What We Keep Is Not Always What Will Stay

by Amanda Cockrell

  Felix made it over to our table in about two steps, like some ratty old angel with his bathrobe wings flapping out behind him. He put a hand on Jesse’s shoulder, but he was careful to let Jesse see him before he touched him. Jesse slid down in his chair and took a deep breath.

  “Pretty noisy day,” Felix said.

  “Yeah.” Jesse reached for his coffee again and knocked it over. “Shit! I’ll be right back.” He shoved his chair back and went to the coffee bar for napkins. Felix gave me a long look.

  “What?” I said.

  “This may not be a good idea.”

  I glared at him. “Not you too.”

  Felix looked sad and shook his head. “He may have demons you can’t imagine.”

  I thought maybe I could, after dreaming Felix’s dreams, but I told Felix, “Then he needs someone to care about him.”

  Felix said, “Need is a hell of a bad basis for love. I ought to know.”

  Jesse came back with a handful of napkins. I could see how mad and embarrassed he was for being afraid of a car door and a little kid. Felix helped him mop up the coffee and didn’t say anything else. When it was cleaned up, Felix kind of drifted off to the fiction section but I knew he was still watching us. I would really appreciate it if everyone stopped treating me like I was twelve.

  “Oh God, I’m sorry,” Jesse said. “I really hate it when I do that in front of you.”

  “It’s okay. I don’t mind.”

  “That’s because you’re my angel. Angel by name, angel by nature. You know, I’d really like to be able to talk without all these people and making an ass of myself. Could we go somewhere? Pack a picnic maybe and have a day in the hills? On a nice day like this?”

  Well, that sounded just like heaven to me, but I knew Mom would flip if I even suggested it.

  “Um. I’d have to work on that.” I bit my thumbnail.

  Jesse smiled. “Next weekend? Saturday?”

  He looked so hopeful. Somebody has to care about him. He deserves someone to love him. He’s only four years older than I am. Ben’s six years older than Mom.

  “Saturday,” I said.

  On Saturday, I called Jesse and told him to meet me in the park. I told Ben I was going out with Lily and made Lily swear not to rat me out. I’ve never lied to Ben or Mom about anything important like that before, but I also just caught Mom sneaking out of Ben’s bedroom with her dress on inside out. If Mom and Ben can act like that, they don’t get to tell me what to do.

  Jesse met me with his mom’s car. He had a picnic basket covered with a red and white cloth in the back seat.

  “Where are we going?” I asked, but he just smiled and said, “I’m going to show you something special.”

  He turned the car up Highway 33, and after about a mile we pulled onto a dirt road, bumped along it for a while, and parked at the end where a creek comes down the hill. A trail led off from there through the crackling brush, with its dusty clumps of sage and Matilija poppies and outcrops of huge, pale stones.

  I got out of the car a little suspiciously. “Are there snakes up here?”

  “They buzz,” Jesse said. “Anyway, they can bite me.” He shook his artificial foot at imaginary snakes. “I want to show you this thing.” He hefted the picnic basket and started up the trail.

  “What?”

  “You’ll see,” he said mysteriously.

  I followed him through the scrub and up a slope of sandy soil and those white stones that look like huge slabs of bone.

  Jesse put his good foot on the slope and pulled himself up by a manzanita bush, dragging the picnic basket with him. I scrambled after him. A grasshopper zinged by my head and I ducked, feeling my hair to be sure it hadn’t landed in it.

  Jesse laughed. “Come on. Up here.”

  I went up the rest of the way, onto a flat space against the hillside. A rock overhang made a little shelter and Jesse put the picnic basket under it. I ducked in beside him and he pointed at the ceiling.

  “Look up there.”

  I craned my neck. On the underside of the overhang there was an animal scratched into the stone, with bits of old red-brown paint clinging to its ears and tail. It was curved into a U shape, with round eyes and whiskers. I tipped my neck back farther to stare at it. It looked playful, like it might jump off the rock.

  “The Chumash people painted him,” Jesse said. “A long time ago.”

