by Julie Solano
I never felt that kind of rush before in my life. Even after he saw me up close and wrapped me up in his arms, he still wanted to dedicate his ride to me? Me? This was too good to be real . . . but when a text came across my phone with an unknown number, saying, “Ya, that was for you,” I suddenly found a new reality, and his name was Pistol Black.
Suddenly the memory begins to fade from the back of my mind, and the pool wall comes back into view. I’ve lost count of my laps, but figure I’ve done at least eight while I reminisced about how great my relationship used to be. Heaviness begins to cave in on my chest as I think about this afternoon, Chelsea’s bullying, my dad’s dog statue, skipping out on meeting Jenna, Brody’s disarming flirtation, Darned Grab-Ass Daemon, and how upset Pistol is with me. On top of the embarrassment, confusion, guilt, anger, and sadness, exhaustion begins to overtake my muscles. I push myself harder and harder trying to shake the uneasy feelings invading my spirit.
By the time practice is over, I can’t even pull my arms out of the water. While my teammates have all left for the evening, I finally drag myself into the locker room twenty minutes after the slowest swimmer has gone. I look through the glass doors leading out to the sidewalk in front of the pool to see Jenna standing there arguing with Caden. I strain to hear what is being said, but all I can make out is, “Lay off Jenna. Cut her some slack.”
I open the glass door and stumble down the path to Caden’s 4x4. I’m met with silence and stares, as I shake uncontrollably. I struggle to hold back the flood of tears that are pounding at the backs of my eyes; mercilessly, one escapes, and rolls down my cheek, stopping at my top lip. I suck it in and a breath catches in my throat. Jenna shakes her head and throws her arms around me. I collapse onto her shoulder and the floodgates break open. Tears stream down my face, and continue to roll down Jenna’s shoulder.
“Are you okay, Sis?” I hear Caden in the distance. It’s hard to hear him through my sniffles and broken gasps for air. “It’s been a rough day for you, hasn’t it? How about you guys come with Brody and me tonight and try to forget all about it? Let me call him and see if we can come up with a little distraction for you while we bale out at his grandparents’ ranch.”
I listen as Caden pulls out his phone and dials Brody. The phone rings several times when I see him whisper, “voice mail.” I can hear a faint beep and Caden begins to leave a message. “Hey Bro, this is Caden. Call me when you get this message. There’s a change of plans tonight. We’re bringing the girls to the ranch. Come up with a plan for something they can do while we bale. I’m heading out to the store to pick up some coffee and a thermos. Let me know if there’s anything else you want me to get.”
We make final plans to pick up Jenna before we head to the valley. Caden helps lift my shaky body into his massive truck. “Thanks Twin,” I say, knowing good and well there’s no way I would make it into the truck by myself. My muscles are torn down to nothing after that grueling workout. Caden begins to drive down the road blaring Florida Georgia Line on the stereo, when Cruise cuts out, interrupted by the ringing of his phone. I can hear Brody’s voice come across the speakers, “Hey Dude, sup?”
“Before you talk, know you’re on hands free and my T over here can hear every word that comes out of your mouth.” I can tell my brother is feeling bad for me because he’s using my nickname. T is the endearing nickname I got when I was just a toddler. Caden couldn’t say “twin” when we were babies, so he just called me his T. The name kind of stuck. It’s been my nickname ever since. Nowadays, he mostly uses it when he’s trying to be all sweet and brotherly.
“Good to know . . . wouldn’t want her to hear what a douche bag I think her boyfriend is. . . or how she could do so much better. .haha.”
I pipe in, hoping he can hear, “Thanks for your concern . . . Buddy.” I put extra emphasis on the “B” in “Buddy.”
Caden interrupts our bickering, “Okay, okay, so did you come up with anything for tonight pal?”
“Oh, ya, after the day we had, I thought of a way to blow off a little steam. I came up with a list of supplies that I would personally find quite entertaining for tonight. Kaitlyn, if you hear me, grab a pen and paper . . . We need a shovel, axe, rope, and rake to start with; then throw in some marshmallows, Hershey’s, and graham crackers . . . Oh, and don’t forget a lighter and hot chocolate.”
