Wings Over Poppies (Over #2)

by J. A. Derouen

  Pure. Fucking. Perfection.

  “Chasing Cars” by Snow Patrol

  “TELL ME SOMETHING I don’t know, West.” I tip my head back and meet his playful gaze. I love these quiet mornings together.

  My head is resting in his lap as he leans back against our tree. The sunlight filters through the leaves and warms my legs, feeling like a blanket draped over me. West twirls a lock of my hair as he contemplates my question. I left my pad and pencils at home. I don’t feel like sketching today. I just want to be in the moment … be with him.

  “The socks I’m wearing right now are dirty?” West raises a fist above me and releases his grip, raining a handful of grass down on me.

  I swat the air and giggle as the blades of grass tickle my neck. “Stop it. That’s not what I mean, anyway. And, for the record, gross! Tell me something like … oh, I know! Tell me your favorite childhood memory.”

  “Ah, I see. That’s going to take a bit more thought, Pop.” He chuckles and brushes his thumb softly across my cheek.

  “I’m sure you can think of something.”

  We fall into a comfortable silence, and my eyelids feel heavy the longer he plays with my hair. I’ve always been this way. Playing with my hair is the equivalent of singing me a lullaby.

  “There’s a stocked pond in Madison, about twenty miles north of here.”

  His words jolt me awake, and it takes me a moment to realize he’s answering my question.

  “Oh, yeah. I think I’ve heard of it.” I’m groggy as I rub my eyes and strain to focus.

  “Yeah, you pay a fee, and you get a bucket of bait and fishing poles. My mom took us once. I must have been about twelve, so Lucy was four years old.”

  His dark eyes lighten slightly as he recalls the memory. His smile is gentle and reminiscent.

  “We stayed all day.” He laughs softly. “The owner had to kick us out at sundown. Nothing great or spectacular happened or anything. We were just … happy. Lucy fell into a fit of laughter every time she hooked a fish. My mom sat on the wharf wearing her giant straw hat and let all the worries wash away, if only for a moment. It was a good day.”

  He continues to play with my hair, but it no longer lulls me asleep. I’m wide-awake now, with a slight ache in my chest. Even as a kid, West was an adult. He sounds like a parent recalling his child’s memory. He talks about Lucy’s laughter and his mom’s happiness, but never speaks a word about himself. I wouldn’t be surprised if he never even fished—only helping Lucy with her catches.

  But I let it go, because that’s who he is. He’s always worrying about everyone else, with not so much as a thought about what he wants. I wish I could give him a day like he just described. I want to wash his worries away. I want him to feel free, if only for a moment.

  “Now it’s your turn. Spill it.”

  “I didn’t realize this was a tit for tat kind of thing.” I toss a blade of grass at him.

  He pulls my hair firmly to make me meet his eyes.

  “It’s always a tit for tat kind of thing.” I don’t miss the not-so-hidden innuendo, and my heart skips a beat.

  “Um, okay. A childhood memory … a childhood memory.”

  “Stop stalling, Poppy.”

  “I’m not stalling, I’m thinking!” I laugh and push his chest. “Oh, I know. Okay, so my uncle is a farmer, and he also raises cattle. He’s got chickens, emus, pigs—ya know, a full-fledged farm. Well, anyway, he used to have a pony named Sea Biscuit.”

  “Hold on for a sec. Let me get this straight. There are farmers in your family?” he asks skeptically.

  “Well, yeah. So?”

  “I’m sorry, it’s just really hard for me to picture it.” I raise my eyebrows in question and he continues, “You know, your mom, with her pearls, tight bun, and the permanent stick lodged up her ass sitting down to Thanksgiving dinner with your uncle sporting calloused hands, overalls, and work boots. She must have sanitized and scrub brushed him at the door before she allowed him at the table.”

  “Hmmm, come to think of it, Uncle Jerry never comes to the house for holidays. Okay, so maybe my dad’s brother isn’t her favorite relative. But that’s not the point.”

  “There’s a point?”

