The Rules of You and Me

by Shana Norris

  “Okay.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “Okay?”

  Jude wiped his hands on a cloth. “Okay, I’ll go. I’ll have dinner with you and your aunt.”

  “Thank you,” I told him.

  Jude leaned over his side of the truck, a wicked gleam in his eye. “On one condition.”

  I didn’t like that look. “What’s that?”

  “That you cook for me.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I don’t cook.”

  Jude shrugged. “Then I guess I’ll stay home and eat a can of soup.”

  “You’re an evil creature,” I said.

  “It’ll taste better if you cook it,” Jude said.

  “It’ll be so burnt you won’t be able to taste it at all.”

  Jude finished whatever he was doing and closed the hood. “I’ll take my chances.”

  I groaned. “Fine. I’ll cook. Any requests?”

  Jude tilted his head to the side. “I’m a steak kind of guy. With steaming mashed potatoes. Homemade, not the packet. Lots of butter.”

  “You’ll be lucky to get pizza,” I snapped.

  Jude walked around the front of the truck, smiling as he looked down at me. “And don’t forget the most important ingredient,” he said.

  “What’s that?” I asked, imagining Jude sending me off in search of some made up spice just to drive me crazy.

  He thumped my nose with his thumb. “Love, Hannah. It has to come from the heart.”

  I swatted at him, but he laughed and twisted out of the way.

  “You’re all greasy.” I rubbed at my nose. “You better not have gotten anything on me.”

  “Just a little,” Jude said. He nodded toward the house. “Come on, you can wash up inside.”

  I hesitated as I looked at the little brick house. Memories of lying in Jude’s bed flashed through my mind, along with the odor of stale cigarettes and rotten food. My stomach gurgled a little and I swallowed hard.

  “You coming?” Jude asked. He had reached the front door and looked back at where I still stood in the driveway.

  What would Natalie think if she saw me now? We hadn’t talked or texted since the phone call last week about Paris. I didn’t really want her to be mad at me, but I didn’t want to keep making up excuses about why she couldn’t come visit me. It was better off this way.

  I followed Jude into the house, stopping suddenly as my eyes took in the living room. It was clean. Well, as clean as it could be with stained carpet and worn furniture. But there were no dishes stacked on the coffee table or clothes tossed around the floor. Even the air smelled nicer, like floral-scented air freshener.

  “I cleaned up a little,” Jude said, rubbing his hand over his head and shrugging.

  “It looks good,” I told him.

  Jude led me down the hall and I avoided looking at his bedroom as we walked by.

  “Here.” Jude flicked on a light, showing me a tiny bathroom barely big enough for one person.

  “I’ll wash up in the kitchen,” Jude said. “It’s not exactly big enough for two.” He gave me a nervous grin in the cracked mirror. We stood so close in the tiny room, my back almost pressed to his chest.

  I smiled as he eased past me and disappeared back down the hall. I pushed aside the thoughts of Jude’s kiss, the feel of his warmth close to me and his fingers on my skin. We were friends, just friends. That was how it had to be.

  Jude sat at the little kitchen table when I found him, with a cup of milk and a package of Oreos in front of him. He nodded toward a second cup of milk at the seat next to him.

  “Mmm, milk and cookies,” I said as I sat down.

  “Don’t let it be said that I don’t know how to take a girl out for a nice meal,” Jude told me with a wink.

  I dunked my cookie low in the milk, until my fingertips touched the cold liquid. How long had it been since I’d had milk and cookies? I was usually so busy, a lot of times I’d forget to eat anything until I became light-headed and dizzy.

  My gaze fell on a stack of mail at the other end of the table. Bright red letters on the envelope on top stood out at me: PAST DUE - THIRD NOTICE. The return address was the familiar logo of Willowbrook Bank & Trust. My dad’s bank.

  “So,” I said, breaking the silence that had fallen between us, “where is your mom today?”

  Jude crunched his cookie as he stared down into his milk. “Don’t worry, she probably won’t be home until tonight. You don’t have to see her again.”

