Ashes and Ice

by Rochelle Maya Callen

  Matt starts gathering up his stuff and wheezes as he throws his trash away. It takes me a moment to start moving. “Hey, Matt!”

  He peers over his shoulder, “Yeah?”

  “What—what was the text about?”

  He shrugs, “Oh you know, regular ol’ crazy, religious mumbo jumbo.”

  I fall in stride with him. “About what?”

  He leans in and wiggles his eyebrows, “Oh, you know, the apocalypse.”

  Chapter 17

  Jade

  I try. I try for hours. The ferry, a taxi, anything. Every time I get close to the bridge spanning Lake Pontchartrain, I freeze. I run off the boat or beg the taxi to stop before flinging the fare at the driver. It is pathetic. I feel the pull deep in my belly, I have a glow of hope the red door is just across this body of water but my body refuses to cross. I am too terrified, too afraid that, somehow, the lake will rise and swallow me up, leaving me choking, screaming for breath, begging to die because the pain is too much, just like in my dreams. I know it is irrational and every time I call a new taxi out, I build up my confidence to get in the cab and go. Every time we pass the last stop light and to cross the lake, I demand the driver pull over and let me out. The last time I call, the taxi service refuses to send anyone.

  I make my way home where Nanan unleashes her fury on me. I would never have thought such a short, round woman could appear ten times her size and make me feel so tiny.

  She found out about the suspension. “You ain’t been here more than a couple weeks and you go and get kicked outta school? Whatcha be thinking? Hurting some poor thing… no youngin’ in my house gon’ be doing that kind of nonsense. You got yo’self a pretty head, better make sure you keep somethin’ in it. You gonna go back to school on Monday, and I want to see nothin’ but praises on yo’ papers and tests or I will whip yo’ backside with my broom over there, no matter if yo’ got my blood or not!”

  Her rant doesn’t stop until it all the air is gone from her lungs, and man, she has a pair on her. She lets out a big sigh, slumps down into her chair, and looks at me. “Point, darlin’, is that I dunno where you been, but you are here in my house now, and I want you to trust me. Really, I know you kids go and do your mischief, but you got to be straight with me. You gotta tell me what’s goin’ on. You understand?”

  I realize Nanan isn’t mad about my suspension, but because I lied to her. I shouldn’t have… I should not have lied to this woman who opened her arms to me and let me in her house. “I am sorry, Nanan” Shame is an aching feeling, somewhere deep behind my ribs. I bow my head, not wanting to look into her eyes.

  She reaches over and cups my chin. “I know, darlin’. I know.” Then she stands and walks over to the kitchen sink, wiping her hands on her apron before pulling out chopped vegetables from yesterday.

  “That girl you threw down… she deserve it?” Her eyes twinkle.

  I smile back at her, “Well, I sure thought so.”

  She nods, turns away, and starts whistling. While Nanan cooks, I try to focus on her conversation, but I keep drifting off to the thoughts of how pathetic I am, how idiotic it is to be scared of a body of water. Then, I feel guilty for ignoring Nanan when she says, “What you think?” and I have to scramble for some generic answer. She deserves my attention. I wash the dishes and stare at the water, which appears so innocent bursting from a faucet.

  I go upstairs and lay on the mattress, angry with myself. Anger festers inside me, twisting and churning. Cold whispers against my skin and, when the cold comes, the thoughts follow. I grab my pencil and dig deep lines in the paper as I draw the circles, lines, and delicate waves with flares from my wrist. As I retrace the image and draw it over and over, eventually the lines become lighter and more graceful and I’m soothed by the look and feel of them. I breathe in as I guide my fingertip over the curves and slashes—beautiful and strong. When I sit up, I don’t feel angry anymore. I feel centered and focused.

  I will cross the lake. Just not yet. I will be ready soon.

  I sit in the silence touching my chest, but I feel nothing thumping inside. Empty, empty, empty.

  Hours pass before I stand up and go to my window. It’s 2:56pm. Like everything in this small town, there is a predictability I can rely on. Before the thought is complete in my mind, I see him running so fast down the street. It’s different than when he is at school, where he holds himself back and lets his feet pound the pavement without purpose. Now he runs and everything about him is smooth and confident as he makes his way down the road, closing the distance to my house.

