by Anthology
“I doubt it. What did you do?”
“I can’t tell you.”
“Did you kill someone?”
“No.”
“Then I wouldn’t worry. Even if you had, I can think of extenuating circumstances that would make it…”
“I didn’t kill anyone, JD.” She rolled away from him.
“Aren’t you going to tell me?” he whispered to her back.
“No.”
“Never?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why did you bring it up? I’ll be thinking of worst-case scenarios all night.”
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“You didn’t kidnap anyone, did you?”
“Goodnight, JD.”
“Grand theft auto? Money-laundering?”
“Shhh. Go to sleep.”
Maya’s breathing grew deeper and more regular as she drifted into unconsciousness. JD lay with his eyes open, staring out the window at the grey sky backlit by an invisible moon. He had a growing and unsettling suspicion that whatever Maya had done involved him directly, and that if and when he found out what it was, he wouldn’t like it at all.
Bacon and eggs. Hash browns. Pork sausage, fried in rounds in the cast-iron skillet. Orange juice thick with pulp and coffee black as pitch. JD’s stomach growled at the thought of the Sunday breakfast he planned to prepare for Maya and himself. He usually fueled himself on coffee alone until lunchtime, but this morning he was ravenous. Clearly, sex had kindled all his appetites.
He looked out the window. The clouds had cleared and the sky was a marbled robin’s egg blue, below which the beach lay wreathed in morning mist. The air was damp, briny and cool, but he thought it possible they would see some sun by early afternoon.
Maybe after breakfast he’d go to Pike Place with Maya, hang out at her stand while she worked the afternoon shift. He could hobnob with the tourists, help her hawk her wares. Then bring her home, back to bed, for a long, lazy evening of lovemaking.
The toilet flushed and JD was startled by the sound. He’d thought Maya was already in her studio.
He went into the kitchen and started pulling out the breakfast supplies.
A full ten minutes had passed before he realized that Maya still hadn’t emerged from the bathroom. She wasn’t taking a shower; he would have heard that, and the water pressure in the kitchen would have dropped to the point where it would take forever to fill the pot to boil water for coffee.
He walked into the tiny hall and knocked lightly on the bathroom door.
“Hey, Maya,” he said. “Do you want one egg or two?”
“Go away.” Her voice was muffled and thick, as though she had been crying silently behind the door.
All the excitement drained from JD’s body. “What’s wrong?”
She opened the door and brushed past him into the living room. He caught her by the arm. “Maya? Talk to me.”
She turned to him. Her face was ashen. “You need to leave.”
“Why? I don’t understand.”
She spoke in a monotone. “It’s simple. I used you, for sex and company and free labor. But that’s all. And now I want you to go.”
JD shook his head and blinked hard. This couldn’t be happening. It was a bad dream. Maya stared down at the floor. She didn’t look like the mercenary bitch she claimed to be. She looked scared and sad and defiant.
“I don’t believe that. You’re not that good of an actress, Maya.”
The color returned to her cheeks as she flushed. “How do you know? You don’t know me.”
“I know you like your coffee black. You love the ocean, your home, your cat. You can’t cook anything except oatmeal and clams. You can lose yourself in your work for hours, forgetting to eat and sleep, and come out of your studio looking like a zombie. You’re passionate and funny and moody…” He dropped his voice. “I know what you look like when you come.”
She shook her head, her eyes brimming. “Don’t.”
“I know you have a burning desire to create beautiful things. And I know that together, you and I could create something beautiful. We already have.”
She started to cry. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You promised me that if I asked you to leave, you’d go. No drama. No explanations or finger-pointing. So please, please, go.”
His face hardened by anger, JD went out to the truck and returned with a duffel bag that was more than big enough to hold his few possessions. Into it he stuffed his clothes, which he’d stored in a couple of cardboard boxes under the coffee table, and his toiletry items from the bathroom. His sleeping bag was already rolled up at the foot of the couch. Within minutes, all traces of his presence had been erased from the little house.
