Jesse's Girl

by Alison Stone

  Mary Clare spent the rest of the day sorting through a lifetime of junk in the attic. Her back and shoulders ached. Her heart ached. She felt like she was doing everything wrong when it came to Henry. He’d had few words to say to her as she walked him down to his cousins’ for a sleepover. She leaned on the narrow windowsill of the only window in the cramped attic and rolled her shoulders. Her mom was settled on the porch with her book and she’d stay there until the mosquitoes chased her inside.

  Mary Clare pulled her cell phone out of her pocket and texted her brother for Jesse’s home address. She didn’t like how her conversation with Jesse ended, as if she implied that he didn’t know anything because he’d lived his whole life in Mills Crossing and still worked at his father’s garage. That’s not what she’d meant.

  Deep down, had she? Subconsciously?

  She wouldn’t have peace until she cleared the air. Besides, she had to get out for a little bit and she had lost touch with most of her friends in Mills Crossing. Jesse seemed like a logical choice. Her cell phone dinged and she glanced down. Jesse’s address. No commentary from her brother as to why she wanted his buddy’s number.

  For now anyway. She’d hear about it later for sure. His brother loved to share his opinions.

  Mary Clare climbed down from the attic and freshened up. She pushed open the screen door and poked her head out. “Hey Mother, I’m going to run out for a little bit.”

  Her mother lowered her book and glanced at her over her polka-dotted drugstore reading glasses. A lamp provided light in the growing shadows. “Where are you going?”

  Mary Clare held on to the door handle, twisting around to quietly close the door, taking far more care than was necessary. “I’m going to pick up some stuff at the grocery store.”

  “Oh, I need a few things. I’ll give you a list.” Her mother scooted to the front of the cushion and dipped her chin, her reading glasses balanced on her nose. “Oh, never mind.” She took off the glasses and waved her hand, the arm of the glasses folding closed. “I should just go myself tomorrow. That way I’ll get exactly what I need.”

  “Sure thing.” Mary Clare smiled. Her mother probably suspected she wasn’t going to the grocery store.

  Her mother flicked open the stem of her glasses and put them back on. “Drive safely.”

  “I will.” Mary Clare descended the porch steps, grateful for the gathering darkness. She felt like she was fourteen again with a crush on her brother’s friend. She pushed aside the thought and strode to her SUV parked on the street. She set the GPS on the dash, turned the key in the ignition and headed toward Jesse’s address.

  The sun dipped behind the trees, forcing her to fixate on the yellow and white lines painted on the road. She gripped the steering wheel, anticipating a small critter—or worse, a deer—darting into the road on a suicide mission.

  Squinting, she glanced over at the GPS on the dash and a white finish line flag indicated her final location was up on the right. She turned on her directional and navigated the narrow gravel driveway through a row of trees. Her headlights swept across a trailer that had seen better days. Jesse’s green truck assured her she had the right place. She parked and climbed out. A chorus of crickets filled the night air.

  Exhaling a huge breath, she strode across the gravel. A tiny rock slipped between her foot and sandal. When would she learn? Her footsteps sounded loudly on the metal steps leading to the front door. Leaning over the railing, she tried to peer through the trailer’s window. The familiar flicker of a television was visible through a sheer curtain. At least Jesse was up. For all she knew, he could have an early day tomorrow and he might have been in bed. Not likely, but still. She knocked softly on the door.

  Jabs of self-reproach were a constant reminder of her insensitivity. She had been so wrapped up in her own problems. Would Jesse accept her apology? Footsteps sounded inside. She stepped back and sucked in a breath. A second later, Jesse appeared on the other side of the screen door. He had on a white T-shirt with a huge grease stain across the front. His hair looked like he had been running his hands through it. A lot. She bit her lower lip and a warm thrill coursed through her body as she wondered what it would feel like to run her hands through it.

  Blinking a few times, she snapped out of her little fantasy. “Sorry, didn’t mean to bother you this late.”

  Still not opening the screen, Jesse glanced over his shoulder. “No, it’s okay.” His voice sounded gruff, as if he hadn’t talked to anyone in a while. “My dad just called it a night.”

