“Al’s Auto Supplies. He has a sale on power steering fluid.”
“Why don’t you just get it fixed?”
“You been to a repair shop lately?”
Cherrie knew the answer without me telling her.
“Cost more to replace the steering pump than what this car is worth, so grandpa says.”
“Might save us from driving over a cliff again.”
“That was operator error.”
“Yeah. Thanks for the vote of confidence. So what do you think? Did Aaron pull us off the cliff?”
“That what he told you at lunch?”
“No. But I saw the way he looked on Bunny Flat after we drove back on the road. Spent.”
“He had just climbed a mountain. I’d think you’d give him some slack. And by the way, I don’t remember seeing him anywhere near the car when we went off the embankment.”
“Yes. But I saw him with his arms raised.”
“And that means what? He’s part tractor beam?”
I shrugged my shoulders, shook my head.
“You know,” Cherrie said, “a tractor beam like the Borg Cube on Star Trek.”
“Sounds like science fiction.”
“Now you got it.”
“Well then you explain it. How’d the LC get back on the road?”
Cherrie pointed. “See this letter R here. Stands for reverse. You take this,” she pulled on the stick shift, “and put it...”
“You don’t really believe we backed out of there, do you?”
Cherrie grunted as she cranked the wheel and turned onto Main Street. “You have a better idea?”
“No. But I don’t believe this tank backed out of there without help.”
“You know what? I don’t care how it happened. I’m just glad we weren’t killed. You know. If you want to believe the Delmons had something to do with it, fine by me.”
I sank back in the seat and relaxed. “Not them. Not the Delmons. Aaron is the only one who reacted. And now I think he’s in trouble because he helped.”
“Why’s that?”
“You don’t really want to know.”
“Humor me.”
“Didn’t you see them at lunch?”
“Yes, I did. Caught a glimpse of their shirt tails as they ran away.”
“That’s what I’m saying. Aaron and I were good until I mentioned Shasta.”
Another corner. More grunting.
“I’ll play along. What’d you say to piss them off?”
“I thanked Aaron for saving us.”
“You didn’t.”
“Yes. And he didn’t deny it.”
“So why’d he run away?”
“Told you. The twins didn’t like us talking about it.”
“Okay. Think I got it now. Aaron saves us from certain death. But his buddies would rather see us dead. Right?”
“Don’t know what they’re thinking. They didn’t say much.”
“Told you...”
“I know. Antisocial. Didn’t you see the bumps on their heads?”
“I’m beginning to think you’ve got a bump on your head.”
“Maybe, but not like theirs.”
“Like the Klingons on Star Trek.”
“Course not. These are small. The size of a walnut. I read it’s an organ which allows the Lemurians to communicate with each other through extra-sensory perception.”
“Ahh, here we go. And you think the Delmons are Lemurians.”
“They fit the description.”
“There are more than a few people in this world who would fit the description of having a bump on their head and lifting cars. They’re called drug addicts jacked up on the latest mind bender.”
“They don’t seem the type who would do drugs.”
“How would you know? I told you the Delmons are a strange family, weird in many ways.”
Cherrie cranked the LC into Al’s Auto Supplies’ parking lot.
I looked down the street. There were a number of SHS students walking through downtown. One in particular caught my eye.
“There’s Aaron.”
Cherrie looked as we got out of the car. “Yeah. He works at the Fifth Season.”
“And you didn’t tell me!”
“What’s there to tell? He’s got a life, something you should seriously think about getting.”
I watched as Aaron strode along the sidewalk. It wasn’t as though he were without purpose as I was sure he was a punctual employee, but the way he moved reminded me of someone who had not a care in the world.
His was a natural gait and a rhythmic sway as though he were a fine tuned machine. The air around him seemed to glow, as though denser and able to capture more sunlight. Things not grounded moved in waves ahead of Aaron, the same way leaves do when the wind blows. Boy’s shirt tails, flags hanging overhead, dog hair, and girl’s skirts fluttered in the unnatural breeze.
