Our Song

by Ashley Bodette

  “Blech, never mind.” She walks right back out of the room and across the hall to the bunk room. We won’t be seeing any more of her tonight.

  “Okay, enough stalling Mr. Sorensen. Time for some Doctor Who! The first episode this evening, for your viewing pleasure, is season three, episode eleven, titled ‘Blink.’ Now, The Doctor is not actually a heavy character in this particular episode, but in my opinion, this is the best episode to really explain who The Doctor is, how being a Time Lord works, etcetera.” I walk up to the entertainment stand and grab all of the remotes I need to operate the television, sound system, and game system. When I turn around, Asher is sitting on the love seat, making himself comfortable. I hadn’t thought about this…it would look stupid if I sat in one of the chairs, because they aren’t facing directly toward the TV. But it’s been quite a while since I’ve sat that close to a boy, and even longer since I’ve sat that close to Asher. I’m not sure if sharing the love seat with Asher is such a good idea.

  As if he can sense my concern, Asher pats the space next to him and says, “Come on Becca, you know I don’t bite.” He’s got a cheeky little grin on his face.

  When I sit down on the love seat, with a whole pile of courage, I lean towards Asher and whisper in his ear, “But I might.”

  -----

  Asher

  I have to admit, I’m actually kind-of enjoying watching this show. Of course, I’m not going to say that out loud. We just started another episode. And as much as I know that Becca LOVES this show, her eyelids have been drooping since we started the first one. I’m not sure she’s going to make it through all three of them. After finishing that first episode, she brought me back to season one. Although, she said we were skipping the first episode. Something about it being too cheesy or something? I don’t know. But whatever she wants to watch, we’ll watch.

  I look over at her again, and she’s trying to shake herself awake. I decide to take my life into my hands. I put my arm up, above and behind her in a classic yawn-and-stretch move and say, “Come ‘ere, Becca. I promise, even if you fall asleep, I will watch a third episode.”

  She hesitates, and I start to wonder if this is a good idea. But then she leans into my side, saying, “Alright, but no funny business, mister.”

  “Scouts honor,” I reply. I slowly drop my arm back down around her shoulders, and carefully place my hand on her arm. Becca always seems kind of small, and breakable, to me, since I’m almost eight inches taller than her, and a lot bigger. But I forget how strong she is. She may only be about five foot four, but she is all muscle. She’s in a sport every season during the school year, and continues to play volleyball over the summer. When the basketball team lifts weights with the weightlifting team, my eyes are always drawn to her. You can see every muscle in her arms and legs flex and relax when she lifts. And she can squat almost as much as I can. A lot of the guys make rotten comments about her being muscular, and about how much she can lift, but it’s mostly because their egos are bruised that some tiny little girl might be physically stronger than they are. But I’m not one of those guys. Not only does it impress me, but it’s kinda hot that she is so strong.

  Normally I would try to stop myself from traveling down this line of thinking, but with Becca here, half asleep in my arms, it’s hard to think about anything else. Of course, this train of thought also tends to lead me to thinking about stupid Trip, and what he did to her. It really bothers me that I don’t actually know what he did to her. I want to beat the crap out of him, but it’s probably not any of my business, is it? Becca doesn’t really talk about it, but I watched her change from this amazing, vibrant, strong, outgoing girl, into something much different. She started to retreat into herself. She stopped talking to me about a lot of things, which sucked. But it wouldn’t have bothered me so much if she hadn’t also stopped talking so much to her other friends. For that alone I want to beat the crap out of him. But that wouldn’t really do anything. Except maybe make me feel a little better.

  I look down at Becca, and see she’s now totally asleep. She looks so peaceful, curled up against me. I slowly lean my head down and kiss her hair softly. I don’t know what just came over me, but I couldn’t resist. And her hair smells so good. This may be a total chick thing to say, but I could sit like this, holding her forever.

  Whoa.

