by J. M. Miller
Dad’s concern about Gavin struck me the same way. “Gavin hasn’t really talked to me either. I’m worried about him,” I admitted. I tried to talk to him every day after work, but he just brushed me off and told me he had homework. His sneakers weren’t nearly as white as he used to keep them and he also stopped wearing most of his nicer clothes. If he was having problems, he wasn’t talking about them.
“I’m worried too. About both of you,” Dad said. We got out of the Escape and walked up the slate steps to the front door. “Would you just talk to me?”
I opened the door without a response, and threw my book bag inside the entry. I didn’t want to hear any more from him. I just needed to go to work.
“Lila,” Dad called as I turned around and walked past him.
“I have to go to work.”
“Lila! Why are you shutting me out? We need to talk!”
I stopped at the corner of the house and turned back to him. “Doesn’t feel so great to be on the outside of someone’s life, does it? I’ve been there. Gavin’s been there. Where the hell were you when we needed to talk, huh? Why the hell did you shut us out?” I screamed at him.
I’d yelled at my mother before, but this was the first time I’d yelled at him. And it wasn’t because I didn’t want to before; this had been a long time coming. We just hadn’t been around each other long enough for it to blow up. Though, that didn’t stop me from exploring the things I’d say to him when I finally found my voice.
Here it is.
He stared at me, his eyes heavy from the truthful blow.
“I don’t need this right now,” I said, breathing erratically as the blood surged hot through my veins. “For once, it’s me without the time to talk.” I stormed around the side of the house, cutting the corner too close and clipping my shoulder on the rough stones.
In my rush to escape Dad, I nearly ran into Ben. His eyes widened, and I knew he’d heard every word. I couldn’t look at him, so I ducked around him, too. The tears might retreat if I kept walking; they’d surely overflow if I stopped.
I was a coward. Again. I had the opportunity to convey the pain that Gavin and I had gone through during Mom’s abandonment and Dad’s continued seclusion, and I punked out. I couldn’t do it. The irony of me using work as an excuse wasn’t lost to me either. It was fitting actually. All in all, at least he got my point despite the short delivery.
Besides, my goal was to get him off my back about school. Throwing the old, unaddressed crap in his face wasn’t the best way to deal with our current problems, but it might shut him up for a while. There was really no point to talk about more disappointment. The fairytale-loving part of me wanted to tell him that this whole screwed-up situation was okay. Moving here was okay. School here was okay. Losing our old life was okay. Gavin was okay.
And I wanted it to be true.
But we both knew it wasn’t. It might never be okay. So why bother discussing.
With no other direction, I trampled over to the edge of the property and sat on the grass beside a weed whacker and a pair of work gloves. I covered my eyes, wishing the mess inside my head would disappear. I had no plan, no answers. My heart continued to pound out my sorrows. I took in a long breath filled with the smell of fresh grass clippings before I pinched the bridge of my nose to mask the sting from holding back tears.
The sound of footsteps in the grass forced me to look up. Ben stopped in front of me. His dark eyes were calm, sympathetic. He shoved his hands in his pockets and kicked the grass under his work boots. “I was going to teach you how to use a weed whacker so we could edge the gardens today. Do you need another minute or something?”
I looked back to the grass and shook my head. “No, I’ll be fine.”
“Okay,” he replied. I stood up beside him and he handed me a set of ear plugs, a medical mask, and a pair of goggles. “You should use these. This thing can kick up a lot of debris.” He reached down and grabbed the weed whacker.
I put on all of the safety equipment, and he nodded. I had a feeling I looked ridiculous, but he didn’t seem to notice, and I barely cared. Things were bad enough, why not add looking goofy to the mix?
“First, turn the switch. Then push this bulb about three times to prime the engine. Next you slide the choke on,” he said, pointing to each then completing the sequence. “When that’s done, pull the cord. After the engine turns over, you slide the choke back to ‘Run’ and give it gas to start weeding. Ready?” He slid his goggles down over his eyes.
