Wished for You

by KD Robichaux

  “Wait, Jason’s adopted?” I interrupt her, surprised.

  “Well, yes, sweetie. Didn’t you notice he looks nothing like me or Steve?” she asks with a little smile.

  “I guess I never really paid attention. I could’ve chalked it up to him getting his dark features from grandparents maybe? But now that you mention it, no, he looks nothing like you,” I say with a giggle.

  “Steve and I tried for seventeen years to have a baby. We did every treatment under the sun, and never once even conceived. So then, we decided to adopt. Jason’s biological mother was a sixteen-year-old girl in Beaumont, Texas. Basically, when he was born, he came out of her and was placed in my arms. We brought him home to the house we still live in now. So if he were to go off to college somewhere, he’d be in the same position you are, trying to make all new friends in a place you don’t know. When I realized you would be coming around often, instead of just the once or twice like the floozies before you, I told myself I’d stand in for your momma, because I’d want the same for my Jason. So if you need anything, anything at all, you just let me know,” she finishes with a nod.

  I wrap my arm around the tiny woman and squeeze, saying lowly, “Thank you, Mrs. Robichaux.” I don’t have time to ask about the ‘floozies’, because the lights go down in the theater and the previews start, but I can’t help but feel warm inside over what Jason’s wonderful mother had told me.

  February 18, 2005

  “Constantine came out today,” I say excitedly, jumping up and down and clapping my hands. Jason looks up at me from where he’s sitting at the patio table, smoking his cigarette and looking perfectly broody in his black t-shirt and dark-wash jeans. I don’t know how he can stand being in short sleeves right now. It’s super chilly today, and I’ve got on a hot pink hoodie with my flared jeans. I stop my hopping and pout my bottom lip, asking, “Please, please, please? It looks soooo good. Let’s go see it. We play pool all the damn time. Let’s do something I want to do for once.” I barely contain the urge to stomp my foot like a toddler, but it’s true. Any time I make a suggestion to do anything, it’s always shot down, outvoted by all the dumb boys.

  Mrs. Robichaux leans forward in her chair to grab her scissors from the table to clip the thread she’s using to sew a button back on Steve’s shirt. I see her nod before she tells the guys sitting at the table, “Y’all should be ashamed of yourselves. Here this sweet girl is in this big city she’s never explored before, and y’all make her go to the same old pool hall nearly every night. Why don’t you take her around to see some stuff? I bet she’d love Kemah Boardwalk.”

  I narrow my eyes when I see Gavin start to shake his head, but then Jason cuts in and says, “Fine. This is your night then. Pick three things you want to do and we’ll do it all tonight, but don’t expect this to happen again anytime soon.”

  I ignore his grouchiness and focus on what he’s agreeing to. I get to choose what we do tonight! Oh, my gosh, what to pick? I think for a minute, and then say, “Okay, I’m dying to see Constantine, so let’s see that first. And then I want to go to Kemah…but I don’t know what to do after that. Can I reserve the last thing for if I spot something during the evening?”

  “Sure, why not. I guess I better go get ready,” Jason says, sighing heavily before standing and making his way around the table. He stops and leans down over his mom to kiss the top of her head and then goes inside.

  Gavin doesn’t look happy. Apparently, he doesn’t like a change in routine, but I’m sure he’ll get over it. The movie looks freaking awesome. Adam, who hasn’t said a word, as usual, looks like he couldn’t care less what we do. He just goes with the flow, seeming just to enjoy everyone’s company.

  A few minutes later, surprisingly fast for Jason who decided just to throw on a soft, thick wool button-down shirt on top of his t-shirt, Jason, Gavin, and I pile into the single cab truck, while Adam opts to just hop in the back. Jason reaches behind his head without looking and slides open the window, like it’s a normal thing for his buddy to chill in the truck bed. When he sees my questioning look, he says simply with a shrug, “He likes to stretch out. Dude is like 6’3.”

  “Yeah, but won’t he be cold?” I ask.

  “Yo, man. You cold back there?” Jason asks.

