Swell

by Rieman Duck, Julie

  I mentioned this to Christian that night.

  “If I see him looking at you again, I just might kill him.”

  Knowing that Christian felt that way gave me reassurance that I was safe, no matter what the court decided.

  /////

  I was happy to return to school and practically pranced to art class. Surely, seeing Jesse’s face and yes, even the jacket, would lift me out of my funk. But when I saw the empty desk — no jacket, no beef jerky or fruit roll-ups, nor cynical grin — my heart sank to new levels.

  “Do you know where Jesse is?” Mr. Stanley took off his reading glasses and gave me a “who knows?” look.

  “Absenteeism happens more than I care to admit,” he said.

  “I thought teachers were supposed to know the whereabouts of their students.”

  “We’re not as perfect as you think.”

  I returned to my desk and began working on my half of the buddy project. It wasn’t the same as when Jesse was there, not because I couldn’t observe what he was doing in relation to my piece, but because I felt very alone.

  My feelings surprised me, because it wasn’t like I didn’t love Christian. I did. It’s just that Jesse was a positive beam of light in my foggy world. His insight into my inner being was uncanny, as if he’d been down the same road and knew where it twisted and turned.

  With Christian, it was all about keeping tabs on my physical well-being. He had taken to waiting for me outside of my last class every day. I wasn’t used to his showing me how much he cared. He was wearing, ironically, a newer and more stylish version of Jesse’s jacket. I looked him up and down before laughing.

  “What? Do I look funny?” He smiled and put his arm around me.

  “No. It’s just that your jacket reminded me of something funny.”

  “What’s so funny about a jacket?”

  “Oh, it brings back memories of someone I knew who had one like it.” I hoped he wouldn’t push too hard for more information. Instead, he peeled it off and handed it to me.

  “What do you want me to do with this?”

  “It’s yours, Beck. I never liked khaki anyway.”

  Chapter 21

  David was ready to give up on me. I wouldn’t go to A.A. or any other program for that matter. He thought that my future hinged on whether I would attend one or not. He’d say that without the right support, I was powerless to overcome the trauma of what I’d experienced. By admitting that I was an alcoholic who needed help, I would be free of the self-hatred, shame, and sense of worthlessness that got me to drink in the first place.

  “That’s bullshit.” I leaned over and threatened to blow out his candle.

  “Rebecca, you’ve learned to hide what is going on inside so well that you don’t even feel the pain.”

  “What have I got to hide? It doesn’t hurt at all when I drink. I do it because I like to. And right now I want to stop talking about it.”

  He shook his head, took out his notebook, and scribbled a few notes in the margins. I wanted to get hold of the damn thing and use the candle to light it on fire.

  “Look, David. We both know I’m not going to admit to any fake problem. There’s two minutes left on your clock, and I’ll do you a favor and leave now. That’ll give you more time to write-down how fucked-up you think I am in your little book.” I grabbed my purse and slammed the door on the way out.

  The next client looked up from her magazine, her greasy hair pasted back behind her ears. She was the epitome of what David was looking for — a pathetic case of never-get-well, the kind of client that put food on his table. The eternal mess, always broken and never fixed.

  My mom, who was waiting in the car, glanced at her watch and noticed the miniscule time discrepancy.

  “You’re early.”

  “His clock was fast.”

  Her eyebrows shot up and then relaxed. It was only a minute, not 30. She was learning to pick her battles.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I debated for a moment whether to answer it in front of my mom. I liked to keep things private, especially when the calls came from Christian. I didn’t hesitate to answer the phone when I saw it was Jesse.

  “Jesse!”

  “Boy, you sound joyful. What happened? Did your mom buy you a Happy Meal or something?”

  “Where have you been the last two days? We have work to do!”

  He cleared his throat and let out a little chuckle. “I’ve been working on something else.”

  “What else do you have to do besides our art project?” After all, he didn’t have a job or similar commitment to my knowledge.

  “It’s nothing. Look, you’re right about us having work to do. Can I come by tonight?”

  “I have English homework, and I’ve been in…” I caught myself before saying therapy. Surely someone like Jesse, who knew to some extent what I’d been through, would understand that I needed to see a counselor. Even if that counselor sucked.

  “You’ve been, I’ve been, we’ve all been.” He went off on a tangent of silliness, bringing an excited laugh from my lungs.

  “Anyway, I guess you could come over for a little bit. Let me ask.” I covered the phone and gave my mom a questioning glance.

  “Can Jesse come over and work on the project tonight? Just for an hour.”

