by Lowe, T. I.
I know I should be listening, but I’m just mesmerized by the sweetness of the moment—us being stretched out under an apple tree while a sweet breeze plays in his unruly hair. I touch a lock of my own hair and smile. We’ve both left our more polished versions of ourselves somewhere down the road. His paleness has been completely bathed away from all of the abundant sunshine we’ve been in lately. It’s already hard to remember what he looked like a few months ago. He looks like Greyson again and not a zombie or vampire. He looks healthy and alive. He’s talking animatedly as he takes a bite of salad from the plastic container and then offers me another one. It feels like this is the most natural way to be spending my day. Like we have been here a million times on a million afternoons doing this simple act a million times together. Simple and easy—what a new concept.
The picnic is unrushed and we eventually explore an open air market that has anything apple you can imagine: Ciders, dips, cakes, pies, breads, jellies, butters, cobblers. If you can think it, they have it. Greyson has gladly sampled everything that has been offered to him and has spent a small fortune. We both end up with our arms loaded down with his purchases. He’s so giddy and happy that I don’t bug him about it. Or I don’t until we reach the mopeds with two huge baskets of apples and a half dozen or so cloth bags filled with more apple goodies.
He just stands there for a few beats. “I guess I didn’t think this through.”
“Nope. You sure didn’t, honey,” I say as I try to figure out how to cram some of the bounty into the under-seat compartment.
We cram and tie things down the best we can with me constantly teasing him about it, but still lose a few apples on the ride back to the campground.
Later tonight we are sitting at the picnic table as the sun is setting. I look around and have to admit, Georgia is just as beautiful as the other states we have visited. It’s a shame it’s taken me all these years to notice. We open our journals and laugh at the same time. We have both left each other the exact same Bible verse tonight. Psalm 17:8 - Keep me as the apple of your eye; hide me in the shadow of your wings.
I added under the verse in Greyson’s journal, you have become the apple of my eye.
He has added in mine too. Let God be the apple of your eye and He will free you of the unhealthy.
We are both caught off guard at the unexpected addition. The laughter has ceased. I look up and find him staring at me with his head tilted slightly as he does when he’s listening to me. This time it’s more like he’s trying to figure something out. I just stare back, because there is a lot I’m trying to figure out with Greyson Stone, too.
Chapter Twenty-One
Greyson
It’s another great day. Absolutely great! I officially have no pants that fit. I’ve just gone through each pair and cannot button even one single pair. This makes me a happy man. I’m getting stronger and healthier. I unlock my bedroom door and go to find Julia. I always lock the door when I’m changing because I think it’s clearly noted that my prissy companion has no concerns with just barging in on me. I find her sitting at the table, flipping through her journal.
“Okay, Thorton. I’ve put this off for as long as I can.” I sigh deeply and she looks up at me cautiously. “We’ve got to go shopping.” I can’t keep the smile off my face.
She smiles approvingly at me, because she knows how hard I’ve been working to put my weight back on. “Is that why you’ve been wearing your swim trunks all week?” she asks with a raised eyebrow.
“That it is.” I’m wearing them now.
Julia closes her journal and eases around me. She rears her hand back and pops me on my backside playfully. “Okay, fatty. Let’s go find you some big boy pants.”
I laugh as I head out to pull the mopeds out of storage. I’ve not missed the fact that Julia has only been wearing yoga pants for the past two weeks. This makes me smile even more. She’s looking healthier too. The woman is getting sexier right before my eyes and I know I need to get those thoughts in check before they get me in trouble.
Julia meets me outside and climbs on her moped without muttering one word of complaint. She’s claimed that moped as hers only and tied a pink scarf to the handlebars a few weeks back. Fine by me as long as she will ride it without whining.