  Mary Clare held up her hands and took a step back, the piece of gravel biting into the flesh of her foot. She grimaced. “I won’t stay. I just—”

  “Hold that thought.” Jesse held up his finger and disappeared into the trailer.

  She turned around and stared at the trees. It was a beautiful summer evening, peaceful and dark out in the country. She never knew Jesse had lived way out here.

  “I’m back.” Jesse’s deep voice made her feel warm, made her turn around. He pushed open the screen door and brushed past her wearing a clean T-shirt. The hint of garage oil mixed with the fresh scent of laundry detergent tickled her nose. Once on the gravel drive, he spun around. “So, what brings you out to my neck of the woods?”

  The darkness that had unnerved her on the back country roads was now her saving grace. She didn’t want Jesse to see how easily she blushed. “I shouldn’t have stopped by unannounced.” She took another step and cursed softly as the tiny bit of gravel once again dug into her flesh. “Hold up.” She bent over and undid the strap of her sandal and wiped off the bottom of her foot.

  “Need another piggyback ride?” She detected the smile in his voice.

  “I’m fine. Thanks.” She laughed, but her cheeks were on fire. “The sandal didn’t break. I just got a rock in my shoe.”

  “There’s a glider out back. We can talk there.” Jesse’s smooth voice rolled over her in the darkness. Heaven help her.

  “Sounds good.”

  Jesse touched her arm, his solid hand sending sparks of awareness coursing across her skin. Maybe she should spit out her apology and leave. Immediately.

  “I’ll grab us a few drinks. What do you want? I think I have a diet soda or something.”

  “What are you having?”

  “A beer.”

  “Sounds perfect.” Liquid courage.

  “Two beers coming up.”

  Jesse held Mary Clare’s elbow to steady her as she tripped over the raised edge of the flagstone path. In his other hand, the beer bottles clanked together. He swallowed hard, trying not to be obvious about letting his gaze travel the length of her. “Everything okay?”

  She nodded. The soft hum of the AC unit in his father’s bedroom window grew louder as they passed.

  “Here, sit down on the glider.”

  The glider slid in its tracks when she sat. He grabbed its arm to stop the movement and joined her, handing her one of the beers. She studied the label in the dark for a brief moment before taking a sip. Her gaze drifted off to the pond shimmering in the moonlight. “Beautiful property.”

  “Yeah,” Jesse agreed. “My dad and mom picked it up cheap when they first got married.” He held up his hand to the trailer behind him. “Put up this trailer and here we are all these years later. Your brother and I rode dirt bikes through the woods out here.”

  “Nice.”

  He took a sip of the beer, letting the cool liquid slide down his throat. After a moment, he said, “So, what brings you here?”

  Mary Clare shifted in the glider, folding her leg under her to face him. Her knee bumped into his thigh and she scooted back. “I feel really bad.”

  He narrowed his gaze and waited for her to continue.

  “I was in a funk this morning and I took it out on you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to suggest you didn’t know what I was going through.”

  “Don’t give it a second thought.” But he had, despite his tough hide as a teen. Growing up in a traile
r was fodder for the bullies. When his mother bailed for greener pastures when he was twelve, he soon learned he had to be tougher than the bullies. Today, Mary Clare’s offhand comment brought him back to a moment in time. He was older now and he knew appearances didn’t always equal reality. But it did sting when he sensed she was judging him because he only seemed to be a mechanic in his dad’s garage who had never stepped foot out of this small town.

  Mary Clare placed her hand on his lower thigh, then pulled it away as if she had touched a hot burner. He stared at the spot.

  “I have no right to judge you or anyone else. That wasn’t my intention.” She took another sip of her beer. She lowered the bottle and balanced it on her knee. “I value your friendship.”

  “I appreciate that.” Jesse took another long pull of his beer. “Is that what we are? Friends?” Her brother’s caution to stay away from Mary Clare echoed in his ears.

  “Of course.”

  “I suspected I was the barely tolerable best friend of your brother.”

