A Good Neighborhood

by Therese Anne Fowler

  “See you at supper, then.”

  Juniper went into Lottie’s room and retrieved the phone, yelling to Julia, “No, I have to work until close tonight. I told you. I’m going straight from the park.”

  “What about a shower? After your run?”

  Juniper, at the back door again, tried not to sound impatient. “I won’t have time. I’ll towel off, don’t worry—I sweat at work anyway.”

  “Okay then,” Julia replied, and then Juniper was out the door into the garage and moving for her car, eager to get out of there before her mother found some new reason to hold her up.

  Her hand shook a little as she started the engine and put the car into gear. She wasn’t going to go for a run, and her shift at the grocery store didn’t start until seven. She was going to meet Xavier in the park at a cabin she knew of, one of many that were available but rarely in use, as far as she’d seen in her runs out there. It was his turn to bring food, and he said he’d have all the other supplies, too. All she had to do was show up.

  And try to relax.

  She absolutely wanted this, despite the nagging voice in her head that insisted what she was about to do violated the vow she’d made to God and her parents and could ruin her ability to love her future husband with a clear conscience and clear mind, no memories of intimacies with other men to confuse or spoil her feelings about sex with the man she’d marry. That voice was a holdover, a stowaway from a different time and a different her.

  Still, she argued with it, thinking, what if Zay was that man? Then it wouldn’t be a problem at all, would it?

  Did she really think she’d marry him?

  Maybe. Eventually. There was no rush or anything.

  What if they broke up, though? Would she, if they had sex (and of course they’d have sex, she was not going to wimp out), really have failed herself and failed God and all the rest of it? Would she really be ruined for all future relationships? She used to believe this without question. Now it seemed like propaganda—powerful propaganda it was, too, given how it still rattled around in her brain even as she rejected it.

  She thought, Hey, my mother wasn’t ruined. She’d had a child from another man and that still hadn’t prevented her from finding her Mr. Right. Whether or not Brad was truly “right” for Julia was a matter Juniper, skeptical though she’d become, had no authority to judge.

  Here was a question she’d considered at some length: At New Hope she’d been taught that premarital sex was more than just a bad idea, it was sinful. In God’s eyes, though, what was the difference between having sex with someone you loved before you were married, and having sex with someone you loved after you were married? If you undertook the act in a genuine state of mind and heart, if it was done in love, didn’t that make it a pure act? God knew her heart.

  Another question: Why did the church treat sex like a commodity—like the only commodity and in fact the only thing of any real value young women had to offer their future mates? In all those youth group meetings she’d attended, never once did anyone assert that young men who had premarital sex cheapened themselves. Boys and men might get “confused” by lust and its satisfaction, the kids were told. They might make some questionable choices in their confusion. Never, though, were they considered to be at risk of diminishing their value to future prospective spouses.

  As Pepper had put it during one of their many discussions, “That’s absolutely the patriarchy talking, and I will not let you continue to be a part of it.” Juniper got it then, and she really got it now, what with Brad behaving like she was more or less his property, or if not that exactly, one more object of lust.

  When Xavier suggested the time might be right for them to go further than they’d done so far (a lot of kissing and touching and pressing themselves together), that maybe they should go where both of their bodies were eager to go, she’d agreed. So that’s what they were going to do. Or as Pepper had put it, “Just get it over with and you’ll see it’s all fine. Also: “Seriously, just get it over with. The first time usually sucks, and you can’t get to the second time until you’ve got the first out of the way.”

  Pepper was practical like that.

  When Juniper pulled into the park’s visitor center lot, Xavier was waiting beside his car.

  She rolled down her window. “Sorry to make you wait. Again.”

  He shook his head. “Nah, I was early.”

  “Do you want to ride with me or follow?”

  “I’ll follow you—I’ve got all the stuff in my trunk.”

  He came closer to the window, leaned in and kissed her. Then, gazing at her intently with those captivating eyes of his, he said, “There is totally no pressure.”

  Her stomach did a little flip. “No, I know.”