I nodded. He tugged the cord, flexing the muscles beneath his T-shirt. The engine kicked on and he pointed to the choke and slid it back. He moved a little farther away, held the weed whacker out at arm’s length, and squeezed the trigger. The engine revved, and the lines beneath the half-shielded end spun so fast they disappeared. He stepped up to the tree line and swept his arms back and forth, clipping the grass low to the ground.
“Got it?” he yelled. It was a little difficult to hear him, but he didn’t have a mask on so I watched his mouth. The bands he’d had on all week were gone, allowing his mouth to open a little wider. I still wanted to ask him how he broke his jaw, but I’d have to wait. Right now he was staring at me.
I nodded again, realizing he was waiting for a response.
“Okay,” his lips moved. “You try.”
I took hold of the circle grip attached to the main bar and grabbed the handle in front of the engine, easing my finger over the throttle trigger. The engine shook my hands and rattled my arms some, but it wasn’t overpowering.
“Now just hold it away from your body,” Ben yelled, though this time he’d moved behind me to speak into my ear. “When you’re ready, squeeze the trigger.”
I’m not a little kid. I hadn’t done this before, but he was acting like I was going to fall apart or break something if he didn’t explain every little thing. I extended my arms and squeezed the trigger, feeling the engine kick slightly under my grip. I revved it, then revved it some more before I lowered it toward the brush. The lines spun and spit clippings of shaved grass out to the side. Some of it kicked back and pelted my jeans.
A smile crept across my mouth as I made more passes. It was like cleaning and being destructive at the same time. I cleaned when I was angry or upset. It was my release, and that’s probably why it had turned into an obsession. It was the one thing that helped. Working outdoors might help fulfill that need now, especially if I got to use more tools like this.
I turned to Ben and he smiled at me, a full-on smile, letting his dimples make an appearance. My stomach flipped and my entire body heated, especially my cheeks. I hoped he couldn’t see them under the mask because they felt like a beacon of my embarrassment. I had to remind myself to breathe.
His eyes darted away toward the barn for a second. “I’m going to get another one so we can start edging. Stay here and practice along this line until I get back, okay?”
I nodded at him. Ugh. I felt like such an idiot. I watched him walk away, enjoying the view of his back as much as his front. Why was he affecting me like this? He probably thought I was a lunatic for staring at him. But I couldn’t help it. There was something about him that drew me in. His eyes. Those dimples.
Okay, I was losing it. I had to pull myself together. I was working, after all. And I needed to know this job since I’d run the property soon enough.
A buzzing in my pocket surprised me. I lifted my finger from the throttle trigger, wondering if it was causing my body to shake. Nope. Another short vibration.
My phone.
It was weird to feel its alert. The last text I’d received was on Tuesday night when, after exploring more of the house, Gavin got stuck in the dumbwaiter and needed help out. I think he was actually hiding from Dad. Though, I was just as guilty of asking him how he’d been feeling so he could’ve been hiding from both of us.
My phone buzzed again before I could grip the weed whacker in one hand and dig into my jean pocket with the other. I hit the menu screen and
touched the number three hovering above the message icon.
I gasped so hard I almost choked.
The close-up picture was a blend of beige skin and blonde hair. When my eyes focused enough to piece it together, I realized it was my ex-boyfriend and old best friend. Veronica and Mark’s lips were tangled together. I scrolled to the next one: he was smiling as he grabbed her boob. And the next: her eyes were looking up at the camera and her mouth was full of …
Gah!
I gagged then chucked my phone. She’d done this before to other girls at school, though the pictures were a smidge tamer. At the time, I’d thought it was somewhat cruel of her to do. I realized now how much I had underestimated. It was very cruel, disgusting, and crude. Why would she do this to me? Neither one of them had called me in about a month. I already knew it was over. So why bother? I was no longer there, no longer somebody who counted.
