by Leddy Harper
His loud roar of amusement echoed through the yard, bouncing off his house behind us and filling me with peace. “I’m pretty sure if that happened, that means they already had issues long before I took my shirt off. But my main concern right now is your messed-up view of marriages. I think you should seek professional help.”
“Me? I need help? Dude, you named your dog Lassie. And you were shirtless outside when the temperature is like sixty degrees. I could go on, but I’ll leave it at that. If anyone needs a psyche eval, it’s you.” I had no idea if the way we joked with one another could be considered normal friend behavior, but it was exactly the way I wanted it. Snickering and teasing with him this way brought me happiness, so it didn’t matter if it was normal, or could be perceived as flirting. All that mattered was that it was us. It came natural, easy, and it made me happy.
“Did you seriously just call me ‘dude’? And yes, I named my dog Lassie. You’ll be the jealous one when she rescues a boy named Timmy from a well. It could happen, and you’ll be the first to tell me how awesome that is. As for me not wearing a shirt outside? I was doing hard labor in the yard. I got hot and started to sweat. Have you ever worn sweaty clothes in cool weather? It sucks. So I took it off to cool down without having a cold, damp shirt stuck to my skin. It’s not crazy, it happens.”
I loved how he could give it right back to me. He’d act offended and become defensive, yet when I focused on his lips, I could see him strain to keep them straight. And his eyes…they sparkled with humor, shining bright blue even though they were slightly squinted, causing the edges to crease while he fought off his laughter. Those were the images I pictured when we talked on the phone. When he’d argue some invalid point with me, or defend his improper grammar. I knew what he looked like even without being in front of him. Was this normal?
“Hard labor, huh? What were you doing, watching the grass grow?”
“I’ll have you know, I’ve been planting things on the side of the house.”
“You own this house?” I had no idea why the thought of him purchasing his own home caught me off guard, but it did. Maybe because he was young, and I’d always imagined people only bought homes when they settled down permanently, got a little bit older, and started a family. Axel didn’t seem to be there yet. Or at least I didn’t think he was.
“No. I’m renting, but I love landscaping. My dad did it, owned his own lawn-care company. I used to help him out when I was younger, and during the summers in college.” He shrugged, showing a hint of his own insecurity for the first time. I’d never pictured him as having any kind of self-doubt before, but it was nice to see. It reminded me that he was human, normal, not that different from me.
“Well, I don’t want to keep you from it. Enjoy digging holes.” I winked at him and turned around, prepared to head back to my house.
“You’re welcome to stay if you want.”
I peered over my shoulder at him. “I have a brown thumb, I’m sure you don’t want me anywhere near your flowers. But thanks for the offer. I’d only get in your way and make you redo it all again, anyway.”
His nose wrinkled and his top lip pulled up in disgust. “They’re not flowers. They’re shrubbery. Very big difference. And you don’t have to help. You could just sit there and keep me company.”
I squared my shoulders and tilted my head to the side, debating if I should question him or not. “What you said earlier…about me being here and the neighbors catching us…”
“I’m sure if they’re going to say something, it’ll be about our argument, not about you watching me work on my landscape. We were sort of wrapped up in a moment back there—me grabbing you, you touching me, depending on the angle, I’m sure we looked like we were kissing with as close as our faces were. If someone’s going to say something, they already have the ammunition. We might have a chance at redemption if they see us how we normally are. But it’s up to you. I don’t want to keep you here if you—”
“I’ll stay,” I said with a smile, cutting him off before I changed my mind and ran back to my house. More than likely, my mom had already gone, so my choice was between an empty, lonely house, or my best friend’s—my only friend’s—company.
I’d choose Axel every time.
I followed him to the side yard where his tools rested against the house. I sat in the grass near where he worked, and pulled my book from my pocket, attempting to read while he dug holes and filled them with small, leafy-looking plants.
“Why are you planting things in the winter? Doesn’t it defeat the purpose if they’re just going to die anyway?”
