Next I was directed to sit down on the bed while Sara produced piles, and I mean piles, of paintings and sketchbooks from a plastic tote stored under the bed. She sat down beside me, flipping on through them, stopping and explaining a few of her favorites in detail, while I watched quietly interested. Roughly half of her total collection were portraits, almost all being girls. Some reminded me of her, some of Kate. The hair and features would always be slightly different and the expressions would vary between serious, sad, thoughtfully shaded, bright and sunny. But the eyes were nearly all familiar in some respect, and all seemed to convey some feeling or another, impressively, I thought. She was brave to share them so openly and eagerly.
“Here’s one of those books I was telling you about,” she said after the art expo, handing me a worn paperback.
“Cool,” I said, studying the cover art.
“I don’t expect you to read it.”
“I might read it someday,” I bent the truth.
“It’s up to you.”
“So now I know what you do when you’re alone over here.”
“I’m kind of a nerd, huh?”
“If it barks like a dog ...”
She hit my arm and took back the book. “Do you like movies?”
“Sure.” I was smiling from the weak slap.
“Wanna watch one?”
“I guess. I don’t really have a plan for the day.”
“Let’s make a fun plan for the day.”
“All right.”
“We’ll start with a movie. It’s more fun watching with someone, don’t you think?”
“I guess.”
“Which house?”
“You pick.”
“I pick your house.”
“What movie?”
“You’ll be sorry if I pick.”
Sara brought her DVD of The Princess Diaries back to our place. After eating a few crackers to settle my stomach, we settled in on the couch and started the movie. Sara brought me up to speed during the opening credits. Good news: there were also books about the princess. Wonderful. My to-read list was swelling even before school started.
We began with both of us sitting. Soon Sara worked her way over so that she was practically lying on me. I tried to watch the movie, but would look down at her sometimes with my eyes without moving my head, smiling at how wrapped up in it she was. It turned out to be one of those pretty-girl-who-is-dressed-badly-and-shocks-everyone-once-they-fix-her-up movies. I really didn’t mind it that much; it was a cute story. Plus, I discovered along the way that I could have great fun by teasing Sara about it, making little jokes and comments to which she’d respond passionately against. I laughed to myself, imagining my old man sitting through such a movie without falling asleep before the halfway point. Home Improvement reruns with the Tool Man was more his speed.
By the end of the movie I was feeling good and happy, and hungry enough to eat a horse. Sara was hungry too. After a short deliberation over lunch options, standing with her arms crossed thoughtfully, Sara froze, brightened with an idea, “Oh!” and quickly sprang out of the house.
I sat up straight, looking after her, thinking the old man had sure called it right with the fiddle string remark. Not long after I heard a rapid tick-tick-tick rattling sound from outside. When Sara bounced through the doorway, she was carrying a box of mac and cheese. Kraft, the good kind.
“Do you mind this?”
“I love it,” I said.
Sara set the table as the macaroni boiled. Because she insisted on cooking it herself, I stood around in the kitchen before taking a seat to wait, smelling it, feeling hungrier by the second. When it was ready, she served it out into the waiting bowls, filling mine higher than hers. I ate my share of the mac fast, sat back and commenced to jealously eyeing her bowl.
“Want another box?” she laughed.
“I guess I should’ve warned you.”
“I can never eat a lot anyway,” she explained, pushing her bowl over to me as she got to her feet. “I’ll go get another one.”
“Hey,” I said firmly.
She stopped in her tracks.
“Before you take off again, check the pantry here.”
Sara found another box, and I was a bowl and a half down by the time she got the second box cooking. Everything was good. I was in a great mood, endlessly hungry and increasingly energized. Sara seemed weightless as she skipped around the kitchen. Nothing was serious. There were no problems or fears, and every little thing seemed to warrant enthusiasm. She ate a small amount of the second batch of mac and relinquished the rest to me. I thanked her gratefully, praising the fact that she prepared it perfectly; the macaroni was soft but not mushy, the consistency not too runny and not too thick.
After lunch I suggested we go out in the boat. It was too nice of a day to spend all of it indoors. “Maybe we can see a loon up close,” I teased. “Clear up the issue.”
Sara laughed, and on her way out the door to go get ready, she stopped suddenly and turned back. “Jake, is this really how every day is for you, so nice like this?”
“What do you mean?”
“You spend your free time doing this laid back stuff. No worries, no stress, just peace and quiet.”
“Weekdays we’re busy, but yeah, the rest of the time we do what we like. It’s pretty laid back around here.”
“You live life your own way. That’s what I was trying to say.”
“Pretty much.”
“I really like that. Just being here this week, I can feel the difference, like I’m more relaxed.”
“That’s good, Sara.”
“Maybe I’m becoming more like you guys.”
“Maybe.”
“Thanks again for watching the movie with me. I had fun.”
“No problem.”
“And for inviting me out in the boat with you.”
