by Lia London
Jill punched her pillow. “Don’t you want to go? It’s a great school, beautiful community, and they’ll pay you to study. That’ll save money for later. Grad school isn’t cheap.”
“What about you?”
How could she answer that? She had no reason to transfer to OSU except to follow a man who was in love with someone else. “Milo, we’ve been best friends forever.”
“Yes.”
“Virtually inseparable.”
“Yes.”
“There’s no one on the planet I enjoy spending time with more.”
“Yes?” She could hear the smile in his voice. “What’s your point?”
Jill squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to do the right thing. “My point is that if you want to go chase your dream to be a pharmacist, I’ll back you up. It makes more sense than being a soap star. You don’t have to babysit me anymore.”
Milo didn’t answer right away, and when he did, his voice was gravelly. “Is that how you really feel about it?”
“Of course.” She tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but her voice still came out wobbly. “Call OSU. We can use the rest of the summer to get you set up in your new place.”
“You don’t think I should stay at Western?”
The silence dragged on, and Jill feared she’d lose the strength to let him go. “It’s your decision, of course, Milo. I’m super tired after last night, so I’m going to crash for a little longer. I’ll see you around.”
“Oh. Right. Sweet dreams.” He hung up.
No, Milo. The sweet dream is dead.
Milo hung up the phone and stared at the dark, blank screen. Dark and blank like his heart. Jill, the love of his life, had effectively said, “Move on. I don’t need you anymore.”
For a moment, he nurtured the thought of running back to Amaya, but as much as he admired her, enjoyed her, or felt attracted to her, she was a consolation prize. A woman like her deserved to be a man’s first and only choice. He couldn’t do that to her even if he desperately wanted to feel loved.
It would be a long summer indeed. Maybe he could use it to get in better shape. Or get ahead on readings for fall term. Where had he put the contact information for the OSU Admissions office…?
***
“Milo, I really think you need to talk to Jill about this.”
“Mom, I already did. She’s the one who suggested it.” He piled four more strips of bacon on his plate and doused them in syrup.
His mother frowned. “It just doesn’t sound right.”
“Of course, it does.” Mendel flipped the page of his magazine and sipped his orange juice. “She cares about him enough to let him get the education he needs.”
“Oh, Mendel, you don’t understand.” Mabel fretted at a sticky spot on the table with a dish towel. “Jill and Milo have always been together.”
Mendel looked over the pages at her. “She’ll be thirty miles away. Ten minutes if she’s riding that bike of hers.”
Milo almost grinned through a mouthful of pancake. “That’s true.”
“Remember when she moved away from the house across the street?” Mendel continued. “Back when they were … what, ten or eleven?” He waved his magazine. “Their friendship survived. She still came over to swim, and Milo went up to their place to climb trees and get away from his brothers.”
The more his father talked, the less dramatic the move to Corvallis felt. “OSU really was my first choice.”
“Exactly.” Mendel picked up a piece of pancake with his fingers and stuffed it in his mouth.
“Jill is his first choice,” muttered Mabel. “Mendel, stop doing that. You’re getting everything gooey.”
Mendel pointed another piece of pancake at Milo. “He’s the one spilling.”
Milo halted with a dripping piece of bacon half dangling from his mouth. “I am not.”
“Oh, good gravy, Milo. It’s a wonder Jill stuck with you this long. You eat like a little monster.”
Milo’s mind flashed back to the sour cream on Jill’s lips. Licking her fingers. His vision blurred with tears and he finished stuffing the bacon in his mouth.
“Anyway, hurry up and get cleaned up. She’ll be here in a little bit.”
“What?!” Milo fell into a coughing spasm and had to down half a glass of milk to settle himself. “Why is she coming?”
“I told her to. If you’re going to start packing up your stuff to take to Corvallis, I thought she should have a chance to help you sort through some of the junk. I bet there’s some of her stuff in there.”
Milo narrowed his eyes at her. “What do you mean? All the stuff I need for school is out in Monmouth. I’m not taking my memorabilia stuff with me.”