  “Okay.”

  “You, either,” she said.

  “Thanks.”

  Xavier returned to his car and Juniper led the way deep into the park, past the lot she usually parked in and down a short service road that ended near the cabin she’d suggested for this date. She was going to go through with it, today, while they had the chance.

  Pepper’s “just get it over with” message had arisen from a conversation we referred to earlier in the story, on that morning at Blakely when Pepper told Juniper she had big news. She and her boyfriend, Michael, had “done it,” and it was embarrassing and didn’t feel great, but it went all right. And now they’d done it three more times since, with better results. She’d said “condoms are not terrible, although they smell funny, and Michael says it feels like how wearing gloves in science lab feels—you have most of the sensation of touching things but not all of it. Don’t worry, though,” she’d assured Juniper, “he’s all for them if it means we get to keep doing it. Zay will be, too.”

  Pepper loved Michael. Pepper had sex with him. Pepper did not feel like she’d ruined herself or disappointed the Lord. She wasn’t pregnant. She hadn’t caught any disease. She was glad to have done it (and had done it again). It could be as simple as this for Juniper, too. It could be. She wanted it to be. It would be.

  And if the experience of making love the first time wasn’t anything close to the hot movie sex in, say, Fifty Shades of Grey (she’d seen it at Pepper’s), and was instead embarrassing and a little painful and just kind of sucky in general, at least she would have done it here in this beautiful forest on this gorgeous day with Xavier Alston-Holt, and therefore it would be a win.

  When they were at the cabin, Xavier opened his trunk and took out a folded blanket and a guitar in its soft case and a backpack in which he’d stowed the food that would be their dinner. “It’s pretty basic,” he said. “Cheese, salami, bread, tomatoes, and this.” He held up a paper bag in which there was a bottle. “White wine. We don’t have to drink it. I just thought it might…”

  “Relax us. Or me,” she said, knowing he’d already lost his virginity. He’d told her about the two girls and how he’d been relieved to do it and end the mystique, but how he’d also felt weird and empty afterward. Today would be different.

  Xavier said, “Not just you.”

  “Yeah? Well, it was thoughtful just the same.”

  “And illegal.”

  She said, “Pretty sure the cops aren’t coming around carding people here.”

  “No, but the park ranger might. I think it’s illegal to bring alcohol here regardless.”

  “We’ll just have to keep the bottle out of sight.”

  They went into the cabin. It was a small structure made of brown-painted logs, cool inside, and dim. A cricket chirped in one corner. Juniper, who carried the guitar, set it down carefully. Xavier put the blanket and pack on the planked floor. “It’s nice in here.”

  “I guess people bring cots and sleeping bags and camp stoves, all that stuff. I’d like to do some camping. Hike some of the Appalachian Trail, maybe. Go out west—the real West, I mean. Rockies. Grand Canyon. Zion. Anywhere. Everywhere. The Alps—”

  “You’d have to go w-a-a-y west to get to
the Alps.”

  “I think my car could make it across the Pacific,” Juniper deadpanned. “Don’t you?”

  “Actually it might.”

  Xavier twisted the cap off the wine bottle and took a swig, then laughed. “Classy, right?”

  “Here,” Juniper said, reaching for the bottle. “One must sip wine, like so,” she said, then took several tiny sips while looking at him over the bottle.

  “Noted,” he said.

  She wiped her mouth. “It tastes awful.”

  “I know, right?”

  “Play me a song?” she asked, and he obliged.

  The song he chose was delicate and soulful, something Spanish, she thought. It sounded Spanish. Exotic, warm. He held his guitar as if holding a lover. This, Juniper thought. This was why she loved him. This and his poise and his intelligence. His big heart. You couldn’t play this song this way unless your heart was double-size.

  When he finished, she said, “Wow.”

  “Yeah?” He gave his famous smile.

  “You’re going to be a superstar,” she said. “Hey, there’s a trail just past the parking lot that leads down to the river. It’s maybe a mile long, not bad. I thought we could go for a little hike, you know, before we eat.”

