Forever Mark

by Jessyca Thibault

  “My mom isn’t like that. She’s cool.”

  “Your mom owns a preschool. Preschools and skulls go together about as well as orange juice in cereal.”

  “I used to put orange juice in my cereal when I was a kid.”

  “Kellen, you’re making it really hard not to kick you.”

  “I’m sorry, but just so you know my mom was also in a band when she was a teenager.”

  “She was not.”

  “She was. The band was called Red Ink and she was the lead singer. It was her and three guys – Michael, Alex, and Squid. They’re like my uncles now.”

  “Uncle Squid? You’re making that up.”

  “I would not make up Uncle Squid.”

  I looked up at the house, still feeling hesitant.

  “C’mon,” Kellen said. “It’s only fair. I met your mom.”

  “And we see how well that went.”

  “So it can only go up from here,” he said, grinning. “And you’re wearing pants, so we’re already off to a better start.”

  “Shockingly, that doesn’t make me feel any better,” I said, but I took a deep breath and told myself that there was probably no way Kellen’s mom could dislike me any more than my mom disliked Kellen. “Fine, let’s get this over with.”

  Kellen smiled and dragged me towards the front door.

  “You put orange juice in your cereal?” I asked.

  “I was an odd child.”

  “Obviously,” I said, smirking.

  “You were going to call me your boyfriend,” he said.

  The smirk vanished. “I was not.”

  “Okay,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting as he unlocked the door.

  I followed Kellen inside and suddenly we were standing in his kitchen. I looked around and everything seemed normal. Sink, stove, table. That’s when I saw the refrigerator across the room. I let go of Kellen’s hand and walked over to it.

  I think we’re attracted to things that are different than what we’re used to. Like, if you’re put in a room full of objects, you’d quickly glance over the things that you were familiar with, acknowledging that they were there but not really giving them a whole lot of thought. The things that would grab your attention were the ones you’d never seen before or the ones that looked different than you’d ever seen them. I think that’s why I was so fascinated by Kellen’s refrigerator, because I’d only ever known clean and spotless and bare refrigerators. I’d never seen one covered with pictures. I’d never seen one so full of life.

  There was a picture of a curly-haired little boy playing in the snow. There was a picture of the same boy standing on top of a large rock with his arms outstretched, a sheet tied around his neck like a cape. There was a picture of another little boy in a highchair with a bagel in his hands and cream cheese all over his face. There were pictures of toddlers, pictures of elementary school kids with bad haircuts and superhero lunchboxes, pictures of an awkward middle schooler, and pictures of a teenager. There was a more recent picture of Kellen getting a tattoo and another of Kellen on his bike, a little boy who must’ve been his brother Tony standing on the back, smiling proudly. Some of the older pictures also featured a pretty young woman with the same dark brown and wavy hair as Kellen. In one of them she was holding a baby up to a mirror and taking a picture. In another she was sitting with a little boy who was finger-painting. She had paint all over her hands and arms and in her hair, and she was laughing as the little boy touched her nose with a hand full of paint. Then there was another of the woman, a little more recent, sitting in a big chair in a brightly lit room with artwork all over the walls.

  “Is that?” I started.

  “Yeah,” Kellen said, walking up behind me. “That’s when I brought my mom to get her first tattoo.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope, she’d always wanted one and then when I started getting them she decided to finally do it.”

  “That is so cool,” I said, but I wasn’t just talking about Kellen’s apparently badass mother. I was talking about the whole thing, the entire collection of pictures. There were just so many of them, the refrigerator like a timeline of memories, each moment captured and put on display.

  This refrigerator was probably one of the most amazing things I’d ever seen.

  I noticed a small dog with a bow on its head in one of the pictures. “Do you have a puppy?” I asked, turning around to face Kellen.

  “Yeah,” he said, “But he’s not really a – ”

  All of a sudden I heard scratches on a door upstairs, accompanied by a loud bark. It wasn’t the bark of a little puppy. Seconds later something came barreling down the stairs around the corner and the next thing I knew a large white dog was leaping at me. I screamed in surprise, lost my balance, and fell over onto the floor.

