by Sarah Bumpus
“Good, honey. I’m glad you’ve had a change of heart. I’d hate for you to miss out on a good opportunity.”
“Opportunity to what, become BFF’s again? Highly unlikely, Mom.” I shove a spoon full of cereal into my mouth.
“You said it, not me!” She holds up her hands in defense. “I meant you might actually learn something, besides just getting the credit.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I agree with her just to be able to drop the subject all together. I finish my breakfast, give mom a quick goodbye kiss on the cheek and grab my keys.
Outside the early morning air is even cooler than it has been and I curse myself for yet again forgetting another layer of clothing. Glancing up at the trees I realize how lucky New Englanders are, being able to experience each season with such intensity. The turning of the leaves creates such a magnificent fall in Southeastern Massachusetts and by the time school starts, I long for the ochre and crimson hues. A watercolor of foliage becomes the old maples and oaks that line our streets, and are accentuated by the dullness of reoccurring gray skies. The beauty of it all makes the loss of warm weather a lot more bearable. As I drive to work, I inspect the branches. The leaves are already starting to regress, and with the next heavy wind, there won’t be any color of life left for them to cling to.
I opt to park my Jetta on the street, instead of the lot in back, and jog up the steps to the library. I look up to the sky and silently greet my dad. This has become a habit over the years and is something I really don’t have the heart to stop it. Upon entering, I check in with Bernice. She’s been the librarian since my dad died, and I consider her practically, a second mom. She is in her mid-fifties and has a bohemian look about her. A fondness for flowing tunics and skirts, flatter her large frame. Underneath those however, she has an even larger heart.
For the next hour I settle into my usual routine of filing books, enjoying the quite time in the mostly vacant library. I’m standing at a rolling cart reading the synopsis of a novel that caught my eye, when I feel someone approach. Looking up, I do a double take realizing that Carver Halsey is standing before me, and my heart suddenly feels the need for a defibrillator.
“Carver, what are you doing here?” I ask, dumbfounded.
He just shrugs then smiles, “Checking out the selection.”
Yes, I do believe I’m officially going into cardiac arrest at this point, and can’t think of anything remotely intelligent to say in response. I must be dreaming that he’s actually here right now. I’m tempted to pinch myself, but can’t figure out how to do it without making it obvious.
Carver’s hair looks freshly washed and he’s wearing a vintage fitting sweater and jeans. A brown hound’s tooth scarf is draped loosely around his neck. I think about my choice of attire this morning and frown, suddenly wishing I had opted for something more stylish.
“I thought I’d follow your suggestion and it was a good one,” Carver smiles. “I’m finding things I like.”
Breathe, Joy. Breathe.
“You can thank my dad for that. He was always looking to improve the collection of this branch,” I say, and it actually comes out sounding normal. Though I’m pretty sure my mouth, (not to mention my brain) is full of marbles.
“Was? He doesn’t work here anymore?”
“No…uh… he died actually.”
There is a brief moment of awkward silence as I try to think of what to say next. Thankfully, Bernice happens to come up behind Carver. “Oh, Joy. There you are I was wondering if you could-” Bernice stops in mid-sentence when Carver turns around to face her. She checks him out quickly and doesn’t a good job at hiding her approval. “Oh, hello there!” she says, enthusiastically.
I clear my throat a little, trying to remember if I ever mentioned my crush to her and if so praying that she won’t remember. “Bernice this is my…friend…”
“Carver. Nice to meet you,” he finishes for me, and gives Bernice a little hand shake.
Bernice looks as if she might start hyperventilating. “Joy, if you’d like to take your break now, feel free. Maybe grab a coffee with your friend or something? You can finish this when you get back.”
Ugh, she is such an instigator.
Carver looks at me, but doesn’t say anything. Not wanting to be drilled by Bernice for the next hour about this mysterious super-model that is Carver Halsey, I agree to coffee.