  “Yeah, let’s.”

  “And we’ll bring this.” She raised the bottle.

  “Sure—just let me lock up the guitar.”

  “I’m guessing it was expensive.”

  He said, “I saved for a year to buy it.”

  “I never used to have money for anything—like, I was one of the kids getting free lunch at school. And then after Mom married Brad, she just gave me everything I wanted, basically. Not that I asked for much, I guess because I was used to there being no money. When I asked them to help me buy a car, I was thinking something like yours and I’d pay them back.” She waited while he put the guitar in the trunk. “I think what I’m saying is, I admire your self-discipline. I hope I have it when I need it.”

  Once they were on the winding root- and rock-covered trail, Juniper said, “Keep a lookout for deer. I’ve seen fox, too. Oh, and you know the big woodpeckers?”

  “Pileated,” Xavier said.

  “Right,” she said, pleased that he knew. “They’re out here.”

  “Used to be we had a pair that came to our yard, back before so much new construction was going on in the neighborhood. Never see ’em now. It’s partly habitat loss, but also they’re shy birds. They don’t like all the commotion of saws and nail guns and trucks.”

  Juniper nodded. “When I was little I spent a lot of time outside in the country. I didn’t know the names of most of the birds and frogs and bugs, so I gave them made-up names.”

  “For example?”

  “Nothing very original. Cardinals were ‘scarlets,’ and blue jays were ‘screechers.’ Oh, this one isn’t too bad: I called great blue herons ‘birdy long-legs.’”

  “I like it.”

  When they reached the riverbank, they climbed down to a stand of boulders and sat on one, looking out at the water as it flowed past. Neither of them spoke for a while, nor did they do more than sit close together, arms touching. The wine went down more easily. Juniper felt herself begin to relax.

  Xavier laid back and put his arms behind his head. He closed his eyes. “I should do this more. It’s nice, right? To get away from everything?”

  Juniper looked at him. How beautiful he was. How well formed. She’d thought this the first time she’d seen him and felt it even more acutely now. The novelty of his being biracial was long past. She didn’t even notice it anymore, or not as something exotic, anyway, only as one trait among many that made him who he was.

  She said, “What are you thinking about?”

  “Actually, I was remembering this time my mom took me to Lansing to visit my grandparents,” he said, eyes still closed. “The bird thing reminded me. I was, like, six? First trip on an airplane since my dad died—I didn’t remember that one. Anyway, we were outside with Mama Ginny—that’s my mom’s mom—in this community garden. They lived in a neighborhood called Fabulous Acres. Mama Ginny still does. Fabulous Acres, like it’s filled with Hollywood mansions or something, when really it’s all these run-down houses and duplexes.

  “The garden was this little fenced-in spot where some of the folks planted tomatoes and zucchinis and whatnot. It was weeding day, and Mama Ginny and my mom and me, we went out with pails. I worked for a while, not paying them much attention. They talked, talked, talked, and me being six, I didn’t care what they were saying. I did like the sound of their voices, though. Mama Ginny’s is high and sweet, Mom’s is lower, solid. Then I got to where I was tired of pulling weeds, so I was sitting in a patch of sweet peas watching the butterflies and bees and these sparrows and finches that were hopping around. It was sunny. Not too hot. I saw a red-winged blackbird. A caterpillar crawled onto my shoe and I watched it try to figure out what crazy thing had gotten in its way to the next stem or whatever. I’d just started guitar lessons before the trip, so I was thinking I could write a song for the caterpillar and play it on the guitar.

  “Eventually the ladies came to pull me out of the pea plants. Mom was like, ‘I’m sorry, baby, you must be bored to tears,’ and we went back to the house, washed up, all that. But I wasn’t bored. It was a best day, you know? I still think of it like that.”

  Juniper thought, I love him. But she didn’t say it. Too soon? Too much? How were you supposed to know when a thing was all right? Every move felt like a risk, a step taken along a narrow cliffside path with your back pressed to the wall for safety.