  “Barkley, no!” I heard Kellen yell.

  The dog was standing over me, licking my face, and I started laughing so hard my stomach hurt, which seemed to encourage him to lick me some more.

  “Barkley?” I asked, still laughing. I realized pretty quickly that opening my mouth was a bad idea, as Barkley seemed to be a fan of French kisses.

  Kellen kneeled down next to me and tried to pull Barkley away but was failing because he was laughing just as hard. “Tony named him,” he said in between laughs.

  All of a sudden there was a flash of light and I turned my head and saw the same pretty woman from the pictures standing a few feet away with a camera in her hands.

  “Barkley, get off of her,” she said, smiling.

  Barkley ran over to the woman, leaving me in a puddle of slobber on the floor.

  “Mom, did you have to take a picture?” Kellen asked as he helped me to my feet.

  I stood up and faced Mrs. Jordan, who was looking down at the screen on her camera and smiling.

  “Yes, and this one’s definitely a keeper,” she said before looking up at me. “You must be Carson.”

  “Hi, Mrs. Jordan.” I suddenly felt extremely self-conscious.

  “Call me Lena,” she said as she walked over and gave me a big hug.

  I winced a little in shock. I couldn’t even remember the last time my mother hugged me.

  Lena seemed to sense my nerves and let go of me. I was afraid I’d hurt her feelings, but she smiled at me kindly.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I’m a huggy person.”

  “Oh, no, it’s fine.”

  Kellen’s mom was absolutely beautiful. She was taller than me, although not nearly as tall as Kellen. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, but there was a natural glow to her face and a sparkle in her green eyes, which were identical to Kellen’s. Her dark hair was up in a messy bun and she was wearing a pair of jeans and a black t-shirt rolled at the sleeves. Just like in the picture on the refrigerator, she was covered in paint.

  “The four-year-olds were finger painting today,” she said, catching me looking at her jeans. She laughed. “We got a little carried away.”

  “Mom doesn’t believe in rules,” Kellen said. He looked at me. “Kind of like you.”

  “It’s not that I don’t believe in rules,” Lena said, walking over to the sink and washing her hands. “I just think the rules sometimes need a little bit of paint thrown at them.”

  I smiled and relaxed a little. I liked Kellen’s mom already.

  “Well you’ve obviously met Barkley,” she said over her shoulder.

  “Yeah, I’d say he got to know me pretty well.” As if sensing that he was being talked about, Barkley trotted over to me and plopped himself down on my foot. I pat his head. I’d never had a dog, so I wasn’t entirely sure if that was what I supposed to do. Barkley’s tail wagged behind him though, and his tongue dangled out of his mouth. I took the drool dripping on the floor and the tail whacking me in the leg as signs that he was pretty happy with the head pats.

  Lena laughed. “Yes, he tends to do that. He seems to like you, though, and Barkley is an excellent judge of character.”

  I was
oddly very happy to have the approval of Kellen’s gigantic dog.

  “I asked Mom to put him in my room so he wouldn’t bulldoze over you as soon as you walked in, but he knows how to open doors,” Kellen said.

  I looked down at Barkley. He had to weigh more than I did. There was no doubt in my mind that if he couldn’t open the door he probably would have bashed it down… or chewed a hole through it.

  “Barkley’s a smart cookie,” Lena said, looking lovingly at the dog like he was one of her children. “He’s the smartest in the family.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” Kellen said.

  “No problem, Sweetie,” she replied, patting Kellen’s shoulder as she walked over to the refrigerator. “So, Carson, will you be staying for dinner?”

  “Um, no, I have to get home,” I said. “Thank you, though.”

  “Well, in that case, you have to at least stay for dessert. I just made cookies.”

  “She’s a firm believer in dessert before dinner,” Kellen said in response to my confused face.