  “Oh, he’s wonderful.” I was in love with the critter already. I wanted to throw a ball for it. “What is it? A dog? Or a fox?”

  “He’s an otter. Look how long he is, and look at his paws. There used to be otters in the river here. I found him hiking when I was a little kid. You’re the only person I’ve shown him to. If people find out about him they’ll spoil him.”

  “I won’t tell anyone.” I liked the idea of having a secret otter with Jesse.

  Jesse sat down on the rock floor under the otter and pulled the cloth off the basket. “A bottle of root beer and a loaf of bread,” he said. “And thou. Also ham sandwiches and grapes.”

  I sat down beside him and he twisted the cap off the bottle. “I even brought glasses.” He poured root beer into one and handed it to me.

  “Elegant.”

  “I thought I probably shouldn’t have been feeding you wine at New Year’s.”

  I rolled my eyes. “My mom’s the one who got snockered at the party.”

  Jesse chuckled. “Give her a break. Teachers deserve to get drunk.” He unpacked the sandwiches and handed me one and put the grapes on the cloth. It must have been awkward sitting on the ground like that with his leg, but he didn’t seem to care.

  I smiled at him. “Shall I peel you a grape?”

  “Nah. All the vitamins are in the skin. My mother says so.”

  “Mine too.” I pulled one off its stem. Jesse opened his mouth and I tossed it at him, and he managed to catch it. After he swallowed it, he barked like a seal and clapped his hands and we both broke up laughing. Then we settled down and ate our ham sandwiches while the otter watched us.

  Jesse leaned his back against the stone and put his right arm around me while he ate with his left hand. “Man, it’s nice up here.” He sighed. “Man, you’re nice. I really need this.”

  We stayed up there all afternoon, just talking about things, like whether you would be a pioneer on Mars if you had the chance and how the Chumash people caught fish up here and where all the otters went. We kissed some, too, and I think I’m in love. I know I am.

  When he took me back, he dropped me at Lily’s so I could truthfully say I was coming from there. Lily drove me home. She didn’t exactly say she didn’t approve, but I can tell she’s dubious about it, even though she gave Jesse a hug before he left.

  “Ange, are you sure about this?”

  “Not you, too?”

  “No, I just want you to be happy.”

  “I am happy.”

  She sighed. “And preferably not get me in trouble.”

  Um. Yes. That’s an issue. I’ll have to think of something else. I promised her I would.

  On Monday there was a drawing of an otter in my locker. He has a fish in his mouth and little hearts coming up from his head like thought balloons. I still haven’t figured out a good way to meet Jesse without making Lily lie for me, but I will. And in the meantime, there’s lunch and art class.

  When we sat down at the lunch table, Lily looked at both of us and said, “If you make gooey faces at each other just once, I’m out of here.”

  “Can’t,” Jesse said. “We’re strictly on the down-low.”

  “I hope so.”

  “We are innocently hanging the winter art show this afternoon,” I said. “In full view of the authorities.”

  Everybody in the class is supposed to pick two of their best pieces from last semester to show off at the PTA meeting. I picked my still life and a picture of the Todal asleep, which is the only time he holds still. Jesse picked his self-portrait, which really is good, if depressing, and
a picture of his little sister. I wish I could draw faces like that. My people always look as if they were sewn together in somebody’s laboratory. My self-portrait is terrible. There’s something about the eyes that just doesn’t line up.

  We hung everything in the cafeteria, which becomes the Multipurpose Room as soon as the tables are stacked and the spaghetti is wiped off the walls. Nobody’s really settled into school yet after winter vacation, so everyone was running around being silly and dancing on the stacks of tables.

  “Man, they’re like gerbils,” Jesse said.

  “Spoken from your position as Eldest and Wisest,” I said.

  “Eldest, maybe.” He shook his head. “Not so wise. Some days I feel like I have it all pegged, you know. All the answers. Then the next day it all looks screwy again. My dad thinks I need to go to church.”

  I pointed to a spot on the corkboard for a picture hanger. “Do you?”

