“You’ll just think I’m crazy that I do this, but I pretend I’m talking to her sometimes. Just to get me through. If I could do that tonight…”
Josephine says, “Acting like I’m her?”
Drake floats his gaze back toward her, “Pretending is the only thing that works. The only reason I can make it out there without jumping in front of a bus. I can’t move on any other way.” His eyes stare through the banister. “The moment you say, ‘He’s just a friend,’ it hits me… like the day she left. That’s when… death doesn’t sound so bad.”
She covers her shock, pressing several fingers firmly into cheeks. He’ll never leave, if he can’t get through this, she thinks, What have I just promised?
Drake continues, “That’s the real reason of why I left the wedding. I was too embarrassed after talking to David. He reminded me of what I can’t offer… what I’ll never be able to offer without help from someone who might understand. Someone like you.
I’m the deserted guy and it’s all I’ll ever be. I can’t afford to be the generous man I wanna be. I don’t deserve to have a friend like you. I’ll never be able to move on. Never be able to find someone who can help me. And I couldn’t ask you something like this,” and presses his bedroom door open, sliding his feet. His feet shuffle painfully slow. Waiting and letting the promise brew and tug at her. Her brows sag, gaping through loft flooring. She hears his feet lumbering. His toes combing carpet, weighing the burden heavier over her.
She says, “Wait.”
He stops.
And
“Drake.” The door bounces a couple inches, as she continues, “Maybe, you could just entertain the idea of getting out of the house. I won’t tell anybody… make it like you said. We can pretend if that helps get you out. Just this once. We don’t have to say anything. I do the same thing sometimes. This morning even. No one will remind you of what hurts. That’s an easy request.”
“No. You don’t understand.” He leans forward, “They’d think we’re together for a date. Now that I’ve told you, I actually have to hear you say it, actually tricking my mind. Like… you’d be my girl like she was.” He looks down with a quiver of his head, “I’d have to leave. I’d be out the door the moment anyone realizes, I’m just that other guy she’s taken pity on. I can’t take that realization right now. It pushes me somewhere dark… better off lying in bed the rest of the day. Tell your friends, I’m sorry that I couldn’t make it. I don’t know if I’ll ever make it anywhere.” Her head sinks between her shoulders, and he continues, “Your kindness has kept me alive this long, Jojo. I’d have a bullet in my head and already half decomposed if it wasn’t for you,” flicking a brow, “And that’s the truth.”
Guilt. Thick guilt creeps through her, almost clogging her arteries, feeling as though her lungs are being squeezed by her silence. She promised. She can’t help but watching the door closing like an opportunity to save one person is slipping through her fingers. She feels it would be all her fault, and, “Wait! Drake,” she squeaked.
Am I really doing this? She thinks.
The door widens gradually. She says, “We don’t have to say anything. They probably won’t ask because they know I’m waiting on Lucius to come back from combat…”
Artie glances over at Lucius with overwhelming stun in broadened eyes. “Fifty-two because she mentioned you in this one.”
Josephine shakes off anxiety, “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” deciding at last, “It’ll get you acclimated again. We won’t say anything. No harm done. You treat me kindly like normal. I’ll let you get the door for me and my drink. I’m certain no one’ll ask… you’re just being a gentleman. We could do it that way. No harm, no foul.”
“What if they do ask?”
“Um… I’m sure they won’t,” her gaze latches onto the carpet of his room, “I guess anything to help a friend. As long as this helps you to move on and get your own place. One step closer to healing your heart.”
“Okay.” He half smiles, “Sure, I’ll go, with you helping like that… at least it’ll help me forget Patricia for one night,” and brushes his door closed with two fingers.
Josephine takes a couple steps away. Immediately, something tugs at her mind. “What?” She swivels back and knocks on his door lightly.
“I was about to lay down after this conversation,” Drake answers, “You changing your mind already?”
“No. I promised.” She stretches her neck, “You said… Patricia?”
“Yeah, that’s right. Why?”