  “You said you had homework.”

  “The art project is homework, Mom!”

  She sighed and pulled onto our street.

  “Okay, Rebecca. Anytime after 6:30 is fine.”

  If uncovering the phone was the equivalent of running, I would have been hitting warp speed.

  “Jesse, come over anytime after 6:30.” I sounded out of breath.

  “Great. How about 7?”

  “Okay. That’ll work.”

  “Work it will be. Don’t forget to breathe between now and 7.”

  “Oh, yeah, right. I won’t. See you later.”

  “Late!” He disappeared from the line.

  My mom turned to look at me after we pulled into our driveway.

  “I’m assuming that because Jesse is coming over, that you won’t be going out with Christian tonight?” A chill ran up my spine. To my knowledge, my parents thought I had a limited relationship with him, especially after he went on the Forbidden List. Never very good with sticking to their discipline, they’d allowed Christian to slide back into my life little by little. However, going out with him at night would never have received approval.

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Yes, you do. I’ve heard you climb out the window.” I had no response, which was basically admitting guilt.

  “Your father has no clue that you do this, just me. Remember, I used to be 15. I climbed out the window to meet boys.”

  “So you do understand,” I said, amazed that we were having a girl moment.

  “However, you’ve had a whole different experience than me, and I’m very concerned about where you’re headed.”

  “I’m not headed anywhere. I just want to see him.”

  She pursed her lips before speaking. “Are you still drinking?”

  My head shook with a rapid NO. Of course I was going to respond like that. I could tell my mom wanted to say something else, but instead she turned off the car and looked at me.

  “It would be nice if you saw someone like Jesse more often. He seems so good-hearted.”

  I couldn’t agree more with my mom.

  /////

  I shoveled dinner into my mouth and swallowed it nearly whole. It was spaghetti, so it didn’t matter if I chewed it or not. My stomach would pay the price for this whole food diet later.

  “Honey, slow down.” My mom gave me a big-eyed glance. She knew I was eager to see Jesse, and probably hoping that I’d feel this way more often.

  Christian wasn’t too happy about not seeing me, though. I told him I had to work on a project because my art buddy had been absent and we were running behind.

  “Who’s your art buddy?”<
br />
  “This guy, Jesse.”

  “Is he gay?”

  “I don’t think so. Why are you asking me that?”

  “Most guys who do art are gays, right?” Christian’s coddled upbringing was showing through his cool exterior.

  “That’s like saying all hairdressers are gay. They’re not.”

  “I don’t like you doing a buddy project with a guy.” A tad jealous? Christian wasn’t holding back his feelings now that there was no reason to do so.

  “It’s nothing. He’s a loner.”

  “Did you pick him? Or did he pick you?”

  “The teacher put us together. Look, Christian, there’s nothing to get upset about, okay?”

  He let out a slow exhale and said nothing.

  “We can see each other tomorrow at school, and then go do something later,” I said.

  “I guess so.”

  It had become difficult to have even one day to myself, to make the decision whether to go out with Christian or do something else. It also seemed funny that when Hillman controlled the puppet strings, there was no room for me in Christian’s life. Now there was plenty. Not that Christian wasn’t busy running track, playing piano, or doing amazing amounts of homework. It was that he could do all of it effortlessly, and do it with a girlfriend and a hangover

  Because I wanted to look decent for my guest, I did little things such as putting on a clean shirt, reapplying my makeup, and even brushing my tongue.

  “You’re looking fresh tonight, Rebecca!” It was as if Jesse knew my inner thoughts as he stood on the doorstep, waiting to be asked in. He brought the same tackle box, same green bag, and wore the same jacket.

  “It’s like groundhog day,” I said, comparing his second visit to his first. Jesse gave me a queer look through his bangs.

  “That’s what I’ve been saying every day for a year. Until I met you.”

  I gulped and kept my lips sealed. Jesse acted like it meant nothing, and trotted into the living room to hug my mom and shake my dad’s hand. To me, what he’d said was significant.

  It was the reason why I felt different around him and forgot about everything that was a problem in my life. I could have been looking into it too much, but I liked the ride and was going to take the trip.

  We settled down and exchanged updates on where we were with our work. I thought I would have been way ahead of Jesse, given that he’d been absent for two days. He surprised me when he slapped a finished drawing down on the table and crossed his arms.

  “I rock, you know,” he said with a smirk.

  “I actually think you’re right this time.” I picked up the picture and studied the fine stippling of the pencil work. Swirls of color dazzled the paper and flowed into an image that worked synergistically with my own.