Anger grew inside of me. It was a rage that I’d never felt before. I was mad at them, but I was infuriated with myself for associating with a group of people who thought behavior like this was normal and who never cared how they affected others. I was hurt, and ashamed, but I was angry most of all.
I gripped the handle of the weed whacker and charged into the tree line, swinging my weapon, hacking the vines and weeds like I wanted to do to my prior life. I was sick of fooling myself, sick of pretending, sick of what I’d become. I swung the weed whacker more, pushing through the brush that looked so hideous compared to the rest of the property. It was like the stain of my life that I needed to clean. It had to go.
Then I saw what I’d wanted to see ever since I laid eyes on its numerous painted portraits.
The well.
I grabbed another weed whacker from the barn and headed back to the trees behind the event house’s courtyard where I’d left LJ. I was so glad I needed another one because it was an excuse to get away from her. There was something happening between us. I could feel it.
She’d been watching me all week while we worked. She never gave me attitude on the tasks I assigned her; she just did her job. I thought maybe her real personality would show when I made her do some mundane chore like wire brushing rusty tools, yet she never complained. She actually cleaned a couple of the shears so well that they looked brand new.
I found myself watching her more often, too. It was always when she was involved with something on the property or had her face in a book during lunch, which was the only time I saw her at school.
Earlier, after she’d darted around the house and almost knocked me over, I’d seen the hurt in her eyes. I’d also heard the words she’d screamed at her dad. She was angry with him. I could only guess that what happened between them had to do with her parents’ separation, but I could be way off. I felt for her, though. I knew what it was like to have a parent standing right in front of you, but mentally miles away.
When I’d stepped behind her and leaned close to explain how to use the weed whacker, I caught a whiff of the almond scent I’d first smelled at Janine’s will reading. She turned around after she’d successfully cut down some grass and I couldn’t help but smile. Her eyes were huge, and her whole face was consumed by the goggles and face mask. It was comical and, oddly enough, enticing. She blushed at my reaction, which broke me out of a sudden trance. That’s when I told her I’d be back. I had to get some space between us.
The short walk back to LJ didn’t give me much time to think about what to do with her next. Well, I knew what my body wanted to do with her. Being that close almost made me lose all control. I was two seconds away from getting a hard-on just from smelling her damn perfume, like some hypersensitive twelve-year-old. I had to get a grip. But that seemed like a bigger challenge now that I knew she was a normal person with normal problems, not some arrogant snob with rich-girl problems.
I cleared the side of my house and saw her chuck something into the grass. She ran toward the trees, brandishing the weed whacker like a chainsaw. I broke into a run because it looked like she was out of control and it would be my luck that she’d hurt herself. Explaining that to Simone would suck. I’d be tagged with some bull crap punishment for sure.
The engine kept revving inside the trees, and I slowed my pace as I got close to LJ’s path of destruction. Between steps, I spotted a silver phone sticking out of the grass. I put down the weed whacker and picked it up. When I touched the screen, a girl appeared, staring back at me from a position that every man dreamt about. Her blue eyes were wide with large fake lashes that almost reached her brows. She had her mouth wide open, but it wasn’t empty. Given LJ’s reaction, she either knew the girl or she knew the hidden dick. Or maybe both.
I walked into the tree line, climbing through the hacked bushes, vines, and twigs. My heart jolted when I heard her scream and the weed whacker’s engine settle to idle. I pushed around another set of large trees and spotted her sitting with one leg draped over the side of the well.
Shit.
Her head was tipped down, examining her hand in her lap. I grabbed the weed whacker at her foot, startling her. She jumped to her feet, leaned back on the well, and propped both hands behind her back on the rocky surface.
I killed the engine and set it down on the mossy ground. “Are you okay?”
Her goggles rested above her head and tears stained her reddened cheeks. She lifted her arm and wiped her face along her shoulder, clearing the wet streaks. “I’m sorry. I …” she muttered, pulling her right hand from behind her and inspecting it closer.
