by Emily Childs
“Hey,” Jonas says. “Cut yourself some slack. It’s hard to fess up to things when you know it’s going to bring some kind of disappointment. For example, you and I both know I do shop in your family’s bakery. Yep, my grandpa found the bag from those cookies you brought me in the trash. So that shouting match tonight—my fault. I mean, without questioning any of us, my grandpa went straight to the idea of your family, I don’t know, planting evidence. Did you see me fess up? I’m tired of it all too, but don’t think you’re some coward because you want to please your family. I do it too.”
We sit in a comfortable silence for a long time before Jonas goes on. “Brita, I’m the last person who can give you advice on your family since I don’t know them at all. But I can tell they care about you. They want you to be happy. Don’t tell them if you’re not ready, but you can, and you should. You have a really great dream and I would guess they would want to be a part of it.” Jonas pauses, his eyes glaze a bit as though he were lost in a distant thought. “Life shouldn’t be about keeping honest feelings inside. It’s hard, but I hope you’ll be able to tell them someday. I hope we both can. You deserve to be happy.”
I offer him a watery smile in return. A heavy load is swept away. The longer he talks, the less the upsets of the evening weigh on my shoulders. “Thanks, really that means a lot.” Clearing my throat, and slipping my hair behind my ears I wiggle my eyebrows. “Okay, enough with the heavy stuff. Are you ready for this?”
My fingers dance around the radio dial like a gunslinger in the Old West. Jonas laughs and flips down the sun visor. “Oh, if you’re serious about this you can’t depend on the radio.” He pinches a CD between his fingers and slides it into the slot in the dashboard. “I’ve got all we need right here.”
I laugh loudly. “You even have a CD.”
“Of course, can’t use Bluetooth or fancy stuff when you’re listening to eighties. Wish I had a cassette, to be honest.”
The car fills with all keyboards and electric sounds. “I tip my hat to you, sir,” I tease, bowing my head. “You are the most prepared for the best road trip in history.”
Jonas bangs his head back and forth and taps the steering wheel. We laugh and belt out the lyrics. The chaos and bitterness of the night dims like a bad dream. Made possible through terrible pitch and too much junk food.
Chapter 11
“You know, I feel cheated,” I say when Jonas turns down my street. My apartment building is old, but has huge kitchens. Small flurries of crystal snowflakes start to fall, and I have a gummy worm hangover.
Jonas turns the volume down on the final blast of Toto’s Africa. “Cheated about what?”
“All these years I’ve known you and I never knew you were so…fun.”
Jonas scoffs and rubs away some of the fog on the windshield. “Thanks, I guess.”
“No, I’m serious. Axel was always the loud one, the one who was constantly surrounded by people. The life of the party type—”
“Please, keep talking. I’m feeling better about myself with every word,” he says.
“I’m sorry.” I flop back against the seat. “I’m not saying this right. What I’m trying to tell you is that I wish I would have gotten to know you a long time ago. Maybe I played into the feud without realizing it. Oh, turn here,” I add quickly.
He obeys, then glances at me. “I’ve always been a little more reserved, I guess. But as you said, I have Axel for a brother. He does enough socializing for the both of us. I don’t…open up to people easily.”
Turning into the parking lot, Jonas pulls alongside the curb. His jaw drops. “Is this where you live?” I nod, and free my seatbelt, but hurry and scoop a handful of M & M’s. “Are you telling me, all these years…”
“What? Jonas, do you live here too?” I shout, and a little M & M juice drizzles over my lip.
He laughs hard and runs a thumb over my chin as though it is something he does all the time. “Nope. But I’m glad I got to see all that chocolate dribble down your face.”
With a quick punch to his shoulder, I open the door, sucking in a painful breath when the bitter air robs me of oxygen.
“Brita!” A squeal from the front door the lower apartment shatters the silence of the building. Jane darts across the snowy lawn, bee lining it straight for us. She’s dressed in a long sweater that hits her athletic legs just above her knees, layered with a puffy-blue ski coat. Her short hair is tousled and dyed a cinnamon color. Jane is never without color on her lips. Tonight’s number is a sultry burgundy. She often tells me there are few hardships in life that a little lipstick can’t fix.