“Oh, you’re not?” Mabel’s voice lifted almost musically. “Silly me. Well, she’ll be here soon. Make sure you didn’t leave dirty laundry on your bedroom floor.”
Jill found Milo sitting on the floor, leaning against his bed with a pile of papers and photos in his lap and a small cardboard box on either side of him. “Hey, what’re you doing?”
He glanced up, his expression hard to read. “Sorting, I guess.”
“Need any help?” She dropped to sit facing him, her legs folded under her.
“Only if you really want to. It’s kind of a weird trip down Memory Lane, seeing some of this stuff.”
She reached to the pile on his lap, but he bent his knees to cradle the papers protectively. “Um, I think there’s a box in my closet, left side. Last time I did this kind of sort, it’s where I packed a bunch of keepers. We could go through them and see if they’re still worth keeping.”
“Oh, right. Okay.” He sounded so business-like that her confidence waned. She wasn’t going to be able to turn this get-together into a real discussion about feelings. Crawling on her hands and knees to the closet, she second-guessed her decision to come. She found the box stashed behind a row of neatly-placed shoes. Testing its weight, she opted to slide it back across the carpet rather than lift it and risk its contents bulging out the bottom.
In place again, she looked up to see Milo watching her intently. Had she done something wrong?
“This box?” She opened the top flap.
“That box.” He gave a half smile before returning to the photos.
“Oka-a-ay. What have we here?” She lifted a tangle of brown, fuzzy pipe cleaners between her finger and her thumb.
Milo’s face brightened. “Oh, hey! It’s my reindeer antlers! I forgot about those.” He held up his hands for her to toss it to him, receiving them as a child getting a candy bar. “Look, like this.” He fidgeted with the wires, bending a few askew, and then plopped the mess on his head like a headband. Sure enough, it vaguely resembled a young deer’s antlers.
“Did you get a red nose, too?”
“I wasn’t Rudolph.” He gave a tight grin. “That was before my real acting days. Kindergarten. I played one of the reindeer who got lost in the fog.”
Jill snickered. “How perfectly fitting.” Crap. I need to be nice. No sibling-type teasing. “I bet you were adorable.”
“I was clumsy. I fell off the two-foot stage and knocked one of my front teeth out.”
“Oh my gosh, did you bleed all over the place?”
“Not too bad. Actually, I thought it was cool because usually kids didn’t lose teeth until they were six or seven.”
“Then you must have looked very sophisticated with the Crayola crowd.”
Milo flashed a smile, covering his front two teeth with the tip of his tongue. “Oh yeth.”
Jill giggled, her gaze clinging to his smile as he brought his lips back together. Leaning forward, she plucked the antlers from his head. “So, are these keepers?”
“Sure. Put them in here.” He indicated the box on his left. “Right for recycling, and left for long-term storage.”
“Long-term?”
He shrugged. “Mom seems convinced I’ll never come back home now that I’ll be thirty miles further south.”
“She loves you very much.” Jill’s voice clouded with longing to say more.
“If you’re thirsty, we’ve got soda in the fridge.”
Jill gave a thin smile. “No thanks. I’m good for now.” He lifted a handmade book, only a few sheets of paper folded in half and stapled, but she recognized it immediately. “Is that Carbon Copy Cats?”
Milo traced a finger over the felt-tip sketch of two tuxedo kittens on the cover. “Wow. I remember when you wrote this.”
“We wrote it,” said Jill, moving the left box out of her way so she could sidle up next to him. “Together. In my treehouse. Remember?”
Milo removed the stack from his lap and opened the little book. Careful not to press to close into his shoulder, she read the story aloud, cringing at her terrible spelling. When she finished, Milo closed it and handed it to her with a grin. “Okay, so you weren’t super clear on how carbon paper worked, but the story is really cute.”
“Thanks for keeping it all these years.” She patted it to her chest, and then pointed at the pile he had put down. “Oh, and there’s your debut novel!”
