Tyler Beach saunters into the room and drops into the chairs in front of my desk.
I glance down at the open file. He’s one of the smartest kids we have at Baxter Academy of Arts. He’s been here since freshman year and carries a 4.0 average. I glimpse up and meet his solemn light brown eyes. “We’re into the second semester of your junior year and need to seriously consider what you want to do with your future.”
He shrugs. “What I want to do and what I can are two different things.”
My jaw automatically clenches and I force it to relax. It doesn’t matter how many years a kid has been a student and told that there’s a better future, they’re still afraid to dream. “What do you want to do?”
“I want to be a lawyer.”
What? I thought he was going to say actor. That’s a lofty dream, no matter what your life circumstances are. “Why not acting?”
“I’m not good enough.”
My jaw nearly drops. Good enough? I’ve seen him on stage a lot. He’s more than good. “I hate to see you give up something you’re very talented at.”
He snorts. “I’m not exactly a triple threat.”
I love plays but I have no idea what he’s talking about. “Triple threat?”
“I can’t dance and it’s better if I don’t sing. All I got is acting.”
Come to think of it, I’ve never seen him in a musical. He’s usually on tech crew for those. “So, lawyer it is.”
He chuckles again. “You really think I can get into law school? Even if I did, would anyone hire me?”
My phone lights up and I glance at it quickly. It’s my grandmother, but I won’t answer with a student, or anyone else in the room. “Well, you need to finish out four years at a university and then pass the LSAT. If you do that, I see no reason why you wouldn’t be accepted into law school.”
He leans forward, face serious once again, but there’s finally a hint of hopefulness in his eyes. “Do you really, I mean honestly, think it’s possible?”
I never once thought I couldn’t pursue any career I wanted. But the kids at Baxter, they’re afraid to hope beyond graduation. Some are even afraid to dream of getting a diploma and expect to be kicked out on their eighteenth birthday. That’s not how it works here. “It won’t be easy.” I’m always honest with them. “You’ll have to get excellent grades before passing the LSAT. You aren’t going to get accepted into law school with just average scores.”
“Really?” He’s starting to grin now.
My phone buzzes again and I sneak a look to see who is calling. It’s Nana. Again! This is the fourth time she’s called today. She knows I’m working and can’t talk.
“Think about what major you want to pursue. I’ll get a list together of schools you might want to consider. When I have them, we’ll meet again and decide where you’re going to apply.”
“Thank you, Miss Jenna. If I could get into law that would be awesome.”
As soon as he’s gone, I start researching grant and scholarship options. If I don’t find him money, he won’t be able to go to a two-year college, let alone a four year university and law school.
My phone lights up again and since my office door is closed I answer it. “Yes, Nana.”
“Oh, hi.”
“What do you need?”
“What? Oh, nothing?”
“Then why did you call?”
“I did?”
I rub my brow, a tension headache coming on.
“Oh, well.”
“It’s okay.” I sigh. “Just try not to call me while I’m at work, okay?”
“Sure. Sure.”
“I’ll be by later. Love you.”
“Bye.”
I’m not sure what to do anymore. I’m getting daily, random phone calls from her and she doesn’t know why she called. Hell, sometimes she thinks I called her. She says things that are completely inappropriate and whatever pops in her head. If I would have said half the things she does now when I was growing up, I don’t even want to think about what my punishment would have been. Nana was from the “spare the rod, spoil the child” generation. Not that she ever struck me, but I had a healthy dose of respect for that woman, as well as a good deal of fear.
I just wish things were as simple now as they were back then. At least I could figure her out in those days. I haven’t been able to understand half the things she says or does since I moved back to town nine months ago.
“So, who all’s coming to this party?” I ask Kian, my best friend since we were in the fifth grade. This is the first party Kian’s had since Alexia moved in. The two have separate groups of friends and decided to bring us all together. I’m not sure how that will work out, but I’m willing to give it a shot.
“Some teachers from the school, you, Joey, Ben and Dylan.”
Joey’s another cop, like Kian, and Ben coaches soccer and teaches physical education at the local high school. We’ve all been friends since fifth grade. “Are any teachers of the female persuasion?”
Kian shoots me a look. “This isn’t a bar. Don’t pick up girls in my house.”
I grab a bottle of water and settle on a stool in his kitchen. This is the second time I’ve been insulted by a friend in one day. The guys think when I leave a bar with a girl, which admittedly I do a lot, we end up at her place or mine. I’ve never explained what actually happens and I probably should, but I’m not sure they’d get it.
Alexia comes in the back door, a smile for Kian and purple paint smeared on her cheek.
Kian chuckles, wets a paper towel, and goes to her, wiping it off her face. “Painting today, I see.”
“What?” Her hand goes to her cheek and then looks at the paper towel. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?
“Like the kids at Baxter are going to say something?” He laughs before kissing her.
I need to turn my head. That’s what I want. Not Alexia, but what she and Kian have. They haven’t known each other all that long but when my friend fell, he fell hard and fast.
“Hey, Cole,” she says and I look back.
“Hey.”
She drops her bag by the door. “What do you need me to do?” She asks Kian.
