by J. L. Beck
“Even though it was a ground floor fort, set up against a tree, he decided it still needed a rope swing and a place where we could hide snacks and stuff. That it needed some sort of latch to keep people out. That it needed a weapons armory for big nerf guns, we did not even own yet. Those sorts of things are what he thought of. So, then it was way more fun than just putting a box out in the yard and cutting a hole in it for a window. Like I said, slapping up boards together and putting nails in could have worked, and it would have lasted for two days, a month at best, instead, that fort is still in existence today.”
I shake my head and grin, recalling the last time we were all in it, drinking beers, barely able to fit all three of us. It was when Kayla, Rem’s kid, was born. We always went out there to celebrate when one of them had a new baby.
“It wasn’t, you know, rocket science. But it held up. We played in that fork for years and years, and then Rem did after we were grown and out of the house.”
“What about your mom?”
Jude’s voice was low and quiet. Timid almost. I cut my eyes toward her as my breath caught sharply in my chest. I was not expecting that question. Which side of my mom am I going to tell her about? The sweet side, I grew up with, the mom I loved, or the one who I haven’t talked to in years because she left our family out of nowhere?
“When I was a kid, I thought she was the greatest mom in the world. Her laugh filled the room. She had this way of turning her head so it would not be too loud in your ear, but it stretched full into whatever space we were in, all the way to the walls, and up to the ceiling, no matter how high. I bet it brushed past leaves on trees, too. It was full, powerful–heart filling. If she laughed, you automatically felt loved. And her arms, well, they were always open to me. To all of us.”
“She also smelled good. I remember it was flowers and apple pie. I don’t know what kind of flowers, but sweet ones. Pretty ones. I also remember when I was really little, she sewed my teddy bear back together when it was torn.
Suddenly, Jude leans forward, face in her hands just above her knees, and starts weeping. The kind of lost soul sort of weeping like when someone dies. The impact of it thunders through me, and yet for one brief moment, I can’t do anything but stare at her.
10
Jude
It washes over me out of the blue. I am listening to his fort story, which I love, but then I make the horrible mistake of asking about his mom.
The things he says about her–all so lovely–are deep daggers right into the center of my heart. His mother was all the things mine wasn’t. The mother everyone should get.
It broke me. All I can do is sob and sob and sob. The grief is insurmountable.
I remember too many things, too many dark moments where my mother wasn’t my mother, where my mother was just my father’s beaten-down wife. No protector. Not for me.
What I remember most is not having parents. I remember not being loved. I remember being shown off at church when they had dolled me up into the ugliest dresses imaginable. They were two people who owned me and ruled every area of my life, but they were not parents, and certainly not family.
I remember nothing like what he had experienced. I’m shattered, damaged, destroyed. In a way that could never be made whole again, if I ever was. There is no way anyone will ever love me. No one will ever want to know my story like I want to know his. He thinks he wants to know mine, but there is no way. No possible way. I have to keep that held in.
I start heaving heavier sobs, and he pulls me into his arms, and I can’t—I don’t have the strength to resist him. I’m too lost and feeling too broken. I need the comfort he offers even if it goes away in ten minutes, even if it does not mean something more. Even if it is only pity. I can just drink it for the moment. I can just let it be. At least this time.
“What’s wrong? What did I say to make you cry like this?” he whispers into my hair.
Shaking my head, I simply cry. Snotty, messy crying. I cannot understand how some families have it so easy and some so hard. What did I ever do to deserve the life I had? How could my father hate me so much? There is no God. There is no goodness in the world. Not without a price anyway. What I wanted never mattered.
No one wants someone this broken. Being alone is safer. I am as useless as my dad said I was. I can’t rely on anyone. Love can never be trusted because it is always, always used against you. I will never be able to share my story.
The longer I cry, the more tender with me he gets. I feel Lex’s sweetness, but I can’t trust it. I will just lean on it for now though. I can let him hold me for a moment. That does not have to mean anything. He probably feels stronger because I’m weak.
“Just tell me, please.”
“Your mom sounds so amazing. I’m just sad I never had a mom like that,” I sob.
“Well, I just chose to tell you about the best parts. Maybe that was a mistake. I haven’t talked to my mom in years, Jude. She just left us out of nowhere. Decided she didn’t want to be a wife and mom any longer. Seb and I were already grown, but Rem was only seventeen, it hit him the hardest. Matter of fact, it really fucked him up.”
“Oh, I’m so sorry, Lex.” I don’t tell him that I’m still envious of him and his family. At least he had something, he has people who loved him growing up and who still love him now. I have nothing. No one to love me and keep me safe.
Then I recall his story about having to be the oldest child, the protector. That eases me a little. Makes it easier to breathe. Maybe he is a protector. Maybe he is shielding me right now.
“Are you thirsty?” he asks when I settle a little.
I nod my head against his chest.
“Lift up, little one, and I’ll get us some water.”
“I am not little.” The word little is like nails on a chalkboard to me. Little is weak. Little is dependent. Little is less than. Little means he has power over me, and I am needy. But I refuse to be little or needy or dependent on a man ever again.