“Whoa Bro,” Caden chokes out surprised. “That’s a very interesting list of supplies. Would you mind letting me in on your little plan? It sounds somewhat criminal.”
“Don’t worry Caden, I’m sure you’re thinking of a million ways to get rid of Pistol, but this isn’t about him tonight. It’s all about the girls.”
All that is running through my mind at this point is an axe, shovel, rake, and rope. I’m glad to hear it’s not for Pistol, but I am definitely at a loss for words. What in the heck is he planning? Why do I need a rope and axe?
“I’ll see what I can come up with,” are the last words Caden speaks in the conversation. Then he turns to me with a huge grin and laughs, “Sounds like this is gonna be one helluva party, Sis.”
“IT’S 7:30 KAITLYN! WE’RE SUPPOSED to be at Jenna’s by now!” I hear Caden’s voice bouncing down the hall toward my room. I’m using my face make-up to try to cover the small bruise left on my arm from earlier today, but since my summer tan has slowly begun to fade, it’s not matching my skin as well as I’d like.
“I’ll be right there!” I raise my voice, and then let it fall, frantic to make this go away as fast as I can. Maybe I’ll just wear long sleeves; the nights are getting cooler anyway. I give up on trying to hide the bluish-red imprint of Pistol’s thumb. I can’t believe the hold he had on me earlier actually left a bruise. I raise my arm to my face, and upon closer inspection, I can see two more tiny circles where his index and middle fingers had held me so tightly during his escalated temper tantrum. I guess I understand why he got so bent out of shape. Maybe if Brody had just stayed in the Jeep, this wouldn’t have happened. Pistol has a difficult time wrapping his mind around the fact that we’re just friends, and Brody’s mere presence gets him completely fired up. Last week it was an embarrassing hickey that Pistol slyly planted when we were having a “make-up-make-out.” Brody had surprised me with my favorite Butterflake Chill coffee after swim practice and it sent Pistol reeling. Now it’s this. It’s almost as though he wants to physically mark me as “his” every time Brody comes around.
I finally give up on trying to cover the bruise and throw on my black hoodie. I barrel down the hall to see Brody and Caden waiting close to the front door. There’s some muffled banter flying back and forth between them. Their low conspiratorial chuckling pierces through their amused grins. I can tell they’re up to something, but when I ask what’s going on, they just shake their heads and say, “Nothin.’” However, when those two little rascals get together, there’s always some impish adventure waiting to happen.
I shake my head and click my tongue, not knowing how else to respond to the awkwardness of whatever they’ve got up their sleeves. “Do we need to let Mom know where we’re going?” I ask Caden before we head out to pick up Jenna.
“Don’t worry, we’ll see her in a few. She’s already with Cinda having their weekly reality show date night.
“Oh crap, those two and their reality television. What’s it tonight?” I ask, Bachelor, Little People, or Adoption Story?”
“My bet’s on Bachelor,” Brody says, throwing a smirky little sideways glance at Caden. “Every cotton pickin’ time I see your mom, she’s drooling about that hot new season pick, Theo.”
Caden begins to bob his head up and down and bites his lip to stop the smile that’s beginning to overtake his entire face. “Oh, are we making this a bet?” he chuckles, like he’s already in with Brody on some conspiratorial plan. “Cuz, I’ll take The Adoption Story. Those ladies love getting all torn up on wine and crying over heart-wrenching fertility struggles.”
I elbow Caden, “Dude, be sensitive
. You know it’s their way of connecting to Jenna’s adoption story. Besides, it’s a kick ass show . . . By the way, since you’ve left me no other choice, I’ll take Little People.”
“So you’re up for the bet then?”
“You guys have known me long enough to know I never shy away from a bet; so, what are we betting?”
“The two losers jump off Kelsey Creek Bridge,” the boys laugh.
My stomach drops. Holy crap. That’s the only right of passage I haven’t ever had guts enough to participate in. In Jefferson County there are only two things that solidify you as a bonafide country badass. One is riding a bull and the other is jumping off Kelsey Creek Bridge. Most of us have ridden at least some kind of rodeo beast, but Kelsey Creek is a different story. You either have to be drinking or crazy to plummet off a thirty-foot bridge into a ten-foot diameter swimming hole, surrounded by jagged boulders and a fluctuating water depth. Well at least I have a thirty-three percent chance of getting out of this. And I’m not giving them the satisfaction of thinking I’m a wuss. I put my poker face on and hesitantly say, “Let’s do it boys.”