One could only see this from a distance and only when looking hard in study.
I looked around to see if anyone else noticed. If they did, they didn’t indicate so. In his presence, I imagined, the movement could be passed off as drafts pushing through an alley or air pressure from an opened door.
I knew better.
“What’s the Fifth Season?”
“Sports equipment. Mountaineering gear. Stuff like that.”
“I’ll be right back.”
“I can’t wait for you. Grandpa needs the car.”
“Then don’t,” I said. “I’ll walk home.” Probably safer crept into the back of my mind.
“Stop by later,” Cherrie said, as she entered Al’s.
I could hear disappointment in her voice. She was acting overly clingy this afternoon. Not her style.
I stopped inside the door of the Fifth Season to allow my eyes to adjust to the lighting and to see where Aaron had gone. The smell struck me first. Although there were other tantalizing flavors in the mix, such as new clothing, the smell of soap, and ski wax, I picked up the distinctive smell of scorched air.
A glass counter sat to the right, clothing racks to the left. Down on the far end, another counter lay buried under rows and rows of skis, boots, and a host of other climbing gear. Because of my father’s recreational mountain climbing hobby, I recognized the ice axes and crampons.
Dad had done most of his climbing as a young man. In later years he would make annual trips out to California, to mountaineer with Uncle Mickey. It felt strange standing in a store I knew my father had frequented. I looked up from my thoughts to be greeted with a “can I help you?”
I saw an older gentleman, gray haired, caring eyes, bushy beard, probably, if my guess was right, the owner or manager of the store.
“No, I’m just browsing,” I said.
“Have you been in here before? You look familiar.”
I hesitated, thought about it, and spit it out. “I think my dad came here.”
I saw the man searching with his eyes. Recognition set in.
“You’re Mickey’s niece, Simon Grant’s daughter.”
“That’s me,” I said with some shyness.
It made me a bit queasy to be talking about two dead people, especially with them having been so dear to my heart. But I also thought the quickest route to Aaron lay through this man, so I didn’t put him off.
He stuck out his hand.
“I’m Carson Gruen. I—we, the whole town miss the Grant boys. They were always welcome here.”
I nodded. I didn’t say anything. What could I say? I missed them too. At the same time if Dad and Uncle Mickey hadn’t died I wouldn’t be standing in this store talking to this man and angling for a peek at Aaron. Life, as I learned, is a twisting road with confusing sign posts.
Carson interrupted my thought.
“I’m the owner so you just let me know how we can help you and I’ll see it gets done. Are you looking for anything in particular?”
Some time alone with Aaron Delmon.
Not that I could say it o
ut loud, but the thought brought a smile to my face.
“No, just browsing.” I moved over to the clothing racks.
“Okay. Let me know if we can be of help. And you know,” Carson said, “I always gave Simon and Mickey ten percent off so whatever you buy, consider it discounted.”
I wandered through the clothing racks, wading through the maze like a mouse through a labyrinth. Walls cut me off. Clothing racks and shelves blocked my vision to the counters. I poked around while keeping my eyes peeled for a glimpse of Aaron.
The smell filtered to my nose. I expected him to be across the room, yet when I turned around, there he stood, inches from me.
“Hi,” I said.
“Hi Julissa.”
Nice start. He remembered my name.
“Are you finding what you need?”
“I am now. So you work here?”
“Yes. Part time after school.”
I looked around. “Seems like a nice place to work.”
“It is. Carson treats us good.”
Us?
“Your cousins work here, too?”
I saw Aaron stiffen.
I wanted to take back the question.
“No. I meant myself and the other employees.”
“Pretty big place,” I said, trying to keep the conversation going. “You must keep busy.”
“We do. But there are off seasons.”
“Really? When?”
“Like now. Too cold for mountain biking. Not enough snow on the mountain for skiing or mountaineering.”
