by Adriana Peck
I look behind Nancy and peer at the patrons over at the counter. The old mechanic’s digging into an egg salad sandwich on white bread. That wiry guy with the skinny frame sips his coffee, and I recognize his face after a few seconds of staring.
“Is that…Barry Fitzsimmons?” I ask on the verge of laughter.
“Yeah, he’s a regular around here.”
I snort, looking down into my mug with disdain. “I can’t believe that fucking nerd got stuck here, too. Go figure.”
Nancy pauses, crossing her arms. “What do you mean?”
I can tell I’ve pissed her off, and I don’t waste a single second. “That geek always turned in his homework on time, always played teacher’s pet. I figured he’d go to college, get a good job and leave this place. Guess it doesn’t pay to be the brains in this town.”
Nancy’s previous look of amusement is completely gone now. Her arms are still crossed, and she looks down at me with the same disdain I’d laced in my words.
“So, people that stick around here are dumb? That’s what you’re saying?”
I look up at Nancy, momentarily panicking as I backtrack my words. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. Nevermind.”
She uncrosses her arms, and I see some of the old warmth returning to her face.
“Good,” she says. “Because that would’ve been incredibly rude of you. And a horrible first impression to make on me.”
I smile up at her, doing my best to ease the tension that’s suddenly arisen between us. “And I was never known for that kind of behavior back in the day.”
Nancy cracks a nervous smile, lets out a small giggle. I've got her back in my corner.
“Hey, I’ve got an idea,” I tell her.
“Yeah? What’s that?”
“You and me. Getting a drink together. If this dump of a town’s bothered to build a tavern around here, that is.”
Nancy smiles politely, and she crosses her arms again. She purses her lips, and I can tell she’s thinking over my offer, weighing her options. I’ve probably overstepped my boundaries, but nothing ventured, nothing gained, right?
She sighs.
“Sorry, Jake, I think I’m just too busy with work right now. We’ll see each other around, I’m sure.”
I nod, taking the hint. “Sure. Yeah, you got it.” I reach into my back pocket, pulling out my wallet. “How much for the coffee?”
Nancy shakes her head as she waves a hand over my wallet. “Don’t worry about the coffee,” she replies. “It’s on me.”
I nod, surprised as I put my wallet back in my pocket. “You sure?”
Her smile’s patient, everlasting. “I’m positive, Jake. It was nice seeing you again. Really.”
I take one last sip, putting my mug back down on the table as I stand up to leave.
“Nice seeing you too, Nancy,” I tell her.
Nancy Callahan nods, and I feel like I’ve blown whatever little goodwill I had with her as I pull my hood back up and leave the café, the bell jingling above me as I push my way out the front door.
Three
Nancy
All I can do is shrug after Jake leaves the café. I’m left to pick up his half-empty mug and take it back to the kitchen window, flagging down Don to take the dirty cup back to the dish station. I turn and see Jake getting into a rusted-red pickup truck outside as he starts a shaky engine and pulls away. I’m not one for memory lane, but it was nice taking a walk down it with Jake. If only he wasn’t still a jerk.
“That was weird, right?” a voice calls from behind the counter, and I turn around and see Barry Fitzsimmons shrugging as he drinks his coffee.
“Just a little,” I reply, walking over to the spot between Barry and Paul on the opposite side of the counter. “How’s the egg salad?” I ask Paul.
The mechanic nods, dusting a fleck of mayonnaise from his bushy white beard. “Not as good as the coffee,” he replies with a chuckle. I return the laugh, turning back to Barry.
“You know who that was, right?” I ask him.
Barry shakes his head. “Don’t think so.”
“He seemed to remember you just fine,” I reply. “Jake Reeves.”
Barry groans into his mug. “You've got to be shitting me,” he mutters.
“Unfortunately, I’m not.”
“Nancy, you’ve really got to be kidding me. I really hope you are. I thought I was done with that jackass after graduation,” Barry says. “He gave me a lot of shit back in high school. Terrorized the entire chess club with that attitude of his.”