  “Yeah, that too.” Mary Clare laughed. She set the beer bottle on the small glass table. She wrapped her hand around the arm of the glider and scooted forward. “I better go.”

  Jesse reached out and caught her hand. “Hang for a little bit.”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “I don’t know…”

  He playfully tugged at her hand. “I don’t bite. We’re friends, right?” He used her words against her.

  “Ah, but you’ve been known to bean me with a marshmallow or two.”

  “Right.” He swirled the contents of his beer bottle. “I told you this morning I was a good listener.”

  Mary Clare collapsed in the glider and tipped her head upward. He allowed her to push the glider in a back and forth motion. “I want to forget about everything for now.”

  “I’m good with that, too.”

  She slanted him a sideways look. “You ever been married?”

  “Why would I give up all this?” He held up his palm indicating the trailer and laughed.

  “Smart man.” He thought he detected a smile in her droll tone. “Never again will I set myself up for such a monumental fall. I lost myself to him.” Mary Clare pulled her legs up and folded them under her. “The worst part of it all is I promised Henry he would stay at the same school in Buffalo. I had plans to put a deposit on a townhouse.” She grabbed her beer, took a long drink. “Now I can’t afford it.”

  “I meant it earlier today when I said you are one of the smartest people I know. You went to college. Go do what you had always wanted to do.”

  “I wanted to be a math teacher.”

  “There you go. Do that.”

  “But I need to get certified. Probably take a few classes to get current.”

  He held out his hands indicating she needed to go for it. Do whatever it took.

  Mary Clare stood, her soft words competing with the crickets. She threaded her fingers through her long, wavy red hair. “I came to apologize, not to dump my problems on you.”

  Jesse got to his feet. “That’s what friends are for.”

  “Of course.” Her breath came out in a rasp. She took a step back.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a shadow cross the window. “My dad’s up. Let me walk you around to your car.”

  “Yeah, it’s late.” The note of disappointment in her voice might have been imagined on his part.

  Out front, Jesse found his father standing on the small metal stoop. His father’s mussed gray hair, backlit by the porch light, made him appear harried, out of sorts, which was most likely the case. Nighttime was not an Alzheimer’s patient’s friend.

  “Hello, Mr. Thorpe. I hope we didn’t wake you.”

  “Hey Dad, go back inside. I’ll be in in a minute.”

  “Have you seen your mother? I’m worried about her.” His father grabbed the railing and slowly moved his foot down to the next stair.

  Jesse sucked in a breath and ran over to him and grabbed his arm. “Mom’s not out here. Let’s go back inside. We’ll talk.” He glanced over his shoulder and Mary Clare smiled tightly at him.

  She waved. “Thanks, Jesse. Good night, Mr. Thorpe.”

  Holding his father’s arm, he watched as Mary Clare climbed behind the wheel of her vehicle, relieved she didn’t ask a zillion questions. She lifted her fingers over the steering wheel in a subtle see-you-later gesture. She backed the vehicle from the space, then did a three point turn. He watched until the taillights disappeared.

  “Who was that?” his dad asked. “She sure is pretty.”

  Jesse couldn’t help but smile. “I agree.” He swatted at a mosquito. “Why don’t we get inside before we get eaten alive?”

  “I was waiting for your mother to get home. She’s working at the diner till close.” His father’s face crumbled in confusion. “I think that’s what she said.” Dad looked up at him, his lined face a shadow of the strong man who had raised two children. The fleeting nature of time squeezed Jesse’s heart and threatened to rip it out of his chest. “I’m worried about your mom,” his dad repeated.

  Jesse’s mother had worked in a diner when his parents first got married. But the advancement of his father’s disease swallowed memories. Confused details. And made children into parents.

  “Everything will be okay.” He guided his father into the trailer and to his bedroom. The cool air from the window air conditioning unit pumped into the rest of the trailer. His father slowly climbed into bed. Jesse pulled up the covers. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

  Jesse closed the bedroom door. He opened the refrigerator and grabbed another beer. He twisted off the cap and flicked it toward the garbage. It bounced off the wall and pinged off the side of the metal can.

  Everything’s going to be okay.