I moved closer and took her hand into mine. An inch-long gash sliced through the base of her thumb and blood was spattered up to her forearm. “That’s a nasty cut. What happened?”
Her hand trembled inside my loose grip. “I tripped over a branch and fell. I think there’s an uneven seam along the metal part of the weed whacker because my hand slid across it when I landed.
I looked up at her troubled eyes. “You might need stitches.”
She shook her head and pulled her hand from mine. “No. No stitches. I’ll be fine.” She wiped her face on her the shoulder of her T-shirt again. “I’m sorry for this. I’m not usually like this.”
“Forget it. I understand,” I cut her off and handed her the phone.
She took it with a grimace. “Did you …?”
I nodded. “Sorry.” She ducked her head like she was ashamed. “Was that your boyfriend?” I asked. It was the obvious answer, and I probably shouldn’t have asked, but I wanted to know. I wanted to find out more about her.
She shook her head. Her long, black pony tail wagged lazily in response. “Was.” She sniffed then let out a breathy laugh. “He was, until a month ago I suppose. She was my friend, too. I’m not surprised, really. Both relationships were over. This was just the fly on my shitty day.”
“Ah,” I sighed. “Your dad, right?” I couldn’t help it. I knew I should take her inside, to wrap her hand and get her away from the well, but I just wanted to be alone with her for a while longer.
“You heard that, huh? Yeah, we aren’t exactly close.” She placed her hands behind her back again to adjust her position. “So this is Janine’s well?” she asked, changing the subject. She turned around, rested her injured hand on the column that supported the well’s wooden roof, and leaned over to peer down the hole. Her jeans were snug, stretching smoothly over the curves of her backside.
I looked around, imagining my bike instead of how gorgeous her ass looked in those jeans. Dammit. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. “Yeah, this is the well,” I finally responded and stepped beside her. It wasn’t until she pulled her hand away from the column that I realized she had smeared blood onto it and the well’s opening.
I screwed up. I knew Pop believed the curse so it didn’t matter whether I did or not. He believed Janine. This was the one thing he trusted me with: to make sure LJ stayed away from the well. And I screwed it up. What the hell was I going to tell him?
LJ examined the well, looking down to her feet at the three h
oles laden with moss from missing stones. “Have you seen this before?” she asked, crouching in front of the well.
“Yeah.”
“It’s amazing. And in really good shape for how old it probably is. Only a few stones are missing. It looks like a wishing well.” LJ stood up, tipping her head toward the opening.
I looked at the blood smeared inside LJ’s hand and tugged my shirt off. “Here,” I said, handing her the shirt. “It’s not dirty. You shouldn’t touch anything else before you bandage the cut or have it looked at.” Her eyes gaped at me. She was staring at my chest, but I didn’t react. The only thing I could think about was distracting her from the well. “We should probably get to the event house so you can clean that up. Or get you back to your place?”
“Oh, right,” she replied, wrapping her hand with the shirt. “Thanks. It really isn’t that bad. It barely hurts.”
I grabbed the weed whacker at her feet and the other one when we exited the trees. “You can take the rest of the day off. I won’t tell Simone about it if you won’t.” I wasn’t planning on telling anyone about it. Simone would kill me for getting her hurt and giving her the day off, and Pop would kill me if he knew about the well. I could only hope the curse was just a simple legend, an excuse Janine latched onto to explain her illness.
“No, I won’t tell. Are you sure you don’t need any more help, though? I think I’ll be okay as soon as I get a bandage.” She eyed me uncertainly.
“It’s no big deal, really. There’s not much left to do today. Actually, I think the weekend is booked with weddings so that means you’ll have off. It’ll be good for your hand to heal.”
Her eyes fell to the ground as her free hand fiddled with the loose ends of the light green shirt. After a second, she pulled the goggles and mask off of her neck and handed them to me. “What would you wish for, Ben? If the well were real?” she asked suddenly, catching me off guard.
“I, uh … I’m not sure,” I replied truthfully, trying to gather thoughts to steer the conversation in a different direction.