Awkwardly, we walk side by side in silence to the exit. I shiver slightly as we step outside, more from nerves than the cool morning air. Carver reaches up and removes his scarf. He playfully throws it over my shoulders. “Just don’t forget to give it back. It’s my favorite,” he jokes.
I wrap it around my neck twice and secure it with a loose knot, inhaling his scent from the soft material. The scarf bears the essence of something spicy; a potpourri of Carver’s cologne, the outdoors, and the natural smell of his body. Its headiness hits me, and I feel something hatch and take flight deep within my stomach.
“You didn’t have to do this you know…get coffee with me.” I sneak a glance at him.
“I know that, but you wanted to.”
“Why do you say that?”
“I didn’t say anything when it was suggested. You made the decision yourself.”
Oh damn. He’s right.
“Are you always so convoluted?” I ask, intending it to be a joke, but Carver actually looks a little offended. “I didn’t mean that as an insult…” I mentally zip my lips shut.
We walk the rest of the way up the street in silence. Café Jamocha, a small independent coffee shop that offers a variety of caffeinated specialties, pastries and sandwiches, is open and inviting. Despite the delicious smell of fresh baked goodness, I’m too nervous to eat, so I order a latte. Carver gets a coffee and pays for both our beverages. He leads me to a small table in back, away from the windows. The café is empty, save for a couple elderly men nursing their lonely cups of joe, and I find myself liking the intimate atmosphere.
Carver sits across from me facing the front windows, and confidently leans back in his chair. He crosses his left leg over the right and relaxes his hands in his lap. I hunch over my Styrofoam cup and nervously dig at its exterior with my fingernails, leaving tiny gouges of half-moons imprinted in the sides.
“So, you were saying back at the library that your dad passed away, I’m sorry to hear that. May I ask what happened?” Carver asks.
Leaving out my friendship with Bryce, I begin to explain to him about my father’s death. How he was struck by a drunk driver walking to his car from a library a few towns over and died on the spot. The fact that my dad went to Brown and eventually got a medical degree, but a few years out decided his passion was somewhere else, so he got a masters in Library Science instead. How we would spend time reading together after the library closed, or he’d help me look up information on whatever topic I was interested in at the moment. I tell him how I feel like I owe it to his legacy to succeed academically. I mock in a fatherly tone, “He used to say, ‘No one can take away your education, Joy.’”
“Well, I’m sure he would be very proud of you, but he sounds like the type of dad who wouldn’t push you as hard as you are pushing yourself.” Carver pauses a moment and looks out the window of the café. “My parents…Well, my dad…was very controlling growing up. He’s a cop.”
I’m pretty sure I see a slight wince as the words come out of his mouth, but he continues on. “As I’ve gotten older, I’ve come to realize that I’m the one in charge of my own life. I don’t have to do something just because someone wants me too, or because I feel I should…I do what I want, for me.”
Carver leans forward and picks up his coffee. He takes a sip then rests his elbows down on the heavily varnished table top before he continues, “So, if there is any lesson to be learned from what I’m telling you, it would be this; to do things for you, yourself, and no one else, and don’t forget to take the time to have some fun.” He finishes by throwing me his adorable lop side
d smile.
I take in every single thing he saying, thinking about the last ten years of my life, and the response I finally muster is, “I’ve guess I’ve been doing for everyone else for so long, that I don’t think I know how.”
“Maybe you just need someone to show you.” He catches my eye doesn’t look away until the bell over the door, signals it’s opening, and steals his attention. A small group of teenagers enter whom I don’t immediately recognize.
Carver nervously taps the table with his fingers. “We should go.” He stands and quickly chucks what’s left of his coffee into a nearby receptacle. Turning back to me, he says, “I’m embarrassed to tell you this, but I don’t have a library card. Can you hook me up with one?”
“Sure, I’d love to.”
Really, Joy? That’s the best you can come up with?
As he walks past me, he runs his fingers through the fringe of his scarf still wrapped around my neck.