Maya sat on a stool at the counter and watched him pack. Sensing discord, Smoky leapt up on the top of the couch, her black tail twitching in agitation. JD stroked his hand across her soft back.
“Bye, Smoky,” he said. “I’ll send you a postcard.”
He slung the sleeping bag over his shoulder, grabbed the duffel bag with one hand and walked past Maya toward the door.
“It’s better this way, JD. Trust me.”
“Trust you?” He laughed. “That’s something I can’t do. But you’re right, it is better this way. Because it’s obvious you don’t have a fucking clue what you want.”
Maya hung her head. She looked so lost and worn that under his anger JD felt the impulse to comfort her. But how could he, when she was doing this to herself? To them? It made no sense. None.
He walked out, slamming the door behind him. The sea glass mobile on the front step tinkled and shook.
Chapter 5
“The prodigal son returns,” were the first words JD heard his brother say as Michael opened the front door. He smiled, then grabbed JD and hugged him. “Good to see you, bro.”
Somewhere behind Michael, the high-pitched wail of a child combined with a woman’s soothing tone as Stacy, Michael’s wife, tried to reason with the little boy.
JD stepped across the threshold into his brother’s house. Michael shut the door and rolled his eyes. “Chase wants to go to Grandma’s house in his underwear.”
“Is that a problem?”
At that moment, Chase came tearing round the corner, his blonde curls streaming out behind him, dressed in a pair of Sponge Bob underpants and a cape fashioned out of a dishtowel. He ran straight into JD’s legs, stopped, and looked up at his uncle. His little face was red and tear-streaked.
A weary-looking Stacy followed, holding a pair of pants out like a trap. “C’mon, Chase, this isn’t funny, we’re late,” she said. “Hi, JD. Welcome to the nuthouse.”
“No pants!” Chase declared, clutching JD’s leg.
“I’m with you, little man,” JD said seriously. “They’re a pain, aren’t they?”
As Chase’s eyes widened at this blasphemy coming from the mouth of adults, Stacy took the opportunity to scoop the kid up and bear him, protesting vigorously, in the direction of the bedroom. “Grandma said no cookies for boys with no clothes on,” she warned, her voice echoing down the hall.
Returning his attention to Michael, JD said, “The kid’s grown since the last time I saw him. How old is he now?”
“Going on three,” Michael said with no small amount of exasperation.
JD laughed at the dog-tired expression on his brother’s face. For a moment, Michael looked like their dad—much older than his thirty years. He noticed a few strands of white in his brother’s short-cropped, sandy hair.
“So where’ve you been hiding since you got back?”
“A little shack down by Three Tree Point,” JD said. He didn’t want to share his latest humiliation with Michael, and had only told him that he had been staying with a friend.
“Like I said on the phone, you’re welcome to crash here for a few days,” Michael said. “The couch in the den folds out into a bed. Stacy can give you sheets and towels and whatnot.”
> “Just until I find a place. It won’t take long.”
They went into the kitchen and Michael pulled a couple of beers from the fridge. He handed one to JD.
“It seems like you’ve been avoiding us, since you came back. Mom and Dad, too. They keep asking about you. ‘When’s JD going to visit? Who’s he staying with?’ Like I know more than they do.” Michael sounded hurt.
“Yeah, well…” he let his voice trail off. How could he explain to Michael that he felt like the black sheep of the family; the one who didn’t fit in and never would? Why this made him reluctant to talk to his family because he was sure they would judge him and—as usual—find him lacking.
He looked around. Michael and Stacy had moved since he’d seen them last, when Chase was a babe in arms. Their new house was bigger and in a nicer neighborhood. Michael was impeccably dressed in khaki shorts and a polo shirt. JD felt like a slob in his stained and torn Levis and holey t-shirt.
“Come on, I’ll show you around,” Michael said, after which he proceeded to lead JD through the house.