I find us a mall and we head straight to a popular apparel store with both men and women’s clothing. Julia sets off towards the women’s section and I head to the men’s. I was a size twenty-eight waist so I go with size thirty-two today. That should give me room to grow into. I grab up a half dozen pairs of jeans, another half dozen shorts and a few pairs of slacks for good measure. I scoop up several large extra-long T-shirts since the mediums are getting too tight and add some button downs to the pile. As I walk around, my gaze lands on a table with vintage T-shirts with various themes—old fashioned food brands, antique car logos, and superhero emblems. They’re pretty cool, but I pass them up. I’m a guy and so I don’t require the wasted time with a dressing room. I’ve got an armload of selections within fifteen minutes. I haul it to the register and ask the cute little redhead to hold my stuff while I wait on Julia. I already know this is going to take longer than I want.
I wander over to the accessories to check out the hat selections. My collection is well into the hundreds already. Online shopping for hats had become a thing for me and my mom for a while. Really, I couldn’t do anything else while I was laid up sick. So we ordered every type of hat and beanie knit cap you can find. I lost my hair early on in the treatments and remained bald for the duration. Hats were my friend in those years.
A neon green fedora calls out boldly from the rack—no lie. I slip it on and take a goofy selfie and send it to my mom. After I send it, I glance up and see Julia disappear into the dressing room. I place the hat back on the rack and wander around some more. My phone pings and it’s a smiling emoji from my mom. I look around some more and notice a familiar couple on a large black and white poster that covers most of a wall. I raise my phone and snap a picture of it and send it to my mom and dad with the text – Wild. Couple in this shot is shopping in this store as we speak.
It’s a classic shot that has no trending style stigma, so it really doesn’t go out of date. Julia and I are dressed in white button-down dress shirts that are untucked and faded denim jeans. The shot is at least three years old. It was one of the last shoots I posed with her. My shirt is unbuttoned completely, but barely gaped open and Julia’s is in the same manner except for one button. It is secured in a strategic place at her breasts. The photographer gave us direction to look sultry and serious, but right in the middle of the shoot, I told Julia a lame joke and cracked us both up. We figured those shots were trashed, but were surprised when the company actually picked this shot as the main ad for the campaign. I love it, too. The photo captures Julia with her head thrown back against my chest laughing—her long hair spilling all over the place from the fan they were using. It looks like we are outside on some ordinary street. I am standing slightly behind her with one arm wrapped around her waist, grinning right at the camera.
My phone interrupts the memory with text messages.
Mom – So good looking.
Dad – Of course. He looks just like his dad.
Mom – Sure he does. ;-)
Dad – What are you doing hanging out in a store. What about your adventure?
Me – Got too big for my breeches.
I crack up at the next message my dad sends. He and I have this thing with Bible verses. That is why I started doing it with Julia. He sends Proverbs 25:16. If he only knew the significance of the word honey to me now. It’s my favorite word actually.
Dad - If you find honey, eat just enough-- too much of it, and you will vomit.
I laugh so loud that I have drawn attention. I pipe down and look around for Julia. I’ve already been in this place for longer than I want. I’m past my limit on patience. I slip into the dressing room and spot her flip flops under the door of one room. I’m about to bang o
n the door and demand she speed it up when I realize Julia is in there crying and that thing hits me in the pit of my stomach. I open the door and ease into the dressing stall with her. I stand behind her as she checks out a pair of jeans she’s wearing in the mirror. She wipes her cheeks dry and won’t meet my eyes. She looks killer in the new jeans she’s trying on, making it hard for me to swallow.
“What’s wrong?”
She meets my eyes through the mirror and just shakes her head before going back to inspecting the jeans in distaste.
“Come on, Thorton. Spit it out.”
She doesn’t answer right away, but when she does it’s just over a whisper. “I’ve gone up three sizes.” This quiet confession makes me smile, but Julia’s not happy at all. She’s gone from a double zero to a two.
Tears spill over her cheeks again and I swear it breaks something in me. Before I think better of it, I turn her around to me and walk us until I’ve pressed her against the mirror. My hands travel over her sides and pause at her hips. I drag her closer to my own, giving in to my own wants some and just love on her.
