by Jay McLean
“So what you’re saying is I should do what Hunter did and propose to your crazy ass.”
She laughs again and throws her arm around my shoulder… then gets me in a headlock and starts ruffling my hair. I wriggle out of her hold and stand in front of her. All joking aside, I say, “Thank you, Chloe.”
“You’re welcome.”
I tug a strand of her short hair. “And I’m kidding—about the bitch thing, kind of. You’re just lucky you’re beautiful.”
She pouts. “I have a feeling you’ll be fine, Warden.”
I nod and shove my hands in my pockets.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“What?”
“Don’t just stand there! Go get your girl.”
“Now?”
“I got Tommy. You got time. What you don’t have is excuses. Go!”
11
-Becca-
secret
ˈsiːkrɪt/
adjective
not known or seen or not meant to be known or seen by others.
Josh’s voice filters from downstairs up to my room and I sit up slightly—afraid he’s going to be at my door at any moment. But it’s not him that comes. It’s Grams. She’s holding a box, smiling like the Cheshire cat. “Joshua just dropped this off for you,” she says, setting it on my bed by my feet. She slowly backs out of the room, her eyes shifting from me to the box and I can’t help but smile. I raise my hand and wave for her to sit down on the bed. Her smile widens as she picks up the box and hands it to me. “What could it be?” she says, rubbing her hands together.
I wonder if this is what it’s supposed to feel like—to have someone in your life who shares your excitement and your fears and your secrets.
I look down at the box, but there’s no writing or labels that indicate what it might it be.
“Open it,” Grams encourages, tapping the envelope that’s taped to the box. I do as she asks and pull out the note.
You know what comes after you kick and push?
You coast.
Coast with me, Emerald Eyes?
I cover my smile with my hand and drop my chin to my chest, hiding my blush.
“Are you going to open it?” Grams asks.
I nod, lifting the lid on the box.
It’s a bright green skateboard.
My very own skateboard.
I look up at Grams, unable to contain my grin. Then I realize I’m shaking and I have no idea why. “It’s a beautiful day out,” she says.
And before I know it I’m out of bed, changing my clothes, grabbing my skateboard and running down the stairs. I stop half way and run back up to Grams. She’s waiting at the top with my camera bag in her hand. I thank her—actually say the words thank you—but that’s not why I came back. I hug her with one arm, my body buzzing with excitement. She hugs me back. “Praise Jesus, what a blessed day,” she murmurs.
I practically run out of the house and toward his apartment, skateboard under my arm. Before I get to his stairs, I hear Tommy yell my name from the yard and my gaze snaps to him and Josh and… my heart drops to my stomach.
Josh walks toward me, his smile wide but I can’t move.
I can’t think.
I can’t pull my mind off the beautiful girl standing next to Tommy.
Josh’s smile fades as he approaches. “Becca?” he says, but I still can’t move. I can’t breathe. His hands are on my shoulders now and his face is in my vision and for some reason I want to punch him. And puke. And if I could do both at the same time I probably would.
“Come meet Chloe,” he says. “My best friend’s wife.”
“So do you really like it?” he asks, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on my leg.
I look down, feeling the warmth of his touch spread across my skin. “I love it, Josh. Really.”
“Good. That’s good. I mean, it’s lame, because I’m giving you something that’s kind of my thing, but I don’t know. I kind of want to share something with you, you know? And maybe next weekend we can do something with your photography?”
I face him. “You want to learn about it?”
“I want to learn everything about you, Becca.”
My breath catches.
He adds, “Well, as much as you want to share…”
Ten minutes later we’re pulling into a skate park. Once he’s parked, he turns to me and rolls his shoulders. “Ready to skate?”
“Ready to try not to suck at skating? Yeah.”
The second I’m out of the truck, he takes my hand and leads me to the path alongside the concrete playground. “Drop your board,” he says, and I carefully place it on the ground. For some reason, this makes him laugh. “Boards are durable, Becs. You don’t need to be so gentle.”
I look up, one eye squinting against the sun behind him. “But it’s so pretty and perfect.”
He smiles at that, his hand curling around my neck and his lips lowering to mine. He stops an inch away from my mouth. “You know what else is pretty and perfect?” he says, his voice husky. “You.” And then he kisses me. Just once. But it’s more than enough. He pulls back and taps my foot with his. “Get on.”
So I do, trying to remember how to place my feet from the last time he showed me. Once I’m settled, he grasps my waist and walks beside me, rolling me along. I ignore how his touch makes me feel and concentrate on trying to keep myself steady on the board. “Relax, Becca, I got you.”
Relax, he says, like it’s that easy. If only he knew that he’s the reason I can’t relax. That it’s his presence causing my feet to wobble. His touch causing me to tense. His breaths on my cheek preventing my own breaths from forming. We get about ten feet before I hear, “Well, well, if it isn't Joshua Warden!” I look to the guy standing right behind Josh.
Josh moans and rolls his eyes at the same time. Without turning around, he says, “I’m a little busy here, dude.”
“Sorry,” the guy says, kicking his board and holding the end of it like I’d seen Josh do a few times. “I just wanted to see if it was you.”
