by T. I. Lowe
An hour later, the place is lively with a couple dozen teenagers dancing around or playing pool. This is the only part of the year we are allowed to hang out here, so everyone seems to be having a blast with this opportunity. I catch Dillon watching me every so often tonight as I agree to a few dances with Trace Leigh. Trace is nearly a Kurt Cobain lookalike, minus the worn-out features. He has bright blue eyes and shoulder-length pale blond hair that seems to float around his face, it’s so light. He is animated and full of energy. I actually enjoy this dude’s company. I’m not much for making new friends, so this pleasantly surprises me. He is so excited that Dillon let him and Logan join the band. He’s been rambling on about all of their big plans. He’s from a nearby suburb, so he’s sort of in between our side and the other side of the lake, socially speaking.
Blondie has been glued to Dillon since she arrived. He’s only danced a few songs with her, choosing to play pool or cards with the guys instead. No matter, each time I look up over Trace’s shoulder, Dillon’s eyes are on me. He doesn’t seem too pleased, either. Well, the feeling is mutual. I try to pay him no mind, but it’s like we have always been two magnets drawn to the other. His message tonight, through the staring and stern set of his handsome face, is telling me to walk away from Trace. And my message back, through a few sharp glares, is that he has no room to tell me what to do. He finally seems to have all he can take of me hanging out with Trace and beckons the dude to join them in a game of Spades. So that is the end of my dance partner for the night, because you can never just play one game of Spades. That card game is something addictive.
Dillon eventually opens his few gifts, as they finally tire of Spades after a half dozen games. Kyle gave him a bottle of cologne, which he swiped from my condo freebies, that happens to be Dillon’s brand of choice. Leona gave him a new guitar pick with Bleu Streak etched on it. They are pretty cool gifts, and he seems thrilled by them. The twins are the poorest of the crowd. No one ever expects a gift from them, hence Max bringing a girl. I don’t give him my gift now. I decide I will wait until later. If he doesn’t straighten up, I may not give it to him, period. Of course we eat the old cake that turns out to be surprisingly moist. I guess the date really doesn’t have to dictate the freshness every time.
We sing “Happy Birthday” at exactly one minute before midnight and continue to sing one minute past. It’s a weird thing we started years ago, before we even hit the teenage years. We celebrate each other’s birthday to the very last minute of the day. We want to remind our friend how important he is to us, since most of this world seems to not care.
I watch as Blondie tries to give Dillon a birthday kiss, but he kindly turns his head and receives it on his cheek. She grabs hold of his right shoulder to leverage another kiss, but he winces under her arm. He shrugs her off and this seems to offend her. Poor girl. Rejection from this guy is a pretty tough pill to swallow. I watch as he rotates his arm around a bit when he thinks no one is watching. But as I’ve said earlier, I am a professional people watcher, especially when it comes to Dillon Bleu. I wonder what’s going on with him.
He finally manages to untwine himself from her, and his eyes immediately search for me. He looks at me nervously, so I throw him off by winking at him. Then Leona and I set out in sync with kissy noises, making him roll his eyes. We are teenagers. We have the right to act immature. It feels good to be goofy. It’s definitely better than crying over it.
I know the party will probably wear on for a few more hours, so I slip out the side door and head home. Once I’m in my small room, I look down at my outfit one more time before peeling it off and swapping into my usual oversized T-shirt and hole-riddled sweatpants. I seemed to have dressed up for nothing.
I stretch out on my bed and try to decide if I’m going to wait up or just go on to sleep. I seriously doubt he will be serenading me tonight. Sleep wins out as I drift off quickly.
Something wakes me abruptly, and I’m not really sure what it was. I lay in the dark and wait for it again. I almost come unglued when a leg swings through my window.
“Shh… It’s just me, Jewels,” Dillon says to hush me. He lands on top of me, nearly knocking the wind out of me.