  I know I said that I just wanted to have the old Becca back when we got here for the week, to have my friend back after we go back home. But I’m not sure that’s going to be enough for me anymore. I mean, if that’s all Becca wants from me, is to be friends, I would never push her into something she doesn’t want, but... if she wanted more? I would give her everything. If I can get my hands on her, I will hold her in my heart. Forever.

  Maybe I’d better focus back on the television. If I know Becca, she’s going to ask me in the morning what happened in the episodes I watched, and whether or not I liked it.

  Chapter Seven

  Becca

  I stretch my arms out, and roll over a bit, not wanting to open my eyes yet. I lay there listening, but I’m confused. I swear I hear David Tennant talking, which would mean that Doctor Who has been playing for at least nine hours since I fell asleep last night. But why didn’t Asher turn it off? Did he fall asleep out here too?

  My eyes shoot open, trying to assess the situation. I’m still wearing the clothes I was in yesterday, which means I still stink like the bonfire. But there’s a blanket draped over me now. I look over my shoulder at the TV, and sure as shootin’ there’s the tenth Doctor on the screen. It’s obvious that Asher isn’t on the love seat with me anymore, as I’m laying all the way down, so where is he?

  I roll all the way over, and there he is, perched in a chair, watching the television. There are bags under his eyes, and his hair is all mussed up, but he otherwise seems rather entranced. “Did you stay up all night?”

  He practically jumps out of his skin when I speak, turning to look at me, and I start to laugh. “It’s not funny, Becca! You just scared the ever-loving crap out of me!”

  I try to stop laughing, but I just can’t! “It is too funny! And you didn’t answer my question.”

  He gives me the evil eye, but I can tell he’s holding in a smile. “Yes, I stayed up all night. You made me start watching this stupid show…and then I couldn’t stop! This is the first episode of season two.”

  What?! I can’t believe he’s still watching it! Asher has always given me crap for watching this show, and now he’s watched an entire season? Without me making him do it? I smile. “I know what episode it is. I’m the one who’s addicted to this show, remember?”

  “How come you didn’t tell me it was so addicting?”

  “Well, you see, I have told you it was addicting. Lots of times. Just like I tell everyone that it’s addicting. It’s just that most people don’t listen to me.”

  “Umm…I guess you’re right. I promise to never doubt your choice of television show ever again,” he says, crossing his heart with his right index finger.

  “You know, you could have woken me up when I fell asleep, and I would have gone to bed.”

  “I know. But you looked so peaceful when you fell asleep, I just couldn’t wake you up. So after the third episode was over, I threw the blanket from the back of the love seat over you, and moved out from under you as smoothly as I could so I wouldn’t wake you up.”

  It’s moments like these that I wonder what I ever saw in Trip. I mean, yeah, he was easy on the eyes, with his blonde hair, green eyes, and a body built by hard work. And he seemed to have lots of friends, and played sports. But I’m having a hard time remembering him even once doing something for me without having some ulterior motive behind it. And Asher, who I’m not even dating, brought nacho cheese for my popcorn, on the off chance that we might watch a movie while we were up here, and he sang one of my favorite songs with me last night, and he let me sleep here on the love seat while he sat on a not-so-comfy chair the rest of the night and watched a s
how that I made him watch. He is being way too nice to me. Maybe it’s time I do something for him.

  “I need to change into something that doesn’t smell like smoke first, but what would you say to an omelet and some hash browns? My treat.”

  Asher’s eyes pop wide open, but then a huge grin splits his face. “You know I can never say no to your cooking. While you’re working on breakfast, I’ll clean up our mess down here from last night.” I wish I could make Asher smile like that all the time. It feels good.

  -----

  Asher

  After I clean up all of our trash from last night, I grab the dirty dishes and carry them back up the stairs. I know Becca’s sister is already awake somewhere, because she went upstairs about an hour before Becca finally woke up. But when I get to the top of the stairs, I realize I hadn’t once thought about our parents being around since Becca and I left the campfire last night.