Great. Then I can have you all to myself.
It wasn’t working out that way, though. I could feel Aaron becoming antsy, like he felt he was needed somewhere else.
I hung on.
I held up my well-worn WBL orange beanie. “You got a replacement for this?”
Aaron took it. His fingers grazed my hand.
My heart surged. I felt tingling in my arms and legs. I shorted a breath. It all happened so sudden, something I had longed for—a touch in privacy away from the peering eyes of many.
Yet this wasn’t in private.
We were standing in a store. We shook hands at lunch. I hadn’t felt anything then, physically anyway. Emotionally, yes! This wasn’t our first touch. So why the physical energy flux? I felt weak. Beads of sweat broke out on my forehead.
“You okay?”
“Don’t know. I suddenly feel very tired.”
“That happens in here. Stuffy air. Here,” he guided me, “sit down. I’ll bring you some beanies to try on.”
I sat down on a bright red cushioned bench. Boots sat stacked all around me, the kind climbers use on the mountains. Price tags were in the hundreds of dollars. Who in their right mind pays a thousand dollars for boots?
Aaron returned. He dumped an armful of beanies of various colors and shapes onto the floor in front of me.
“Here you go. There’s a mirror.” He pointed to it.
The mirror sat at ground level, facing me. Apparently the clientele who purchased the thousand dollar boots were interested in looking stylish as well.
I tried on several of the beanies while keeping an eye on Aaron to see if he showed a preference. Mostly I just wanted to study his face.
His dark eyes captured the light at every turn, and when I looked close and deep into them it was as if sparklers—the kind you see on the Fourth of July—were going off. His nose, cheeks, and chin were sculpted to the perfection of an Adonis. His skin appeared tan, more so—like Jason’s skin—from DNA than the sun.
“So many choices,” I said. “What do you think?”
At the present I wore a white beanie with the pattern of pine trees—green—encircling the rim. It was ugly at best and unbecoming, but if Aaron said that was his choice, I would have favored it over all the rest.
Aaron lowered, all 6’8” of him, down onto the seat next to me. He rifled through the pile of beanies and pulled my old worn out orange WBL hat from the pile.
“I like this one because it’s yours...but I am here to sell stuff, so,” he pulled a maroon colored beanie from the pile, “I like this one too.”
I tried on his hat of choice and looked in the mirror. I played with it, moving it about, fluffing it up, anything to keep Aaron looking at me as I looked at him in the mirror.
I loved seeing Aaron’s attention on me, even if it was only about making a sale. I also wanted to see how his eyes shifted and his mouth moved as he talked to me. We sat so close that I felt if I had wanted to, with the turn of my head, we would be as about as close as a boy and girl could get without kissing.
After I pulled the hat from my head I saw the ring of white looking clouds shaped like waves.
“What are these?” I said holding up the beanie so Aaron could see the design. (Really, all I wanted to do was keep the conversation going)
“Clouds over a mountain.”
“Really. Like waves?”
I knew this from my marathon surfing the net on Saturday. It showed a picture of the cloud formation below the Abraham Tree graphic.
“How does that happen?”
“Two different layers of air moving at different speeds and in opposite directions. Causes friction.”
“And beauty,” I said.
“Yes. And beauty.”
I loved the way the word beauty rolled off of Aaron’s tongue. I could only hope that at some point in time the two of us would be in a position to cause friction and create beauty.
“Okay, I’ll get this one. I put the maroon beanie on.”
“Good,” Aaron said. “Follow me.”
To heaven and back.
Aaron led me to the counter, punched in the numbers, and I paid him. He didn’t discount the hat and I wasn’t about to say anything. Ten percent of fifteen dollars? Buck-fifty? I could live without it.
“Well,” I said, hesitating, “guess I’ll see you in school.”
Aaron nodded. I could see darkness return to his eyes as though he was troubled by the thought.