There we go, baby, Lucius thinks. She’s catching on.
Artie asks, “What is it? Why are you making that face and hiding your thoughts?”
“Pay attention, Artie. You’ll learn something. Something I discovered the first time I met him.”
“But…” Josephine says, “… earlier you said it was Teresa.” She floats a finger, “now… it’s Patricia?”
“That’s right.” He uses smooth movements of his body, and says, “They’re both her names… of course.”
Puzzlement shines over her squinting eyes, “Really?”
“Sure,” raising one arm through the door crack, “You can have more than one first name, Jojo. She had multiple names. That’s very common in Mexican families. She was named after her mom and her grandma. She went by both so much I could never remember which one was her first name. Sometimes…” placing his hand over his heart, “I just called her, precious. That’s what she was to me. But I don’t wanna talk about her before a nap. I won’t feel good enough to go later. I already have to lay down from talking ‘bout it.”
“Sorry for the confusion,” pardoning herself, “I didn’t mean to bother you. Take a nap,” and crosses the loft toward the stairs. Josephine meditates on the names Drake had stated, sounding them out in her head. “Those are horrible names together.” She scoffed, balancing her hands like holding each one on a scale, “Teresa Patricia… Patricia Teresa,” and shakes her shoulders, “No, thank you.”
She opens a loaf of bread and places two slices together. While she does that, Lucius decides to blow off steam, walking out of the house through a back wall. Artie joins him, keeping up fast strides as Lucius does a brief patrol before leaving for Neil and Carissa’s new home. Artie says, “She feels guilty about tonight, if it makes you feel better.”
“I know.” Lucius grunts. “She doesn’t like confrontation and too nice to ask him to leave.”
“She’s hoping he’ll come to that decision on his own,” Artie said. “Not hard to see why she’s doing it.” Artie shuffles a quick glance over, “How you doing,” pulling fresh strawberries from a hidden satchel. He quickly hands a few over.
Lucius stares at plump red hearts, “I think you can guess how I’m feeling,” receiving the offer with two hands and a dry expression.
“Sorry. Must be torture for you with him here.”
“You have no idea,” he grumbled. “I can’t openly tell you how I feel.” Lucius barely bats an eye, staring quietly, “You got any coffee?”
“Chocolate covered beans. Nothing to sip on.” Artie adds a couple caffeinated candies to a growing pile of strawberries in Lucius’s hands. “He’s pretty bad,” Artie said. His head wobbles downward, “Now, he’s going to fake being her boyfriend tonight. He tricked her into it. Just like you said.”
Lucius sharply inhales, “Okay… I don’t wanna talk about it. He’s not…” grunting angry nostrils.
“I didn’t mean anything. How did you know he was going to do that without reading his mind?”
Weeds catch Lucius’s focus. He takes a rather big bite of a strawberry and crunches on a sweet coffee bean at the same time. “I can’t think about it. It only makes me mad to remember what I discovered about him that first day.” His eyes squeeze closed, “I wanna drink an entire bottle of banana rum and hit him over the head with it.”
“Not that again,” Artie said. “You have to fight giving in. Both of those were bad ideas.”
“T
hese are from my garden.” Lucius successfully changes the subject with a wipe his nose, “They’re really good.”
“You’re right. I know you can taste anything from your land.” Artie inhales, “You can’t travel down that road… you drinking. Sleeping. Or whatever you want to call it. You lost time and were diminished by it. I rarely saw you smiling, or heard you sing in years.”
“I wasn’t a drunk, Artie. And… I sing now because of her.”
“I know.” Artie chuckles with a nod, “I did want to comment about something I realized earlier.”
“What’s that,” Lucius studies Artie burning green tops of each strawberry into ash with a gloved finger. Lucius says, “You don’t have to wear your gloves around me. I like your natural tattoos.”
“I know. Me too. This way no one knows who I am here.” He dusts ash, “What I discovered earlier… this guy… he reminds me a lot of you.”