  “Of course, there’s a point! My favorite childhood memory, remember? So anyway, my dad used to take Emmett and me over to the farm to play. I loved it. We would chase those chickens and work them up into such a tizzy.” I snicker, thinking of those flapping wings and flying feathers. “I could catch them, but Emmett never could. I was really fast.”

  “I’m very proud of you, Pop,” he says with mock seriousness.

  “Shut up! You’re laughing, but I had impressive chicken catching skills. You can ask Emmett next time you see him. Anyway, Uncle Jerry would saddle up Sea Biscuit, and we’d ride him all afternoon. I freaking loved that pony. He was a deep chocolate brown with the gentlest eyes. We would feed him apples and brush him until he shined. Uncle Jerry would even let me braid his tail.”

  “Sounds like a kid’s dream.”

  “It definitely was. My mom was always fit to be tied because I would come home filthy. We’d head over to the farm every few weeks until I was about twelve or thirteen years old. Those visits are definitely my favorite childhood memory.”

  “Why’d you stop going?”

  “Hmmmm?” I ask, lost in my thoughts, his words registering slowly. “Oh, Sea Biscuit ran away.”

  “Ran away?”

  “Yeah, he ran away. Uncle Jerry said Sea Biscuit was a wild, wild horse and he ran away.”

  “He was a wild, wild horse?”

  “Yes, West, that’s what I said.”

  “That ran away?”

  “Yes!” I am more frustrated with each question, not understanding the point he’s trying to make.

  “A wild, wild horse that ran away … that you and your brother rode all the time?”

  He looks at me expectantly as I stay quiet and digest his words. Realization washes over me like a tidal wave, and my eyes go wide with surprise.

  “Sea Biscuit died!” I shout in disbelief.

  “Yes, Poppy, he died.” West laughs and tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. His look is endearing, but I’m having none of it.

  “He died! They lied!”

  “Hey, that rhymes,” West offers unhelpfully.

  “Hush, West. I can’t believe they did that to me,” I huff and cross my arms.

  “You can’t believe they didn’t tell a twelve year old girl that her favorite horse died? They love you—they didn’t want to break your heart.”

  “Well, my heart’s broken now! Okay, so maybe it would have been a lot worse then. My poor, sweet Sea Biscuit.” I pause for a moment, thinking how nice it would have been to have a little funeral for my favorite pony. “Do you think he’s in horsey heaven, West?”

  “I’m sure of it,” he says, laughing at my silliness.

  “Stop laughing, West, this is important,” I scold as I poke his side.

  “Yes, yes, he’s in heaven, crazy girl.” He strokes my hair and his eyes go soft—almost sorrowful. I’m not sure what’s behind his sadness, but I push the thought away, not wanting to ruin the day. “It’s inevitable. Horsey heaven without Sea Biscuit is like a poppy field without Alex … impossible.”

  “Yeah,” I say softly, lost in the moment—lost in West.

  “They’re still not speaking to me, Miss Anna. It’s like I’m invisible.” I sigh and shrug my shoulders. “I mean, I’m not signing up for the circus or enrolling in pole dancing classes to start an illustrious career at The Rockin’ Robin Gentleman’s Club. I’m going to art school! Some parents may even be, oh, I don’t know, proud?”

  Holly and I perch on barstools pushed up to the center island of the club’s kitchen, munching on Miss Anna’s famous chocolate chip cookies. We watch her roll out the crust for her equally famous sweet potato pie while pondering the never-ending silent treatment that my parents instituted since the moment I told them about
New York. Well, not right after I told them—there were a few minutes of “Over my dead body!” and “You have lost your little mind, young lady!” Then the chill set in, and I became invisible.

  “Darling girl, they are proud of you. They just don’t know it yet,” Miss Anna says in her matter-of-fact tone that reminds me she usually has all the answers. “They may have silver spoons shoved up their bee-hinds, but they love you dearly. Give them some time.”

  Holly giggles, spitting cookie crumbs onto the stainless steel counter. She covers her mouth quickly to prevent further cookie shrapnel.

  “Silver spoons up their asses! So true!”

  “Watch your mouth, young lady. You’re sporting a teaspoon yourself, at the very least,” Miss Anna accuses, raising her eyebrows, daring Holly to argue.