  I shook my head. “No, it’s not that. I meant, did she get a new job? She was fired from the last one, right? Or she quit?”

  “Who knows,” Jude said. “You can’t believe a word she says. She always makes herself out to be the victim.”

  I bit into my milk-sodden cookie. Jude’s body had tensed when I asked about his mom. It was clear he didn’t want to talk about her. I reminded myself that it wasn’t my business to ask about their financial situation. People always got so weird about money. Rule #30: Everyone has a price. One of my dad’s rules.

  After a few moments, Jude said, “I’m sorry about what she said to you.”

  “It’s okay—”

  “No, it’s not. I don’t—I don’t think those things about you.” He looked up, meeting my gaze with his serious gray eyes.

  Heat crept up my neck and I looked back down at my cup. My thumbnail traced a hairline crack along the rim. “It’s okay. We both let things get carried away. It’s over, we don’t have to talk about this.”

  I thought he would protest, I thought he’d say more, that we did need to talk about it. But he didn’t. He dunked his cookie into his milk and chewed silently for a long time.

  “My mom wasn’t always like that,” he said at last when he had swallowed. “She’d drink every now and then, but she didn’t get so bad until Liam died. I can understand in a way. There are a lot of times when I want to forget everything, numb the pain until it all stops hurting.” He sighed. “But I don’t think Liam would have liked that.”

  “No,” I agreed. “From what you’ve told me of your brother, I don’t think he would.”

  “You know, I haven’t even been to his grave since the funeral?” Jude turned a cookie over and over in his hands. “I haven’t had the courage to go there. I haven’t had the courage to do a lot of things in the past year.”

  “You climb to the top of a towering rock on a mountain,” I pointed out. “You have a lot more courage than I do. I can’t even tell my mom that I don’t want to go to Yale.”

  Jude twisted the cookie apart and licked the cream out of the middle. “It’s your life. You can do whatever you want.”

  “And so can you,” I told him. “You’re not responsible for what your mom does.”

  Jude popped the cookie into his mouth and then drank his cup of milk. “So,” he said, with a gleam in his eye, “what are you making me for dinner?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  “Can you get that?” I called as I pulled the pan of steaming chicken from the oven. I poked at the browned bird, praying that it was cooked all the way through.

  The doorbell rang again and then Aunt Lydia hurried through the kitchen. “I’ll get it, I’ll get it,” she said as she breezed by. She was wearing nice black slacks and a white blouse instead of her usual paint spattered T-shirts and baggy jeans. If I didn’t know better, I might have mistaken Aunt Lydia for Mom. I had never realized just how much they looked alike, especially when Aunt Lydia was dressed in a Mom outfit.

  “Hello, Jude,” I heard her say in an overly cheerful voice.

  Please let this night not be a disaster, I said silently. I checked the pot of mashed potatoes and fluffed the top with a fork again.

  I wiped my hands on my apron and then pulled it off just as Aunt Lydia walked into the room with Jude at her heels. She smiled brightly at me. “Our guest has arrived,” she chirped.

  Jude smiled nervously, running a hand over his head. He’d cut his hair, I noticed. Just a little trim, a couple of inc
hes. He wore a nice gray polo shirt, which looked pressed and starched. His khakis had a perfect crease down each leg and even his shoes looked shiny.

  “You look nice,” I said, unable to keep the surprise out of my voice.

  He nodded toward me. “So do you.”

  I ran my hands over the front of my red dotted dress to smooth out the folds of the fabric. It was one of my favorite dresses, cute in a retro way. My mom said it was too short and never approved of me wearing it.

  Jude’s eyes flickered down toward my legs, so quickly I couldn’t be sure whether he was checking them out or just looking at something near the floor. Maybe the dress was a bit too short.

  “Are we ready to eat?” Aunt Lydia asked me.

  “Yes,” I said, clearing my throat as I tried to fight the flush that crept up my face. I moved the food over to the counter where we ate and then Jude pulled out a barstool for me. I gave him an appreciative smile as we sat.