  “Nah, I’m good,” Adam says, and Jason looks at me expectantly. I make a sound of acknowledgement and he starts the truck. He fumbles around with the radio for a bit, slapping Gavin’s hand away when he tries to put it on a country station, and I grin at him in gratitude. He knows I hate country. He lands on my favorite top-forty station, and then backs out of his driveway.

  “Seriously?” Gavin asks, looking over my head at Jason as Jessica Simpson’s “With You” comes on, a look of horror on his face. He goes to change the song, but again, Jason slaps his hand away.

  “Driver picks the music, dick,” Jason tells him, and to my utter amazement, he starts humming the song. No, not humming…meowing. I can’t control the laughter that bubbles out of me as his meowing grows louder, really getting into Jessica’s song. I’m actually impressed he keeps a straight face as he hits all the high notes; even Gavin shakes with silent laughter beside me. I grimace when his voice cracks as he tries to meow the note she holds near the end of the song, but it’s so hilarious I have to cover my face I’m laughing so hard. You’ve heard of an ugly cry; well, on the other end of that scale is an ugly laugh, where you lose all sense of how red your face is, how large your nostrils are flaring, and you can see every molar in the back of your mouth as tears slide down your cheeks. I’m there. I’m at my ugly-laugh point. No sound is even coming out anymore as I try to stop laughing in order to catch my breath.

  It hurts! Oh, God, it hurts so bad!

  Next, Kelly Clarkson’s “Since U Been Gone” comes on, and right on cue, Jason’s meowing starts up again. I’m starting to panic from lack of oxygen, and I’m actually worried I might pee if he doesn’t stop. How freakin’ embarrassing would that be? Oh, my God, how mortifying it would be if I peed myself laughing in his truck, his ‘baby’. I have to calm down. I try to block out Jason’s caterwauling, taking deep breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth, and when he sees me reach down and physically hold my crotch to keep from making a mess out of myself because of his antics, he does something I’ve only seen him do on one or two other occasions: he throws back his head and bellows with laughter.

  I glare at him through my smile, trying to admonish him for laughing at me, but my attempt is weak, not able to put any real sting behind my look because hearing his reaction makes me glow. It’s me who made him laugh that hard. Yes, it was because of something super embarrassing—damn my mom for blessing me with her weak bladder control—but it’s me who got him to give up that hard exterior for a few minutes. “Shut up,” I growl, punching him on the arm, then shaking out my hand after a couple of my knuckles crack on contact with his rock-hard bicep.

  “Please don’t pee on my new seats,” he teases.

  “As my mom would say, ‘You made me laugh so hard, tears ran down my legs!’”

  He chuckles, and by the time we reach the movie theater, I’ve thankfully regained control of my bodily functions.

  After getting our tickets and concessions, we’re still a little early, so we’re able to get some good seats together. Gavin heads the line, I’m right behind him, Jason follows me, and Adam brings up the rear. Each of us holding a drink in one hand, and candy or popcorn in the other, we sit our butts at the edge of the folded seats, lean back and lift our feet off the floor, and then plop down when they unfold. No matter how old I get, that never gets old, and it looks like I’m not the only one who does it.

  We each try to guess the answers of the movie trivia questions on the big screen in front of us, filling the time before the movie starts, and as I get every question right, the boys have different reactions. Gavin starts to get huffy, acting upset when he doesn’t get the answers right, and Jason looks impressed. Even Adam leans forward to look ar
ound Jason to ask me, “How do you know all this stuff?”

  “Well, one, I have an addiction to celebrity gossip, and two, you know how I told y’all I rate the books I read and write reviews? Well, I come by that hobby honestly. My dad has done the same thing with movies since before I was born. He has notebook upon notebook of movie titles with one-to-five little dots beside them, which are his ratings, one being poor, and five being outstanding. The man gets the Los Angeles newspaper at the beginning of every year and goes through the section that tells about all the movies coming out for the entire year, decides which ones he’ll see and which ones he’ll ‘waste’, and then keeps track of all of it. He sees like 3 movies a week. If you want to know how good a movie is before you go see it, you ask him. He could be one of those movie critic dudes on TV,” I tell them.