Within ten minutes, we pull up at Jenna’s house. Brody jumps out and opens my door for me. He grabs my hand and I leap to the ground. As we walk up the pathway to Jenna’s beautifully illuminated Lindal Cedar Home, I can’t help but gawk at the gorgeous snowberry plants and blue flax lilies interspersed in the Asian inspired garden. Goodness, this property is breathtaking. I take in the vivid, contrasting colors of the native plants and flowers that line the perfectly manicured lawn, and listen to the bubbling fountains that boldly stand on each side of the stairs leading up to the wrap-around deck. As I stand atop the deck, I look out over the hills surrounding the property. They are lined with rows and rows of perfectly spaced green, leafy grapevines which supply their private vineyard. This house is very different from most of the homes in our town, which are small, tract homes that have seen their fair share of weathering.
Jenna’s parents are obviously city transplants. Her dad made a fortune at his family business in Napa Valley and came north to begin a new vineyard, bringing her mom to the tip top of California so she could continue her teaching career. She wanted to be in a place where the kids were raised with an iron fist and still had respect for their elders. The faculty room at Jefferson High was where our moms met and became best friends. Needless to say, Jenna’s family now lives comfortably on their private hilltop vineyard, surrounded by twenty-four acres, with a pristine, unobscured view of Mt. Shasta. To top it off, the historic Blue Goose train, runs around the base of the hill twice a day. This home is any small town teen’s dream party house. It’s a good thing for her parents, that the wild child has no interest in sharing her toys.
After our lovely late-summer night stroll through Jenna’s fortress, we knock on the door. There’s no answer, so we try again and hear two voices choke out, “Come in! Come in! Quit your knocking!!! We can’t hear through all your ruckus.” As we pass through the grand foyer and enter the family room, we see Jenna’s mom, Cinda, giggling hysterically with tears running down her face.
“Hey Cinda,” I greet. “Laughing and crying at the same time without the snort? That’s talent. Must be a doozy on tonight.” I glance over at the television to see what’s causing her mixed emotions. Oh crap. It’s the Adoption Story again. My stomach drops because I know I have just lost the bet. I plop onto the plush couch in mental agony. “Where’s my mom?” I ask Cinda.
“Going in for a refill,” she giggles. “Hey Jacie, get out here. Your kids came to see you!” She calls to my mom.
Mom saunters out from behind the wall, holding up her favorite wine glass, the one decorated with a yellow feather and a slice of chocolate cake. “Present!” she shouts.
Oh, wow. The boys and I all look at each other. “Are you guys okay?” Caden questions.
“Perfect!!!” shouts Cinda, raising her matching wine glass. At that, they clank their glasses together and start laughing again.
“Oh goodness, you two are so embarrassing. Are you still on your Alison G. Bailey kick?”
Distracted, by the homecoming of the latest adoptee, the mom’s are no longer looking in my direction, and leave my question unanswered.
“Look, this little girl came from Moscow . . . just like Jenna,” Cinda points to the television.
“I thought they put a stop to Russian adoptions,” Brody says quizzically.
“Hmmm . . . You’re right, Brody, this must be a re-run.” A puzzled look flashes across Cinda’s face and she becomes slightly somber.
“By the way, where is Jenna?” inquires Caden. “We’re taking her with us to bale tonight, if that’s okay with you.”
“She’s up at the pool waiting on you kids. She already filled us in on Kaitlyn’s day, so you guys are welcome to take her as long as you have her back in the morning.” A contemplative look, crosses her face, and she speaks a little more slowly and softly. “We need to head down to Sacramento tomorrow to take care of some unexpected paperwork.” I hear a nervous edge to her voice and see my mom’s hand come up to her shoulder.
“It’s gonna be fine. I’m sure these things come up all the time.” Cinda shoots a strange look toward my mom and shakes her head back and forth just enough so I catch her signal.
Sensing their need for privacy, I stand up and we move toward the door. “Okay guys, we need to head out, and we’re gonna grab Jenna on the way,” I say, breaking the heavy silence in the room.