“You scared me to death,” I whisper. I try to push him off but he just lays here, staring down at me. His soft hair is tickling my face, he’s so close, and his breaths are combined with my own. We stay this way for a while, neither one of us wanting to move. Having him close, after the recent ignoring spell, feels good.
This shouldn’t have shocked me, but I was dead asleep. Someone crawling through my window isn’t new. I’ve had more than one visitor fall into my room at one point or the other, needing something. I guess it’s because I’m the oldest is why everyone comes to me.
When Leona was twelve, she crawled through my window and openly wept. That’s something you very rarely ever see that girl do. She’s not a tear shedder. She had started her period that night and couldn’t bring herself to confide in her dad. I remember putting my arm around her shoulder and whispering, “We got this.” I went to Aunt Evie’s bedroom and filled her in on what was up with Leona, and you know what she said? “We got this.”
My aunt drove over to Walmart and stocked Leona up on all of the necessary supplies. She even grabbed a huge box of chocolates that we women sat up late devouring. She then went over to Leona’s and explained to Mr. Dan what was going on. So once a month, until she was old enough to take care of things herself, Leona would fall into my room, and with a dramatic eye roll, saying it was that time again.
Max showed up in my room one night with women trouble. He was having a hard time getting any girls to take him seriously. It was his own blame fault. I told Max if he would knock it off with all of the goofing around and the wild pranks, then maybe someone would be able to take him seriously. I also informed him that most girls did not like to be referred to as being hot thangs and babes. I schooled him till dawn the next day about what he was doing wrong. I gave him my last twenty and told him to take this new girl in the trailer park out to the pizza joint and to not pull any fast ones. She dated him, of her own free will, for a few months until he could refrain himself no longer and went back to his old goofy ways. Some are just not teachable.
Of course, Mave has showed up on a regular basis over the years to just hide from whatever trouble the idiot got himself into at that moment. If it’s out there to get into, Maverick King finds it. If he doesn’t find trouble, it somehow finds him. The dude is a haphazard.
Dillon has always been the exception to the rule. He has always used the front door and barged his way into my room when he needs me, without knocking. Well, up until now, I suppose. He’s still sprawled out on top of me, but has most of his weight shifted off me.
“Take a walk with me?” He pushes his hair out of his face and eyes me.
“No. It’s too cold,” I mumble.
“Then put on a coat. Please?” He rolls over so I can get up, but I just continue to lay here. He shoves me off the bed, not too delicately. I’m about to lay into him, but then I remember his gift, so I crawl over to my small closet and begin rummaging for a thick jacket with a hood. It’s not freezing by any means, just nippy. I slide his gift into the inner pocket of my coat. Then I push my feet in a pair of Ked’s knockoffs and follow him through my small window. I’m amazed he was able to get his long body in and out so easily. My short body is outright protesting, so he finishes pulling me through and sets me on the ground outside.
Once I’m steady on my feet, Dillon releases me, but gathers my hand in his without hesitation. We head over to the dock. The moon isn’t so full tonight, but the night is still crystal clear with barely any breeze. We stand at the end of the dock for a while, but eventually have a seat on the planked top and gaze out over the water. I love the lullaby of the lake water as it whispers into the night. I watch it glide by until I turn my attention to my company. He seems lost in thought, so I nudge his knee with my own. He looks over with an apprehen
sive smile that is barely there.
“Happy birthday,” I say as I pull the songs from my pocket and hand them over.
He eyes the tube of papers and grins. “This what I think it is?”
“Yep. They are all new, too.”
He slides the leather bracelet off and hands it back to me, but I shake my head no. “It’s a guy bracelet, anyway. I want you to have it, too.” I take it out of his hand and tie it around his wrist.
“Thanks, Jewels. This is my favorite gift.” He fingers the papers reverently.
I lean back and eye his right shoulder. “Speaking of gifts…You got new ink today, didn’t you?”
Dillon looks at me curiously. “Just how did you know about that?”
“Come on, Dillon. I’ve known you a lot of my life. There’s not much you can get past me. For one thing, you wouldn’t take your jacket off all night, and you’ve been babying that right side of your upper back.” I ever so slightly place my fingers in the spot and feel the soft give of a gauzy dressing.