  “Okay, yeah. That sounds great,” I said. Despite the fact that my mom was a baker she hardly ever made things just for us. “What kind of cookies are they?”

  Lena smiled. “Chocolate chip. It’s an old family recipe. I make them with love, care, and – ”

  “A whole lot of help from the Pillsbury Dough Boy,” Kellen said.

  “That too.”

  Lena pulled a tray out of the oven, humming a tune the whole time. It sounded vaguely familiar, but I couldn’t put my finger on exactly what it was.

  “You Are My Sunshine,” Kellen whispered to me, apparently reading my mind, or at least my thinking face. “It’s her favorite. She used to sing it to us all the time when we were little.”

  Now I could pick up the tune and found myself singing along in my head.

  You make me happy when skies are gray.

  Out of nowhere a little boy sprinted into the room, pulling my attention from the melody.

  “I smell cookiesssssss!” he yelled.

  Kellen caught the boy mid-stride and swung him around.

  “Kel, put me down!” he cried, but he was laughing the whole time.

  “This,” Kellen said, placing the boy down and ruffling his hair, “is Tony the Tiger.”

  Tony swatted Kellen away and smoothed his hand over his hair, which didn’t exactly do much since his hair was even more unruly than Kellen’s. A mess of brown curls covered his eyes and half his face.

  “Don’t call me that,” Tony said, crossing his arms over his chest.

  “Sorry, big guy,” Kellen said, looking amused. “Tony, this is Carson.”

  “Hi,” I said.

  Tony looked me up and down and smiled. I could see he was missing a front tooth. “You’re pretty,” he said.

  “Um, thank you,” I said, completely shocked, but also flattered.

  “Come sit next to me,” Tony said, taking my hand and pulling me towards the kitchen table.

  I looked back at Kellen, but he just smiled and shrugged. “My brother has way more game than I do.”

  We all sat down at the table and Kellen’s mom brought over a plate of cookies.

  “So, Carson, what do you like to do for fun?” she asked.

  Oh, God. Time for the hard questions.

  “Uh, I like to write sometimes and…”

  I decided then that I needed a hobby. I looked over at Kellen, silently begging for some assistance.

  “Carson and I have been doing lots of fun things,” Kellen started.

  “Like what?” Tony interrupted.

  “Like riding dragons and slaying monsters,” Kellen said.

  “You’re weird,” Tony said. “How did you even get a girlfriend?”

  I choked on the piece of cookie in my mouth.

  “It’s the tattoos,” Kellen said.

  “When can I get a tattoo?” Tony whined, turning to Lena.

  “When you can spell all the words in the dictionary so you don’t end up on one of those tattoo disaster shows we like to watch on tv,” she said, winking at me.

  Tony pouted and shoved half a cookie in his mouth.

  “Speaking of fun things,” Kellen said, “Carson’s been thinking of volunteering.”

  “I have?”

  “You have. It’s on the list.”

  “What list?” Tony asked, bits of cookie falling out of his mouth.

  “I’ll tell you about it when you’re older,” Kellen said.

  “You always say that.”

  “Anyways,” Kellen continued, “Would it be okay if Carson volunteered at the preschool sometime?”

  Lena looked at me and smiled. “You’re always welcome at the preschool, Carson. That is, if you want.”

  Hanging out with little gremlins didn’t seem so bad. Plus, I’d always wanted to splatter paint all over a pair of jeans.

  “It sounds like fun,” I said. “Thank you.”

  I took another bite of my cookie. It might have been made with a lot of help from the Pillsbury Dough Boy, but I swore I could actually taste the love in that cookie. It was honestly better than any cookie I’d stolen from batches my mom made from scratch for clients.

  “Alright,” Kellen said. “I better get Carson home.”

  “Awhhhh,” Tony said, grabbing my arm. “Will you come back, Carson?”

  I looked around the room at the three faces staring back at me, all very similar but also different, and I couldn’t think of a place I’d rather come back to. I was completely fascinated by the Jordans.