  Now, all four of our parents are sitting at the big dining room table, reading the newspaper or checking their phones, while eating various breakfast foods—muffins, bagels, fruit, toast, cereal—and they each have a cup of coffee. But none of them are eating anything that actually had to be cooked. Becca is already over in the kitchen chopping a green pepper, while keeping an eye on the bacon that’s sizzling in a pan on the stove. It smells heavenly. As I walk by the table to bring our dishes from last night to the sink, my mom looks over at me with her eyebrows raised and a smile on her face. I quirk my eyebrows back up at her, not willing to say anything. She continues to smile, but shakes her head, and goes back to reading the newspaper.

  I quietly say to Becca, “This smells amazing already. Is there anything I can help you with? I'm more than happy to chip in.”

  She smiles at me, and I swear my heart stops for a minute. The longer we are here, the more the old Becca seems to be making her way up to the surface. And maybe I can help continue to make that happen.

  “Well, if you could grate some of that cheese there into a bowl for me, that would be awesome.”

  “I can handle shredding some cheese. Your wish is my command. Where can I find a cheese grater?”

  “Right there in the drawer directly in front of you. Could you grab me the second grater in there too?”

  “I’m on it. But what do you need it for if I’m already shredding the cheese?” I ask, handing her a grater.

  “We didn’t bring any frozen hash browns with us yesterday, so I’m going to shred a couple of our potatoes.”

  “I don’t need hash browns Becca. That’s a lot of work.”

  She smiles at me again, and I can’t help but smile back. “That’s okay. I want to do it.”

  Well how can I say no to that?

  After shredding the cheese, I start a sink of dishwater, and start to do the dishes we’ve already dirtied. As I sink the first few dishes into the water, my dad walks up and sets his plate and coffee mug next to the sink. Practically whispering, he asks, “Washing the dishes? Without being told to?”

  I glance over at him, and he’s wearing a mischievous look on his face. I don’t say anything to him, but I stick my tongue out at him. I know it’s a childish thing to do, but just because I’m eighteen doesn’t mean I’m done being my father’s son. He just smiles and nods, turning back toward the dining table.

  “Well, ladies and gents, seeing as my son has so graciously volunteered to wash the breakfast dishes, and Becca is taking care of their breakfast, why don’t the rest of us head out onto the water and see if we can’t catch something for our supper tonight?”

  Before anyone can answer, Becca asks, “Where’s Olivia?”

  Amy looks up at Becca, like she’s surprised she asked. “She’s already laying out on the beach. But she’ll be coming with us when we go out on the water, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  I look back over at Becca, who has the most adorable blush creeping onto her cheeks. “I was just wondering, that’s all. I hadn’t seen her at all this morning.”

  I don’t think her mom believes her, if the look she’s giving Becca has anything to say about it, but she leaves it alone. “Well, then, I agree with Robert, let’s head out.” All of our parents get up and bring their dishes over to me, with great big smiles on their faces. Amy is the last one to come over. She leans in, and whispers in my ear, “Take care of my baby girl.” I turn my face toward hers, shocked at the words she’s just spoken to me. She has a sad smile on her face, which confuses me even more. Then I realize she must be as worried about Becca as I am, after what happened with Trip. I wonder if her mom knows more about why Becca finally broke it off with him. I close my mouth, and look at her seriously, then nod once, to show I understand. Her smile grows a little less sad, and she mouths thank you to me.

  Well, if her own mother is willing to trust me with caring for Becca, then maybe I should make a point to take care of her. I mean, here she is, taking care of me, making me a delicious, hearty breakfast, when I could have just had a bowl of cereal, or a bagel, like everyone else. And I can start right now.

  “What else can I do to help you, Becca?”

  She’s moving back and forth between watching the omelets in their pans, and turning over the hash browns. “Nothing really. Unless you want to take out the plates, forks, ketchup, and pour us each a glass of orange juice.”