He glances at me sideways then looks away. “I don’t think I’m ready to show it to you just yet.”
“Why not?”
“It’s pretty personal.”
“Okay.”
He looks back to me, skeptically. “Okay?” he asks, as though he doesn’t believe me.
“I get it. It’s your body, and I know a tattoo to you is a personal expression. I won’t nag you about it.”
He stares at me warmly and seems to appreciate my response. I shiver a bit, so he pulls me closer and wraps his arm around me. I automatically lean my head on his left shoulder.
“So tell me why you woke me up and dragged me outside in the wee hours of this morning,” I mumble as I take a whiff of him. He has a light hint of cologne on. It’s a woodsy clean smell, and is so inviting. I automatically nuzzle closer to the side of his warm neck without thinking twice about it. This little place feels like home. Like it’s exactly where I belong.
“I’m waiting,” I say after a few minutes of silence.
I feel him stiffen a bit, as though he is reluctant to tell me. “I want to…” He pauses, so I raise my head to look at him. His hair is masking his eyes. I reach up and brush it away from his forehead. I search his handsome face and find it remorseful. “I want to apologize for stealing that kiss.” This apology is only a whisper.
“Dillon, why did you kiss me?” I whisper back.
“I couldn’t wait any longer,” he says in a husky voice, while holding my gaze.
Before I lose my nerve, I climb into his lap and rest the tip of my nose to his. “I want that kiss back now,” I quietly demand before leaning the rest of the way, reclaiming my kiss. It’s a delicate unrushed kiss, and I want to live in this spot for the rest of my life. It feels right and I savor it. His lips are so warm and surprisingly soft and too tempting. I wait for him to end the kiss, but eventually realize he has no more desire than I do for it to stop. I pull back as we both become breathless and stare at him.
“My Jewels,” Dillon murmurs as he places my hand over his heart. It beats strong and vigorously. “I was scared I totally screwed things up with you.” He rests his forehead to mine.
“Never. You will always be my best friend.” I scoot as close as I can to him and brush a kiss along his ear before whispering, “My Dimples.”
He chuckles lightly and rewards me with a glimpse of those babies. “Yes, I’m your Dimples,” he says. I guess he has finally relented to my name for him.
We stay out on the dock until the dawn of the new day appears on a haze of greys and peaches. We shuffle back to our trailers, with him boosting me back through my window and stealing one more kiss before heading to his own bed.
I’m in love, and this feeling totally blows my mind. I’m eighteen and I’m just experiencing my first love. It was well worth the wait. I didn’t waste that special title on some jerk who only wanted one thing. I’m a blessed girl. I got to give that first love to my best friend, and I adore that. I want this feeling to never go away. Dillon is so important to me, and I want him always as a part of my life. I can hope and dream, right?
Well, this is the little dream bubble I live in this morning as I snuggle deeply under my quilt and relive the magical night. It was definitely an unexpected turn. It gives me hope that exciting and awesome experiences are obtainable after all.
* * * *
“Go on a treasure hunt with me,” Dillon says.
It’s Thanksgiving weekend and this place is a ghost town. Aunt Evie let Kyle go with the twins an hour away to their grandparents’ home for the weekend. The twins were pretty psyched about the endless amount of food at their disposal. Kyle is growing like a weed, so he was all for going with them. Leona works at the mall—enough said. With the sales events, I won’t see her until at least Monday. My pocketbook definitely won’t allow me to go see her. That’s just too much temptation. So it’s just me and Dillon, swinging on the dock swing. He helped me out with trash duties earlier, and now we are free for the remainder of the day. As soon as he says the words treasure hunt, I automatically rise and we both head to the sheds.
This is something we’ve done since we were old enough to wander off together. The whole lot of us has come down to these sheds and walked away with a bounty of treasure over the years. Well… It’s treasure to us anyway. This is where we discovered our boat after all.