I hardly have time to set my laptop back on the seat, when she flings her arms around my neck. “Hi,” I gasp. “Janey, it’s only been three weeks.”
“I know,” she says, keeping a strong grip on my shoulders. “But this is the last time we’ll be starting a semester together. Brita, the last time. Oh, who is this?”
Jane eyes Jonas with a sly stare. Jonas offers a wave and his shy smile before he dips into the trunk to fetch my bags.
“This is Jonas. He lives near me back home.”
“Huh, you two are neighbors and this is the first time we’re meeting?” Jane shoots out her hand and Jonas offers an obligatory handshake. “I’m Jane. Is this your first semester or something?”
“Good to meet you,” Jonas says. “And no, if all goes like I hope I’ll be graduating this semester.”
“Interesting,” Jane says, a penciled brow arches as she looks to me. “You must not be close neighbors then.”
“There are some unique circumstances…” I start.
“Wait! No, Brita, is this…” Her gummy smile shines bright. “Jonas, what’s your last name?”
He looks at me with tight lips. I draw my gaze to the snow. So, I might have mentioned a few things about his family. But an intense neighbor feud is a conversation starter, add in the way all generations are supposed to spurn the other, well Jane was filled in long ago.
“Olsen,” Jonas says with less enthusiasm than he’d had a few minutes ago.
“Oh, my gosh,” Jane gasps. “You’ve both crossed enemy lines. How romantic.”
“No, Jane, don’t go there,” I mutter. “Jonas and I are friends. We both want to end the fighting and—”
“Brita’s interested in my brother,” Jonas finishes for me.
Not what I planned to say. I think more along the lines that both me and Jonas would like the childish fighting to stop.
“What!” Jane looks as though she might faint. “What happened over Christmas?”
“Thanks for that,” I grumble at Jonas.
“Brita, you talk to me right now.” Jane takes one of my bags.
Jonas seems rather pleased with himself.
“Can we get inside first?”
“Fine. Drinks, chocolate, and girl-talk. Hurry up. Good to meet you, Joe!”
Freeing my arm, Jane prances with my bag through the snow, her long legs remind me of a cricket as she tries to avoid too much ice in her boots. Jonas is holding his arm out, my final bag dangling from his grip. His iconic shy smile is gone, and now he stands still, rather smugly.
I snatch my bag and frown. “Now Jane will not rest until she knows every dirty detail and has a wedding planner on call.”
“Dirty details? You don’t really seem the type, Brita,” he says, the way he looks at me I’m reminded in an instant that he is Axel’s twin.
“Well, maybe you don’t know me like you thought.”
“I think with the drive tonight and seeing you with a little Bon Jovi told me all I really need to know.” Jonas takes a step closer, his hands deep in the pockets of his black coat. He smells like the spice of a forest, that delicious pine needle scent, and an unexpected rush of nerves floods my insides. This is happening more and more around Jonas. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have said anything about Axel, I know you guys aren’t exclusive or anything.”
“Who says we aren’t?”
>
Sure, Axel and I have never defined our secret escapades, but I’ll say this: if you’re kissing the way we kissed, well, that changes the dating game.
Jonas’s grin fades. “Are you? I didn’t know. Axel just never…I guess it doesn’t matter. Well, now I’m still sorry. I should have let you tell your roommate. Are you okay from here?”
“Yep,” I say, popping the p.
Tensions shift between us. From the playful, hysterical drive to now—an awkward sort of dance on how to say goodbye. Axel is the one I’ve wanted for so long, yet during this short pause I discover I don’t want Jonas to leave. Shaking the dubious thoughts away, I dare hug him. Arms wrapped around his neck, his warm body against mine, I relax. Then like they have minds of their own, my fingers briefly play with the ends of his hair on the back of his head. Jonas is stiff at first, then his arms hold my waist, one hand kind of strokes my spine over my coat. I shiver, and not from the cold.