  I grab my bag and leap to the bottom of the stairs.

  “Darlin’?” Nanan’s face wrinkles in concern and confusion. “I didn’t hear you coming down.”

  I crinkle my nose. Of course she didn’t. I skipped all of the stairs and landed with a loud smack. “Oh really? Well, I’m in a hurry. See you later!”

  As I close the door, I hear Nanan say, “Oh look! It’s that Devereaux boy. His father was such—” The door’s slam cuts her off.

  “Hello, stranger.” I yell after him just as he passes in front of my house, full speed.

  He looks up and his eyes widen.

  I wave.

  He crashes into Nanan’s garbage can. He winces, crinkling his nose before he finally says, “Hi.”

  “Sorry!”

  “It’s okay. I have a strange fetish for humiliation, apparently.”

  My lip quirks up on one side. He is such a curious, fidgety, delightful thing. He doesn’t look at me and, for a split second, I wonder if my dreams can replay in my eyes and he doesn’t want to see them, but then I remember the curve of his body, his head always down, and I realize he doesn’t really look at anyone. “How was school?”

  “Are you really asking that question?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Well, it sucked.”

  “Glad I missed it then.”

  “Uh, yeah.” He nods slowly. “Listen, if I were you, I would watch out for Courtney. She can make your life a living hell.”

  He has no idea how hellish my life already is or how close Blonde-boobs was to sputtering away beneath my palms. The thought terrifies and enthralls me. I look away. “Noted.”

  “And, uh, thanks for trying to, you know, stick up for me.” He looks to the ground. “You really shouldn’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “If you want to have any kind of social life at Madisonville High, contact with me should be avoided. I’m contagious. You touch, I contaminate, you are rejected from all social circles. It’s like leprosy. Touch and destroy.”

  I walk down the path and stand in front of him. “I’m not looking to get into any elite social circles.” I am hoping for the cold and the nightmares to go away; I am looking for memories; I am looking for… I don’t even know. I don’t tell him any of this, because, right now, I just don’t want him to walk away. “So I think I’ll be just fine.”

  The silence drags its feet between us.

  He clears his throat. “So, um, what did you do today?”

  “Wander around. I was thinking about going into New Orleans, but…” I pause for a moment trying to pick the words. “I had transportation trouble.”

  “Oh really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Well, if you want I could drive you next week.” He shrugs, “I mean if you need a ride.”

  I think about it for a moment. “Um, we’ll see. I’ll let you know. Thanks.” No way am I going to let him see me crumble like that.

  “What are you going to do now?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe rent a movie.”

  He perks up, “Oh really?”

  “Yep. Do you want to pick one out with me?”

  He looks flustered for a minute. “Uh, yeah.”

  “Oh wait!” The predictable rushes to mind. “Nanan has friends coming over tonight… so I don’t have a place to watch one.”

  “Oh, well, um, do you want to see it at my house?”

 
“Sure, sounds good.” I start walking toward the movie store. I think of his light, the beauty and immensity of it. I grab a fistful of his shirt and drag him forward. “Let’s go, slow poke.” I skip into a jog. Before I know it, we are racing. At first, he plays it safe, but after sticking out my tongue at him a few times, he quickens his pace and I see him run like when he is out on the street alone, really running, enjoying it. He doesn’t pull ahead until we are almost to the store. When we get there, we both skid to a stop.

  He flickers gold and green. “Good job.”

  “Thanks.” He’s panting a little bit. When he looks up, he tenses for a moment.

  “What’s wrong?”

  He shifts his eyes away from me and digs his hands into his pockets. “I, uh, have never seen you smile before.”

  Was I smiling? “You’ve seen me smile.”

  “No, like really smile.”

  “Okay…” The word hangs there for a minute. I think of the pulsing glow surrounding him only seconds before, but now gone. “Well, thanks for giving me reason to.”

  He looks confused for a second and is about to say something when I cut him off.

  “All right, mister. It’s movie time.”