Paul sets his sandwich down, wiping his beard with a napkin. “Chess club, you said?” the mechanic asks curiously.
Barry nods slowly, facing Paul with a look of chagrin. “Sure. Laugh at me. The military jock terrorizing the poor nerds in the chess club is as funny as it gets. Get it out of your system. I can take it.”
But Paul doesn’t laugh at him. “Nope. Been playing chess in the shop. But I’ve only had myself to play against. I wouldn’t mind a new opponent every once in a while.”
Barry shrugs, turning back to his coffee. “Sure, Paul. I need an oil-change pretty soon anyways. I’ll come by sometime.”
Paul picks his sandwich back up, admiring the shape of it before digging back in.
“Okay, but can we talk about Jake suddenly showing back up?” I chime in. “Seriously, did you guys not see that just now? I feel like I’m going crazy.”
“You’re not the only one,” Barry says. “But I think you and I are two different kinds of nervous around Jake.”
I feel my face blushing just at Barry’s suggestion. “Shut up,” I reply.
Barry shrugs again. “You should see your face, then,” he says before taking another drink of his coffee. He finishes the mug, sets it down.
Paul finishes his egg-salad, scooting the plate over to me across the counter. “Still the same amount?” he asks.
“Four fifty-six,” I say as Paul pulls out his wallet. He hands me a ten.
“Keep the change,” the mechanic says as he stands up to leave. As he steps outside the café, the bell above the door ringing sweetly, Barry looks over to me gravely. It’s just the two of us in the cafe; I assume Don’s stepped outside for one of his plentiful smoke breaks throughout the day.
“Jokes aside,” he says. “That Jake’s bad news.”
“He can’t be that bad,” I reply.
“Nancy. He went to jail back in high school. That scar on his chin came from a guy I knew,” Barry says. “He beat him up real good, Jake did. The guy only got a few good punches in, but he was wearing his class ring, tore up Jake’s chin. And I think that’s what set Jake off.”
I lean back against the counter behind me, floored. I’d heard the rumors that Jake’s been to prison, but I’d never given much credence to them. But I trust Barry.
“You think he’s changed?” I ask. “I mean, back there, before. He was a jerk in high school. I remember the fights in the parking lot every morning like it was a fight club. But today he was…I don’t know, charming, I suppose. He stepped over the line but he was still okay, you know?”
Barry shrugs. “You’re a friend of mine, Nancy. No matter what, we’ll always be friends. And I couldn’t stand to see someone like Jake ball you up and throw you into the trash when he’s done with you.”
I chuckle playfully. “What, and date you instead, Barry?”
Barry shakes his head, grinning as he chuckles along. “You girls aren’t even remotely my type, Nancy. I thought we’d been over this before.”
We laugh together, enjoying the momentary silence as I look outside. The afternoon’s still crisp, the skies are still blue as ever out there. Jake couldn’t have ruined the perfect day even if he tried.
“I wouldn’t worry about him,” I tell Barry. “I think Jake’s changed.”
Barry shrugs. “Whatever you say, Nance.”
He reaches into his wallet, pays for his coffee as I hand him his change. When Barry leaves the café, I’m
alone with my thoughts.
And they keep circling back to Jake.
◆◆◆
When I make it back to my apartment on the outskirts of town, I feel like my life’s suddenly turned a page. As I get out of my little white sedan and head up the wooden flight of stairs to my apartment, I realize I still can’t get these racing thoughts out of my head.
Jake Reeves is back in Twin Orchards, and I can’t stop thinking about him.
Sure, he’s bad news. He’s always been bad news. For a girl like me, that’s always been enough to keep me far, far away from guys like Jake. I knew this for a fact back in high school.
But life’s different now. My parents skipped town years ago with the rest of my family. Siblings, aunts, uncles, all left to pursue a better life up in Deporte City a thousand-plus miles away. I was old enough to stay behind, happy with the life I’d built for myself. I’m alone here in Twin Orchards, but I’ve got plenty of friends. Life’s good enough here, I’m content enough with what I’ve got going for me now.