  “I can do that.” I start opening cupboards and drawers, looking for everything we need so I don’t need to bother her again. I quickly set up our plates, forks, and glasses on the breakfast bar, then head to the fridge for the ketchup and orange juice. I look back over at Becca, but she’s in her own little cooking world. Right before I open the door, I see the cheese, milk, and eggs are all still on the counter. Without asking, I just grab all of them up, and put them back in the fridge, hoping she doesn’t need them anymore, then take the juice and ketchup to the breakfast bar as well.

  I can see the omelets are almost done, so I grab both our plates and walk them over to the stove. Becca must sense me behind her, because she turns to look at me. “I thought I’d bring the plates over so you could just slide them right out of the pan onto the plate.”

  She smiles as she says, “Thank you.” She reaches for the omelet on the back burner. “This one’s yours.” I hold a plate out for her, and once she moves the most perfect omelet I’ve ever seen from the pan to my plate, I set it down on the counter, holding out the other one.

  “You mean they’re different?”

  “Yes. Yours has one more egg than mine. And something else.”

  Hmm… “What is this something else that I have in mine that you don’t have in yours?”

  She doesn’t look at me as she slides her omelet onto her plate. “I guess you’ll have to wait and see.”

  I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I decide to leave it alone. I trust Becca, so whatever extra is in my omelet can’t be too bad.

  She wipes her hands on the towel hanging from the oven, then grabs the pan of hash browns and carries it over to our plates. “Tell me when.”

  When she’s put almost exactly half of them on my plate, I say, “When.”

  “Smart Alec,” she responds, sticking her tongue out at me.

  “Umm, that would be ‘Smart Asher’, Becca.”

  “Oh, just be quiet,” she says, swatting her hand through the air. At least she’s still smiling for me.

  I take my seat, and wait for Becca to put the pan back on the stove and sit down. She pours a ridiculous amount of ketchup all over her hash browns before handing the bottle to me. “Would you like a little hash browns with your ketchup, ma’am?” I smirk at her. I love stirring her up.

  “You know better than to ask that question. The answer is always yes.”

  As I put a little ketchup on my hash browns, I watch her dig into her omelet. She closes her eyes, and breathes deeply, and a small moan escapes her. Well, if it’s that good, I guess I don’t care what she added to mine. I dig into my own food, putting the first bite in my mouth. “Mushrooms!
You added mushrooms to mine, didn’t you?”

  She finishes swallowing before answering. “Yes. You and my father are the only two people in the world that I know who like mushrooms, I swear. So when I saw my parents brought some with, I snuck a few into your omelet.”

  “Seriously, Becca, this is amazing. I could eat this all day, every day, and never get sick of it.” I take a bite of my hash browns and my eyes open wide. “What did you add to these? They’re fantastic!”

  “That’s for me to know, and you to maybe find out. It’s a secret. Not even my family knows. They just know they like it.”

  “Well, I’ll have to find a way to get it out of you. But for now, I’m too hungry, and enjoying this food far too much, to care.”

  Chapter Eight

  Asher

  After we finish eating, we work together to finish up the rest of the dishes and clean up the kitchen.

  “So, mister I-lost-two-games-in-a-row. What are we playing next?” Becca asks as she finishes rinsing the dish rag.

  “Why don’t we take this outside,” I say, hoping I can win the game I am about to suggest.

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “Well, I was thinking we could play a friendly game of corn hole.”

  Becca sort of jumps up and down, clapping her hands. This is the most excited I’ve seen her all weekend. Even more than when we were singing around the campfire last night. “I love corn hole! Although, I have to admit, I’m not very good at it.”

  “Well, all the better for me then. I’d like to win something this week.”

  “Since you’re probably going to win this game, then I’d better hear what it is that you’re playing for.”

  I have a few things in mind, but I’m thinking we should work our way up to those things. I don’t want to scare her off.