  “I don’t know.” He punched the hanger in and tugged on it a bit to see if it was tight. “I tried it once, but I couldn’t concentrate. Here, hang up your monster dog.”

  I hung the Todal up and straightened him. “To be honest, I’ve never had any big questions answered in church.”

  “But you go. You seem really religious.”

  “Um. My mom makes me go. And my grandmother would be sad if I didn’t. And I do like it. It’s peaceful. That part might be good.”

  “My dad said I just need to hand it all to God. I told him I’d tried and God dropped it.”

  I laughed. “Maybe God hasn’t had the right training.”

  Jesse punched another hanger in and we hung up my still life. “That’s pretty.”

  “Jesse, Felix says there’s a guy who was in Afghanistan in the group he goes to at the VA.”

  “Yeah, he told me.”

  “I’m not trying to be a psychologist, because I’m not, but I have to wonder if you might figure out more there than in church.”

  “That’s what my mom said when my dad got going about God. I’ll think about it.”

  I guess he really is, because the next day there was a picture in my locker of the otter on a psychiatrist’s couch. The psychiatrist is a fish.

  Jesse really seems happier lately, and I like the idea that I have something to do with that. It would be nice if I didn’t have to act like being his girlfriend is my secret identity. At least there’s a pep rally on Friday, where we can just happen to meet up. Ordinarily I would rather watch grass grow than go to a pep rally, but right now it’s our best option.

  15

  I’m worried about Jesse. I thought everything was great, but then he met me at the rally and looked like someone who’d stuck his finger in a light socket. “I hate this,” was the first thing he said to me.

  “It’s pretty lame,” I agreed.

  “People jumping around shrieking like fools.” He looked disgusted.

  “Well, that’s what they came here for,” I said. The cheerleaders were building a fire in a metal tub in the middle of the parking lot. When they lit it, it went up with a whoosh and Jesse closed his eyes.

  I put my arm around him. “You want to go somewhere else?”

  “Yeah.” He nodded with his eyes half closed. “I can’t take this. I’m sorry I’m such a drag.”

  I took his hand and we started over to the benches by the cafeteria.

  “Is it the fire that bothers you?” I said before I thought about it. I guess I should have known not to ask that, but he’d been fine when we talked about the VA.

  He jerked his hand away and glared at me the way he did last fall about the peace sticker. His eyes were wide open now, and he looked like he was actually going to hit me. His fists balled up. “Leave me the fuck alone! Quit trying to take care of me!”

  “I’m not!”

  “Yes, you are. You think the poor headcase needs babysitting. Is it the fire that bothers you?” He made his voice a babyish singsong. “Come on, Jesse, share your feelings with Mommy.”

  That made me mad. “You’re the one who said you’d think about me when things got crazy. You’re the one who said you’d think about going to the VA group. I didn’t say that. You said it. So what do you expect?”

  “I expect to be able to decide for myself!” Now Jesse was shouting. Even people by the fire had turned around to look at us. “Don’t play these games with me! I don’t need you! You aren’t my mother and you aren’t my shrink!”

  “Well, I don’t want to be either one,” I said. “Will you quit yelling?”

  “No! I’m yelling because you don’t listen to me!”

  “Everybody’s looking at us!” I hissed.

  “Why should I care?”

  That was when I burst into tears. Not too mature, but about forty people were staring at us now and Jesse was going off like a rocket, shouting at me. “Because you’re humiliating me,” I said, low enough that he could hear but nobody else could. “I do not deserve this.”

  He stopped shouting then. I could see his whole body shake, and then just suddenly sag as if when the anger vanished there was nothing else left. He didn’t say anything for a long time.

  I scrubbed my fist across my face. Now that he wasn’t shouting, people had quit looking at us. I sniffled.

  He put his hands on my shoulders. “You’re right. You don’t deserve this. I’m an evil asshole. I’m sorry.”

  “When you get so mad, it scares me,” I said.

  “I know. I won’t do that any more. I promise.” Jesse leaned his head against mine so our foreheads were touching. We stood that way for a while, and I could feel him trying to get a grip on himself. Then he straightened up and pulled me to the bench, and sat down with his arm around me.