A comfortable brick rambler with three bedrooms and two baths, one of the bedrooms had been converted into a study, with a fold-out couch that would be JD’s new bed. The nursery where Chase slept was just off the master bedroom. It was decorated in blues and greens. A mural of little ducks in sailor hats marched across the wall. JD pointed at the old rocking chair by the foot of the crib. “That looks familiar.”
Michael looked sheepish. “It was just sitting in the attic at Mom and Dad’s house. When they moved into the condo, I offered to store it. Of course, you can have it back whenever you want.”
“That’s all right. I don’t have any use for it.”
“Sometimes rocking Chase in it with a bottle is the only way Stace can get him to go to sleep. Although he’s growing out of it now.”
“I can’t believe how big he is.” JD tried to keep the regret out of his words, but failed. “Or how long it’s been since I saw him last.”
He felt his brother’s sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “Well, you’re here now,” Michael said. “Welcome back.”
Over the next two weeks, JD slipped into a comfortable routine. He started his work at Emerald City Woodworks at six, knocked off at three, and spent an hour or two apartment-hunting in the afternoons. By the time he got back to his brother’s house, Stacy was usually at her most frazzled as she tried to fix dinner after a day spent running around after Chase. Acutely attuned to his mother’s moods, Chase responded to her weariness and irritation by becoming even wilder than usual.
JD got in the habit of taking the little boy off Stacy’s hands for an hour or two so she could cook, clean up, and maybe even have a few minutes to herself before Michael returned from work. He began by taking Chase for a walk to the small playground down the street, or outside to play catch in the yard.
Sometimes they ventured farther afield in JD’s truck; to the store for a pre-dinner ice cream cone, to the bigger park about a mile away, or to the coffee shop, where Chase drank chocolate milk while JD drank coffee and engaged in some MILF-watching.
The café was frequented by cute, bedraggled young moms and their babies. The women gathered in groups to discuss potty training, diapers, sleep deprivation and preschool options. It was a different world, and JD felt like an interloper as he listened in on their conversations. The moms—mistaking him for Chase’s father—gave him approving looks and didn’t seem to notice that he observed them with the eyes—and libido—of a single man.
He loved spending time with Chase. The little boy was so intense, so curious, and so in the moment that he kept JD on constant alert. When he was with Chase there was no opportunity to wallow in self-pity or to engage in games of what-if. He saved these activities for the night time, when the house was finally silent and he lay on the couch in the guest room with the TV turned down low.
What if he had been a different person, someone Maya could have fallen in love with? Someone richer, smarter—whatever it was that Maya wanted and that he couldn’t provide.
He missed her; not just her physical presence, but also the magical spaces she created around her. He missed Maya’s ramshackle little beach house on the verge of being swept into the Pacific ocean; her studio; her aesthetic. It was all an extension of the complex and multi-faceted creature that was Maya Eleanor Lewis.
JD reminded himself forcefully that he was better off without her. The woman was a tease. An emotional spigot that turned on and off at random. He was sick of being alternately burned and frozen.
The brothers stood in the garage workshop, where JD was showing Michael the child-size table and two chairs he’d been constructing as a present for Chase’s upcoming third birthday.
“You’ve changed a lot, Michael.”
JD said it, and he meant it. For the first time since they were young boys, he found himself actually liking his brother.
“How so?” Michael raised his brows as he asked the question.
“You don’t act superior or pick on me like you used to. Marriage and fatherhood have mellowed you.”
“I didn’t pick on you. You were always so damned defensive.” Michael paused, then continued more thoughtfully. “I’m happier now than I’ve been in a long time. I feel… complete, somehow. Like I don’t need to keep comparing myself to everyone else.”
JD felt a stab of jealousy. Even though Michael wasn’t lording it over him, he was still the big brother, still the winner in the game of life. “You’re a lucky man.”
“I know it,” Michael agreed soberly. “You’ve changed too, you know.”
“How so?”