  Chapter 7

  Wiping his hands on a greasy rag, Jesse glanced toward the window of the office at Thorpe and Son’s Repair Shop. His father sat at the desk, his white hair parted, revealing a bald spot in the back. Jesse checked the clock. Almost lunchtime.

  “What would you like to eat?” He opened the door separating the lift area from the office reception area.

  “Wow, is it that time already?” His father glanced at the watch he wasn’t wearing. An all too familiar look of confusion clouded his blue eyes. “Do we have time?” Dad tossed aside the word puzzle he had been working on and shuffled the papers around on the desk. “I don’t want anyone waiting for their car.” He pointed to the green Jeep on the lift. “How much longer for Mr.…” A deep line creased Dad’s brow and he scratched his head.

  “John Quincy is scheduled to pick up the Jeep at four. We have plenty of time to grab lunch.”

  “What about…?” He lifted a piece of paper on the desk with a shaky hand and gnarled fingers. He seemed to be having a worse day than usual.

  Jesse wrapped his arm around his dad’s shoulders, recalling the first time he had realized he was going to be taller than his dad. “We’ve got this under control, right? How does a BLT sound?”

  An uncertain smile flickered across his father’s face. “Okay, you’re the boss.” Holding on to the counter, he scooted down from the stool. He was supposed to use a cane, but refused.

  They stepped out of the shop and walked a few doors down to the diner. The waitress Molly pointed to their usual booth and they settled into companionable silence. Going out to eat had been a real treat when he was a kid. He’d spend the day at his dad’s auto shop, then they’d sneak out for lunch. Jesse missed this ritual when he moved out to California and started his motocross business. Now, with his father’s dementia, the experience was only a shadow of what it once was.

  Molly brought them coffee and slid her hands into her apron pocket. “You gentleman want to see a menu?” She was being polite. They always ordered the same thing.

  “No, I think we’ll both have a couple of BLTs on white toast.”

  She rolled up onto the balls of her feet, then back down. “Back in a mi
nute.”

  His father took a sip of coffee, then made a tsking noise. “Your mother’s going to be mad we went out to lunch.” He leaned in conspiratorially. “The lunches she packed are probably getting warm behind the counter.”

  Jesse smiled but didn’t say anything. The last lunch his mother had packed for him was when he was in seventh grade. A peanut butter sandwich, an apple, and a few smashed chips. They tasted like the plastic bag they had been packed in. When he had arrived home from school, his mother wasn’t home. Nor was she home the next day or any day after that for the rest of his life. Once she reached out to him when he was a senior in high school, but by then he had decided it was too little, too late. He didn’t care that she was remarried. That he had two half-sisters. What did she expect from him? The conversation ended badly and they hadn’t spoken since.

  Jesse slipped his vibrating cell phone out of his breast pocket and checked the display. His business partner. He generally didn’t take calls during lunch, but this might be important. “Hey, Carson.”

  “How’s everything in Mills Crossing?” his friend asked in his down-to-earth southern twang. “You almost free to hit the road?” The sales of their motocross gear had exploded over the past two years and it was a critical time to continue to grow the business.

  “Getting out to California right now might be tough. Any chance now would be a good time to dabble in new markets?”

  Carson grumbled under his breath, indicating he didn’t think it was a good idea. “Most of our business is out here.”

  “But I’m on the opposite coast.”

  A heavy sigh sounded over the line. “I can relate to your issues, man. Family’s top priority. But it’s getting hairy out here and we’re at peak season. We’re missing out on some business.”

  Across from him, his father worked the puzzle from the newspaper he had tucked under his arm when they left the garage. “I know. I know.” Jesse didn’t know what else to say. His father had raised him after his mother bailed. He couldn’t leave him in his time of need. Yet he needed to save money for long-term care should the need arise. When the need arose. A puddle of guilt sloshed in his gut. His father had been abundantly clear he didn’t want to be put into an old folks home. “I can probably hit a few tracks in the upcoming weekends, but I’d like to stay on the East Coast. I have a few tracks in my area and a few more down south. I have contacts.”