  “There was a fire,” he said.

  I waited.

  “I’m like old Char Man. Still trying to make it come out different.” He laughed, but it wasn’t really a laugh. “Stupid, really.”

  I took a chance and said, “What happened?”

  I thought for a minute that he wasn’t going to tell me. Then he said, “When I lost this.” He wiggled his fake foot. “There were three of us.” His voice sounded like he was forcing the words out. “I’m the only one that made it. The sergeant was a stand-up guy, not like some. We mattered to him; he took care of us, best he could. When it went down, I got thrown clear. But the Humvee was on fire and I could see him in there, and I couldn’t move. That’s the last I remember, him in that burning Humvee. I guess I woke up in the hospital, but I knew they didn’t make it.”

  I don’t know what you say to something like that. Finally, I said, “I’m sorry.” There wasn’t anything else that would make any sense.

  Jesse stood up. “Now you know. Let’s get the hell away from those idiots.”

  I stood too, and we wandered off until the shadows didn’t flicker anymore. We stretched out in the grass behind the rock wall above the soccer field. The moon was up, almost full, and the noise of the pep rally was just a sound like frogs in the distance.

  Jesse let out a long breath. “I’m sorry I was a shit.”

  “Quit apologizing.” I’d been upset, but now that he was sorry, I couldn’t help wanting him not to feel so bad. I leaned against his shoulder and he kissed the top of my head. I tipped my face up to his.

  In a minute I could feel his hands under my sweater. Part of me really wanted to let him go on, and the other part felt like I was on a seesaw. It was just too much. That’s the part that rolled over and said, “No, don’t.”

  “Angie—”

  “I’m just not ready for this.” I sat up and wrapped my arms around my knees.

  “Goddammit.” He sounded angry, but then I saw he was crying. He scrubbed a hand across his face. “I’m such a freak. No one will ever love me.”

  “You aren’t a freak. And I do love you. It’s just going a little too fast.”

  “Do you promise me?” His face had that intent look he gets, like someone whose skin is on too tight. “Do you promise me
that you love me?”

  “Ye-es.” I stumbled over it a little. I’ve never told a boy that before.

  “Because I need you to promise. You don’t sound like you mean it.”

  “You just said you didn’t need me!” I blurted out. I was sorry as soon as I’d said it, but it had hurt my feelings and I wasn’t quite over it.

  His face tightened up again. “So now you’re going to hold that against me?”

  I stood up. “No. But I need to go home.” I could tell he was getting mad again, although it was my fault this time.

  “Running away?”

  “I told Ben I’d be back by ten.”

  “Fine!” Jesse didn’t stand up. It was clear he wasn’t going to walk me back, so I walked home by myself.

  Then I climbed in bed and cried until I went to sleep.

  And now I have a real problem, because somebody saw us and told Mom. Actually I expect somebody told somebody who told somebody else, who was overheard by a teacher, who told Mom. She didn’t seem too clear on the details, but she was extremely clear on not liking it. She actually came over to Ben’s tonight and they sat me down together. Parents Reunite to Save Headstrong Daughter. Not. They sat on opposite ends of the sofa as if there was an alligator between them.

  “Mom. He just leaves drawings in my locker. I’m not eloping with him!” That got me a look that said I’d better watch it.

  Ben said, “That’s not fair,” coming to Mom’s defense.

  Mom said, “I would prefer you not to make the mistakes I made.” She looked at Ben. “Any of them.”

  “I haven’t gotten married once yet!” I snapped, which I knew was going too far.

  Mom stood up. “I do not want you hanging around with a boy who’s nineteen. And you can just cool the love notes in the locker, too. This is the end of this discussion.” She went out the front door and I heard her car start up.

  “Angela, that was mean,” Ben said.

  “Why are you standing up for her?” Now I was mad. “She wants to divorce you!” I stomped off to my room and slammed the door. And I hate having to lie to Mom and Ben. It makes my stomach feel crawly. If they’d just be reasonable, I wouldn’t have to.