The Westlake Boys

by K R Bicknell

  “No. I don’t think she does.” I don’t say that to hurt him but because I want him to stop waiting.

  “She’s a fool, not to want to see what a great guy you grew up into.” I tell him.

  “Well.” he purses his lips again, “Yeah. But she was an even bigger fool to leave you.”

  I don’t agree, but I tell him my truth.

  “You’re better than me. Hannah loved you more.”

  “Hell yeah, she did!” he says.

  I smile.

  “But she still left.”

  Yeah, she did.

  “You know what?” I lean back on the other car next to his, “I figured something out sitting in that fucking hospital.”

  “What?” he says.

  “They didn’t leave because of us. We’re fucking awesome, we’re the Westlake boys. They left because they weren’t enough.”

  He frowns at me like he doesn’t believe me. A seven year old kid just wants his mother, no matter how imperfect she is. Jacob wasn’t allowed to grow up, and I didn’t help either, protecting him. I’ll be gone soon and he’ll be eighteen, he’ll have to figure shit out on his own now. I still have three months, maybe I can help without helping. A little independence is good for all of us.

  The parking lot is louder now, the crowds have been set free and I know soon the moment will be gone. We’ll both be surrounded by our people.

  “I’m gonna bring her back.” I tell my brother. I don’t tell him who.

  He knows and conforms it by saying “I know.” before his girlfriend finds him.

  Chapter 12

  H

  That night I go to bed alone, and for the first time allow myself to cry. I cry for those rude arrogant boys who had taken little nobody Hannah Johnson into their arms and their hearts and I know no matter what my life becomes or who I meet, no one will ever love me that completely again. I allow myself to feel sorry for myself one night, maybe two, and then I’m back on my feet again. I make friends in the diner, a couple of people my age and on Fridays we meet for drinks at a local bar. The bar owner knows me now and allows me to sit as long as I only order virgin drinks or soda. Summer comes, and it’s beautiful in the forest. I make a little vegetable garden next to my house. I talk to Mom every other day, she is doing fine, happy again with Harry. I text Mandy and Jacob at least three times a week, separately. They are still together, navigating the unknown waters of a long term relationship. They went to prom, Mandy says it was nice though she swears the decorations were lame. They didn’t sleep together until June. I think that’s the longest Jacob has been without pussy and I tease him about it but he says it was worth it. I know what he means. He rarely mentions his brother and I don’t ask. Adele, on the other hand, I talk to her often too. She gives me recipes and advice on my garden, tells me she’s proud of me a lot, and talks about her favorite boy. I know he works hard throughout the summer building houses. I know he got a haircut and it’s short and spiky but still looks ‘mighty fine’. I know she’s packed suitcases of clothes and underwear because he still refuses to do laundry. She doesn’t mention girls and I don’t ask. I’m still not brave enough, though I do imagine him with his cheerleader groupies occasionally just to see if it hurts. It bites, but not as much as imagining him with a regular girlfriend. I know it will happen eventually, he deserves it, but don’t know if I’ll ever want to know.

  There’s a regular at the diner, a local boy, a farmer and he flirts. We go out, once, twice, we kiss. There is no tingle. I push him away. Eventually, there will be someone. I know I will feel that tingle again, but that raging inferno? Doubt it.

  It’s summer, the days are hot. I get screens for my windows and leave them open in the night, loving the cool breeze. The tomatoes in my garden are starting to turn red and I get a Pomodoro sauce recipe from Adele.

  One August afternoon I finally decide to pluck the tomatoes and make the sauce. I am out in my garden humming and don’t hear the sound so I’m shocked when I turn around with my arms full of the ripe red fruit and see that silver BMW.

  I stand frozen, my heart beats once, twice. He steps out of the car in a black polo and dark jeans.

  “Nice tomatoes.” He says as he takes a step, and another, his hands in his pockets.

  I rush at him till my hands grab his shirt, they pat his chest.

  “You’re okay, you’re all right, you’re whole!” I am crying.

  “Pretty sure you knew that otherwise, you’d be at my funeral.” He says from above.

  “Don’t joke about that, you’re not dying, not for a long time.” I sob, my head still on his chest.

  His arms come around me to hold me tight, “I love you too.” He whispers into my hair and I know I didn’t imagine it.

  I allow myself to breathe in his scent for a moment before I move back.

  “I’m sorry, I...” suddenly I’m nervous and ashamed of my breakdown.

  “You dropped your tomatoes.” He says.

  “Yeah, I...” I wipe my nose and start picking them up, he helps.

  “I was going to make a sauce, I got this recipe from Adele.” I babble.

  “I know, she says you call her, and Jacob.”

  I stand up, my arms full of tomatoes again, and don’t answer his unspoken accusation.

  “Do you want to come inside and see?” I ask him.

  “Sure.” He nods. His hands are back in his pockets.

  I lead him inside.

  “It’s not much but I have everything I need.” I say, putting the tomatoes on my small table.“I have a wood stove, and a refrigerator, and a porch.” I continue babbling wondering why he’s here yet ecstatically happy he is.

