlin’.” He strokes my hair with a gentle hand. “I’m here now to hold ya, so ya won’t hurt no more. Go back to sleep.”
“Ya don’t have to pretend no more for me. I’ll be all right.”
“We got a big test in history tomorrow. I reckon it’s my fault ya missed school today. Ya can’t afford to not go tomorrow. If pretendin’ is what ya need to feel better, then I’ll do it for ya.”
His honeyed words make me feel right ashamed of all my earlier dismal thoughts about him. He’s trying to be a good friend. I ain’t got no right to begrudge him that. Being nicer is what I been trying to teach him all these years after all.
Jesse’s lips brush across my forehead once, twice, a third time before he tucks my head under his chin and molds me to him. “Goodnight, my sweet Nora. I’ll keep ya safe, warm, and happy ‘til the dawn.”
He yawns, and his arms get heavy around me, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm. I reckon he’s asleep until his whispered words fill the air in my little room. “With my arms around ya, I’ll keep your light burnin’ bright in the darkness ‘til the sun comes to renew it.”
In spite of my foul mood, a little chuckle slips past my lips. “Did ya read that in a book, too?”
“Naw, I made that up all on my own.” He yawns again then falls asleep shortly after.
I wake in the morning to find the bed Jesse-less, a chocolate bar in his place.
Haste Makes Waste
“I don’t reckon it can be repaired.”
Anne glares at Jesse as he stares up at the gaping hole in the floor of the old treehouse. Her chin puckers in anger. His position as best friend becomes precarious.
I fold my arms around my waist. The destruction of that old hideaway feels like a harbinger of things to come. There’s nothing I can do to prevent it. Not enough skill to fix the damage that’s already been done. I’m at the mercy of time and circumstance, same as that old wood. Just as broken down, too. What once was strong and full of promise has weathered one too many storms to go back to its original state.
“It’s a wonder she didn’t break more than her arm when she fell from that height,” Daddy mutters at Jesse’s side. “I shouldn’t have let her climb up there in the first place. Our little city girl ain’t quite so adept at climbin’ as her mountain mama.”
Mama pats his shoulder, much more eager to assuage his guilt than her own. “She didn’t fall ‘cause she’s bad at climbin’. She fell ‘cause the wood’s rotted. Some things just ain’t meant to stand the test of time.”
Ain’t that the truth.
“Well.” Jesse sighs. “Failure’s a fine teacher. No one ever learned anythin’ from easy lessons. We’re gonna do it right this time.”
“Whaddya mean by that?” Daddy bellows, his ego bruised.
Jesse raises his hands in defense on a low chuckle. “Nothin’ at all against your buildin’ skills, Mr. Wheeler. I only meant we’ll have to build a new house from scratch, that’s all. Ya done taught me most of the things I needed to know to be a man. I’m only fixin’ to teach Anne some of the same things.”
I bristle along with Daddy. There’s no reason for Jesse to be teaching Anne anything at all.
“I’m a girl!” Anne objects from her spot in the grass, her legs crisscrossed as she surveys the adults talking over her head. Her tone might be sassy, but she’s cradling her arm and sitting a healthy distance away from the tree.
Jesse strides to her then crouches down to her level. To my growing sense of dread, he taps a finger against her nose then on the visible dimple in her chin. “Just ‘cause you’re a girl don’t mean ya can’t do hard work like a man. You’re gonna learn a sense of pride over takin’ responsibility for buildin’ somethin’ ya really want.”
“I don’t want a new treehouse,” she says through tears. A storm brews on the horizon of her bright eyes. “I don’t want to get hurt again.”
He settles himself in the grass and wraps his arms around her carefully, drawing her into his strong chest and supporting her weight as her little body shakes with sobs. “The time for cryin’ is over, little darlin’. What’s done is done. You’re all right now, ain’t ya?”
“I ain’t all right now! My arm is broke!”
Jesse glances at me with obvious excitement over Anne’s little foray into Appalachian dialect. He doesn’t seem to mind a bit she’s just mocked him. He pulls her fully into his lap, rocks her back and forth, and buries his nose into her unruly red hair, shushing her patiently until her crying stops. “Your arm is broke, and I know it hurts ya. But ya still got another good arm. And that cast ain’t gonna be there forever. High time we start makin’ plans for what you’re gonna do when you’re good as new.”