We scoot into the bigger shed and memories assault me, causing me to smile. Aunt Evie’s family didn’t believe in throwing anything away, which has been a big plus in helping us combat our boredom over the years. Never have I slipped into one of these buildings without discovering something new.
Another treasure unearthed in this place was a dirt bike. It took the boys over four months of searching around for all of the scattered parts and to get it up and running. And it only took Mave less than a week to completely destroy it. The guys had set up some shady ramps, which I absolutely didn’t trust, along the edge of the woods. They all managed okay as long as they kept their speed reasonable. Leave it to Mave to push it way past the limit. The daredevil and that bike took an unexpected nosedive into the lake after crashing through a few trees. The bike was completely ruined, and Mave earned a broken arm. I can still see him trudging up out of that water holding his arm. He had looked more confused than hurt.
“Dude, something don’t feel so right with my arm,” he said as he tried to hold the misshapen appendage up. He had to play the drums one-armed for six weeks. In all actuality, it probably helped to improve his skills. His left-handed drumming improved dramatically during that period.
Speaking of drums, this is where we found Mave’s first drum set, buried underneath some gross-smelling burlap sacks. The set was nearly dry-rotted, but he didn’t care. That boy wore holes into the tops of the drums from playing them so much. A week after we had to finally trash the set, Aunt Evie surprised him. She had swapped a few treasure items she had held back for a used set of drums in pretty good condition from a local pawn shop.
“Drums seem to be the only thing to keep that boy out of trouble,” she had said as she gifted him the set. He had planted a sweet kiss on her cheek, then went to pounding on those drums and has never stopped.
Leona found trunks of vintage clothes last year and spent the remainder of the school year rocking out all sorts of mod outfits. She looked spectacular in the shift dresses. Only she could pull off such a style and not get laughed at. The only item I swiped from one of the trunks is a faded army jacket, and I’m actually wearing it today with some old jeans and a Beatles T-shirt. I scored the Beatles shirt from the thrift shop across the way just last week. Leona and I plunder through the racks at least once a week. Living in such close vicinity of the rich does have its perks. Those people wear something one time and deem it unworthy, and then send it packing on down to the secondhand stores. It’s ridiculous, but I don’t mind.
I look over at Dillon and see that he is wearing another name brand hoodie I found fo
r him. Dillon has always been an exception to my white-trash rule. He has never looked like he fit in with us. He always looks impeccable, even in jeans and T-shirts. I guess with Cora not really having white-trash roots, Dillon doesn’t either. My clothes are clean, don’t get me wrong. I just feel lacking.
Dillon catches me looking over a rack at him, and he gives me a peek of those dimples, before something in a box catches his eyes. I turn back to my thoughts as I stroll down the aisle. There are three distinct rows in this shed, and it makes for easy shopping.
I remember one day when the boys were on the brink of their teenage years, Max and Kyle came barreling out one of the sheds with armfuls of gardening supplies and cracked plastic kiddy pools. They had spent the week before helping Ms. Raveena with tending to her rose bushes. Ms. Raveena is a northerner from Buffalo, New York, and had wanted to retire in the South as lots of northerners do. I love how she keeps her long, black hair tied neatly in a knot, always. There is an attractive streak of grey in the front. The boys call her Grey Streak behind her back and contemplate what sort of band she would have. It’s all in good fun, because the crowd adores her. She even lets the twins go through her cabinets and fridge like they own the place. She and I share the same theory on those two. This little old lady’s pocketbook is deep enough to live on the other side of the lake, but she says she prefers the simple life over here instead. She hauled in a brand-new trailer and set out to making herself at home. I like to visit her cozy little place. Unlike most of the trailers around here, her floors don’t droop and no mildew smell is evident. She also has central air conditioning, which doesn’t make so much racket like the window units we are all used to hearing. She has the prettiest little yard too. It resembles a mini flower showcase. I guess she inspired the two boys to want their own garden, because the next thing I knew, they had talked her out of enough topsoil to fill the half dozen or so pools.