He wiped his brow with the back of his arm and turned to me. “No, actually, winter is a good time to plant shrubs. Flowers not so much, but trees and shrubbery do very well planted this time of year. They thrive better, and have a greater chance of survival against unpredictable summer weather. People don’t realize this, and plant them during the hot months. The heat tends to kill them before they have a chance to take root and grow.”
With my eyebrows raised, I nodded slowly, amazed at his confidence. “You’re chock full of useless knowledge, aren’t you?”
He’d already returned his attention to the hole in front of him, but I could see his shoulders bounce with his laughter. “Call it useless all you want, Bree, but one day, you’ll look back on this and thank me for my knowledge. What I’ve taught you today could possibly save your future shrubs.”
After about five minutes of silence, I bit my lip, curiosity getting the best of me. Questions had come to my mind since stumbling upon his house earlier, things I suddenly had interest in knowing, but feared his reaction if I were to quiz him. We had an easy friendship going, and I never hesitated to talk about things with him, but the questions that plagued the tip of my tongue were far more personal than anything we’d ever discussed before. I tried to hold back, yet the longer the silence spread between us, the more the pressure built to say something. Anything. And the more I thought about talking, the louder the questions became in my head.
“So, do you remember that day when Rebecca asked you about the picture on your desk?” I practically blurted it out as I yanked on blades of dry grass from the ground.
He stilled and tilted his head to the sky, keeping his back to me. After a moment, he returned to his task and shook his head. “No, not really. What did she ask about it?”
“She wanted to know if it was a picture of your girlfriend…or wife.”
“Oh, yeah. I remember. What about it?”
“Well, you didn’t really answer her question, you just said it was somebody you cared about a lot.”
He glanced over his shoulder and wagged his eyebrows in my direction. “Let me guess…you want to know the answer?”
I shrugged, giving him a noncommittal answer out of not wanting to sound as desperate as Rebecca.
“Have you seen the picture she was talking about, Bree?”
I continued to pluck away at the grass near my crossed legs, trying my best to appear nonchalant. “No. I don’t really pay that much attention to the things on your desk. Actually, now that I’m thinking about it, I don’t think I’ve ever been on the other side of your desk to even see what you have on it. I always see it from the front, from my seat.”
His shoulders bounced again with a silent chuckle, and the sight of his relaxed attitude over my question succeeded in calming my nerves. “If you had seen the picture, you’d know the answer. It’s my sister.”
“Let me guess. Her name is Rose.”
Axel released a rumbling laugh. “No, even my mom thought that would sound ridiculous. Her name is Tracii.” He twisted his upper body and faced me. “Since you have zero knowledge about good music, I’ll explain. My parents caught some of their early performances before they hit it big. That’s how my mom fell in love with them. Guns N’ Roses was actually formed by Axl Rose and Tracii Guns…hence the name. But Tracii left the band very early on, and was replaced with Slash. I don’t think my mom really fol
lowed Tracii, but she thought it would be cool to name us after the band, regardless of who the guitarist was.”
“Your mom sounds like a clever individual. But why would she name your sister after the member that left? Doesn’t that kind of seem like a bad omen or something?”
He continued to watch me as we talked. “You know, I asked her the same thing once. She told me that it’s always important to know where you start. Where your beginning was. She thought it was symbolic. And just like the original Tracii and Axl, who both went their own ways, she wanted us to be individuals. She wanted us to know where we came from, but not be afraid to grow into our own.”
“Is Tracii younger than you?”
He turned back around to keep working as he explained. “We’re actually twins. She’s seven minutes older than me. We look alike, except she colors her hair, so hers is considerably lighter than mine. But we have the same eyes, same nose, same facial expressions…well, my smile is better. We both had braces when we were younger. I wore my retainer like I was supposed to and she didn’t. But our personalities couldn’t be more different. She’s stubborn and hardheaded, argumentative and abrasive at times. Heart the size of Texas, but damn, don’t ever find yourself on her bad side.”