“See Spot Run!” Milo held up the single sheet of paper on which he had drawn comic book-style panels. Each featured a large black dot with legs—Spot. With a fake British accent, Milo read the text.
“See Spot.
See Spot run.
Run, Spot! Run.
See the car.
See the car zoom.
Zoom, car! Zoom.
See that Spot does not see the car zoom.
Run, Spot! Run.
Zoom, car! Zoom.”
Milo flipped the page over to reveal a single, graphic illustration. “See Spot go splat!”
“You really were a troubled little child, weren’t you?” Jill grinned and shifted to a kneeling position.
“Bored. I was bored.” He cast her a sideways look. “Until you came along, of course.”
Hope crept out of a dark corner in Jill’s stomach and lifted its head. “And now? Am I boring now?”
Milo’s brows descended over the bridge of his nose. “Jill, how can anyone so pretty and talented and fun be so insecure? Honestly, it’s exhausting sometimes.”
Jill’s mouth fell open. “What makes you think I’m insecure? I’m awesome!” She shoved him, playfully pinning him to the side of the bed. For a moment, she felt warmth rush through her whole body, but then he wriggled to upright himself. She regained her balance and sat back on her heels. “Sorry about that.”
“No worries,” he said, brushing his hair from his eyes with his hand. “No teeth broken.”
Jill looked at his even teeth encased in those soft lips she had only tasted once. Her breath hitched for half a second and then she let herself rock back to sit on her bottom, facing sideways. No point in torturing herself with that memory!
Milo fanned himself with See Spot Run. “We could do a sequel involving your Harley, you know.”
Her eyebrows wiggled. “I don’t suppose you have any felt-tip markers.”
“Mom probably does. Go ask her.”
Jill tilted her head sideways. “Seriously?”
“Why not?” He began gathering up the papers. “I’ll clean up the floor and we can color. Like old times.”
Jill practically skipped down the stairs to the living room. “Mama Mabel? Do you have any markers?”
“Like a Sharpie, dear?”
“No, like to color with.”
Mabel blinked. “Um. Do I?” She dropped her knitting needles to her lap and stared at the ceiling. “Try the second drawer under the microwave.”
“Thanks!”
As Jill started for the door, Mabel called, “Do I dare ask?”
“Don’t worry. We won’t scribble on the walls this time!”
Jill found the 32-pack of markers and hurried up the stairs. Milo lay on his stomach with a sheet of poster board in front of him.
“Where’d you get that?”
“You don’t keep random office supplies in your room?”
Crossing her eyes, she dropped down to lie beside him. Though they had positioned themselves like this hundreds of times in their youth, Jill felt an immediate difference. All down her right side, anywhere that her skin touched his, she felt weak and wonderful. Her heart fluttered with excitement when he didn’t roll away despite all the space he had cleared on the floor.
For the next half hour, they laughed and drew and wrote like old times. Except nothing like old times for Jill. Every time his eyes skipped to hers, invisible forces pulled her closer. Her heart danced in her chest even as she resisted wrapping herself around him and rolling across the carpet like a tumbleweed.
“Well, look at you two peas in a pod!” Mabel stood at the door, beaming.
Milo shifted onto his side to face her, creating an icy breach where their skin no longer touched. “Hi Mom. We took a break from sorting.”
“I just thought you might like to know that a thunderstorm is coming our way. You can see it from the front window. Lightning, too. I know you guys like watching them.”
Jill laughed inwardly. Okay, so maybe some of the rumbling I’ve been hearing wasn’t my heart.
Milo questioned Jill with his eyes.
“It’s not too boring?” she asked.
“Oh, brother!” He pulled himself to his feet, taking their collaborative drawing with him. “Sure, Mom. We’ll be right down.”
Milo knew his mother meant well, but her methods were too obvious. Jill would never fall for it all. He stuffed the markers back into their case even as he tried to stuff his hormones back into check. He’d been seconds away from saying something to Jill. Doing something. Something to make her absolutely sure of his feelings. Now they had to go sit in the living room with his parents and watch the clouds roll in, like they were little kids.
