Incense and Peppermints

by Constantine, Cathrina

  “Wait,” I said, stiffening my shoulders. “You don’t need that.”

  “Its only speed.”

  “Only?”

  “Why, you want it? I’ll give it to you if you want it?” He offered it to me.

  “Yes, I want it.” I took the pill from his fingers and held it in my palm. “Sit down.”

  He obediently sat, but too close. “Well, take it.” His brown eyes lit up with excitement as if it was the foundation of a new relationship.

  “Jesse, I do like you.” I needed to get this over as quickly and as painlessly as possible.

  “I like you too, babe.”

  Oops, not how I should’ve started the conversation. “I mean I like you as a friend. Just a friend. You’re a nice guy.”

  “To hell with nice guys. I don’t want to be a nice guy any more, screw that.” His eyes locked on mine. “Mary, let’s go out. On a real date. It’s not like we haven’t been together.”

  “What’d you mean by that?”

  “My basement isn’t a proper date.”

  “I never came to your house.”

  “Yes you did. I think I’d remember that.”

  “No, Jesse. It wasn’t me.”

  A canopy of conflicting emotions bathed his face. “Mary, you’re messing with my head.” Unsettling his weedy hair by shoving trembling fingers into it, he was visibly perturbed. “We were on my bed making out. We kissed. I know how you feel. It was you.”

  What is he saying?

  “We… We were interrupted.” His face changed into a jumbled contortion. “My dad, I think.”

  “I didn’t come to your house last night.” A sliver of ice rode up my vertebrae. Putnam’s?

  “You didn’t?”

  “No.” I scooched over the bleacher, eliminating the feel of his nearness.

  Temporarily reserved, Jesse’s mouth bloated into a lopsided grin. “It was a far-out fantasy.” He brushed his hands on his thighs. “Do you want to go out tomorrow night?”

  Wow. “Ahhh…”

  “Are you going to take that pill or not?” He broke into my scrambling thoughts, and his appearance altered from nice Jesse to irate Jesse.

  “Give it to me.” He held his hand out.

  One solution came to mine. Get rid of it. I dropped it on the wooden walkway and ground it to smithereens with the toe of my shoe, and powdery dust scampered into the wind.

  “What’s wrong with you? That don’t come cheap.”

  “You’re taking too many drugs. You need to quit.”

  “Do you say that to your brother? Because Steve is just as bad.” Jesse tilted his head, sounding almost coherent. “And you’re so straight-edged?” He emitted a belligerent snort. “Not like you never touch the stuff.”

  Yeah, I was totally double-dealing. Scrutinizing his caving face, I felt a glimmer of remorse. He pocketed his hands, and his shoulders sagged. I kept my sights on Jesse as he slogged along the walkway as if he had a weight pulling him down.

  “Everything okay?”

  I jumped at the sound of Michael’s voice because I was still meting out the dialogue with Jesse. With his helmet stuck under his armpit, he peered at me.

  I gave him a grim nod.

  “It looks like it’s going to pour.” He tipped his head toward the darkening skies. “Do you want to wait for me outside the locker room?”

  “I’d rather not.” Thinking of all the naked jocks, I said, “I can hitch home.”

  “Wait for me in my truck. You’ll have to follow me. I’ll get the keys.”

  I swerved to walk to the end of the bleachers when Michael said, “Jump down onto the field through here. It’ll be quicker.”

  I lowered to the walkway and dangled my legs over the edge and ducked under the rails. While reaching for his shoulders for support, my shirt had ridden up and my unbuttoned jacket breezed open. Michael’s hands clamped my waist, his long, firm fingers touching bare skin.

  My mouth parted with an inaudible gasp. He effortlessly lifted and set me on the grass. After freeing his fingers from my waist, I still felt the presence of his fingers on my skin, and I liked it, too much.

  “What do you weigh, about eighty pounds?” he playfully said, as we meandered along the sidelines to the field house.

  “More than that.” I smiled into his beaming face. “My mom says it’s impolite for a man to ask such questions.”