  “What, no steak?” Jude winked at me.

  “Be thankful it’s not blackened,” I told him. “And I can’t guarantee it’s not still raw inside.”

  “Well, it smells good,” Aunt Lydia said, breathing deeply. “You certainly don’t have my bad luck in the kitchen. You must take after your mom.”

  I picked up the carving knife and sliced into the chicken. It released steam into the air and juices ran down the meat. “Oh, Mom hasn’t cooked in years,” I said. “Not since we moved to the new house.” I cast a glance at Jude. I hadn’t told him about my family’s financial situation and there was no way I’d tell him now, not after seeing his home.

  “Yes, well,” Aunt Lydia said as she accepted the chicken I offered her, “your mother always did love to order people around.” She gave me a playful grin.

  I laughed in spite of myself.

  “She really does take after her mother then,” Jude added.

  I waved a fork at him. “You watch it, or else you won’t get anything to eat.”

  He held his empty plate toward me. “I’m sorry. Feed me please. I’m wasting away.”

  After we had all loaded our plates with food, silence fell as we started eating. A cold sweat prickled along my back. Was the whole night going to be like this? I glanced at the clock on the stove, watching as the time seemed frozen on this agonizing minute.

  “So, Jude,” Aunt Lydia said, wiping her mouth with her napkin, “does your tattoo mean anything?” Her gaze fell on the black lines peeking out from the edge of his sleeve.

  Thanks, Aunt Lydia, for picking a topic that would point out how un-Mom-approved he was.

  Jude pushed his sleeve up to show the black lines that twisted around his arm. “My brother’s initials are hidden in it.” He traced a finger along the tattoo, pointing out the L and the W that I hadn’t noticed before.

  Aunt Lydia smiled. “That’s beautiful. My tattoo isn’t that nice. Just a wishbone.”

  My eyes almost popped out of my head. “You have a tattoo? Why haven’t I ever seen it?”

  “It’s not exactly in a place that I’m in the habit of showing to people,” Aunt Lydia told me. She waved a hand. “I got it a long time ago, when I was much younger. A silly night out with your mom, back before she married your dad. We’d probably had a little too much to drink and so we thought getting tattoos was a good idea.”

  Now my head really felt like it would explode at any minute. “My mother has a tattoo?” I shrieked.

  “She did at one time,” Aunt Lydia said. “We got matching ones. She’s probably had it removed by now, I’d guess.”

  I sat back in my seat, stunned into silence. All that talk Mom had done over the years about how disgusting it was that people mutilated their bodies with tattoos, and this whole time, she’d had one? What other lies had my mom told me to keep up her image of perfection?

  “Do you have any plans for the fall?” Aunt Lydia asked Jude, clearly changing the subject. “Applying to any colleges?”

  My head was still fuzzy with the idea of my mom with a tattoo, but I could have thrown my mashed potatoes at Aunt Lydia. What was this, torment Hannah night by asking every off-limits question she could think of?

  “Well,” Jude said slowly, “I have been doing some thinking lately about what I want to do with my life.”

  My eyebrows shot up my head. “You have?”

  “There was something I always wanted to do, but haven’t yet,” Jude said. He looked at me with a look of certainty in his eyes. “I’m thinking about joining the army.”

  I remembered him mentioning the army briefly after our awkward dinner with Ashton and her friends. But it had been such a quick mention and it had seemed like a closed case. He hadn’t joined the army, he had stayed here. Safe at home.

  “That’s a big commitment,” Aunt Lydia said, “joining the army.”

  Jude nodded. “I know. But it’s something I always wanted to do.”

  I opened my mouth. I wanted to say, “But you might die like your brother.” But I couldn’t even say the words. I had no right to say it. Jude and I weren’t involved, I had already established those boundaries with him. What he did with his future wasn’t up to me.

  Jude’s gaze met mine again and we stared silently at each other. I saw sadness in his eyes, but I also saw hope and excitement.

  “Have you talked to a recruiter yet?” Aunt Lydia asked.