Josh straightens and turns to him. “Do I know you?”
The guy shakes his head. “No man, but I know you. I used to watch you skate this park when I was a kid. It's good to see you back around. You doing any comps?”
Josh shrugs. “Nah. I gave that up a few years back.”
“Sucks. I mean it's a shame.” The guy’s gaze shifts to me. “Have you seen him skate?”
I shake my head.
“I have these videos I took of him when I was, like, thirteen.” He looks back at Josh. “You were fifteen I think, doing shit that the pros do and you did it so effortlessly. I still have them if you want me to email them to you.”
“I'm good,” Josh answers quickly.
“Right,” the guy says, nodding. “Well, my buddies and I are on the half-pipe. I was telling them about your mad skills, but they didn't believe me. I kind of made a wager…”
“A wager?” Josh quirks an eyebrow. “What do you win?”
“A Benjamin.”
“And what do I have to do?”
The guy laughs. “Just show off, I guess.”
“What do I get?”
“Dude.” The guy takes a step back. “You can keep the hundred. Hell, I'd pay a hundred to watch you in action.”
Josh looks over at me. “What do you think, Becca?”
I just shrug, my eyes wide.
Laughing, he helps me off the board and holds me to him. To the random guy, he says, “I'll get my gear.”
He gets his gear.
I get my camera.
We climb the ladder to the top of what I’ve been told is a half-pipe. Josh helps me to sit on the landing, my legs dangling off the edge. For the first half hour of watching him I ignore the camera in my hand. What he’s doing—what I’ve been witnessing—deserves to be seen with my own eyes and not through the lens of a camera. It isn't until the random guy from earlier, who introduced himself as Chris, sits dow
n next to me and asks if I’ve been getting any good shots that I finally start snapping away.
“He's amazing, right?” Chris says.
I nod.
“Do you know what happened to him?”
I set the camera on my lap and face Chris, my eyebrows raised.
“Josh—he was like a God amongst men out here. Rumor had it he had sponsors knocking on his door and then one day he just disappeared. People thought he'd died.” Chris laughs. “For a year or so people had sworn they'd seen him out here in the dead of night. He was his own urban legend.”
I look away from him and back to Josh as he skates to the top of the half pipe, stands upside down on one hand—his feet in the air—as he holds the board. I gasp loudly. Chris nudges my side. “This is child's play for Joshua's skill level. Don't worry, he's all good.”
Somehow, Josh lands perfectly back on the pipe, eliciting cheers from the people watching.
“So?” Chris asks, pulling my attention away from Josh. “Do you know what happened?”
I shrug and press my lips tight.
Josh skates toward us, doing one more trick and then swiftly turning at the top of the pipe and sitting down on the other side of me, grabbing his board as he does. “We gotta get going.”
“Thanks man,” Chris says, offering Josh the hundred he promised.
Standing up, Josh raises his hands. “All good man. Keep it.”
Once we were back in his truck and driving away, I ask Josh, “You didn't want the money?”
He shakes his head.
“Does that happen often? People paying you to skate?”
He shrugs. “In another life. One I don’t really want to talk about.”
★★★
He takes us to a hole in the wall restaurant; literally a door into a basement restaurant that I would’ve never known was there. We eat in silence because I can tell his mind is elsewhere and I don’t want to ask the wrong questions even though my thoughts are racing with them. He settles his hand on the table between us—his palm up. I place my hand in his the same time he says, “Sorry. I’ve kind of killed the mood haven’t I?”
I shake my head and smile at him.
“That guy—Chris—I remember him from way back. I remember he used to follow me around with his camcorder telling everyone he was recording history in the making. But like I said, it was another life for me and not one that I like to look back on or think about.”
“Because you gave it up for Tommy?”
His gaze moves to somewhere behind me, somewhere far, far away. “It’s just skating, right? It’s no big deal.”
“It is if it’s something you love,” I say quietly.
With a sigh, he looks back at me. “There are some sacrifices greater than love. And some loves greater than any sacrifice. Tommy’s greater than both.”
My gaze drops and I try to ignore the ache in my chest—the one caused by envy.
He picks up my hand and kisses my palm. “Let’s get out of here.”
★★★
Josh drives a few minutes to the same basketball court from yesterday.
“This is my playground,” he tells me. “My safe place.”
I stay silent as he leads me to the middle of the court and sits down, tugging on my arm for me to do the same. I sit opposite him, my legs crossed. He scoots closer and settles his hands on my thighs. Then he just stares at me, his eyes on mine, and I haven’t felt so open and so vulnerable since when my mother used to look at me that way. I wait for him to look away—to be the first to break. And just like my mother, he doesn’t. Instead, he asks a question worthy of a thousand answers. “Do you have a safe place, Becca?”
I release a shaky breath, but I can’t seem to look away. “Yes,” I whisper. And I hesitate, just for a moment, from telling him the truth. “You.”