I bend slightly to look her in the eyes. “You have no idea how healthy and feminine you look right now… Never have I seen you more beautiful than right now.” I press my hips into hers to emphasize the point. Her breath catches and comes out close to a moan, and so I know she gets my point loud and clear. “You’re driving me crazy with these sweet little curves,” I whisper into her ear. Then I let my reserve slip a little further and do what I’ve wanted to do since the day I met this woman—well, one of the things anyway. I allow my mouth to travel down the length of her long delicate neck before slowly returning to her ear and nipping at it. She gasps in surprise. “Please do me a favor,” I beg before going back to nibbling on her neck.
“What?” she breathes out. And I think it’s the sexiest what I have ever heard.
“Please buy a few pairs of size four. I can only imagine how delicious you would look filling out those jeans. Babe, you could kill me with size four curves.” My words come out rough and strained.
I say no more. Instead, I let my mouth work the other side of her sweet neck while my hands explore those newly formed hips. They have a long way to go, but at least I feel more than just a bone under my palm. I place her hand over my pounding heart in hopes that my actions talk her into those other jeans.
I’m starting to fall for this woman hard. And I know this fall is going to be painful. But I can’t help it. She feels so fragile in my arms and all I want to do is save her from this world, and hopefully from herself. With all these thoughts whirling around my head, I’m close to taking this too far, so I take a deep breath and reluctantly let her go. She’s leaning against the mirror, looking a bit shocked, but definitely turned on, too. Her cheeks are flushed a beautiful pink and her chest is rising with her rapid breathing. It’s all I can do to not pull her back into my arms. I take another step back to be on the safe side while I try to collect myself.
After I calm down, I slip back out of the dressing room and see we have drawn an audience. Nearly a dozen hot-eyed women look up at me in awe for some reason.
“Ladies,” I say, nodding my head at them as I stroll out of the dressing room.
“Baby, you can talk me into going up a pant size anytime,” one woman says boldly, she fanning herself as I pass her.
“That’s the sexist thing I’ve ever heard a man say to a woman,” another speaks up.
“That’s one lucky girl,” says another.
I look over my shoulder to address my audience with another smile and see Julia making her way out of the dressing room. Her cheeks are still painted a perfect pink, but she’s smiling. Boy, do I feel like Superman in this very moment.
All the women give her their commentary on her being so lucky to have me. I laugh when she rolls her eyes at me. If these women only knew what this chick and I have been through together…
Julia moves past me without a word so I follow behind her to the denim table where she grabs up a few more pairs of size twos. As she passes the stack of fours, she pauses long enough to snag a pair. That makes me hopeful so I grab three more pairs. This has turned out to be a pretty tight shopping trip. The best I have ever endured.
We pass back by the vintage T-shirts. Man, I just can’t help myself. I have to have the faded blue one with the Superman emblem on the front. I add it and Julia’s stuff to my pile at the register.
I wink at her and say, “I got this.”
The sales chick says, “Aww…” She fishes some long cards out from under the counter. “Can I get your autographs? We have these rack cards with your picture on it.” I notice it’s the same photo as the one on the wall.
“Sure. As long as you let me have one of them,” Julia agrees.
We get back to the RV and I start pulling all the old clothes out to make room for the new ones. Julia peeps her head in and asks for glue while I’m stacking the old clothes in a garbage bag. I head outside and grab the only glue I have, Gorilla Glue, out of one of the supply compartments. That stuff promises to hold its own so I figured it would cover all my bases. I hand it over to her with no thought and go back to my room. Once I’m done, I haul the bag to the living room space and see what this girl has been up to. She has cut the store logo off the photo card and has glued—yes, glued—the photo to the fridge.
“Good grief, Thorton. You could have used one of the millions of magnets you’ve bought along the way. Or simply some tape would have done the job.” I go over and run my fingers along the photo. That sucker is for sure not going anywhere.