  Chapter 18

  Connor

  Something changes, something fundamental, when Jade smiles. Her smile is wide, almost too wide for her face. Her green eyes change from distant, sharp, or amused eyes to vulnerable and sweet. She isn’t just some hot girl, she is a beautiful one and she smiles up at me as if I am the one who made something bubble up within her and spill out across her face. I want to make her smile like that again. I wish I knew how.

  “Question,” I say after replacing the umpteenth movie to the shelf. “Is there any movie you haven’t seen?”

  Jade shrugs and noncommittally pulls out another DVD. “I’ve watched a lot of movies. Just pick one.”

  “Well, what do you like? Action, comedy, romance, horror—”

  “Not horror. I don’t want to watch horror,” she says sharply.

  Definitely not what I was expecting. “Okay, horror is out.”

  Finger dragging on the spines of the movies, she smiles and pulls one out, clutching it in both hands, “This one!”

  I look at it then back at her. Somehow I don’t see how the cover’s wispy, romantic guy and girl wrapped up together could appeal to this hardened, no-nonsense, leather boots chick, but we have been here for almost an hour and she finally seemed interested in something. “Cool. Romantic comedy it is, then.”

  “Oh, wait. Sorry, kind of feminine, huh? We can get an action movie instead. I like those too.”

  “No, this is fine.” I may even learn something from the on-screen romance.

  She links her arm through mine and drags me to the checkout. I can’t help smiling. If I didn’t know better, I would feel closer to having a girlfriend. But I know better, so I don’t. She drops the movie on the counter and waves at the clerk in the far corner.

  “Stephen!” She says, he nearly trips trying to get to us too fast.

  “Hi, Jade.” His voice breaks. He nervously eyes Jade, me, then our linked arms and purses his lips.

  “Hey Steph, I’m here to check out another one. You must be sick of me by now.” She laughs and takes her arm from mine to drum her fingers on the counter. The simple motion makes me feel shut out.

  Stephen smiles back at her, “Nah, we love havin’ you around. You should just move in to the apartment upstairs. It would save you a trip back and forth.”

  Ha! You wish! Slimy, movie-store guy. He doesn’t mention he lives in that apartment. A pang of jealousy rattles me, but I feel Jade touch my arm and the twisting in my stomach dissipates.

  “Connor, do you know Stephen?”

  I nod, “Yeah.” I look up at him. “You graduated last year, right?”

  “Uh-huh.” His voice is edged in annoyance, as if he’s pissed I am included in the conversation. He starts putting the movie in a bag.

  “Oh! We don’t need a bag.” Jade reaches for the movie, but he holds it protectively, just out of reach.

  “Oh, okay.” He hesitates and then slowly hands it over.

  “Thanks!” Jade plucks it out of his hand and pivots to the door, pulling on the sleeve of my shirt to follow her.

  “See you again soon.” He calls out to us. Her.

  “Sure thing.” I say, happy to see the annoyed look on his face as we step out.

  After hearing the ding of the closed door, I turn to Jade. “That guy is totally into you.”

  “What? Stephen. No way.”

  “Yeah. It’s so obvious. He hasn’t asked you out?” My chest tightens waiting for the answer.

  “Naw, you got it all wrong.” She shakes her head, skipping on the stones so her feet don’t touch the cracks. “He just sees me all the time so, you know, we chat sometimes.”

  “What about?”

  “Movies, mostly.”

  Yeah, I’m sure movies aren’t what he’s thinking about when he’s with her. “Cool.”

  We walk in silence for a bit. It’s hot outside, like always, and I notice how the sweat clings to her hair and makes her skin shiny.

  “So, does your family know I’m coming over? Or do your friends always just stop by?”

  I don’t know whether to tell her my mom was giddy when I called her to let her know I was bringing someone home or to tell her I don’t have other friends who would ever just drop by. “Yeah, my mom’s expecting you.”

  She stiffens slightly.

  “You okay?”

  “Absolutely.” She smiles, but she still looks a bit preoccupied. Could she be nervous about meeting my family? I know I am, especially because six out of the seven nights of the week, my uncles are over… and nothing is ever predictable when my uncles are over.