She pulls away from him and drags said good arm across her snotty, tear-stained face, only slightly interested in the promise of hope in Jesse’s tone. “What plans?”
He uses his soft, clean cotton shirt to wipe off her face then makes sure he has her full attention before continuing, “I know you’re scared of the treehouse now. Ya have every right to be afraid after ya got hurt so badly. So, we’re gonna start small. We’ll build a new playhouse on the ground. Haste makes waste, and it’s gonna take us a long time to work so hard, what with your broken arm and all. But you’re brave, and you’re smart, and ya can do anything ya set your mind to. I know ya have it in ya, Anne Shirley Wheeler.” He nods then kisses her forehead. “And when you’re all healed up, and you’re good and ready, we’ll build a new treehouse, bigger and better than the old one that done hurt ya.”
I can’t rightly shake off the feeling he’s talking to me even as I watch Anne grow so excited about their plans to take a trip into town for lumber and building supplies.
“Are you going to be my daddy now?” Anne’s bright smile pierces my heart like a shard of that old wood.
Jesse seems as tongue-tied as I feel. His brows pull low though he tries to keep his expression neutral for her benefit. He glances at me, my mama, and my daddy for help.
I can’t speak. I’m bleeding out into the ground at the base of the destroyed treehouse.
Thank the good Lord one of us still has their wits about them because Daddy sits on the ground with Jesse and Anne. “Ya know, Anne…A daddy is more than just a name ya call someone. It’s a feelin’ ya get in your chest like when ya get a big hug, or ya know someone will always be there to read ya stories and feed ya ice cream while ya perch on their knee. And ya call me Pappy, right?” He laughs.
She and Jesse do, too.
Daddy’s explanation makes perfect sense to my brave, smart, little girl. “And build houses, too! So, he’s my daddy!”
“You’ll call him Mr. Yates.” My firm voice surprises even me. “But you can go into town with him and Pappy to get the supplies for the new house while I get supper started.”
No good can come of this. Anne’s already far too attached, and it’s all my fault. I let Jesse into our home, honestly grateful for his sweet way with her as a distraction for her injury and her pain. How much more pain am I going to cause the both of them in the long run
if I let him into her life this way?
A stick of butter sizzles in the cast iron skillet when Jesse’s voice rumbles low and steady at my back. “Ya trust me to take her into town to get the supplies?”
I nod and continue stirring the roux. I’m beaten on this at least. I can’t take away the goal he’s given her during this time of healing. Besides, the gossip won’t be near as bad as if we all went into town together, pretending to be a little family. Jesse’s certified by the state of West Virginia to babysit nearly four-hundred kids every day. We’re coworkers. Anyone in town will think he’s just helping out an old friend, that’s all.
“I’ll need to get her booster seat out of my car,” I tell him, my voice even and calm.
Warm, big hands land on my shoulders, and he gives me a firm squeeze. His lips meet the shell of my ear. “When you’re good and ready, darlin’.”
He leaves without another word. I salt dinner.
Nine Years Ago
My bedroom door creaks open. Jesse’s head pops through the crack like some deranged Jack-in-the-box. He’s wearing a wide smile, his mossy eyes dancing with a rare kind of excitement. “Nora, come here. I got somethin’ to show ya!”
My gaze returns to the book in front of me. “I got homework to do. Maybe later.”
The mattress dips and jostles me as Jesse sits on the edge of my bed. Part of me is curious to find out what’s so important as to bring him into my bedroom while my daddy’s home, but mostly, I just want him to leave me alone.
“Ya still mad at me?”
“I ain’t never been mad at ya,” I mumble into the pages.
“Ya been avoidin’ me goin’ on two weeks now, girl. I’m plumb runnin’ outta ideas to show ya how sorry I am.”
It’s not like he’s done anything so special. Every night he comes to my window and tucks me against him in my bed, only to be gone when I wake in the morning, a chocolate bar always in his place. At school, he’s still a total stranger. I ain’t been to Pete’s since the night he fucked me, so I dunno if he’d kick me outta there like he used to.