When I get home that afternoon, I see that my mom’s car is gone and I’m happy to have some time to myself. Saturdays are usually big work days for her. I make a turkey sandwich then make my way upstairs with a paperback from the library, tucked under my arm. I start to walk past the open door to Devon’s room, and see him crouched over his desk. Deciding to delay my alone time for a few minutes, I knock lightly on the door frame and enter.
“Hey, Dev…What are you doing?” I sit down on the end of his bed.
“Hey,” he replies without allowing his focusing to break away from his work. “I’m trying to hack this game for a kid from school. If I can, he’ll give me fifty bucks.”
I look at his computer set up. It makes my fairly new, slim laptop look like child’s play. His workspace is covered with a large flat screen monitor, sleek black tower and keyboard, and a mixture of tangled USB cables.
I laugh, “Does mom know that you do this kind of stuff?”
“Yeah, she said as long as I don’t cause the FBI to kick in the front door, she’s happy.”
I know that he’s a good kid and wouldn’t be stupid enough to get into trouble anyway.
“Do you ever think about Dad, Dev?”
The question catches him by surprise and he stops working, swinging his rolling chair around to face me. “Yeah, of course I do. I don’t really remember much of him. Mostly, I just go by the stories you and mom tell me. Why do you ask?”
“Oh, it’s just something someone mentioned to me today. It made me wonder if Dad would be proud of us…if he was still here.”
“I think so, Joy. I mean, you’re like top of your class. How could that not make him happy?”
“Yeah, how could it not,” I say, slightly put out.
Devon looks confused, thinking that what he said, would have been what I wanted to hear, but decides for a subject change on us again. “So what happened the other day with Colton? I take it he’s not coming back here again?”
“Actually, we are going to give it another shot tomorrow,” I answer, purposely avoiding his first question.
“Oh, that’s cool. He seems like an alright guy.”
“Yeah…well…” I say letting my voice trail off. What I don’t add is, people aren’t always what they seem.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
BRYCE (Freshman Year)
I find Carver at the lunch table alone, not yet over run by testosterone, or should I say a handful of my new best friends, team mates.
“How’s it going with Missy?” I ask, following his gaze.
Carver grins, but continues to watch her across the busy cafeteria. “I’m getting there. What about you…any potential hotties? How about that girl, Joy?” he asks.
I pause in mid chew. “What about her?”
“She’s cute…you should hit that.”
Slightly aggravated, I sigh and put down my sandwich. “It’s not like that with her.” I silently wonder why I’m even admitting this to Carver. Maybe because he’s the only one who actually knows how I feel about her, I’ll find it therapeutic to talk to him. I decide to take the chance. “I’ve known her my whole life. We used to be really close, then her dad died and I was a dick to her. Basically, I traded our friendship for football.”
“Let me guess your dad pressured you into playing? He was some big superstar like you’re going to be, wasn’t he?” Carver laughs, which sets me off even more. Therapeutic my ass. I instantly regret telling him anything at all.
“No, he didn’t and no he wasn’t,” I say, through gritted teeth.
Carver stops laughing and rolls his eyes. “Dude, I’m just kidding with you. You’re lucky. My father is a total ass.” He leans forward and grips the edge of the lunch table. “Do you even know how pissed he was that I didn’t make varsity? Nothing I do is ever good enough for him. Joy’s pretty lucky, too. Sometimes I wouldn’t mind if my dad was dead.”
For a moment I’m shocked by this sudden turn in the conversation. I wonder how long he’s been holding in this pent up aggression towards his father. What else has caused him to feel this way, and just how deep does it go? I begin to regret giving him an attitude, realizing that he’s trying to open up to me, just like I did with him.
“Sorry, to hear that man,” I say, with a touch of sympathy. “I can’t imagine what that must be like.”
“No, of course you can’t. Why would you ever have to?” Carver flicks his lunch tray away and focuses his attention back to Missy’s table.