Before Lex can respond, his cell rings. He looks at me, but I am already rising and heading into the kitchen.
“Hey, Luke, what’s up?”
His conversation continues, but I can only hear pieces of it. Luke, that was the name of the guy who helped him beat that boy on campus. Then I heard Lex ask something about what happened to him, which floods my mind with images of his bloody knuckles again. This is horrible.
When he hangs up, he joins me in the kitchen, but I know my face is drained of all color. I can’t help it. The horror of that night still makes me want to run. Only this time, I mostly just feel nauseous.
Lex looks at me warily.
“Are you okay? You look like you have just seen a ghost.”
I nod, not knowing how to reconcile the fort-building, protector Lex, with the bully Lex.
“I’m not feeling too good.”
“Dinner not sitting well?”
“Something like that.” I avoid his eyes. I need space. “I think I’m ready to go to bed.
Lex moves toward me, carefully.
“I would like to sleep with you if you are okay with that?”
My eyes dart up to his as my back stiffens.
“No funny busy. Not even cuddling if you don’t want that.” He raises both hands in the air to show no ulterior motive and no intent on control, which makes me breathe just a hair easier. “You just had a rough go,” he motions with his head toward the living room, “and I would imagine you are feeling pretty raw.”
I nod cautiously, not wanting to feel those feelings again or grant him too much space.
“I would just like to be there for you. In case you need me in the night. So, I can feel like your protector. If you want me to.”
That last bit was exactly what I needed. It has to be my choice.
“Okay. But no touching.”
“Deal.”
I place my empty water glass in the sink and then make my way to the bedroom. Lex follows at a safe distance behind, and I am gratefu
l he is not too close. I am still too raw.
After I am under the covers on the side closest to the window, he gets in, and we settle into a comfortable silence. I’m still shaken overhearing his call with Luke, but that thought only conjures up doubts and visions of blood, so I skirt that thinking. I need something more comfortable to think about, or I will never be able to sleep, and I have classes tomorrow.
Softly, I ask, “Lex?”
“Mmm?” His tone is an equally soft whisper.
“Did you have a name for your fort?”
I listen as he quietly tells me how they ran through the alphabet before they settled on “Fortress Major” for the name.
I fall asleep, smiling, listening to him drone on about his beautiful childhood.
11
Lex
“Hey there, good morning.” Jude’s eyes lock with mine shyly, I’m speaking as softly as I did last night when I was helping her find sleep.
She sits up and puts her feet on the floor, stretching with her back to me.
Some women are all about morning connections. I have no idea what is good for Jude. What she likes or dislikes. She doesn’t give an inch.
I sit up with her and stretch my back in a slight arch, arms overhead, wondering if she wants coffee in bed or if she prefers to be left alone. I can already feel her distance, no matter how close I think we might have gotten last night, or how I slept next to her, even if I couldn’t touch her.
I wonder if she will ever let down her guard with me fully. God, she is a beautiful woman.
“Can I get you some coffee?”
She looks at me and shakes her head.
“Tea?”
She half smiles, and I do not know if that is a yes, but I will take it.
“Tea, it is.”
I amble my way down the hall and make a pit stop in the bathroom. I look in the mirror, and all I see are bags under my eyes. I didn’t sleep so well last night, although I loved being next to her. I splash water on my face and note that it is almost time for a haircut. I want to stay in here and take my shower, but it isn’t time yet. I need to give her room to take care of whatever she needs. Maybe she needs to go to the bathroom too.
Exiting the bathroom, I make my way down the hall, put the coffee on for me, and set a tea kettle with some water over a flame.
I like my kitchen. Somebody upgraded it before I bought the house. It’s the best part of the house as a matter of fact. No fancy dishes, no woman’s touch yet just clean, unbroken tile for a backsplash and a dark slate counter. My stainless silver fridge is covered in drawings from my nieces, and inside, it houses little more than my creamer.
I reach inside and pull out the creamer, adding it to my coffee, and then I hear the shower running. I know she’s got to get to school, but I don’t know what time. I’m sure she’ll let me know.
I pull out my two boxes of tea. Earl Grey and orange something that somebody brought and left here a ways back. I don’t know if either of these will work for her, but they are all I’ve got. I make a mental note to pick up some more tea if that’s what she likes.
I only have two mugs. The one for my coffee, with the Marine Corps emblem and Semper Fidelis, and the other, a UT at Austin mug, that I got autographed by Vince Young in 2005, the year he led them to the national championship.
Boy, he went to hell in a handbasket, didn’t he? Like me, he probably never figured himself out after he left college, but someday, I will figure out what I am supposed to do with my life. Right now, it just felt good to be around Jude and to make sure she is safe.
The shower goes off, and I grab my cup of coffee and walk to the door, so there will be more light in here. A kitten that had taken to camping on my porch is back. A little gray furball, too young for living on her own, but not comfortable coming close enough for me to get to her.
I go back to the fridge and pour her a little bowl of milk. I take it back to her, and she watches me skittishly from across the porch, waiting until I’m back behind the screen door before she comes to look at it. I need her to know she is safe too, whatever that looks like for her.