She says nothing and goes to sorting her clothes too. She’s not had much to say since we’ve got back. I know I crossed a line in the dressing room, but I wouldn’t take it back for anything. I guess we will just have to deal.
“What do you think we should do with these clothes?” I ask, bending down and tugging on her hair softly. My hands seem to not be able to help themselves.
She shrugs her shoulder. “We could always set up a yard sale like some campers do on Saturdays. Except we can just let it be for free.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Saturday arrives and we are excited to set out our free table in front of the RV, but we didn’t think this through. We sit for two hours, with people passing us up. Who in the real world wears a double zero size in jeans in women or a size twenty-eight with inseam of thirty-eight in men’s pants? Yeah. We didn’t think it through at all.
We have just decided to pack it up when a teenage girl comes dragging her mom up to the table. “I told you, Mom! It’s Greyson Stone and Julia Rose!” She squeals.
I glance at Julia with a grin and turn to welcome them. I extend my hand and this causes the girl to giggle and blush. Her mom shakes my hand, then the girl reins in her enthusiasm some and shakes it as well. Julia does the same with her killer smile poised on her face. It’s her greet the fans face.
“You ladies take all that you want. We are about to close up shop.” She motions towards the small stack of items.
The teenage girl starts going through all of Julia’s. She’s so excited, but then I see her face fall some just as I’ve seen the others do all morning.
Her mother shakes her head. “Sweetheart, there’s none your size.”
“I can drop a good ten pounds, then they will fit.” She looks determined. Poor girl.
“You’re already starving yourself as it is,” the mother says with concern.
The teenager holds up the tiny pair of jeans. “But these are Julia Rose pants.”
I glance in Julia’s direction and see her getting fidgety. She sprints into the RV. Before I can go check on her, she’s hurrying back out with a pair of her new pants.
“Here. Take these.” She hands them over to the girl. “They’re my favorite. We’re actually the same size now. Isn’t that cool?” Julia nods her head to encourage the girl and the girl nods in agreement. “Size double zero is way too small.”
She talks th
e girl into the pants and we both sign a magazine she brought along with Julia on the cover. They leave happily with Julia’s brand new pants.
I turn around and follow Julia inside. She sits down in a chair, looking dejected. “What were we thinking?” she mutters. “Those sizes aren’t normal.”
I kneel before her and rest my hands on her knees. “I know.” I tap her knee to get her attention. “I’m proud of you.” She just stares back at me wordlessly so I get up and head back outside.
I pile all of the unusual-sized clothes by the fire pit for later tonight and pull the picnic table back in its designated spot. Once I’m done with that, I sit and ponder the morning. I think Julia was served a big dose of reality earlier and want to give her time to digest it. I’m so proud of her for encouraging that girl. She’s knows her words hold power and she used them well today. I sit and pray, thanking God for this unexpected journey He is allowing me to take with this woman. I ask Him to heal her as He has healed me. Have mercy on her, Lord, for she is faint; heal her, Lord, for her bones are in agony.
I leave Julia alone all day, but once the sun has set and the sky begins to darken, I pull her outside. “I’ve thought of the perfect thing to do with these clothes.”
“Yeah?” she inquires.
Producing a match from my pocket, I swipe across the rock side of the fire pit, and toss it onto the logs that I have already doused generously with lighter fluid. It goes up in a huge flame dramatically as I had hoped it would. This makes her giggle, and that makes me happy.
I throw in a pair of my shorts and the flames lick them up in a flash. “Take that cancer!”
Julia gets in the spirit of things fast and tosses in a pair of jeans. “Take that paparazzi!”
I add more and yell victoriously, “Take that modeling world!”
“Take that Sawyer Helms!” Julia shouts as she adds a shirt.
“Take that crappy chemo side effects!” I yell as I throw in another shirt.