  The next question pops up on the screen, and before the multiple choice comes up, I call out the answer. Jason and Adam both chuckle, and Gavin sulks, deciding his hot dog is more fun than playing movie trivia with me. I evil laugh on the inside, thoroughly enjoying having a night to do what I like doing. My, how the tables have turned. Instead of me being the clueless one, trying to learn how to play cards or play pool, feeling like the lost puppy tagging along with them, I’m finally in my element, having fun using my brain full of useless information.

  A little while later, the previews finally start. I grin as Jason reaches over and steals one of my chocolate-covered almonds, and then bite my lip as he tilts his bag of buttery popcorn in my direction. I take a few pieces, and feel his eyes on me as I lift my hand to my mouth, eating them and then licking the butter from my fingers. I try to be as natural about it as possible, knowing I’ll look completely stupid if I try to do it all sexy-like. I pretend I don’t know he’s watching me as I pour one of my candies into my hand and then toss it into my mouth, mixing the salty of the popcorn with the sweet of the chocolate. I can’t help but close my eyes and moan as the yummy goodness hits my taste buds.

  I hear Jason clear his throat and then shift in his seat, and I smile lightly, opening my eyes to watch the opening scene of the movie I’ve been dying to see. Several things happen pretty soon into the film, making me gasp and look over at Jason each time to see if he noticed it too. First, the priest’s necklace is the same trinity knot I have tattooed on my wrist. I grin widely at him and do a dorky little dance in my seat, pointing at my wrist to show him what I’m all excited about. He shakes his head at my giddiness, but I see the corners of his mouth tilting up slightly. Next, Keanu Reeves dramatically fights to pull his forearms together, putting two halves of a tattoo together to form a symbol that looks eerily similar to the crosshairs tattoo on Jason’s left forearm. My jaw drops and I look over at him with wide eyes.

  He sees my expression and furrows his brow before reaching his right hand over to pull up his left sleeve to look at his tattoo. When he looks at me again, he has a curious smile on his face, and I playfully grab his wrist to lift his hand, then give him a high-five. He shakes his head at me again, and then we settle back to watch more of the movie.

  Ten more minutes into the film and all four of us are squirming in our seats. Constantine is a heavy smoker, lighting up every five minutes. Gavin leans over me to whisper to Jason, “Fuck, dude, this movie is killing me. I’m niccing like a motherfucker.”

  Jason frowns at him, holding his finger over his plump lips in the international sign to shut the hell up. Gavin sits back with a huff, and his knee starts bouncing next to me. It’s shaking my seat, so I reach over and press my hand to his leg, trying to get him to stop the movement. He stops for a few seconds, and when I remove my hand, it starts up again. I let out a heavy sigh and glare at him, and when he looks over at me, I move my eyes down to his knee, and then back up at his face, lifting my eyebrow at him.

  He sits up abruptly, and then stands. I move my feet out of the way as he makes his way past our group, shuffling his large form sideways down the aisle, apparently heading for a smoke break not even a half-hour in.

  The movie is fantastic. It’s action-filled and sexy at times, and as we relax and really get into the plot, we unconsciously shift positions in our seats. Suddenly, Jason’s leg is resting against mine, and even through both of our jeans, I feel the electricity of his touch. It drags all of my attention from the huge screen in front of me to the few inches of my thigh where his presses against it. I consciously reprimand myself for being so silly, letting the simple, innocent touch have such an effect on me, but I can’t help it. It tingles there, making my skin feel hot, and I close my eyes so I can focus even more closely on it.

  It’s not until I feel Jason scoot back in his seat that I shake out of my dreamy state. I look up to find Gavin making his way back over to us before scooching past me and plopping down in his seat, noisily sighing and making a show of how happy he is he stole a nicotine fix.

  When the movie ends, the four of us stand with the rest of the crowd, and the second we hit the exit door, we all reach for our packs of cigarettes, and we laugh when we see several others doing the same thing. When they notice, everyone makes comments about how hellish that movie was to sit through for smokers. Too bad real life isn’t like the end of the film, when the Devil reaches into Constantine’s lungs and pulls out all the tar and lung disease.