I walked out of the store with the maroon beanie on my head. I swore I would not wash it, at least not for a while as Aaron’s scent still lingered. As I walked away I remembered I had left my orange beanie in the pile of beanies on the floor. I could go back for it, but why? It was one of my prized possessions, but I was willing to sacrifice it on the chance Aaron would rescue it from the pile and return it to me.
When I got home I found a note on the refrigerator from Dierdra.
Julissa:
I’ve gone to Redding for a client again. Don’t think I’ll be making it back tonight. There’s chicken pot pie in the freezer. Be safe. Do chores. Love Mom
Not making it back tonight? Seemed strange. Who was this client anyway?
I pulled the Marie Callendar’s chicken pot pie from the refrigerator and put it in the microwave. Even with my coat and beanie on, I felt chilled. The wood box sat empty as usual. I grabbed the plastic tote and headed out for the wood pile. As I filled the tote I couldn’t help but think of how ironic it was for me to be in sunny California toting wood and never having done so in Minnesota.
It didn’t take long for the cabin to heat up. I removed my coat, but kept the Maroon beanie on. Now and again I would pull it from my head, bring it to my nose, and draw in what I told myself was Aaron’s scent. Just knowing he had touched it was enough to warm me through and through.
With a fire roaring in the fireplace and hot pie in my stomach I settled in for the evening. I lay in Mom’s lazy-boy and worked on my homework. There was laundry to be done. There was always laundry to be done. It was one chore I wasn’t up to doing on this night. I thought about giving Cherrie a call, but dismissed it. It was nice having some alone time and revisiting the day’s events.
My mood soured as I reflected on Aaron’s and my conversation. Was he trying to tell me something by picking out this particular beanie? What had he said?
Two different layers of air moving at different speeds and in opposite dir
ections. Causes friction.
Were we two different people moving at different speeds and—I gulped—in opposite directions? What friction? I had something intimate in mind. But the friction I caused Aaron to have with his cousins and Bernard was unmistakably injurious.
Wherever direction Aaron was headed I wanted, no—I needed to head in that direction also. I just didn’t know if Bernard and Aaron’s cousins would let me.
I fell asleep in the lazy boy curled up under my coat with the maroon beanie pulled down over my eyes and resting on the bridge of my nose. The smell of Aaron filled my nostrils and his face my mind as I entered dreamland.
7 GIRL TALK
I felt a squeeze to my shoulder. After I crawled off the ceiling and wiped the sleep from my eyes I saw Cherrie standing before me.
Now I have to tell you, seeing Cherrie standing before me at six in the morning is a bit unnerving, given the fact I had never seen her vertical so early in the day.
“Cherrie, what are you doing here? Or better yet, what are you doing out of bed?”
Cherrie sat down on the couch. She pulled the unlit cigarette from her mouth. “Just wanted to catch you before you left for school.”
“Why?”
“To talk.”
“About what?”
“Got any coffee?”
“You just woke me up, Cherrie. If you want I can make some.”
She followed me into the kitchen. I ran hot water into a mug, put it in the microwave, and hit the button.
“What are you doing?” Cherrie asked.
“Making coffee.”
“Really?”
I pulled the instant Folgers pack from the drawer and held it up so she could see.
“That’s not coffee.”
“Cherrie, why are you here?”
“How’d it go last night?”
“What do you mean?”
Cherrie moved over to the coffee maker. She dumped out the old grounds and leftover coffee. “Where’re your filters and grounds?”
“I don’t know. Mom always makes it.”
Cherrie started throwing open cupboards and opening drawers. She found the filters. I found the coffee grounds in the refrigerator as I pulled the half and half out for my instant brew.
“Did Aaron say anything?”
Uncle Mickey wasn’t all that big on wasting space so when he built the cabin he more or less squeezed the kitchen and dining facilities together in the same room. I had a seat at the small table with the two chairs.
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