Things have changed.
But I’m sure Jake’s changed, too.
I key open the door to my apartment, stepping inside. It’s a tiny place, with only a living room, a cramped kitchenette, and a bedroom with a minuscule bathroom. But I’ve made this place home, decorating the walls inch-to-inch with tapestries and watercolor paintings I’ve done myself. My art’s the only thing keeping me sane here in Twin Orchards, and I pause to admire a watercolor of a cactus I did back in tenth grade.
I wonder what Jake would think of this one. I doubt he’d even care, but a part of me likes to pretend he’d admire my art, tell me how good he thinks I am. It’s a nice fantasy, I’ll give it that.
I plop my keys on the keyring next to the cactus painting, hang up my windbreaker on the coat rack and sit down on my couch. I peer out my balcony window to the left, a double plate-glass sliding door that fills my living room with natural light. The afternoon outside is waning, the day’s almost done. I ought to get myself something to eat, flick on the TV to check out the nightly news before my favorite sitcom’s on.
Instead, I elect to just stare out the window.
Jake Reeves is back in town.
When I rack my brains, I realize we’d never really talked back in school. Jake was a couple of years ahead of me, and we never once shared any classes. I took all honors courses with Barry, and I kept to myself for the most part. A few boyfriends, like I said, but nothing serious that lasted. And I regrettably didn’t head off to college right out of high school like most of my peers. School costs money, and my parents didn’t have much back then before they moved. Jake took the easy route out of here; going into the military is a sure-fire way to a career and an education, should you want that for yourself. A promise of a future, something Twin Orchards doesn’t offer a lot of people.
So, with that being said, why on earth would Jake want to come back here?
I can’t figure it out for the life of me.
Maybe he’s burnt out on the military game, maybe he’s been offered a job here in town. But I have no idea who’d offer Jake a job. Maybe that Nigel Knoxley guy who owns the factory just outside of town, but I wouldn’t know much about that.
Part of me wants to find Jake again, ask him why he’s back home.
But I know that’d be stupid of me to do. And I know that’d just be asking for trouble, just like Barry said it would.
As I stare out my balcony window, seated squarely in the middle of my couch in dead silence, I know what I’m thinking is crazy.
I shouldn’t want to see Jake again.
He’s trouble. Bad news bears. Every sign is pointing me that way, and I know I’d be crazy to pretend otherwise.
But I can’t. Stop. Thinking about him. No matter what I do, no matter how hard I try to get him out of my mind, I can’t. That smile of his, those piercing brown eyes, the way he chuckles and looks down at the floor when he’s nervous.
Absolutely irresistible. Call me crazy, but I know it’s how I feel. Yeah, I know things would never work between us, that much is obvious. He’s a prick, easy to anger, quick to piss off. And I know better than to get on his bad side.
But I’m still curious why he came back home.
And I wouldn’t care to find out how much he’s changed over the years.
I get up, head into my kitchenette as I prepare a sandwich for myself. Ham on rye toast, nothing fancy, and I take my plate back to my couch as I flick on the TV and start scrolling through my favorite afternoon channels.
In the back of my mind, poking me, prodding me, the thought of Jake Reeves won’t leave me alone.
No matter how hard I try.
Four
Jake
I drive my truck the long way home, cruising down Main Street as I glance at the unchanging town around me. Nora’s Café, now behind me in my rear-view mirror, has always been a staple. Same with Paul’s Garage. And that gas station to my left still looks as crappy as ever; what a shame that it’s the only place to fill up your car for miles. I see the same old pawn shops, the same old hardware store, the same old life in Twin Orchards.
I guess this really is home.