  Jude shook his head. “Not since Liam…Not since he left.”

  Aunt Lydia smiled. “It’s good to have plans for your future. You should go talk to someone and decide if it’s what you really want to do. I think you’d make a great soldier.”

  Jude’s cheeks turned red and he looked down at his plate. “Thank you, ma’am. I don’t know if that’s true, but I’d like to be something I could be proud of.”

  #

  “Thanks for dinner,” Jude said.

  I wrapped my arms around myself and smiled up at him. It wasn’t cold out here on the front porch, but I suddenly felt like I didn’t know what to do with my hands as we stood there. Aunt Lydia was inside, washing the dishes, which Jude had offered to do and she had refused to allow. So here we were instead, saying good night.

  “You’re welcome. I hope it wasn’t too bad.”

  “No, it was good. You’re a better cook than you think.”

  “Thanks,” I said. “But actually, I meant my aunt.”

  Aunt Lydia had done well that night. She hadn’t pestered Jude with a million questions and she hadn’t even mentioned the fight he’d had with Carter. I was sure Ashton had already told her all of the details.

  “Your aunt was fine too,” Jude said, laughing.

  “I think she thinks we’re dating,” I whispered.

  He leaned down toward me until we were eye to eye. Twilight was falling around us and crickets chirped from the grass and trees. One by one, pinpricks of stars appeared in the night sky.

  “Maybe it doesn’t matter what other people think,” he whispered back.

  I loved how easy he made that sound. As if other people’s opinions really didn’t matter. Reality was what we made it and our reality was that we were friends. We hadn’t let a moment of weakness ruin us. I liked that. I liked this, these little moments between just the two of us.

  “I wish I really could shut out the rest of the world,” I said, sighing.

  Jude pushed my hair behind my ear and gave me a half-smile. “Liam always told me that the only way other people mattered was if I let them matter. Don’t let it bother you and it won’t.”

  “That’s easy for you to say,” I said. “You don’t have to live with my mother.”

  I walked across the porch and leaned against the rail, picking at a piece of cracked paint that had started to peel. Jude leaned against the rail at my side, his arms braced against the wood.

  “I wish I had the courage to not be the person everyone expects me to be,” I said quietly. “It’s what this summer was all about, figuring out who I am underneath the Hannahs I created for everyone else
. It is nice to not be so stressed out all the time, but I know that as soon as I get back to Willowbrook, nothing will have changed. My mom will turn me into the same Hannah Cohen once again. In a year, I’ll head off to Yale and then I’ll be some big shot lawyer at some big shot firm in some big city where I barely know anyone. Because that’s what I’m supposed to do.”

  “Do you even want to be a lawyer?” Jude asked.

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. My dad says that’s what I said I wanted to be when I was a kid, but I don’t even remember that. Maybe it was one of those things where I’d heard about the job somewhere and so the next time someone asked what I wanted to be, I said lawyer even though I had no idea what it really was. I mean, I used to say I wanted to be a My Little Pony when I grew up and yet no one’s making me gallop around with a pink tail.”

  “I hear the interview process for My Little Pony is pretty tough,” Jude commented.

  “My point is,” I said, shooting him a scowl, “why do I have to be forced into this one idea based on something I may or may not have said when I was six? What kid knows what they really want to be when they grow up? How is it fair to put me into this little box labeled ‘lawyer’ and force me to do everything focused solely on achieving a dream I’m not sure I even want?”

  “It’s not,” Jude said. “So rule number one. Don’t complicate things. Be honest. What would you be if you could be anything in the world?”

  I peeled off a piece of the old paint. “I don’t know.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” I cringed. “Isn’t that sad?”

  “Nah,” Jude said. “You just need time to explore the world and the opportunities out there. You’ll figure it out.”

  I raised my eyebrows. “So the army. Is that for real?”

  Jude’s mouth pressed into a straight line. “Sometimes, Liam and I made so many plans together that it’s hard to tell which dreams were his and which were really mine. But joining the military was always my idea. I wanted to travel the world, help people, keep everyone safe.”