  They stayed at the river for a while, talking, touching, kissing, until Juniper said, “I’m hungry.”

  “Same.” They headed up the trail and Xavier told her, “Prepare to be impressed by my excellent offerings—” and then he started laughing.

  “What?”

  “I just realized how that might sound, what with our plan and all…”

  “Oh.” Juniper laughed, and blushed. “Yeah. Conceited!”

  They reached the cabin and went inside, spread the blanket, settled onto it. Xavier unrolled a piece of transparent plastic. “Portable cutting board from the dollar store.”

  “My mom bought a cutting board made out of wood and marble. It weighs, like, twenty pounds. It’s gorgeous. Not so portable.”

  “Probably cost more than a buck, too.”

  “Probably two bucks.”

  He laid out the bread and tomato, unwrapped the cheese and salami. “Got my employee discount on this. It’s supposed to be some of our best stuff.” From his pack he took a Buck knife and opened it up, showed it to her. “My uncle Kyle sent this to me as a graduation gift. I don’t know what he thinks San Francisco is like, but I doubt I’ll use it much unless I’m eating a lot of salami and cheese.” He set about slicing it up.

  “So … I talked to my Blakely counselor,” Juniper said. “I can graduate early.”

  Xavier stopped slicing. “For real?”

  She nodded. “I can fit all my remaining required courses into first semester. I’ll be done in December! It’s so great—six more months and then I’m out of there, out of my house, all of it. I don’t have the money stuff completely figured out yet. I’m hoping my mom will front me some.”

  “I could help.”

  “You’ll have enough to pay for as it is.”

  “If my mom wins the lawsuit, though…”

  Juniper said, “Let’s hope for that.”

  Soon they’d eaten all the cheese and tomato, plus most of the bread and sausage. Juniper washed down her food with the remaining wine. She felt loose, almost giddy—no wonder alcohol was called liquid courage.

  Now sufficiently emboldened, she put the leftover food into Xavier’s pack and pushed the remaining paraphernalia out of their way, then lay down on the blanket, pulling him down beside her.

  “I’m not so nervous anymore,” she said. “You?”

  “Still nervous.”<
br />
  Juniper kissed him, then looked into his eyes. “I’m really glad we’re doing this.”

  “So am I.”

  34

  We’ve shown that Brad was an opportunist—a trait that up to now had served him well. He was convinced that he never would have gotten so far in life if he was the sort who, upon seeing a chance to act and possibly gain, dithered instead. Why should this day and the opportunity it presented to him be any different? The following got under way at right about the same time the kids were down at the river.

  * * *

  “Sorry to bother you at work,” Julia said when Brad answered her call.

  “No trouble, I just finished a meeting. What’s up?”

  “Juniper thinks she left her phone there this morning. Will you have a look?”

  “Sure, hang on.”

  Brad left the meeting room and went into the dispatch office, now occupied by his other part-timer, Gail. “Hey, just seeing if Juniper’s phone is in here anywhere. She thinks it must’ve fallen out of her bag—under the desk, probably.”

  Gail scanned the desk’s surface, then scooted back in her chair and had a look around the floor. “Here it is,” she said, pulling it from beneath the desk. She handed it to him.

  “Terrific, thanks.”

  Brad said to Julia, “Got it.”

  “Oh, good. She went off to run at the park and I made her take Mom’s phone just in case. Kids think they’re invulnerable.”

  “Can’t blame her. We were the same. Hey,” Brad said, an idea coming to him. “What’s the plan for supper tonight?”

  “Lily has a pizza party, so it’ll be just you, me, and Mom. I’m thinking leftovers, if that’s all right.”

  “I’m gonna beg off, then, if it’s all the same to you, and go get some wings with Jimmy if he’s free.”

  “Sure. You all have fun,” Julia said. Her voice was flat.

  Probably annoyed at being left alone with Lottie, he thought. He said, “Yep, thanks. See you later.”

  He ended the call and then opened the tracker app that showed him where, exactly, Juniper’s Land Rover was at any given moment.