“You don’t have to thank me, you know.”
Sara stood there in the doorway, smiling and fidgeting.
“Go get ready,” I finally said. “We’re killing daylight here.”
22
After a few perfect hours on the lake, and successfully spotting several loons, we rowed home. It was after three by then and Kate was back from work, so Sara went in to see her. I went in the house to the kitchen and downed a large glass of water, feeling dry from the sun and the salty macaroni. Once the water settled in, I realized I was hungry again and dug around the fridge for a snack. I decided on building a big cucumber sandwich, adding mayo to each slice of bread before stacking the thin cucumber slices high and evenly on one slice. Then I topped both sides with salt and pepper, pressed it together carefully, sliced it into two triangles, and went out on the porch to eat. I made quick work of the sandwich, brushed off the crumbs, and leaned back in the chair, content. I read more Nick Adams.
When the old man got home that evening, he looked very tired. I helped him unload the truck, he changed, and then we swam out to the big rock. He was relieved to be home and in the cool water, and it made me sorry that he’d labored all day in the heat, after such little rest, while I’d loafed around at home comfortably.
“It’s not your fault,” he told me, almost in a laugh.
“Tomorrow I’m working,” I said. “And Saturday to make up for today.”
“Vacation’s almost up.”
“I need to work.”
“Maybe it would do you some good to take it easy.”
“I feel good and ready to go. Let’s get it done.”
“Don’t get me wrong, I like the attitude, but it’s not been an easy week around here. You could use a little rest.”
“I slept till nine today.”
“Good.”
“So I’m rested. I’ll be ready to go bright and early.”
“If you sleep tonight. That’s a big if, judging by how things have been going.”
“Yeah,” I agreed, thinking. “I don’t know what to do about the sleeping part.”
My old man sh
ook his head.
“Kate must know.”
“She knows it happened once, as far as I know.”
“I don’t have the heart to send her away, Dad. I don’t know if she’d leave even I told her to.”
“No, don’t send her away. If things get too out of control, come get me, but don’t send her away when she’s upset. And while we’re on it … as far as sleeping arrangements, it goes without saying that you’re not to lay a hand on her in any way other—”
“No,” I said. “I—”
He held up his hand. “We understand one another. Let’s leave it.”
“Agreed.”
“Now, as for the work issue …”
“What?”
“Things being as they are around here,” he said slowly, “I was thinking it would be good if you were here with her during the day.”
“So, you don’t want my help?”
“I do, I do. I’m just thinking of her being along so much.”
“I know I’ve been a little soft this week, but—”
“No, not at all. You’ve done great. I’m just asking that you stick around here and keep her company. Keep her occupied till school starts. Might help her keep her mind off things.”
“But there’s so much to do on the job. I should be there while I still can be.”
“We’re on a good pace. And I can get Buck to help if I really need it.”
“If that’s what you want,” I said, looking toward the shore at the little camp. He was genuine about the Sara part, I knew for sure. But also I understood that I’d become unreliable for him on the job, a distraction and a liability. That was the part he wasn’t mentioning.
“Honestly, I’d just feel much better if you were here with her,” he said. “Besides, you’ve got plenty of years for work ahead.”
“Yeah.”
“You did a great job all summer. Helped me make a lot of progress.”
I nodded.
“I mean that. I couldn’t have done so well without you.”
I nodded again, chewing my lip.
“Hear me out. This isn’t a demotion.”
I said nothing, waiting.
“I can’t man two fronts at once. You can understand that. And the bottom line is that I do need your help, in a different way. I’d feel more comfortable if you were here, keeping an eye out on the home front. That way, at work, I can focus on work, because I know you’re capable of keeping a handle on things while I’m gone. You with me?”
“Yeah.”
“You’re not getting benched here, so don’t take it that way. This is important to me.”
“I’ll stay with her,” I said. “She really had fun today.”
“Very good,” he said. “I appreciate it.”
“It’s only a couple days, right?”
“That’s right. Enjoy them while you can.”
“Okay then. I guess it’s settled.”
“It’s no demotion, Jake. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. Remember that.”
“I don’t mind staying with her,” I told him. “I’m getting used to her, actually.”
After coming in from our swim, we headed over to the market for a few groceries, and once back home we had burgers on the grill with potato salad. We ate together on the porch, simple, good food, just the two of us, without a sound around us but the water and the trees. It was all very good and helped to numb the sting of being laid off from work so unexpectedly. It was a beautiful late-summer evening.
23
I was reading Nick again when I heard Sara. From my chair on the porch, I saw her dark shape moving slowly toward the house. I set down the book, coming out of the story fast and into the present sounds of the night around me. A small wind was lightly moving through the tops of the trees, the crickets making their music, and through the living room windows behind me, I could hear the Red Sox game.
“I have something for you,” Sara said near the door.
I got up and held the door open as she stepped up and in, radiating quiet enthusiasm as she passed. Whatever it was that she held, she was working very hard to keep secret.