“Who,” Lucius almost chokes when yanking toward Artie, “How do you mean? You’re not talking about… Drake?” He swallows quickly, making his words sound more like stomping on the ground, “What do you mean he reminds you of me?”
Artie holds a sooty hand up, “I mean,” dusting it more, “He comes up with schemes like you do. He’s conniving. I didn’t mean —
“What do you mean conniving? I’m always honest.” Lucius points a strawberry toward the house. “He’s nothing like me. There’s not an ounce of who I am that’s comparable to… to… to that guy.”
“I don’t mean he’s like who you are. I mean he’s crafty,” popping his last strawberry bite in his mouth, “That’s all. I mean no offense by it.”
Lucius stares with folded arms, boring a hole through Artie, “Explain.”
“I don’t mean he’s troublesome like you’re troublesome.”
“What?”
Artie is sweating, wishing he had another gift. He speaks with fidgeting hands, “What I mean is —
“Yeah? Go on.”
— he says misleading details, that are truthful in a way, in order to…” losing his voice, along with his balanced mind, wondering why he engaged in such a conversation. “He says one thing to her but means another. She believes him. There’s always an ounce of truth tucked in there somewhere.”
Lucius folds his arms tighter, “Uh huh,” rolling his bottom lip.
Artie’s lips spasm, “He doesn’t tell her the entire truth and she believes everything he says.”
Lucius arches shoulders back, “Are you calling me a liar,” and fights smiling.
“No! That’s not what I’m trying to say,” and jerks his jawline sideways, “Are you trying to make me pee on myself?” He continues, “It’s just… he comes up with a plan,” and stops. His shoulders drop, “Do you like your haircut I gave you?”
“Okay… far enough. Stop.” Lucius grips the last strawberry between his thumb and palm, signaling toward his friend, “Artie, let’s go back. I know what you’re trying to say. You’re doing a piss poor job of it.”
Artie hunches over, “Thank you. I’m glad you understand me. I was going drastically south with that complement.”
“Yeah,” Lucius glances toward him, “The first mistake you made… was comparing me to him. He flat out lies and twists the truth; I tell her the truth every time, but only enough to protect her. I want to tell her everything, and I will someday. I twist nothing and my words line up.”
“You’re right, you’re nothing alike. I know you. Always the right choice. Doesn’t matter what those around you are doing.” Artie stops walking, and spirals back toward Lucius, “Even when no one’s looking you do what’s right. This is who you are. This is what you are. This is who you will always be. I honor you as my king because of it.”
Josephine grabs wet boots from the front entryway, and sits on a cedar step half lit by sunlight. The warmth soaks into her blue jeans, grabbing one boot and starts beating grass off of it along the step.
Pounding ricochets upstairs. Drake jumps from his nap. He clutches a knife and slants against the wall. “How’d they find…” and dawns on him. The pounding in the background makes him almost melt over his knees. “Just her doing something. Dammit. Trick’s gonna scare me to death.” He throws his pocket knife in the drawer and turns to his reflection. “So sick of her already,” stretching his face near the mirror. Branches of red cover his eyes. His brows lift, trying to smile a few times before giving up. “I need some’n.” Drake opens his dresser, grabbing a nearly empty bag and pops one of the pills into his mouth, chewing it up like a fizzy candy. He rolls his tongue around, sucking down every gritty piece crushed between teeth. “I need more.”
Artie exhales a moan, “I don’t think he’s quitting, sir.”
“You think,” Lucius huffed.
◆◆◆
Josephine rests in a wicker chair outside. One leg across her knee, putting long socks on. She weaves her fingers through the leather loops of her boots and presses her foot into each one like a well-worn glove. She stares across the way. “I thought I saw you this morning,” carrying on as if he’s there. Her eyes drift toward the porch, “I guess I was dreaming. Not even a visit from your friend.”
“What,” Artie yelped.
Lucius stretches his neck, scratching under his chin, “Yep… she remembers your visit.”
“When were you going to tell me that?”
“About… five seconds before you leave.”
“Hmmm,” Artie grimaced outside of Drake’s room.