Is it my imagination or was there a hint of jealousy in his voice. I brush it off and pack it away for later. Right now doesn’t seem like a good time to press the issue. Besides my life is really nothing to be jealous of. I’m just as insecure and scared as the next guy. I just have a good way of hiding it and I’m starting to think that maybe Carver does too.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
JOY
Despite the good time I’m having with Seth Saturday night at the movies, every time the hero punches someone in the face, I think of my Brown application, at home, unfinished. When he pulls the girl he’s been trying to save into a passionate embrace, I think of Carver. And when he ends up walking away in the end, I think of Bryce.
“Hello…anyone home?” Seth waves his hand in front of my face, trying to get my attention.
I look up and see the credits scrolling up from the bottom of the screen and find the majority of the theater has emptied. “Sorry, what?”
Seth lets out an exasperating sigh, grabs my hand and pulls me up from my seat. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
I exit the theater in the usual movie daze of spending two hours grossly absorbed in someone else’s life. This time however, the daze is a result of my own. The evening air sobers me up and I lock my arm around Seth’s. “Sorry about that, I just have so much going on right now.”
“I kind of guessed that. That’s why I asked you out.”
“Oh…asked me out, huh? So, is this like a date?” I laugh.
He unlocks the car and flips the interior switch to let me in. “Ha, ha…No,” he says sarcastically. Then in a more serious tone, adds, “Speaking of which, get in. I need to talk to you.”
Um, OK. I shrug and get into the car.
Seth sticks the keys in the ignition, but doesn’t start the engine. He suddenly gets quiet and looks extremely uncomfortable. It’s so painfully unusual, I anxiously wait for him to speak, but he doesn’t.
“Just freaking spit it out Seth!” I exclaim.
“Fine!” he throws his hands up in the air. “I like Farah!”
Oh. Why did I not see this? How could I have not seen this? We’ve all been friends for years…
Then I remember that I’m too busy studying all the time, daydreaming about boys, or arguing with them, and I get angry with myself. Seth must have wanted to tell me for awhile and I selfishly ignored the plea for help. I mentally vow to try and be there for my friends more. Despite the displeasure with myself, I feel a smile spread across my face. I’ve always thought Seth and Farah would make a good couple, but never insi
nuated anything to either of them. Things would definitely be awkward between us all, if it didn’t work out.
“OK…,” I start, “So she doesn’t know, right?”
“No, of course not.”
“But you want her to, or you wouldn’t have told me.”
He sighs, “No…I don’t know. I just wanted to tell someone. Not being able to admit it has been killing me.”
“Well, keeping it inside surely wouldn’t do any good, but just telling me isn’t going to help either.”
“What if she doesn’t feel the same way? We’ve been friends for so long, I’d hate to lose that too.”
“Seth, Farah is a great friend and if she really cares about you, then that’s not going to happen,” I reassure him.
“I guess you’re right.”
“Aren’t I usually?” I laugh, and Seth leans over to lightly jab my shoulder, and suddenly we’re back on comfortable ground.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
By the time Bryce arrives Sunday afternoon, I’m in somewhat of a melancholy mood. My mom has taken Devon to the mall, to pick up something from the electronic store. Though I know the real reason is so we can have the house to ourselves and hopefully not have a repeat of Tuesday’s events.
The doorbell rings and I answer to find Bryce holding out his history book and binder towards me with both hands. “I bring gifts,” he jokes.
I roll my eyes and step aside so he can pass through the entryway.
Bryce has on his black North Tide hoodie and jeans, with a form fitting black beanie hugging his head. He walks through to the kitchen and we set ourselves up at the table as we did the first time. Bryce pulls off his hat and swatches of chestnut hair stick up as if pleading for the beanie to stay. He reaches up to calm it back in place with his hand. Not having much luck, he gives up, and straddles the bench.
Clearing his throat Bryce says, “Before we start, what I wanted to say the other day, was-”