  “Hey guys.” I say as we walk through the door. “We’re home.” The guys—heads down, staring at their poker cards—nod. “Hey Connor.” Grunts and “heys” follow, but all their attention is on the game. Jesse leans back in his chair, balancing on the hind legs of it. “I so got you boys.” He says grinning and throwing a few more chips in the center of the table.

  “That’s what you think, smart ass.” Wade says, matching his bet. “So Connor, you’re home late.” He’s so focused that his brow is furrowed. A telltale sign he’s bluffing. “You actually gettin’ a life or what?”

  I cringe. I was right to be nervous. This is going to be hell. Before I know it, Jade will be looking at naked baby pictures of me. “Uh, actually, Jade and I picked up a movie so we’ll just go upsta—”

  “Who?” Wade looks up, eyes widen, and he sits back in his seat. “Oh, hello!”

  “Hey.” Jesse glances toward us to be polite and quickly returns to his hand. I almost see the leather boots and fishnets register in his mind as his mouth gapes open and he stumbles backward, chair and all. He jumps back up, looks at us nervously, and then back to the table. “Damn chair.” He swallows and sits back down.

  Jade looks away, pressing her lips in a tight line as if she’s stifling laughter.

  “So are you going to introduce us to your friend, Connor?” Harry says in his warm way.

  “I’m Jade.” Jade says smiling, walking up to them. “I’m new at school. Connor is showing me around.” She goes to the table and puts a hand on the back of Jesse’s chair. “Poker, huh?”

  “Yeah.” Jesse sits up straighter, awkwardly.

  “Yep, you play?” Wade asks.

  “Absolutely.” Jade smirks.

  Jesse looks up. His eyes widen, then he swallows. Yeah, I had the same reaction when she smirked at me the first time. I step between them to create an invisible off-limits sign. Jesse, six years older than me, sometimes seems ancient, but right now, the age difference doesn’t seem to exist. And it makes me wary.

  “Connor, do you ever play?”

  I shake my head.

  “Hmm, yet another thing I will have to teach you.”

  “Yep—so let’
s go and let these guys get back to their game.” I try steering her away from the table.

  “I’m Jesse.” He doesn’t shift his gaze away from his cards. It almost looks like he is blushing.

  “Wade.” Wade tips his hat forward and smiles at Jade.

  “I’m Harry, darling.” Harry says. “Now if our boy goes on misbehavin’ you just let us know ya’ hear?”

  “Oh, I will,” she says, punching my shoulder.

  “All right, movie time!” I say. The dining room suddenly seems stifling.

  I herd her upstairs, before stopping on the creaky step. “Hey, Harry, where’s Ma?”

  “Oh she went to New Orleans. She’ll be back late. She know you have company?”

  “Let the boy be, Harry. If his momma don’t know, then he’s up to no good. And if he’s up to no good, I’m proud as hell.” Wade winks at me.

  I feel as though I’ve been run over by a tractor. “Shut up, Wade. And yeah, Harry. She knows.” I dash upstairs, grateful that Jade seems preoccupied with all the photos hanging in the hallway.

  “This one’s you, right?” She traces the browning photo’s edges.

  “Uh, no. That’s my dad when he was, I dunno, seven.” I do know. I know every detail about when that photo was taken. I remember when Grandma hunched over laughing with gumbo on the stove as she told the story. And like everything that had something to do with dad, it was precious to me.

  She looks at me, suddenly serious. “You look just like him, you know.”

  “People say that.”

  We are silent for a minute.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What for?”

  “I’m sorry that he’s not—with you—anymore.”

  I’m taken back. “I, uh, well, you know, it was, a while—”

  “Don’t do that.”

  “What?”

  “Lie.” She steps closer to the picture, studying it, and then looks at me. “People always say things to cover up how they really feel. Like they don’t want to burden anyone by being too happy, too surprised, too stressed, too… sad.” Her eyes are gentle. I’m not sure if it’s because of the softness in her eyes or how I feel that she can pull tears right out from me. My heart skips a beat. I swallow the dryness in my throat. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I touch the photo. “I miss him. It’s still hard. On everyone—you know.”