Jill leaned against the doorsill and watched him with a smile. Patient. And why not? She didn’t have any urgent message to divulge. She was just here humoring his mother.
Still, she hadn’t pulled away as they colored like children on the floor. He wondered how that could feel so much more intimate and exciting than Amaya’s kisses?
As they descended to the living room, Milo recalculated his potential moves. If they knelt together on the couch, leaning their elbows on the back and looking out the window …
Jill must have read his mind because she plopped down in exactly his imagined pose and patted the cushion next to her. Right as he sank as close as he dared, sheet lightning lit up the distant sky.
“One, two, three …” Jill counted slowly until the thunder rumbled at seven miles away.
He wasn’t sure the math really worked, but it had kept them from being afraid of the noise. Now the noise that most concerned him was the chatter from his mother, but to his surprise, Mabel slid the pocket door to the kitchen closed behind her with a wink, leaving him alone with Jill.
Milo leaned his head close enough to feel Jill’s hair on his cheek. “Do you mind? I mean, that Mom got us out here like this?”
Jill didn’t remove her gaze from the horizon, but the corners of her mouth turned up. “She’s sweet. I love her.”
“The feeling’s mutual.” Okay, here I go. We just said ‘love’. It’s the topic. I can do this.
“Whoah! Did you see that?” Jill’s eyes shone! “Spider webs all over the sky!”
“You don’t like spiders.” He whisked his fingers up her bare arms and she shivered against his touch.
Elbowing him in the ribs, Jill counted softly to herself. “It’s getting closer.”
Not close enough. Milo gave up looking out at the approaching storm and drank in every flickering expression that crossed Jill’s face.
She bit her lower lip and glanced at him. “You’re creeping me out, Milo. What are you staring at? Did I grow whiskers?”
He brushed her cheek with his knuckle. “Not that I can feel.”
Jill turned glinting eyes to him and slid her thumb over his chin.
“You, on the other hand, are Mr. Scrufflopagus today.”
He froze, afraid to move until she let go … which she didn’t until the thunder boomed extra loudly. The sound reminded him of the Fourth of July and how he’d missed his chance to be with her for the fireworks. Maybe the cosmos was giving him a second chance with this summer storm.
“Is it time for our game?” he asked. Would she remember?
“Sure.” She watched out the window. “No cheating.”
When the sky lit up with a branch of lightning, they both closed their eyes and held their breath, a challenge they’d started back in grade school. They couldn’t open their mouth or eyes until the thunder rumbled.
Milo peeked. Jill faced him, eyes closed and face placid. Beautiful. He leaned in, not breathing, until his skin tingled with her proximity. A few millimeters more and he could—
BOOM!
Jill jerked with surprise and her nose smacked hard into his chin. “Ow! Sorry!” She pinched her nose. “Man, that hurt!”
He rubbed his chin, grunting with frustration. “Oh, whoah. Jill, you’re bleeding. Your nose!” I broke her nose! I was going for the kiss and broke her nose.
“Oh, crap!” Cupping both hands over her face, she hurried to the kitchen, rapping at the closed door with her toes until Mabel slid it open.
“Good gravy, what happened to you?”
Milo deflated into the couch. “Lightning struck.”
Maybe the cosmos wasn’t giving him a second chance. It was telling him to give up.
Jill passed the next two weeks with almost no contact from Milo while he went for an extended rafting and hiking trip with one of his brothers. Why hadn’t she thought of something like that? Instead, she filled the time organizing her closets and attending client parties with her parents where she had to fend off many an intoxicated suitor twice her age. Around Monmouth, the local store owners and cashiers all recognized her and chatted her up about being on TV. She feigned enthusiasm but gave no hints of what they should expect from the show.
Sitting in a salon chair by the window, she watched people pass on their way to Main Street Park, the gym, or the bank.