The problem with this picture is that I shouldn’t feel so comfortable in the arms of my sort-of boyfriend’s brother. Seems it’ll be up to me to make things right. After another few breaths, I tap his shoulder like a true buddy and pull back.
“Thank you for the drive. I’m glad we can be friends,” I say. “Oh, and if you need any help with your writing class, you have my number and, I guess, you know where to find me.”
I smile when Jonas leans against his car, his hands return to his pockets. He never brings back his shy, crooked grin, and that’s a shame. “I know just who I’ll ask to write all my papers.” He walks around the car and slips behind the wheel. I hear him say, “I’ll see you around.”
“You will,” I reply softly, but I don’t think he hears me.
Jonas waves, and waits to pull out until I’m standing on the front stoop of my apartment. I wait by the front door, analyzing every heartbeat, every emotion, every thought clouding my brain.
Until my reeling is interrupted by Jane’s loud grunt. She steps into the entryway, two mugs in one hand, while in the other hand she’s broken out our first king-sized candy bar of the semester. I’ll rephrase my previous assertion. Jane believes lipstick and chocolate can cure life’s woes. Our tradition from day one is to donate two candy bars a week to the stash—double during finals—but this is the first time we’ve partaken before classes start.
“Sit your butt down,” Jane says, a devilish smile spreading over her lips. “We have a lot of things to catch up on.”
I take one of the mugs, breathing the sweet cinnamon smell. I’ve missed this—Jane is the queen at making wassail. I know what it looks like, we live way too far on the wild side in this apartment. Chocolate, wassail—no judging, but we simply can’t contain ourselves. Jane and I share the common thought that we don’t need frat parties at this point in our collegiate lives. Those fled our system during freshman year, and even then, I hugged the corners, wide-eyed and nervous. Thanks to Jane, tonight we have all the necessities to have a great time. Jane snaps off a piece of chocolate, crisscrosses her legs and looks at me with such anticipation it’s comical.
I sigh and sit on our dingy sofa. “So, I may have left out a little detail about this family feud.”
“Obviously, you never mentioned the enemy has a dreamy son—Brita, did you see that guy’s eyes? How did you not drool the entire way here? But enough about him,” Jane says. She waves her hand in front of her face as if physically erasing Jonas from her thoughts. “What did he mean about his brother? There are two of them?”
I snicker. “His twin, Axel. I don’t know how it happened really. One minute Jonas and I are working together, the next minute I confess that I like his brother, and then before I know it I’m going out with Axel every night.”
“So, I’m going to pretend you didn’t skip like a million details just now. What do you mean you like his brother? Never, not once, have you ever mentioned this Axel.”
“I’ve never told anyone,” I admit. “It would be the equivalent of walking to the guillotine if my family found out.”
“Okay, a little dramatic,” Jane says.
“I wish I was being dramatic.”
“Whatever. Moving on.” Her voice changes into something sensual. “Tell me all the details I really care about.”
My bags stay by the front door all night. Jane and I spend the next few hours laughing like silly girls over boys, future plans, the young, new adjunct professor for computer sciences, then loop back to Axel, even Jonas, more than once. I fall asleep on the sofa, Jane in the chair, and when I wake, gray light bleeds through our thin curtains. A new text message is my phone and my stomach tightens. After all my talk about passionate feelings when Axel’s hands were on me, I decide to keep to myself the way my lips form a smile over this text:
Jonas: I’ve been singing Africa all night. I’m pretty sure I dreamed about the Serengeti. Just wanted to say thanks again for driving up with me. You’re insane, you can shovel back candy like nobody I know, and you can’t sing. It was awesome. Hope you have a great semester.
Chapter 12
The first day is freezing, the air heavy with frigid wind. My hair whips my cheeks like icicles. Mondays and Wednesdays will be my busiest days. I need to take a biology lab. Like Jonas, I saved my worst subject for the final semester, and it takes up three hours on Monday mornings. I hate the chemical smells stuck to my clothes, but at least I finish the day in my favorite class. Advanced British Literature. How I adore reading tales from Bath and Canterbury.