The floor creaks behind me, and Jude walks in. She spots the boxes of tea and the mug, opening each box, sniffs inside before choosing one. Maybe they did not have teas where she came from, or maybe they had something other than these standard ones. Weird.
The little gray crumpet on the porch meows and looks up at me as I look back down.
“Yeah, she is getting some tea. You’ve had your booze, she’s getting hers, and I have mine.” I lift my cup to show the kitten. “Now, all we need is a partridge in a pear tree.”
Jude walks over to see who I’m talking to and looks down. She gasps in surprise when she sees the kitten.
“Hi, little guy!” she coos.
“It’s a girl.”
“I can call a girl a guy.” She brushes me off. “Hi, little guy. Where is your mama?”
The kitten meows and wanders toward the door and Jude’s voice.
It hits me then. I realize the two of them are just alike. No mama, same as me, but the two of them were too young for such hard realities.
Jude very quietly and very slowly opens up the door a tiny crack and puts her finger through the opening at the bottom. The little kitten comes over and sniffs it, shocking me. I had never been able to get within two feet of her without her dashing away and under the porch.
I watch as she tests her finger and eventually rubs herself against that finger for a pet. I wait another moment, and I can hear an audible purr. My jaw slackens, and my eyes go wide. I’m dumbfounded.
For several minutes, I’m afraid to move, worrying that I will disturb their little cuddle party. My heart is happy to see that she can be affectionate with someone, and it dawns on me that I feel that way about both the kitten and the girl.
Jude is getting something back from it. That has got to be good for her.
After a bit, Jude pulls her finger back, stands up, and moves past me to find a chair and sip her tea. This feels a lot like something, something I can’t put my finger on.
“In 20 minutes, I need to leave.”
I nod, take the last swig of my coffee, set the cup on the counter, and I’m gone. Shower time.
Driving her to school, we ride in silence. I still feel uneasy around her, on guard, as if anything I do will shoot her the wrong way, set her off, make her pull back, or cause her to have a bad day. I do not know what she needs. All I know is that safety is one of them.
We move through the streets in silence. Past school crossings and helicopter parents dropping off kids, commuters going to work, pedestrians doing regular, normal things, just like us, but there is nothing normal or regular about either of us. Or, what is between us.
I still remember that first night. When she wanted to come home with me, a perfect stranger, and initiated sex. I sensed then that she didn’t have enough experience for those moments. I was one-hundred percent sure she had given me her virginity, and I knew with that came great responsibility.
But I did not want just a responsible role related to it. I wanted her. I had not been able to get her out of my mind. I did not know what she really wanted. I did not know what was good for her, either. I just knew that I wanted to be part of the equation in a big way. And I wanted to keep her safe.
Pulling up to her school, I look over at her. She looks at me and smiles a bit crookedly. Like she does not want to smile, but she knows she should, at least, for the ride. I understand it is simply awkwardness and have no need to push, so I nod, and she hops out. Closing the door in a flash.
I realize there is only so much I have control over, and part of me was going to have to get used to that, though I want to do recon on every person in the school and stand guard outside her classrooms. That is a bit ridiculous, but she is my only mission. Her safety is my only concern. I look at the time on the dash. I have a little time before I have to be at work, but I might as well head over now. The drive is peaceful, se
rene, and it gives me time to reflect on my thoughts. By the time I arrive, I’m feeling a little lighter.
Heading inside, I see Roman talking to Luke. Nobody knows what Luke does, it is a mystery.
Luke is a huge, barrel-chested man’s man, at least as tall as me, and a paunchy face that pinches his eyes into perpetual squints, with a black mop of hair over his forehead, buzzed tight on the sides. The kind of guy you know that has been in more scrapes and brawls than almost any other person, always coming out on the winning side. Though you know, he is likely to cheat to ensure he always gets there.
I head over to the two of them. I need to know about what happened to that kid.
“Roman, you got a few minutes?”
“Shoot.” He nods. “You know anything you need to say can be said in front of Luke.”
“No, not this. I need a few minutes alone.”
Roman looks at Luke, and Luke moves away, but not too far. Just out of earshot.
“What’s up?” Roman looks at me kindly, although, for the first time, I sense the permanent menace behind his eyes.
“I want to know what happened to that guy.”
“You don’t need to know what happened to that guy. Some things are need to know. You are a Marine, you know that.”
I shake my head. “No, Roman, I need to know what happened to that guy.”
“Don’t you worry about it. He’s taken care of. You just make sure that little missy of yours doesn’t talk. Then everything will be fine.”
The hair on my entire body stands on end.
“Is she in danger?”
“Not if she doesn’t talk.” His eyes flit away as if I’m boring him. He lifts his shoulders and drops them before glancing at Luke, who shares something secret and unspoken between them. “We have our eye on her.”
“What the fuck does that mean?”
“It means that she better not talk.” Roman swings his gaze back to me, and his eyes lock with mine. We have known each other a long time, at least at work. I don’t usually get in any of his business outside the job, but this I need to know.