  We get into Jason’s truck, and I’m both disappointed and grateful I’m not serenaded by his meowing skills. It’s not too long before we are crossing over a tall bridge, and in the near distance, I see the lights of Kemah Boardwalk. I glance around and see the marina holding hundreds of both speedboats and sailboats, and I dance in my seat as the amusement park rides come into view. There are tons of restaurants to choose from, along with smaller concessions, like the ice cream parlor and the candy shop. I tell the guys I’m hungry, and they all grunt in agreement.

  After parking and walking toward the middle of the boardwalk, we head to the Aquarium Restaurant. As we’re seated and given menus, I discover it’s pretty expensive, but what catches my eye is under the appetizers. I order the crab wontons with the mango sauce, and then watch the colorful fish swim around the giant aquarium in the center of the restaurant as the guys order their food.

  When our dinners come, they are like works of art, and I can’t wait to dig into mine. Jason’s leans over to me, exaggeratedly looking at my plate, then at me, and then back at my plate. I smile and ask, “Would you like to try one of my wontons?”

  He shrugs and replies, “If you insist,” making me laugh as he holds his plate out to me.

  “Do you want some sauce on it?” I ask.

  “Fuck yeah, I want the sauce,” he scoffs, and I grin as I dip the wonton into mango drizzle before placing it next to his fried catfish.

  Having ordered cream cheese puffs from Chinese restaurants, I know the contents inside the folded, crispy outer shell is blazing hot, so I gently pull the pocket apart, allowing steam to come out. I take one half and dab it into the sauce before lifting it to my mouth to blow on it for a few seconds, and then take my first bite. Heaven. “Oh my gawwwwd, it’s so freakin’ good,” I moan.

  I look up and see Jason hiding a smile, and then glance at Gavin, who is currently devouring his seafood pasta like someone is going to steal it from him. Adam takes his time cutting up his steak, and I remember he’s allergic to seafood, having had a hamburger during the crawfish boil we had at the Robichauxs’ a couple weekends ago.

  After Jason finishes off his catfish, I watch as he tries the wonton I shared with him. He bites into it, having let it cool off first, and I see him nod and furrow his brows. “Good, right?” I ask.

  “Hell yeah. My favorite food in the world is crab,” he tells me.

  “Really? Me too! My mom and I once finished off like ten pounds of snow crab legs at an all-you-can-eat buffet in Myrtle Beach,” I say with a giggle.

  “I don’t get them very often because my family and these fuckers don’t care for crab,” he states, using his fork to point at his friends, “bu
t when I do, I put ‘em away, too.”

  Gavin replies by taking a long drink of his beer and then letting out a giant belch, making the patrons at the table next to us look over and glare at him. I shake my head and look down at my plate in disgust. What the hell was I thinking ever dating this guy? Desperation is a terrible thing. I vow right then and there to never date a guy just because I’m lonely ever again. It’s a vow I’m pretty sure I’ll break, but I make it nevertheless.

  I want to leave room for some fudge from the candy shop, so I ask Jason if he wants my last wonton. He grabs it and swirls it through the remaining mango drizzle on my plate before popping it into his mouth, using the napkin that was lying across his lap to wipe his lips. I’ve eaten out with Jason a couple times now, and I’m always impressed with how good his table manners are. I’ve asked him about it before, and he told me his parents taught him early on everything from the proper way to set a table to how full to pour wine into a glass. They have special dinners with important people quite often because of his mom’s status at NASA, and not to mention, the people from his dad’s impressive career at a chemical plant.

  After paying our separate checks, we make our way out of the restaurant and up the stairs to the little shops along the boardwalk. We find a table to sit at for a while to enjoy an after-dinner cigarette, and then I tell them to wait for me while I run into the candy store. I buy myself a brick of walnut fudge, and then hurry back to the table outside.

  “Okay, now what do you want to do?” Jason asks me.

  “Let’s go over to the rides,” I say excitedly.

  “All right,” he replies, and we all walk back down the stairs, and stroll to the other side of the boardwalk, walking along the water so we can see the small boats leave the marina for some night fishing. When we finally reach the amusement park, I’m nearly jumping out my skin with giddiness. I love going on rides. My whole family is addicted to rollercoasters and adrenaline-pumping rides. There are hardly any amusement parks left in the United States that we haven’t visited, some several times over. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been to Carowinds in Charlotte, NC.