  “Don’t worry, Holly. It’s a really nice, teaspoon. Engraved and everything,” I say as I pat her hand in mock sympathy.

  “Y’all are so funny. Hil-ar-ee-ous.” Holly shakes her head and rolls her eyes. While Holly may lean a little heavily toward the snooty, uppity side of life, she’s still my best friend. She knows I love her, even though we don’t see eye-to-eye on some things.

  “So they’re proud of me and just don’t know it yet. I’m not really sure how that’s even possible. How do I make them see this isn’t the end of the world?”

  “You don’t. You just give it time.”

  “Time? But I leave in just a few months. Time isn’t exactly on my side. I don’t really care if they cut me off. I’ve saved enough money to get settled, and then I’ll get a part-time job. But it’s killing me to see my dad’s disappointment. He looks at me like I killed his puppy.”

  Miss Anna’s plump, flour-dusted hand reaches over and covers mine. She gives me a tight squeeze.

  “They’ve had eighteen years to think of you going to Tulane and living the dream they created for you. They’ve had less than a week to think about you taking off across the country, to the big city, all on your own. They’ll come around, baby girl, but you have to give the idea time to marinate.”

  “Marinate, huh? I like the sound of that.”

  She pats my hand in comfort and then turns her attention back to her crust.

  “Now, out of my kitchen. I’ve got work to do, and you two are slowing me down. Pick up your mess before you leave, ya hear me?”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Holly and I say in unison.

  Holly and I file out of the kitchen and walk toward the administrative hall of the club. Before we turn the corner, I hear my father’s booming voice echoing off the walls.

  “Well son, I hate to lose you, but I admire what you’re doing. There’s great honor in serving your country. Your mother should be very proud.”

  “She is, sir. Thank you for saying so.”

  I grope the wall for balance as a cinder block settles in my chest. My knees buckle from the sheer weight of it … from the magnitude of what just transpired. I know that voice. I love that voice. That voice has single handedly crushed me more times than I can count, but they all pale in comparison to what I just heard.

  Holly manages to pull me into a nearby restroom and lowers me onto the chaise in the sitting area. I shake my head in denial.

  “Everything’s changing, Holly. I’m leaving. Now he’s leaving. For the military. Why hasn’t he said anything to me?”

  Holly knows me too well, so she doesn’t say a word. She holds my hand as I process yet another obstacle.

  Why? Why did I ever find West, only to have him taken away?

  “Wild Horses” by The Sundays

  “HEY POPPY. WHAT’S on the agenda today? Wanna draw my armpit? How about my butt crack?” he jokes as he slightly lowers his shorts, revealing the elastic of his boxers.

  The sun is hidden behind the clouds this morning, matching my somber mood. Our hiding spot feels gloomy and depressing today.

  “How about I sketch your back as you run away from me?” I say in a voice void of emotion.

  His face falls when he hears my words. I try to make him hold my eyes, but his gaze keeps drifting to the ground.

  I’m in no mood to joke with him. I’ve had a few days to come to terms with the fact that he’s leaving, but it still stings that I didn’t find out from him. The truth is I’m so proud of him—scared to lose him, but proud nonetheless. I feel as if my heart is being torn in two directions, one part admiring his sacrifice and the other breaking from the inevitable loss.

  West is the epitome of selflessness, so I’m not surprised that he wants to serve his country. Although I’m not sure how he’s going to leave his family. They are everything to him, and I know they depend on him heavily.

  “You know.”

  “What, West? What do I know?”

  “I wanted to be the one to tell you. I was gonna do it today.” He runs a hand over his face in frustration and lets out a heaving sigh. “Everything just happened so quickly. The only people I’ve told are my family and your dad. I never imagined he would say anything. I’m so sorry, Alex. It should have been me.”

  My irritation recedes slightly in the face of his explanation. I know this is difficult for him. I know he didn’t make this decision hastily.

  “He didn’t tell me, West. I overheard you talking to him.” I move closer to him. “I just … I don’t know. I don’t understand what’s happening. I know I’m leaving, too, but this is so much bigger. So much bigger.”