Josephine continues talking to herself, pretending Lucius is there, “Now, I’ve gotta do something to help him out,” thumbing back somewhere upstairs, “My renter. I wish you were here to help me.”
“Lucius,” Artie says, watching how Lucius stares at her, inching closer. “Don’t give in,” he said aloud.
Josephine says, “Please don’t be mad.” She stands to her feet, “I’d hate to think of what you’d say. I don’t know how to go about helping Drake.” She touches the handle of her front door, as a small breeze caresses through her shining hair. The smell of rain enters her senses. “I smell you,” her hand rests on the knob.
“What are you doing,” Artie tensed. “You can’t.”
She tries not to cry, but her eyes glaze over until blinded. “I can hardly stand it. I feel you sometimes. So much. Like I could touch you.”
Lucius stands behind her windblown strands. Her hair lays quietly upon his palm. His fingers are less than an inch from her shoulder. Trembling.
“Please, Lucius,” Artie begged. “She can see through your camouflage right now. Hide yourself.”
She closes her eyes. Her voice is smaller than a whisper, “You feel so close.”
Lucius holds in his breath. A single tear rolls down his cheek as he gazes at a lock of hair. His feet stay planted
until
she enters through the doorway with a step. Her hair slips through his fingers, stealing the breath he held. His staggering feet walk away with steps gaining momentum, and speed until safely alongside the house. He retracts his mind from her, and waits. Waiting for his tears to dry and his pounding heart to settle down. The moment will pass, he reminded himself. Let her calm down.
“Are you okay down there,” Artie asked.
“Thank you, Artie.”
“For what?”
“Reminding me who I am… doing the right thing every time.”
◆◆◆
Josephine grips keys, popping them in the air with a quick catch. She calls up the stairs, “I have to leave, Drake. I’ve gotta run some errands before the party. Do you need me to give you a lift, or can you follow my directions on the fridge?” A muffled voice gathers her attention. She says, “What? I can’t hear you, Drake.”
He opens the door, “What?” His nose scrunches, “I couldn’t hear you either.”
Keys swing loops around her finger, “I have to leave. I wanna know if you needed me to swing back by and get you?”
Drake scratches his head. “Well,
yeah. I don’t know where it is. I’m gonna need someone to show me. Those new neighborhoods aren’t on my maps. This phone ain’t that good out here.”
Josephine closes her eyes for a moment, “That’s what I said. I have directions on the fridge, if you wanna take your own car.”
“Yeah,” shrugging his shoulders, “Hell, I’ll just take my own car. That way you can get there and not wait on me.”
“Umm… Drake. It’s just me. You don’t have to use that language here. You’re no trouble to swing by and pick up. I’m leaving in plenty of time.”
“No, sorry. I just got carried away because of what you’re doing for me. I don’t talk like that normally. Feels good to get out and feel normal for a while.” He finishes buttoning his shirt. “I gotta take my car anyway. Gonna do my own errands. I’ll just meet you there. At seven, right?”
“Um… it’s at six-thirty. You can get there when you’re finished. Just don’t be too fashionably late. You don’t wanna miss Mr. Admire’s brisket and ribs. They’re the best you’ve ever had.” Drake is frozen in place noticing something from where he stands. The crease of her breasts. He’s completely quiet, answering with a wave of his hand. She says, “See you then,” and Josephine travels out the door.
Drake smoothly turns his head, “Ooh, I wanna hit that so bad.”
Lucius looks up. I wanna hit him so bad, he thinks. He glances at Artie, “Follow him. Find out what errands he’s talking about.”
Artie nods.
◆◆◆
Drake watches her leave through curtains. Before dust settles on her driveway, he enters the other side of the loft. Leo dashes under the bed. Drake closes the door behind him, “Stupid cat,” racing toward her father’s desk. His hands flip the wooden roller up. He keeps all papers organized, placing everything back in its original position as he shuffles through it. “I know she’s got some’n. These people gotta make money somehow.” He trundles through cubbyholes
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