“Be safe, and remember we need her back before noon.”
We shuffle out the door and head up the hill toward the pool. The night air has become a little brisk, but I enjoy walking along the lantern lit path and listening to the crickets chirp in the distance. We find Jenna sitting poolside on an oversized lounge chair. She’s illuminated by the glow of her laptop. As the pavers end, the gravel begins to crunch beneath our feet. At the sound, Jenna quickly fumbles to close her computer and her face goes dark. I sense a nervous energy about her, and quietly ask if she’s okay.
“Yep, everything is fine,” she responds quickly as her toothy grin lights up against the darkness. “Are we ready?”
Rather than questioning her further, I take her at her word and squeal, “Ya, let’s get this party on the road!”
Jenna throws her laptop in her bag and we excitedly skip back down the path where Caden’s big black monster of a truck is waiting for us. We all jump in, buckle up, and take off toward the valley. Wild boy, Caden pumps up the stereo and the lyrics to You Know I’m Here for the Party blast through the cab of the truck. Jenna and I are in the backseat and start bouncing up and down to the rhythm of Gretchin Wilson’s party pumpin’ anthem. After a few minutes, Brody reaches toward the volume and the song suddenly begins to fade. Looking over his left shoulder toward the back seat, he laughs. “So, Jenna, we made a little bet with Kaitlyn on the way to your house. We’re gonna need you to help us see it through.”
“Why’s that boys? What kind of trouble are you getting my friend into now?”
“Kaitlyn here, agreed to jump off Kelsey Creek Bridge tonight!”
“Tonight??? In the dark??? Oh no!!! No, no no . . . You’re kidding me right?” I shake my head back and forth as my teeth begin to clatter and my stomach flip flops at the thought of jumping off that bridge in the dark.
“Don’t worry pal, I’ll do it first; make sure all is clear for you. Don’t forget, I lost too,” Brody tries to comfort me.
“Good luck boys! Do you know how many years I’ve been trying to get Kaitlyn to jump off that bridge with me? You guys are delusional if you think you’re gonna actually make this happen,” Jenna playfully jokes.
She turns to me with her eyes wide and whispers, “You seriously agreed to that bet?”
“Well, I didn’t want to come across as some lame wussy girl. Besides, I’m having a tough time forgetting all the stuff that happened today. Maybe a thirty foot free fall will help knock all this crap out of my head.”
“Having done this a few times before, I can definitely tell you, when you hit that water, it will most certainly wash out every single piece of crap you have from today . . . and yesterday . . . and maybe even the day before that. And if you’re lucky, you might end up with a free enema to clean out all the other crap you have built up below the waist.” Jenna breaks out in laughter.
“Wow, thanks Jenna. As if I wasn’t already pooping my pants about this ordeal. Thanks for the little nugget of support,” I laugh nervously trying to be a good sport despite the fact that I’m terrified beyond belief.
“So, it’s 9:00; we have a few hours until bale time,” Brody interrupts Jenna’s hysterics. “The dew won’t be in til midnight, so I think we hit the bridge first.”
“Why so late Bro?” city-girl Jenna asks.
“We’ve got to wait for the dew to hold the alfalfa together. It helps with leaf loss. On top of that, Mason won’t be there til later, and we need all the muscle we can get. Those puppies weigh like eighty pounds each.”
“Ah, the mysterious Mason Brooks,” Jenna spouts. “What’s he up to these days?”
“He’s staying out of trouble. He’s hitting the rodeo circuit pretty hard, keeping up with chores on our grandparents’ ranch, and trying to stay away from fast cars and fast women,” Brody chuckles.
“Ya,” Jenna giggles, “I hear his name flying down the halls of Jefferson like every day. Apparently, he excels at using his natural talents. It makes me want to get to know him better.”
“Wait,” Brody responds. “You want me to hook you up with him or something?”
“Ewwwww. No. It was a joke. That would be weird. You’re like my brother, and he’s your cousin. It would be like illegal. . . gross,” she shudders.
“I guess I get your point,” Brody responds, “But, I thought you were like the other two thousand girls who ask for hookup requests every weekend. They all say he is one of the hottest guys they’ve ever laid eyes on.”