Golden light from the fading day casts a beautiful glow over the snowy campus. When my phone rings, I dart back into the building and hardly feel my screen against my ear when I answer.
“Hi, Mom,” I say breathlessly.
“Hi sweetie. How did the first day go?”
“Pretty good. Of course, I have mounds of projects and I’m already looking forward to summer.”
She bemoans with me. I hear some commotion in the background from her end. “Oh, hang on sweetie,” she says. “Todd and his brother just came in.”
I wait patiently while Mom talks off the phone to her boyfriend. I grimace, but quickly adjust my feelings. Mom is happy with Todd. He really is a decent guy, but then my dad is a great guy too. The thought comes out more than immature. I know it, and I know I’ll get used to their relationship. Something tells me I’m going to need to.
“Sorry, Brit,” Mom says a minute later. “I was going to call you yesterday, but I figured you were busy and time got away from me. Your dad said you took the bus, why didn’t you let him drive you? I think he really wanted to.”
The back of my throat feels like acid is bubbling. I think of what Jonas and I talked about in the car; the pain of disappointing our families. Be bold. I straighten my shoulders, brave people have good posture, you know. I think I tell my mom because my parents are divorced, and the risk of her telling Farfar is minimal. Don’t get me wrong, I try to convince myself that I spill the goods because I’m not spineless, but I think we all know the truth.
“Mom, I need to be honest,” I say as I slide into a narrow chair bolted to the wall. “I didn’t take the bus.”
“Brit, did you buy a car?”
My mother is thrilled at the idea. Pretty lame that parents are trying to convince their daughter to purchase a vehicle, right? My aversions aren’t so noble like I’m a crusader for the environment or anything, it’s simpler than that. Debt isn’t my thing when I have tuition to pay, and I guess I’ve gotten used to the bus.
“Brit?” she tries again when I don’t answer.
“I didn’t buy a car. I uh, I got a ride. From Jonas Olsen.”
Silence. Expected.
“Really?” she says.
I dissect the tone in her voice. Is she upset? Indifferent? Hard to tell with students bustling around for evening classes.
“Really,” I respond dumbly.
“Why lie about it, Brit?”
Fair question. “I think you can understand why I did.”
“Okay,
but I have to be honest, I don’t like that you lied to your dad.”
“Mom, tell me what you would have done.” My voice breaks. Emotional? Just a bit. I haven’t even confessed the biggest news yet. “I know it’s ridiculous, but it isn’t just from our side. Jonas didn’t tell his family either. Whenever we saw each other outside of Dad’s office, we had to behave as though we despised each other.”
“Brita, I’m not upset you drove with Jonas. I’m not. A respectful young man drove my daughter to school, what is there to be upset about? I’m concerned you feel the need to lie about it. Your dad worked with Jonas too. He liked him, right?”
“Yes, but it doesn’t mean he’d like me spending time with him outside of work.”
“I think you’re being unfair to your dad.”
Okay, well then what about Farfar…”
“Brita, are you crying? Sweetie, is this really such a big deal?”
“Yes,” I say. “Mom you don’t need to worry about this anymore—”
“Hey,” she interrupts. “I am still a part of the family, and I love them with all I’ve got.”
“That isn’t what I meant.” I sniff and I look like an idiot. “The feud is worse, but for the first time I feel like I’m caught in the middle.” Now is the moment, as good as any, to tell my whole truth—at least to my mom. “Because there’s more.”
In a matter of thirty excruciating seconds, I spill my Pandora’s Box on Axel. All about the dates and how I feel about him. There are a few sticky, kissy details I skip, but Mom catches on pretty quick. Of course, she does. It’s not like she thinks we only shared ice cream cones and held hands.
When I stop to breathe, an unsettling crackle surges through our connection, but I’m spent. I’ve nothing more to say.
I hear her throat clear, and Todd’s hushed voice in the background, but Mom doesn’t say anything to him either. Finally, she ends the torment of silence. “Brita, I want you to hear me. Listening?”
“Yes,” I snip, and just like that I’m fourteen all over again.