  “Of course,” I said, smiling at Tony.

  Kellen and I stood up and walked over to the door. Lena held it open for us.

  “It was very nice to finally meet you, Carson,” she said. “Kellen talks about you all the time.”

  I smirked at Kellen.

  “Not all the time,” he said. “Remember, eight hours of sleep each night.”

  “It was nice meeting you too,” I said to Lena. I took one last look at the refrigerator and smiled. “You have a beautiful home.”

  “Thank you. You’re welcome here anytime.”

  I suddenly got the urge to hug this woman that I just met, and before I could stop myself, I was doing just that. It was an awkward hug but it was a hug. Lena didn’t seem to mind. She squeezed me tight and patted me on the back.

  “Thank you,” she whispered in my ear. She let go and smiled at me and then Kellen and I were out the door before I could ask what she could possibly be thanking me for.

  Chapter 28

  Fine

  Vague words can hide the truth

  But they can’t conceal the lie

  It’s fine

  But it’s not fine

  It always was

  But it never was

  Eventually someone calls you out

  And you have to abandon the haze

  And face the music

  I should’ve just stayed over at Kellen’s house.

  When people talked about wars that happened in history they’d describe how a series of events usually set the war in motion, but how it might’ve been avoided if that last little thing hadn’t happened. Well that last little thing was me coming home. If I’d just stayed at Kellen’s and continued eating dessert before dinner and then had dinner after dessert and then just, I don’t know, picked a nice spot on the floor with Barkley to sleep then maybe World War Mom never would’ve happened.

  The ride home was great. Kellen had told me his family loved me and I shouldn’t have been so worried, and I’d actually felt way more relaxed after getting a glimpse into Kellen’s life. His family wasn’t perfect, but it was a family – like an actual family and not some collection of people thrown into a house and bound together by nothing but blood. So when Kellen had kissed me goodnight I was feeling good and happy and on top of the world. And then I walked through my front door.

  Oh, how the mighty fell.

  “Where have you been?” my mom asked as soon as I walked in.

&nbs
p; My mom really knew how to kill a mood.

  “I told you I was getting tutored by Bree today,” I said.

  “Oh, that’s right,” my mom said, but I could feel the anger bubbling inside her. “I do remember you saying something about her picking you up after therapy. And tell me, Carson, how did tutoring go?”

  “Fine,” I said.

  “Fine,” my mom repeated calmly. That’s when I knew something was off. My mom did this thing where she would let the rage boil inside her and then she’d get super chill. And then she’d completely explode.

  “Fine,” my mom repeated. “That’s funny, Carson, because while you were gone Bree called the house and I find it very hard to believe that she would call here to speak with you while she was supposedly tutoring you.”

  I knew I was busted and under the circumstances I figured it was best just to keep my mouth shut and wait for Hurricane Mom to pass.

  “Bree wanted me to ask you to call her back to set up a time to resume tutoring,” my mom said through clenched teeth. “You told me tutoring was going fine, Carson. Do you mind telling me when it stopped going fine?”

  At that point I figured there was really no use in lying.

  “The day it started. I kicked Bree out of the house because she had an attitude problem.”

  My mom laughed humorlessly. The sound was actually kind of frightening. “An attitude problem. Well you would know all about that, wouldn’t you, Carson?”

  I felt like this was a rhetorical question.

  “I’m going to ask you this one time and I want the truth. What have you been doing while you were supposed to be getting tutored?”

  “Hanging out with Kellen.”

  I could see the bomb drop even as I said the words.

  “JULIET CARSON REYNOLDS, HAVE YOU LOST YOUR MIND?”

  “No.”

  “This is your education we are talking about! You do realize that if you don’t pass this class then you won’t graduate from high school. You are throwing your entire future away for a boy!”

  “No, I’m not,” I said, but my mom wasn’t listening to me.

  “And of all boys, you chose that one. That, that troublemaker.”

  “You don’t even know him.”