He doesn’t respond, not with words, but he brings me closer and holds me to him. Seconds, minutes, hours pass—I have no idea. When he finally releases me, he takes out his phone, taps it a few times, waits for a song to start and then puts it on the ground between us. Then, with his hand holding one of mine, he lies down flat on the ground and I do the same.
So here we are, lying side by side, hand in hand, listening to music on the middle of a basketball court with nothing but darkness surrounding us and I swear it, my world has never looked so bright.
“Becca?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m going to ask you something, and if you don’t want to answer, just tell me okay?”
“Okay,” I say, my heart aching from the beat it just skipped. I pray and I beg; please, please, don’t ask me about her.
“Do you not like being touched because you’ve been hurt? Because someone has hurt you before?”
Tears form in my eyes just as fast as the lump rises to my throat. I hold my breath, hoping he can’t hear the sob forcing its way out of me. Silence fills the air as one song ends and another starts and I still can’t find it in me to answer. I feel him shift next to me and suddenly his face is in my vision, looking down at me. I can see the concern in his eyes, matching the tears in mine and I start to shake, because everything inside me is fighting, clawing its way out, trying to get free and I can’t—
I can’t let it happen.
I release my breath, my sob, and my tears all at once.
“Baby,” he whispers, wiping the tears off the side of my face.
And then he’s gone, back to lying next to me, his hand still holding mine but now his touch is different.
It’s tighter—as if he’s scared to let go.
“You never have to be afraid of me, Becca, I’ll never hurt you. And as long as I’m around, no one else will either.”
12
-Joshua-
Two weeks.
That’s how long it’s been since I’d asked Becca to coast with me.
And we have been.
Kind of.
We spend a lot of time together but mainly when Tommy’s around. We sneak in the occasional touch, steal the occasional glance, but as soon as Tommy’s bedtime comes around she chooses to leave, giving me a quick, chaste kiss and the next day we repeat the process.
It’s like she’s reluctant to take the next step. Of course I’ve wondered if it’s because of what happened when I took her to the half-court… or if she’s afraid of getting too close and doing what Chloe had said—pushing me away. I’ve tried plenty of times to think of a way to bring it up but every time I build the courage to actually do something it’s like she can sense it somehow and she focuses all her attention on Tommy.
So for two weeks I’ve been stuck in this weird limbo of kind of dating a girl sometimes maybe.
Fuck, that doesn’t even make sense.
Yesterday, Chazarae managed to pull me aside while Tommy and Becca were playing in the sandpit. “It’s Becca’s birthday tomorrow,” she said, and my mind went into frenzy—because ask any guy, even those like me who’ve never technically been in a serious relationship: Girls and birthdays are the worst.
Especially if you have no idea where you actually stand with said girl.
And, even more so if you only have a day to work it out.
So I do what anyone in my situation would do—I call the closest thing I have to a friend who’s a girl: Chloe. She doesn’t answer. Which means I only have one other choice. Reluctantly, I call Kim. She gives me ideas. They aren’t great but they’ll have to do.
★★★
Becca’s eyes light up; matching the candles burning atop the camera cake Tommy and I had made her. Kim had sent me the link with instructions. I sent her a picture of the cake when it was close to completion. She wrote back: www.pinterestfail.com.
My aunt’s a smartass.
“You made me a camera cake?” Becca whispers, her gaze darting between Tommy and I.
“Tommy made the cake. I was just the funds behind the grand operation. Right, bud?”
His little eyes move from me to the cake, his sm
ile huge as he watches the candles flicker.
Becca gets out of her chair and hands her grams the camera. Then she picks up Tommy and sits down next to me with him on her lap—one hand on his stomach, holding him in place, the other on my leg. She leans down to Tommy’s ear, “Ready, buddy?”
He doesn’t reply—just sucks in a whopping breath and blows until all air leaves his lungs. And then he does it again. And after that, I don’t really know what happens because Becca’s watching me and I’m watching her and the world has stopped and the room’s hot and her eyes drift shut and somehow I find myself leaning in and just as my lips are about to touch hers, the snap of the camera brings me back down to earth and to the vision of Tommy sitting on Becca’s lap—his face buried in the cake.
Becca snorts with laughter and scoots back in her seat to get him away from the cake while Chaz giggles and fusses in the kitchen—I assume to get something to clean him up. She comes back with a wet dishcloth and starts wiping at his face. “I want a copy of that picture,” she says, looking between Becca and I.
Chazarae’s attempt to clean up Tommy with a dishcloth is a fail the moment he decides his hands and feet want the same fate as his face. The cake’s a goner, but no one seems to mind.
★★★
“Grams has him in the bath,” Becca says, stepping out of the house and sitting down next to me on porch steps. She lifts her gaze and smiles as she looks up at the stars. “This was a great birthday, Josh. Thanks for spending it with me.”
“I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.”
She turns to me, bringing her smile with her—only now it’s wider and aimed at me.
“I got you something,” I tell her, reaching into my pocket and pulling out the little green bag. “It’s not anything special but I didn’t really have much notice.”
Her eyebrows pinch and her eyes move from the bag to me. “But you made me the cake.”
I hand her the bag and shrug at the same time. “Yeah, but this is something you can keep.”