  “Oh, excuse me, Bambi.” He halted and bowed for effect. “For being so inappropriate.”

  Is he treating me like a kid or is he flirting?

  He absently swiped one of my obnoxious tendrils blowing in the wind. “I like your curly hair.”

  He was flirting, which made my mouth curl all the more.

  I waited outside the doorway while Michael went in to get his keys.

  “Hi, Mary.” Jimmy made an appearance with only a towel wrapping his waist.

  Awkward. Retaining eye contact was intolerable as his wet hair dripped over his face.

  “I saw you sitting on the bleachers. Would you like to go out for a movie one of these nights?”

  “I thought you were dating Carla?” After Jimmy had asked me to the dance, I’d done some digging. He supposedly had asked Carla weeks in advance.

  “Carla and I are good friends.” Jimmy shook his head, not giving me a defined answer. “We go out once in a while. Nothings permanent. You know what I mean?”

  “I think she knows what you mean, Pender,” Michael said formidably from behind.

  “Covington, you’re not any better. You’re with Sorrentino now.”

  Jimmy and Michael were too close for comfort.

  “I took Dee to the dance as a favor.” Michael said. “She asked me.”

  “Oh right, pretty boy. Make sure you’re healed by Saturday for the game.” Jimmy said, giving Michael’s chest a jolt as he walked away.

  Michael winched. It was obvious his fight club exploits had tickled everyone’s ears.

  “Here’s the keys.” He placed them on my opened hand. “Wait for me in the truck.”

  I unlocked the doors to his truck and let myself in. Plugging the key into the ignition, I cranked it to start the radio. Michael had it tuned to WKBW, and a song I loved, “Stand by Me,” was in progress.

  I couldn’t wait until I had my driver’s license. Dad had finally pulled through, and I’d been practicing. Resting my head on the seat, I closed my eyes and recollected the day I’d reversed out of the driveway and jumped the curb. I thought Dad was going to have a conniption, instead he’d chuckled and then burst out laughing, making me laugh.

  Within minutes, the door flew open, and Michael deposited himself onto the vinyl seat. An outdoorsy smell mingled with sweat wafted through the interior.

  “That was quick,” I said, gazing at his long fingers on the steering wheel. Fingers that nimbly snagged a football and fingers that rounded my waist. I felt the ghost of them on my skin still.

  “I’ll take a shower when I get home.”

  “Why? Because you don’t want Coach to see your black and blue body?”

  Sinking his chin, he peered lengthwise at me through feathered lashes. “How does everybody know?”

  “Let’s see.” My eyes drifted to the rooftop and tapped my finger on my lips. “There’s Tom, Steve, and Monty, who’ve probably been blabbing all over town.” Then leveling my sight on him, I counted off with my fingers. “Then there’s Gwen, Candy, and Dee who are anything but closemouthed. That’s some juicy news making the rounds.”

  “Making a spectacle of myself was the furthest thing from my mind. I figured I’d get crushed. It was only a matter of time.” Michael steered from the lot, maneuvering south on Central Boulevard. “Would you like to grab something to eat?”

  I faltered for a second. “Sure, that’d be fine.” The buck
in my pocket was burning a hole there. I could order fries.

  “I know the best place in town that serves homemade meals. You can’t beat it.”

  Michael’s fleeting glance was precious.

  “Did Steve tell your parents that Phoenix is picking him up tomorrow for Washington?”

  “I believe so.” My fingers nervously scraped the thigh of my jeans as I recalled my parents quarreling over the prospect of Stevie’s venture. Then, prying for answers that were none of my business, I blurted, “Are you going with them?”

  “I’d like to, but I have that game on Saturday.”

  A cloud of sentiment shadowed his face, and I leapt to conclusions. Was Michael irked by my brother’s involvement with his Woodstock girls? I adjusted my body so I could peer out the side window and hummed along to the music.

  Cruising in a residential location, I didn’t detect any restaurants. Michael turned onto a street with rows of houses. He drove up a driveway attached to a white house.

  “We’re here.” He switched the gear into park and shouldered out the door.