“You tell me. You planned this party and the menu.”
She bites her lip. “Oh yeah. I guess I should get started. Everybody’s going to be here in about two hours.”
“I’ll leave and let you do what you need to do.” I don’t want to be in their way, though I do miss the days of hanging out at Kian’s house for no reason at all. It’s not the same now that Alexia’s moved in.
“You don’t have to go anywhere, unless you’re afraid I’ll put you to work.” She grins.
“I’m not afraid of work.” I laugh. “So, who’s going to be here from the school?”
“He’s only interested in the females,” Kian warns.
Alexia hitches a brow and rattles off some names. I’ve met most of them from emergency calls to the school. I bite back the grin when she mentions Jenna. We had nothing in common in high school, but I’d be interested in finding out if we have anything in common now. Back then I was outgoing and all about having fun. She was the quiet girl in the back corner of the library.
When I think back on that time, it’s kind of embarrassing. I’d known her since our family moved to the area, but I never went out of my way to actually get to know her. If I remember correctly, her parents died in a plane crash and she was raised by her grandmother and had no siblings.
I’ve been at Baxter more times as an EMT, because of my part-time job with the local hospital, than on calls with the fire department. But, I’d never run into Jenna until today.
“It’ll be fun. Trust me.” With that, Alexia heads for the stairs. “Don’t go anywhere, Cole. I’m going to need both of you if I’m to get everything ready on time.”
“Is Deirdre going to be here?”
Kian glares at me. “Stay away from my sister.”
I just laugh. I do have a lot of affection f
or Deirdre, and enjoy spending time with her. She’s the sister I never had. I just don’t tell Kian that part. It’s too much fun watching him get all protective and shit.
Four
I usually only visit Nana on Tuesday evenings and Saturday afternoons. I’d visit more often but I work all day and take hours of work home with me at night. I know it’s not required that I work from home, but there’re simply not enough hours in the day to research how I can make sure each student’s on a path to success.
Today, something’s not sitting right in my gut. I can’t explain it. Just a feeling that I need to check in on her. Besides, she just lives a street over from Alexia and Kian and I’m going to be in the neighborhood anyway. I’m sure I’ll be able to relax and enjoy the party after I’ve seen Nana.
Nana’s sitting on the couch, watching television. The news should be on and she’s never been one to miss it. She used to have it on 24/7. Why the hell is she watching reruns of “In the Heat of the Night”?
The house stinks and if it wasn’t so cold out, I’d open a few windows to air it out. Not only does it smell of old cigarettes, but like something is rotting too. Smoke hangs in the air around her and I wave my arms to try and clear it as I walk in. She smoked when I was a kid, but I don’t remember it being this bad. Of course, I could have been used to it, though I’m pretty sure she’s smoking a lot more than she ever did. Twice I’ve had to bring her a carton of cigarettes mid-week and she still gets one on Saturday. There’re two packs open in front of her, two lighters and the ashtray’s full. I really wish she’d quit, but at seventy-eight, I doubt that’s going to happen now.
“Hey, Nana.”
“Come in. Come in,” she says with surprise, right before her smile drops. “Is it time to go?”
Doesn’t she know what day of the week it is? “No, that’s tomorrow. I just thought I’d drop by.” It’s dark outside. Does she even know what time it is?
“Sit, sit, sit.” She pats the place beside her on the couch.
There’re cigarette burns on the carpet and the couch. She’s never been this careless. Have they been here a long time and I’m just noticing? I don’t spend that much time in the living room. When I show up on Saturday, she’s in the kitchen, waiting with her coat and purse. On Tuesday, I bring dinner and we sit in the kitchen and visit, even though she doesn’t stayed focused on any one topic for long.
“What are you watching?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs and lights another cigarette even though one’s already burning in the ashtray.
“Where’s the remote?”
She hands it to me. I start clicking the buttons but nothing happens. She’s done it again. For the past six months it’s as if she’s forgotten how to use the remote. I’ve had to fix it each time I’ve been over. I’ve explained countless times how to work it but somehow she manages to screw it up. She usually yells about it being broken. At least she’s not doing that now.
I set it to reprogram, again, and go to the kitchen to get something to drink and pull a glass from the cupboard. As I start to fill it with water I notice the dark ring in the bottom. “Gross.” I put it in the sink and get another one. They’re all dirty. So instead of getting something to drink, I load the dishwasher and set it to go.
Were the dishes this way last week?
I can’t remember the last time I used a glass. I don’t eat with her on Saturday and Tuesday is takeout, drinks included.
“Have you eaten?” I call from the kitchen.
“Sure.”
That’s not really an answer. At least, it didn’t sound very convincing. More like an agreement, like “think that if it makes you happy”. Maybe I should make something for her before I leave. As I open the refrigerator to see what she has, the smell nearly makes me gag and I slam the door shut. That’s where the rotten smell is coming from! Grabbing the garbage can from under the sink, I hold my breath and open the door again. Whatever’s in there will have to get sealed into the bag and taken outside immediately. Didn’t Nana notice something was spoiling?