  He turns around and looks up.

  “That’s where I sleep.” I say.

  “It’s cute,” he says, “Fits you.”

  “Yeah, doesn’t it? And it’s all mine.”

  He smiles, a little bit of sadness sneaks in.

  “Are you staying for dinner?” I ask, my heart rattling in its cage, “I’ll make the sauce, and spaghetti.”

  “No.” He says, “I got to get home before dark, we drive out to New York tomorrow.”

  I inhale deeply and nod.

  “You ready? For Columbia?” I ask.

  “Hell no!” He shakes his head and pulls out a chair to sit, “But I know I got to do it.”

  “It’ll be good.” I say, “Distance.”

  He stares at me, not speaking.

  A minute passes, and another, I want to look away but I don’t have a good enough reason. My mind takes pictures, of his golden eyes, his lithe body lounging in my chair.

  “Come here.” He says softly, raising his hands.

  I walk and let him take my hands.

  “I have something I have to ask you.”

  I nod unable to speak.

  “Your mom says you have five acres here.” He says.

  “Yeah, it’s mostly woodland.”

  “It’s gonna take me four years to get that degree.” He says.

  I nod.

  “After that, I would like to come here and borrow about two acres of your property.”

  “What for?” I ask.

  “I want to build a house.”

  “A house?”

  “Yeah, for you, I’m not asking for anything else, it’s okay if you have a guy by then, I mean I expect it, a girl like you...”

  “Caleb.” I whisper as my fingers bend to grip his tight.

  “Yeah, just want to borrow some land and build a house,” he continues, “Not as charity, just a project, a dream I have.” He exhales.

  “Wouldn’t you need to work for money?” I ask stupidly.

  “Not right away, I have a trust fund.” He says, “and this would take six months a year at the most. What do you say?”

  “Would you build me a porch? To watch the stars?” I ask.

  “Not a balcony? For your bedroom?”

  I smile and can’t help biting my lip.

  His eyes widen sli
ghtly and he shakes his head.

  I stop.

  “Okay.” I say.

  “Good.” He nods and stands up, “I have a contract all ready in the car.”

  “A contract?” I laugh.

  “Yup, don’t want you going back on your word.” He says.

  He does have a legit legal document and I sign it and he’s gone.

  My bed feels colder that night, my body aches and tears are back in my eyes, but I allow myself to dream. Four years is not so long, is it?

  Bonus Scene

  “What do you dream of, Hannah Johnson?” the strange boy asks from the balcony next to me.

  “I don’t dream.” I tell him.

  He scoffs, “Everybody dreams, especially girls. They dream of big houses with white picket fences, two and a half kids.”

  “Nope,” I say, “No use dreaming when you don’t know where you’ll be the next month. I plan. I plan the day, the week, I plan till my next paycheck, sometimes, when I’m really brave I even plan till the end of the month, but I’ve never allowed myself to dream.”

  He is silent as the cold February breeze chills my skin and I wonder why I revealed all that.

  “I dream,” he says finally.

  “Yeah, white picket fences and all that?” I tease.

  “No, not the white picket fence, that’s so fifties, but a house, a big beautiful house, and a girl.”

  “What about kids?” I ask,

  “A dog, a dog would be nice.” he muses softly, “Kids are not part of my dream, but they can be hers.”

  “You don’t want kids?” I ask.

  “I want just as many or as less kids as my girl does. The girl is what’s important.”

  “One girl, for the rest of your life? Is that even possible for Caleb Westlake?” I ask.

  “Anything is possible.” he says, “with the right girl.” and then goes back inside his room.

  I inhale the chill air deep in my lungs and wonder why Orion is so bright tonight.

  After

  Five years later

  I turn down the stove under my bubbling Pomodoro sauce in my small kitchen. I grab and rag and wet it under the tap before making my way to the highchair.

  As I wipe my baby’s chubby cheeks and hands.I ask “Poppy want to go for a walk?”

  My little baby girl is the most beautiful thing on the planet, with white, round cheeks, pale green eyes, and a mess of auburn curls.

  “Walk, walk.” she chants.

  “I thought so,” I say as I open up the highchair and take her out, “a nice little walk just Mama and her girl.”

  We step outside onto my porch and our adolescent Siberian husky runs up to us with a small woof.

  “Nova, Nova.” Poppy starts chanting.

  “C’mon Nova, lead the way ye olde explorer!” I barely have to say and he’s off into the woods.

  Poppy and I follow in a more sedate manner down the dirt road. It is a beautiful summer evening and the sun is just going below the trees.

  “I hear cicadas. Do you hear the cicadas?” I ask my beautiful girl.

  “Nova!” She says, more interested in the larger creature.

  A mile from my house and just a half a mile from the main road there is a large clearing. Surrounded by piles of bleached two by fours sits a house still in its bare unfinished walls.

  “Papa! Papa!” My daughter screeches in my ear before we even reach it.

  A tall, dark man steps out on the wide porch.

  “And who is this? The two most beautiful girls in the universe, is that right?” He says jumping down to the ground.