I cruise down Main, swinging a left once I’ve reached the end of the commercial street. My folk’s house is a few miles away, and I cruise along the road as paved asphalt gives way to loose gravel, kicking up dust and grit around my truck. I don’t care. I bought this truck as soon as I hit stateside, drove it all the way back to Twin Orchards. It would’ve saved me a few days of commuting had I taken a plane back home, but driving alone is just so freeing. Doubly so when it’s your first time in years you haven’t clutched a gun wile riding passenger.
I don’t miss the Marines. I’m proud of my service, sure. Glad to have served my country, and I’d do it again if I was called upon. They taught me ideals, morality. But I was just a cog in a machine over there, just another part in a massive engine block. I wasn’t free. I wasn’t myself. I’d like to do something about changing that feeling, now that Uncle Sam’s given me a big fat check to live the life I want now.
Maybe now I’ll have a shot at that. A real life.
Something for myself.
The winding dirt road gives way to a short-paved highway, and I ramp up my speed as I careen down the loosely-paved road. My truck’s proven itself to be more than reliable during my trip cross-country getting here, and I press down on the gas as I hear the motor revving and accelerating. I roll my windows down, cranking the old radio station that’s still playing the same hits I remember from six years ago. The roads are familiar, I remember all the bends and curves on the way back to Mom and Dad’s.
Yeah, I’m home. No feeling quite like it.
The road curves sharply to the right up ahead, and I let up on the gas as I gently pump the brakes. No cars around me in sight, I turn into the road that leads me to my parent’s house. The road goes down a massive hill, filling me with a sinking feeling in my gut as I careen down the hill. The road goes back up again, and I enter the forest that surrounds my parent’s property. Out here, you don’t really have neighbors if you don’t want them. And Mom and Dad surely didn’t want any of those.
I pull into the gravel driveway, admiring my parent’s house. Still that same brick square, built awkwardly in the middle of a grassy field. It’s been our home ever since my Mom’s parents kicked the bucket and left the place to us twenty-five years ago.
There’s another car in the driveway.
Sports car. Jet-black, polished to a T. I can read my license plate in the car’s bumper in front of me.
I sigh, groaning as I rub my eyes with frustration. That car could only belong to one person: my brother Chance, the doctor. Rich as can be. And he doesn’t like me very much anymore, from what I’ve gathered over the years. I’m sure my leaving didn’t help him grow to love me much, either.
I take a deep breath, get out of my car. I walk the length of the driveway up to my parent’s front door, collect
ing myself and relaxing inwardly as I press my thumb on the doorbell.
I hear the ringing inside.
Footsteps.
Then he throws the door open. He’s still in his work getup, that dark-green set of scrubs he was always wearing before I skipped town. I guess that hasn’t changed. That mess of brown hair’s been shaved down to a measly stubble, his beard’s been shaved off entirely. His snarky sneer is still there, hidden under a layer of self-righteousness padded by a cushy career. But I’d recognize my brother anywhere.
“Jake. Long time, no see, huh?” Chance says as he leans up against the door.
I grin at him sheepishly, nervous as all hell. I don’t even know where to begin. I don’t know what to say after being gone for so long.
“So, Uncle Sam finally give you the boot?”
There’s that attitude. I shake my head, staving off my frustration with my brother for as long as I can. Chance always had a way of cutting you down with words; I guess it didn’t take long for me to see he’s still himself after all these years.
“Finished my two tours, actually. No black marks on my record, much to your surprise. Thought I’d come home after my honorable discharge.”
Chance pauses, staring at me through the doorway like I’m lying.
“That really what happened?” he asks.
“Yeah, fucker.” I don’t have much more to say than that. “Mom and Dad around?”
“Why? You actually care about them now?”
I sigh, distraught. “I always cared about them, Chance. I just wasn’t around to show it. Cut me some slack. You can’t make family dinners when you’re in Afghanistan.”
“And boy, do they remember. And you know what? So do I, Jake. You could’ve written them a letter or something. You didn’t in jail. Hell, you didn’t even bother sending a letter when you were soldiering around the middle east. And I know they let you guys do that.”