“I’ll remember that when I meet her,” I said sarcastically, lost in the sound of his voice while I fidgeted with the grass. The grin on my face fell when I glanced up, wondering why he’d gone silent. I found him sitting on his bottom, turned around to face me with a serious expression on his face. I couldn’t read the lines in his forehead or understand the concentrated look in his eyes. “What? What did I say?”
“Nothing.” He shook his head, the stiffness in his shoulders relaxing some. “Would you like to meet my sister?”
“What? No. Why would I want to do that?”
“Well, you mentioned something about meeting her.”
“I was being facetious. You told me not to get on her bad side, so I mockingly replied I’d keep that in mind. Why would I want to meet your sister?” Out of all the possible scenarios that ran through my mind of his reaction to my question, not one of them came close to this.
“I don’t know. I’ve never had a female friend before. If you were a guy, I’m sure there would be a time when you’d meet my family. We’re really close. Wait…no. If you were a guy, there’d be no way in hell I’d let you meet my sister. Apparently, the bro code is mythical, because all my friends growing up never thought twice before hitting on her.”
“What about your friend Danny? Did he hit on her, too?”
“Not back then. He never thought he deserved her. His self-esteem was really low, no thanks to his asshole of a father. But they were friends. Now they’re married and expecting their first child this summer.” He spoke while working, apparently comfortable discussing things again.
“That didn’t piss you off?”
“Hell no. He’s a great guy, the best. And she’s exactly what he needed. They’re perfect for each other. Couldn’t be happier.” He stopped again to look back at me over his shoulder before continuing. “I really think you’d like them. You remind me a lot of my sister, only not as bitchy.”
“You’re confusing me again, Axel. Do you want me to meet your sister—your family—or not? Because I kind of need to know what’s going on before more questions fill my head.”
“I don’t know, Bree. I didn’t say I want to take you to my family dinner, just that I think you’d get along with her. And what questions do you mean?” He seemed to be rapidly growing irritated, and that’s not at all what I wanted to happen.
I became embarrassed for some reason, and had to take a moment to sort through my thoughts. His attitude sort of came out of nowhere, taking me by surprise, as if the wind had been knocked out of me. “Well, for starters, you said a lot of stuff today that kinda has my head spinning. Like when you told me how you look forward to my calls, and seeing me in the mornings is the highlight of your day.” My heart rate sped up the more I chattered on. Nervous didn’t even begin to describe how I felt opening this can of worms. This conversation could go very bad, very quickly. But I’d already opened my mouth, so I couldn’t stop now. “Your words were that if I ever came by, you’d never turn me away. You’d invite me in. Now you’re talking about how I’d get along with your family. What does that mean?”
He dropped his head into his hands, getting dirt on his face but not seeming to care one bit. His elbows rested on his bent knees as he worked his fingers through hair before fisting it and letting out a frustrated grunt. “I can’t explain it, Bree. You claim it has your head spinning. Why don’t you tell me what you think I mean by it?”
“That’s not fair. I’m not the one who said those things to begin with. How am I supposed to know what you meant by it? I mean, you say that it’s a bad idea for me to be here, yet here I am. And I’m only here because you insisted that I stay. After telling me I have no business being at your house. Talk about mixed signals.”
His arms fell away as he turned his face toward the sky. I’d seen many sides of Axel Taylor over the almost four weeks I’d known him. I’d witnessed many different emotions from him over the last two and a half weeks since we’d started communicating regularly. But the version of him in front of me was something new. Instead of strength and confidence, I saw weakness and doubt. Instead of anger or control, he seemed lost and powerless. Instead of the man I’d grown accustomed to, a little boy sat in his place, and it made me want to go to him, hold him, and comfort him the same way he’d done for me so many times before. But before I could move toward him, he dropped his head and locked eyes with mine, silently begging me to respond. It was as if he feared his own words, and needed me to fill the silence.