  “I know, Alex. You think I don’t know that? Believe me, I do.” His voice vibrates with intensity. I grab his hand and squeeze tightly in a small show of support.

  “I don’t mean to be one more thing for you to worry about, West. I’m just trying to understand where all of this is coming from.” I try to temper my voice, not let on to how much I’m hurting.

  “I’ve always wanted to join the Army, but it was never an option with Lucy being sick and my mom needing help. But now, there’s no other way out.”

  The tension pulsing through him is off-putting. I’m not used to seeing him this way. He always bears the brunt of the responsibility, whatever the situation, but today it seems too heavy for him to carry alone.

  “Way out of what, West? I don’t understand.”

  He shakes his head, and his fists clench in frustration. I pull my hand back from him, his grip hurting me. He realizes his mistake and reaches out to me immediately. I take his hand and lead him to sit with me under the tree.

  “The bills, Alex. All of the fucking bills. I’ve been trying my best to pay things without my mom catching wind of it, but it’s never enough. Do you have any idea how much a pediatric pulmonologist costs? An ER visit? I’m drowning. We’re drowning.”

  “I’m so sorry, West. I had no idea it was this bad. Can I do something to help? I’m sure my dad would—”

  “Don’t even say it. He’s done enough for me … and it wouldn’t help anyway. Don’t you see, it’s endless. I dig my way out of the hole, only to have more dirt thrown on me. If I join the Army, I live on their dime and send every penny to my family. I won’t make a fortune, but I’ll live virtually expense-free while Mom and Lucy use my entire paycheck to chip away at the debt. It’s the way it has to be.”

  I shift closer to him and wrap my arms around his waist. I lay my head on his chest and breathe him in. His shoulders relax, if only slightly. The need to comfort him is overwhelming. I want to wash it all away for him, hold the world at bay while I erase the worry permanently etched in his forehead.

  “Everything is going to be okay, West. I just know it,” I lie. I don’t know that everything will be okay. I don’t know anything at all.

  We sit in electrified silence, the crackling of dead leaves under us the only sound. I memorize the feel of him, the smell of him, the rhythm of his breathing. I’m lost in the moment, already anticipating the loss that’s to come.

  “I leave in a month.”

  The words cut through the silence like a judgment. Instead of hurt, I’m filled with resolve. I won’t let h
im push me away anymore. I’m done playing by his rules.

  I rise up to meet the storm brewing in his eyes. His hand wraps firmly around my neck, and his eyes dart hungrily to my lips. I swallow nervously and refuse to look away.

  If he turns his head or pulls my hair, I swear I’m going to tackle him to the ground.

  I lean in hopefully, somewhat expectantly, and close my eyes. His warm breath dances across my lips, and my every prayer is answered. He presses his mouth firmly to mine and stills, almost memorizing the moment.

  That one small touch is the beginning of the most memorable kiss of my life. It’s hello and goodbye, I love you, I’ll miss you, and everything in between.

  He sucks my bottom lip, and I inhale sharply, completely overcome. His hands dive into my hair, and his tongue slides against mine just once before he pulls away. He touches my forehead to his and chuckles softly.

  “What have we been waiting for all this time?”

  “You,” I whisper breathlessly, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

  My admission is all he needs. He devours me, a tangle of lips, teeth, tongues, and hands. I don’t know where I end and he begins. I’m exhilarated and relieved all at once.

  I run my hands down his arms and grip his wrists tightly. I pull away and look into his hooded eyes.

  “Tell me something, West. Tell me something I don’t know.”

  He runs a thumb over my swollen lips while he studies me. I’ve never felt more loved, more worshipped.

  “I can’t imagine a world without you in it. No matter where I am, I’ll always dream of you. It’ll have to be enough.” He places soft, scorching kisses up my neck until he reaches my ear. “God, I don’t think it’ll ever be enough.”

  “What If You” by Joshua Radin

  “Fireflies” by Ron Pope

  “MORE TO DRINK, darling?” Momma asks as she holds up the pitcher of sweet tea. Those are the first words she’s uttered since I’ve joined her at the kitchen island.