  I couldn’t move. He brought me to his home? A sense of inadequacy spread through me. I was a hideous mess. After sliding my books onto the front seat, I combed fingers into my hair.

  He creaked open the passenger door. “This is my Aunt Loretta and Uncle Leo’s house. I live here.” He noted my witless obsession with taming my hair. “You look more than good.”

  After a final tug on my hair, I gave up the cause.

  The autumn sky was awash with an amethyst glow, and riding low, a crescent moon. Scraping branches drew my sight to his yard of thick trunked trees and leaves wagging in the wind. Flowerbeds bordered the frame of the house in an array of decay and spindly stems—a reminder of summer. I could only imagine the splendor of his Aunt’s gardens.

  We entered through a sunroom adorned with bamboo furniture. A hurricane lamp was stationed in the center of a coffee table and on the wall were a row of wrought iron hooks to hang coats and whatnots. Michael shrugged out of his jacket and helped me with my coat, pegging it next to his.

  Beyond the door had to be the kitchen because the succulent aroma of roasted chicken was unmistakable. Loathing my insecurity, I stood there, unsure of what to do next. Michael put a hand on my lower back, and I adored the pervading warmth as he guided me in.

  A woman puttering over the stove turned, and her face lit up.

  “Come in, dear. I’m so glad Michael’s finally bringing some of his friends home.”

  She wore a welcoming smile that reached her eyes. Her salt and pepper hair was loosely wound into a bun, and similar to Michael, her southern twang was patent.

  “Aunt Loretta, this is Mary Monroe,” Michael introduced. “I’m going to take a quick shower. Do you mind?” He asked gazing at me.

  “Ah…er…okay.”

  “Go, Michael. I’ll keep Mary company.” His aunt flicked her wrist at him.

  When her eyes cut to mine, I felt visible heat coloring my cheeks. “I hope I’m not intruding.” Skirting her gaze, I counted four place settings on the table.

  “Not at all. Michael called earlier. I knew you were coming.” A smattering of fine lines etched her smiling eyes.

  Michael planned on bringing me home? “May I use your phone to call my mom and let her know where I am?”

  “Certainly, the phone is on the counter.”

  I dreaded making the call, it might end in disaster, especially if Dad answered. Fortunately for me, Mom’s voice came over the line. She sounded excited about a boy taking her daughter home for dinner, although, she didn’t speak for Dad.

  “May I help you, Mrs….?” My tongue stumbled because I didn’t know how to address her.

  “Just call us Aunt Loretta and Uncle Leo. Do you know how to mash potatoes?”

  “Yes.” She set a pot on the counter, along with milk and butter.

  “Who’s this young lady?” said a man’s voice.

  I swerved from the counter to face Uncle Leo. He had silvery short hair, a medium build, and was clad in a white button down shirt, plaid pants, and red suspenders. He appeared older with horizontal grooves denting his forehead, and when he smiled, wrinkles fell from his kind eyes.

  “This is Mary Monroe,” Aunt Loretta said and pivoted back to the stove to stir bubbling gravy.

  “We have a movie star in our kitchen,” he said, jokingly.

  Michael padded onto the linoleum with bare feet, and the room seemed to decrease in size His wet hair was combed away from his forehead and swept behind his ears, revealing the entirety of his trampled face.

  “You’re looking better today,” Uncle Leo said while examining Michael’s face.

  Michael nodded as his mouth pulled into a sardonic curl.

  “I talked to your mom. She said the scouts will definitely be at the game on Saturday.” Aunt Loretta appeared rather despondent as she stared at her nephew. “You sit here, Mary.”

  She began providing the table with savory dishes.

  Michael scuffed out the chair for me to sit. I spied Aunt Loretta’s modest nod and a pleased grin, letting him know she approved. He went around the table to sit opposite of me.

  “Do you think you’ll be able to play,” Uncle Leo asked Michael, spooning carrots onto his plate.

  “Yup, no doubt in my mind.” His downcast eyes flashed to meet mine.

  I noticed a speculative eye exchange between Aunt Loretta and Uncle Leo.