So I did. “Axel, you’re the one that drew the lines of this friendship in the sand. You reiterated how important it was that I didn’t develop feelings for you. It’s unethical and wrong…remember? You said that. You didn’t want me thinking too much into things, because it would make everything complicated and confusing. I’ve done my part. I haven’t blurred or crossed any lines. I’ve never overstepped the boundaries of this friendship. So yeah, this has my head spinning because I don’t know where it came from. I have no idea what happened or when. So I’m asking you to clarify it for me.”
“I can’t,” he choked out, his voice nearly giving in under the strain of his abundant emotions. “You’re right. I said all those things to you. And you’ve done everything I’ve asked. You’ve followed all the rules. I’m the one that failed you. I’m the one that underestimated everything.”
“What does that mean?” I shouted, at the end of my metaphorical rope.
“I can’t explain it!” His voice rose to meet mine as his fisted hands punched into the grass beside him. “I can’t tell you, Bree. Read between the damn lines. You shouldn’t be here, but I can’t stand the thought of you leaving. There’s not a single reason why we should spend an hour on the phone each night together, but I can’t imagine going to bed without hearing your voice. It doesn’t matter that we’ve remained platonic, or that we’ve set ground rules and have stuck by them, because no matter how you look at it, what we’re doing is still unethical. I’m your teacher. You’re my student. Our interaction should begin and end with the bell. No matter how you spin it, this is wrong. And it’s eating me alive.
“When you’re my age, starting a career in high school education, you’re warned at every turn about this. About falling for a student. About getting involved with someone in your care. You’re reminded time and time again about the laws, the legal actions that can be taken against you when it comes to minors. I knew all this going into my job. I knew this when you caught my eye on the first day of class. I reminded myself of this when I gave you my number. And again at the library. Once more when I drove you home from school. I chanted it to myself over and over again when I got out of my Jeep and walked you inside your house. But then I covered you with a blanket. I saw that look in your eyes,
the one that told me you’d never had that before. It told me that I had given you something you’d cherish. And the voice in my head started to quiet down.
“I made you soup. I didn’t make it for your mom, because if it were up to me, I’d tell her to make her own damn dinner. I did it for you. You needed someone to take care of you, and so I shut that voice down because I wanted to be that person for you. You deserved it. Even just for one day, just for one moment, I wanted to be the one that gave you peace. To ease some of the stress from your life. To take some of the burden off your shoulders. I never intended it to go beyond that day. I went and got you medicine, because sure, you needed it, but also because I desperately needed you to get better. I figured if you got better, you’d go back to handling things on your own, and I wouldn’t feel this overwhelming need to care for you anymore.”
Tears filled my eyes, ran down my cheeks, and plummeted to my lap. The pain in his voice ran throughout my entire body, burning me from the inside out. But I was helpless to do anything about it. Shocked, stunned, completely flabbergasted over his impassioned confession, I found myself rooted to the grass, too weak to move, too overcome with emotion to speak, and too affected by his words to breathe properly. I was powerless to stop it. I had to sit there, forced into silence by my reaction to this new revelation, and endure the bashing my heart took by each and every word he spit at me. He may have sounded angry as he exposed his feelings to me, but I knew the truth. He wasn’t mad at me. His rage was directed at himself. Yet at that moment, hearing his raw pain, knowledge didn’t mean shit.
It didn’t protect my heart from breaking.
It didn’t stop my tears from spilling.
And it didn’t prevent me from falling to pieces in front of him.
Axel took a breath before continuing. “I told myself after leaving your house that day that I’d done my part. I took care of you. But I found myself thinking about you. About what you said as to why you were sick. About what your mom did to you. And it ate at me. I went to work the next day, and stared hopelessly at your empty seat. I wondered what you were doing, how you were feeling, if you needed me. You consumed my every thought until I made the rash decision to go see you. I wanted to call you, but knew you didn’t have a phone, so I got you one. Yes, I wanted you to have it in case of emergencies. I wanted you to be able to reach me if you ever found yourself in another situation like you did that night after the library. But also, I wanted a way of getting ahold of you. I hated the idea of not having any way of contacting you. So, I picked up a phone and headed to your house.