  He picks up his daughter and after throwing her in the air, buzzes her round tummy and smiles.

  “You smell like cereal.” He tells her, she pats his face.

  “Why does she always smell so good?” He asks me, his golden eyes shining.

  “You must be hungry.” I say with a laugh.

  “C’mon,” he says to Poppy, “Papa’s got something to show you.”

  He rushes up the steps and then remembering turns back to offer me his hand. I take it and follow.

  We climb up the bare wooden stairs to the second floor. He takes us to a room framed by a skeleton of walls.

  “This here is Poppy’s room.” He announces.

  “Mama!” Poppy says.

  “No, not Mama’s.” Her Daddy says, “Momma’s room is over there,” he gestures with his chin, his hands wrapped securely around his most precious treasure, “with thick walls so Momma’s screams don’t wake Poppy in the night.”

  “Caleb!” I swat his hard abdomen with the back of my hand.

  He laughs, “and this is Poppy’s window, from which you can see the trees and a nice view of the sky.”

  I look out the wide rectangular opening. The cool mountain breeze brushes over my face and Sirius, the brightest star in the sky, glints in my eyes.

  “I love this view.” I sigh.

  His hand pushes my braid to the side as his arm comes to rest over my shoulder.

  “So do I.” He says and his warm lips meet my temple.

  Isn't it odd how sometimes the dreams you don’t even allow yourself to dream still come true?

  Bonus scene

  I turn the corner onto another busy hallway as I tie my hair back into a braid. There’s a group of jocks coming my way but hopefully, I can walk through without much hassle.

  “What’s that?” a deep rumbly voice asks.

  I sigh and look up, my brows raised in question.

  “Why,” Caleb walks up and catches my braid, “why is your hair tied up?”

  “I like it that way.” I whisper only to him.

  “I don’t.” he rumbles and his teammates snicker.

  “I don’t need your permission...” I grind out.

  “Yeah, you do,” he says, twisting my braid around his fist and tugging so my back is against his front, “every single inch of that body belongs to me.” he says, “Maybe if you ask nicely, I’ll allow it.”

  “Let go of me.” I say coldly with as much venom as I can muster.

  He lets go. I walk away without looking back.

  Somehow, I make it through the rest of the school day without hitting anyone. As soon as I know he’s home, I rush through his door.

  He’s leaning against his desk fumbling on his phone and looks up in surprise.

  “You do not....” I am mad enough to stutter, “You do not treat me like that Caleb Westlake!”

  “Hey, hey, calm down.” he says, putting down his phone and raising his hands.

  “No, I will not! You humiliated me in front of your friends.” I manage to keep my voice to a sane decibel.

  “Baby?”

  “I am not your baby!”

  “Okay you’re not,” he grabs my arms with his hands and leans his forehead on mine, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry okay? What did I do?”

  I take a few deep breaths and calm myself down.

  “You treated me like your property.” I say to him.

  “I’m sorry, okay, that was just, an old habit.”

  “I’m not your property.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “And I’m definitely not your ho!”

  “Baby.” he looks up surprised, “I would never call you that.”

  “But you did, you acted like I was.” I tell him.

  “I didn’t realize.” he says and I can see that he means it.

  “If you treat me like a queen your friends will do that too but if you treat me like a ho, so will your friends.”

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t think of it like that.”

  “Well, start thinking!”

  “I will.” He says, “Promise.”He leans in for a kiss, I move back.

  “What do you want me to do? to make it better?” he asks.

  I close my eyes and think, moving out of his hold and rub my arms with my hands.

  “Maybe you can get on your knees?” I tease, his crime forgiven.

  “Oh my k
nees, huh? For my queen, anything.”

  He is down on his knees but he is way too close. He lifts up my shirt and kisses my belly.

  “Caleb?”

  “Tell me, Milady? What is your wish?” he starts unbuttoning my jeans and kisses me again, right above my panties.

  “Caleb, no.” I say moving back.

  “C’mon, All girls like that.” He says.

  I run back until I am behind his bed.

  “No, no, not for me, Caleb!”

  “Are you kidding me, did I just find your kryptonite?” he says standing up and advancing towards me with a shitty grin.

  “No!” I yell and then he catches me on the bed.

  “No, Caleb, please, it’s dirty.” I breathe as he leans over my body, held tight with his hands.

  “Nothing about your body is dirty, Baby,” he says and kisses me, “Sex with you will only be as dirty as you want it to be.”

  He kisses me again, melting my resistance.

  “Maybe someday?” I offer, “I need some time to get used to the idea.”

  “I’ll take someday,” he says and I kiss him again. “As long as it’s before I leave for college.”

  C

  Shit Woman, pull that leash a little tighter won’t you?

  But I’ll take it, I never thought like that before. Always used to treat girls like shit. But she’s worth the whip.

  Jesus, I found her kryptonite.

  It’s gonna be so good when she finally lets me.

  BTdubs, someday is coming a lot sooner than she thinks.

  J

  Geez, could they be any louder?

  People are trying not to eavesdrop here.