  “Come on children, fill up your plates.” Aunt Loretta passed around dishes of buttery mashed potatoes, glazed carrots, roasted chicken, gravy, and hearty biscuits. “These biscuits are a secret recipe from Michael’s great-grandma. I hope you like them, Mary.”

  “She’ll love ‘em.” Michael answered for me, showing off his dimples.

  Michael insisted on clearing the dishes and shooed his protesting Aunt and Uncle from the kitchen to relax in the living room. Wordlessly, he and I stacked the dishes into the double sinks. A whole new side of a boy I wanted to know better, and then an image of Dee shot to the forefront of my reflections.

  She’ll destroy me. But, at the moment, I didn’t care.

  “That night at the bar, I didn’t mean to ruin things between you and Pender.” Michael said when he was elbow deep in sudsy water. “If you like the guy, I can set it straight.” He didn’t look at me as he scrubbed a plate with the dishcloth.

  First Jesse, and now Jimmy.

  “I wasn’t ready to leave when you wanted me to,” I said and remembered throwing myself at both Jimmy and Michael. That hadn’t been my crowning moment. “I thought you’d left with the girls and my brother.”

  “I did because I was angry. But I came back.”

  “Why?” I picked up another slippery plate and polished it dry.

  “You needed a ride, and I didn’t want Pender…” He didn’t finish.

  “You didn’t want Pender to what?”

  “Pender is one of those guys. You know?” He rinsed suds off a handful of flatware under the faucet.

  “No, I don’t know.”

  The knives and forks clattered together as he dropped them onto the drying rack, and his brilliant eyes fastened on me. “See, that’s the problem, Bambi. You don’t know.”

  “Maybe you could enlighten me then?”

  “Pender likes to kiss and tell. At Monday’s practice, the entire squad would’ve been hearing him gloat about your ride home whether it’s the truth or not. That’s his game.”

  Oh, man. I dodged a bullet of humiliation. “Well then, I guess I should say thank you for coming back for me.” I hadn’t meant to sound feisty.

  “It’s not just that.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I shouldn’t have taken advantage of you either.” His mouth crimped. “I—”

  “Ar
e you trying to say you never meant to kiss me?” My heart plunged. I was losing him even before I had him. “You’re saying kissing me was a big mistake?”

  “Yes…. No.”

  “Make up your mind.” My skin tensed over my cheekbones.

  “You looked so…so vulnerable. And, with what happened at Putnam’s, I wanted to make things right.”

  Is he confessing? I already had myself convinced that it had been Jesse that had hurt me at the party, but now I wasn’t so sure.

  “Make things right in what way?”

  “Every time I think about what might’ve happened that night, I get pissed at myself for not catching the guy. He shouldn’t have slipped through my fingers.” His jaw twitched. “Don’t get me wrong. I wanted to kiss you.” He angled his hip onto the side of the sink, his hands stilled in the soapy water. “I hope you weren’t offended.”

  Offended? Far from it. Unless he was using me, and he had another girl on his mind all along.

  “Is this about Dee?”

  “What about her?”

  “You took her to the dance.” I couldn’t stop the words from spilling out of my mouth. “I heard all about parking at the bus garage. In gaudy detail.”

  “Oh, that.” Retrieving the pan from the stove, he scoured the crud like a battering ram, remaining reticent.

  Irritated, I wiped the flatware until it shined.

  “Okay. Yes.” Strain and guilt racked his face. “We messed around. But I stopped. We stopped.” He shoved a wet hand onto his head, dampening his hair again. “Dee’s—”

  My lips parted to speak, but a clamorous noise filtered from the sunroom instead. A ding-dong sounded, then resolute rapping struck the door. Uncle Leo came in from the other room, brow knitted in concern, and looked over his shoulder at a lagging Aunt Loretta.

  Michael was the first to reach the handle. He’d just touched the knob when a woman burst in, exclaiming. “Surprise, y’all!”

  CHAPTER 19

  An inkling of reserved dread sketched their expressions. And Michael’s hand was affixed on the knob, appearing frozen on the spot with his eyes rounding big as saucers.