“What is it?” I asked quietly.
“Something I made for you.” She smiled brightly even in the dark.
“What?” I was trying to see and she was blocking me.
“You have to close your eyes first.”
“Seriously?”
“Yes. Close them.”
I closed my eyes and stood there like an idiot.
“Okay, open.”
I looked. She held it in front of her now so that I could see by the light from the windows. It was a drawing on a black matte, similar to the “Kate” one I’d seen, except this one had my name hidden within the design. I took it in both hands when she handed it over, examining it closely, noticing all the fine details she’d added, colors, shapes, patterns. Looking up to her again, I saw the light reflecting in her shining eyes that betrayed every nerve, every hope within her. She’d poured a great deal of thought into this simple gesture, completely from the heart, crafting it over hours of effort, and now she stood fidgeting and smiling, hanging on my reaction, craving my approval—as if she hadn’t softened me up enough already. Frosty the Snowman would’ve been melting all over Santa’s front steps by then.
“You did this today?”
“Yeah,” she smiled. “I Started this afternoon and finished up tonight.”
“You didn’t have to do that, Sara.”
“I wanted to.”
“Well, it’s really nice. You’re really good.”
“Yeah?”
“Yes, thank you,” I said, holding the drawing aside and hugging her with one arm. She was so excited that it was like trying to hug a mound of shaky jelly.
“It must have taken you hours,” I said, and felt her hop-shrug against me.
“It was fun.”
“I hope you took time for dinner,” I said, stepping back from the hug.
“I did. And a shower. Talked to Mom a bit. Then the rest of the time I was doing this.”
“I’ll take good care of it,” I said thickly. My throat was dry, and I looked down.
“You really like it?”
“I really do,” I told her. More so I was moved by the effort she’d put into it. No one had ever really done that sort of thing for me. And I could see how much it meant to her.
“Will you hang it in your room?”
“Of course I will.” I motioned for her to follow me, and we made our way quietly through the living room, past my sleeping father, up the stairs to my room.
Minutes later I stood back after tacking the drawing to the wall. We had mutually decided that across the room from the foot of my bed was the best location.
“So you really like it?” she asked again, sitting on my bed.
“I do. I’ll even get a frame for it. That way nothing will happen to it.”
“You can keep it forever and think of me whenever you see it.”
“Yeah.” I smiled nervously with my eyes down. I sat down beside her on the bed, unable to say anything more at the time, because my mind was taking off in a whirl, and everything inside me felt unsteady.
The majority of that day I’d spent comfortably detached from any serious thoughts. Now, everything to do with Sara, and Sara and me, piled in on me at once. This girl bubbling at my side had had so much taken from her and so much withheld. Yet somehow she was so ready and so willing to eagerly give away whatever she could. It was far bigger than the drawing. One glance at her standing on the porch holding her creation up to me and I could see the whole picture-being-worth-a-thousand-words scenario glowing on her face. She, in her sweet frailty, was willing to hope, to offer, willing to risk, no matter how it might come back on her, in exchange for my simple approval, and my mediocre company. She was, I realized then, very gently but very thoroughly, overwhelming and overpowering me.
Sara broke the silence. “Is something wrong, Jake?”
“No.”
I looked on at the floor. “I just …”
“You can tell me.”
“I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Is it me?”
“No.”
“You look upset.”
“I’m not upset. Not at all. I’m more … impressed, I guess I should say.”
She looked on at me quietly.
“With you,” I added.
“You mean my picture?”
I shook my head. “I mean, just you in general.”
“What?” She half smiled as I glanced over.
“I don’t know how to say what I’m thinking.”
“It’s only a picture, Jake. You don’t have to take it this seriously.”
I stood up quick then, feeling the room suddenly too stuffy, too warm. “We should go out to the dock,” I said. “It’s such a nice night. And Dad’s trying to sleep.”
Sara eyed me curiously for a moment, then stood and followed me quietly out of the house.
The cool night air revived me nicely as we settled at the end of the dock. We sat swinging our legs over the water, staring at the stars, talking and laughing carelessly that night until it was nearly midnight. Then, like it was an old tried-and-true routine, we went in together without ever acknowledging it. There was an unspoken understanding that, however strange this was, this was how it would be, for as long as she needed it to be.
In my bathroom I put on shorts and a clean T-shirt, and went out and down the hall to my room while Sara took her turn. My bed was a full size, thankfully, and I chose the side nearest to the door. Sara came back in wearing shorts and a tank top, and got in the open side. I reached and switched the light off once she was settled, then rolled and saw her shadowed face in the dark. I could barely keep my eyes open.
“I really appreciate this, Jake.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“You’re awful sweet to me.”
“If you say so.”
“I just wish we’d found you sooner.”
“So do I.”
“Don’t worry. I’m done being sad about it.”
All Things Different Page 12