Michael pointed to the small table taking shape on the bench. “I think you’ve found your calling. It must be in your blood. You’ve always been the creative one. I’m the number-cruncher and you’re the artist.”
JD stared at his brother. Was it possible that Michael could be envious of him?
A few days later, JD found an apartment in Seattle’s Central District. It wasn’t the greatest neighborhood, but the rents were relatively cheap and the place itself wasn’t bad. The plumbing and electrical systems worked and there was off-street parking for the truck, which meant it was less likely to get vandalized or stolen. Compared to some of the surrounding apartment blocks, which retained the look and feel of the morning after a wild party, his complex seemed more friendly and family-oriented.
He signed a six-month lease, put down his first and last, and was told he could move in on the 15th of August; three days away.
Brimming with excitement, he drove to Mike and Stacy’s house and let himself in with his key.
Stacy sat cross-legged on the couch, still wearing the grey sweats and t-shirt she had slept in. Her blonde hair was disheveled and she drooped like a wilting flower. She looked up dully when JD came in. “Hi.”
“Hey, what’s up?”
A pounding sound came from Chase’s bedroom, followed by repetitive bellowing shrieks, sounding like they came from a bull being led to slaughter.
JD looked askance at Stacy.
“I locked him in his room,” she said, with a trace of defiance. “Honestly, it’s for his own good. I’d probably throttle him if I got too close. He’s been impossible today.”
JD sat down on the couch beside her. “What happened?”
“Oh, a bunch of stupid little things. He clogged the toilet by stuffing it full of toilet paper, and then pooped on the bathroom floor. He drew all up and down the hallway wall with crayons after I read him the book Harold and the Purple Crayon. He broke my favorite coffee cup.” Her eyes filled with tears. “I’m so tired.”
“How about I take the little tyrant out for a fast-food dinner and bring back teriyaki for the grownups?” JD suggested. “That way he’s fed and can go to bed early, and you don’t have to cook.”
“You’re a life-saver,” Stacy said. She got up from the couch and gave him a hug. “I’m going to go lie down for a bit.”
Chase
was always thrilled at the opportunity to ride in JD’s truck. JD gave him a paper plate and he sat in the passenger seat, holding it like a wheel.
“Brrrroom, brooom, I’s a race car driver.”
“Don’t go too fast, little man, you’ll crash the truck,” JD warned. He pulled up at the McDonald’s drive-through window and ordered a Happy Meal. Chase munched contentedly on his cheeseburger and played with the plastic toy from his Happy Meal as JD drove. He had decided to take the boy to a park or some other open space where he could blow off a little steam before bed.
Inexorably, he found himself drawn to what he now thought of as Maya’s beach. The little strip of sand outside her house actually did belong to her, but pedestrians were allowed to cross it. He drove into the tiny, five-car parking lot of the public access beach only a few hundred feet south of the house and parked. Getting out, he went around to Chase’s side. He helped the boy unbuckle the fancy five-point harness that strapped him into his car seat and lifted him to the ground.
Chase took off like a shot, chasing a seagull, and JD followed him along the beach. After a few minutes, Maya’s whitewashed house came into view. JD felt a pain in his chest. Now that he was so close, the desire to see her was almost unbearable. He caught up to his nephew and put his hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“Hey, little man, want to go visit a friend of mine?”
Chase looked up at him. “No.”
“She has a kitty.”
That was all the incentive Chase needed.
JD felt a bit low, bringing Chase along as cover. But he knew that having the boy with him would preclude any scenes between himself and Maya. Besides, he had ‘accidentally’ left a few of his tools—including his best hammer, his handsaw, and an expensive can of lacquer—in the studio, and this was a good opportunity to reclaim them.
When he knocked on the front door he had the same feeling he’d had the first time he’d come here, weary and beaten down, not sure what his reception would be. Now, as then, Smoky jumped up on the windowsill. Her pale yellow eyes looked out at them impassively. It was impossible to tell whether she even recognized him.