Before I can find what’s rotten, I look down into the garbage. Mail is torn up in the can, which is no big deal, except it’s not junk mail. I close the fridge and try to breathe through my mouth as I start rifling through the papers. Thankful she hasn’t tossed anything else in here, though that’s rather odd. There’s no leftovers, or empty cans, boxes and anything else necessary for making a meal.
What has Nana been eating? Has she been eating?
I find torn up medical bills, the cable bill, electric bills, and all kinds of things that need to be paid. I gather them together and go back into the living room. Nana’s still staring at the television, talking back to it and telling whomever is on that they’re stupid. She’s been talking back to the television for years. Why she bothers to watch at all is beyond me since she calls everyone on it stupid or an idiot. It used to be just the politicians she didn’t agree with. For the last year, it’s anyone who talks on the screen..
“Why did you throw these away?” I hand her the torn up bills.
“What are they?”
“Bills that need to be paid.”
“No they don’t.” She tosses them back to me.
They flutter to the floor and I gather them up again. “Yes, they do.”
“No they don’t. I’m old.”
What’s her age got to do with anything? “Where’s your checkbook.”
“Why?”
“You need to pay these.”
“No, I don’t.” She yells and grabs them from my hand and marches into the kitchen and throws them into the garbage.
Sometimes she can be like a child, so I don’t push this argument further. But, I’ll get to the bottom of it tomorrow. “Can I get you anything?”
“Just go.”
Shit. She’s never wanted me to leave before. I study her closely. She looks the same, except she has lost some weight. I hadn’t given it much thought, but what if she isn’t eating? Or worse, eating spoiled food... “Let me clean out your fridge before I go.”
“No,” she yells again.
Truthfully, I don’t really want to dig in there but get the torn up bills before they’re covered in disgusting food.
“Just go.” She’s pushing me to the door.
“I’ll be by tomorrow morning so we can go to the store.”
She smiles again, her face lighting up like a child getting a treat. “Oh goody.”
“Call if you need anything.”
I hate leaving her. Why hadn’t I noticed these things earlier in the week? Or, weeks?
After getting into my car, I look back at the house. What’s happened to Nana? I knew she was getting eccentric, but what I witnessed tonight is beyond that.
Just when I’m about to give up that she’s not going to show, Jenna finally walks in. I still can’t believe this is the same girl who hid in the back of the library or in corner of common areas with her nose in a book.
I should’ve paid a hell of a lot more attention to her back then.
She has the prettiest smile with straight white teeth, and full ruby lips. Of course, the ruby is probably from lipstick, but it’s a sweet smile.
Alexia greets her at the door, taking her coat and the two bottles of white wine she’s carrying. Wine, huh? Everyone else is drinking beer or some kind of martini. They head toward the kitchen and I duck down the hall and enter from the other end, hoping I’m not too obvious.
“Let me find a corkscrew,” Alexia says as they enter. “And a glass.”
“I don’t mind drinking from the bottle,” Jenna says dryly.
Alexia pulls back, her eyebrows drawn together in concern. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” Jenna laughs it off. “A long week, is all.”
I spot the corkscrew on the counter and grab it. “Here, allow me.” I take a bottle from Alexia and remove the foil before popping the cork.
“Jenna, this is Cole, Kian’s best friend.”
<
br /> “I know Cole,” she says with little friendliness.
“We went to school together.” I grin and grab a wine glass from the shelf. I pour the Pinot Gris and hand it back to Jenna. “For the lady.”
“Thank you,” she murmurs and takes a sip.
“Do you want something to eat?” Alexia asks. “There’s all kinds of food on the dining room table.”
“I suppose I should.” Jenna sighs. “Especially if I’m going to be drinking.”
“Never fear,” I announce. “If you can’t drive, I’ll be happy to see you home.”
Jenna snorts, not even looking in my direction and walks toward the dining room. “I remember you too well, Cole Harper, and you’re the last person I’d let drive me home. I’ll call a cab first.”
Alexia chokes back a laugh and follows her from the room.
That hurt. It really did.
I know I don’t have the best reputation, but I wasn’t known for taking advantage of inebriated girls either.
I finish off my beer and grab a soda. I’d planned on crashing in one of Kian’s many spare bedrooms if I drank too much. It wouldn’t be the first time. But everything changed with the arrival of Jenna and I’m not about to give her another reason to dislike me.
Jenna’s sitting on the couch with a plate of food on her lap when I come back. There isn’t much there. Part of a pulled pork sandwich and chips. The wine in her glass is nearly gone, however. She’s drinking quickly. I go back to the kitchen and grab the bottle and refill her glass.
She glances up at me from the corner of her eyes. “Cab! Remember?”
“Just trying to make your night more pleasant. You did say you had a stressful week.”
Jenna doesn’t thank me, but bites into her sandwich. Am I going to have to prove to her that I’m not the same jerk I was in high school?
Instead of returning the bottle to the kitchen, I set it on the coffee table and take the seat on the couch next to her.
There are about ten people in the living room and another five in the basement playing pool. She isn’t really talking to anyone, but she’s listening to different conversations while she eats. The only way I can tell that is because she’s nodding occasionally, and completely ignoring me.
Shadows of Memories (Baxter Academy) Page 2