  “Everything fits together perfectly. Look at the lines. See how they meet? Isn’t that cool how it ended up being like that… and I haven’t seen what you’ve been doing for days.”

  I shook my head. There was no doubt about it. “This is awesome, Jesse. You’re really good.”

  He sat back in the chair and leaned his head resting on his raised arms.

  “Thank you.” His pride in his work showed through his terrific grin. I looked at his jacket and was reminded of the one Christian had given to me.

  “I have something to show you. Close your eyes!”

  Jesse dutifully squeezed his eyes shut as I ran to the closet, grabbed the khaki jacket, and put it on.

  “Okay, open!” I stood in front of Jesse, my arms out in a fashion model pose. A look of mock horror spread across his face.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “You’re planning to do me in and pretend you’re me. That’s it! I knew it all along!” He got up and started tickling me. I tried not to laugh too loud, but it was impossible given that Jesse had found the spot along my side that was a deal-breaker. The cackling came in waves until he gave it a rest, but he did not let go of me.

  We looked briefly at each other, me in his clutches and he looking down into my face. It was like the cover of a bad teen romance novel, two adolescent art nerds in khaki jackets holding each other.

  “I feel like Fabio,” he said, turning the moment into a joke before releasing me.

  I felt flush with excitement, and hoped that underneath the humor Jesse had really wanted that move to happen.

  “You’ve got a long way to go.” It wasn’t the most kind comment, but I was playing into his schtick.

  “Gee, thanks! I know I’m no Christian Rusch, but at least I bathe every day. And I use deodorant.” He smiled.

  “Not everyone can be Christian.” I agreed with Jesse. Then again, not everyone could be Jesse Leary, either.

  The evening ended with the completion of his end of the project, and at least the rough stages of a beginning for me. I would fix that the next day.

  “Come to the car with me,” he said. I turned and saw my parents on the couch, and thought nothing of following Jesse to his little brown hatchback.

  “I had a great time working on this project with you.” He loaded his gear into the back seat, shut the door, and faced me.

  “I did, too. I wasn’t kidding when I said you rocked.”

  “Well, that’s good. I need you to think I rock.”

  “You do?”

  He leaned against the car and put his hands in his pockets.

  “Yeah, I do. It’s nice to have someone believe in me once in a while.”

  I searched his eyes for more information about what he’d said, but before I could decipher them, Jesse grabbed and kissed me with a long, powerful embrace that took the wind out of my lungs.

  Stepping back, I could only stare at him, my hand covering my lips from the shock and the thrill.

  “I’m sorry. I couldn’t help it,” he said with a sheepish grin.

  “That’s okay. I understand.” I sounded like a dork, but probably not as much as how Jesse was feeling like one for pulling that move. His rapid heartbeat showed on his sleeve when he dropped his keys and picked them up in two seconds flat. It was okay, really, that he’d kissed me. I think I wanted it to happen.

  “See you tomorrow,” he replied, hurrying to start his car and put it into gear.

  I waved as Jesse backed out of the driveway, and stood there as his car became two little red lights at the end of the street, and then disappeared.

  Chapter 22

  I approached my art class with more zest than I’d felt in a long time. The lighthearted happiness that flooded my insides even spread to Christian, who wasn’t the wiser about why. Even Jenna noticed the immediate difference in my aura.

  “You look like you’ve been taking happy pills. What gives?”

  “Things are just going well.”

  “With Christian? Has anything really changed there?”

  “No, it’s not about him.”

  “Oh, really? Can I guess who this is about?”

  “No, you may not, and no, it’s not about who you think it is.” But it was. After Jesse had gone home, I’d slept next to the khaki jacket, pretending he was still there making me laugh.

  “You tell yourself a good story, Beck. Call me later.” She gave me a quick hug.

  Before I entered Mr. Stanley’s class, I stopped by the bathroom to make sure I didn’t look scary and popped some gum into my mouth.

  “Hey there!” said Jesse when I sat down next to him. There was no jerky to be found, only the usual standards of jacket, bracelet, and a smirk.

  “Hey yourself. Did you sleep okay last night?”

  “Why wouldn’t I?”

  I thought of a thousand reasons, but the one I hoped for the most was that he couldn’t get his mind off of me.

  “I don’t know… it was an interesting evening.”

  He leaned over and whispered in my ear. “What would you say, Rebecca, if I was interested in doing something like that again?” I lost my concentration, and thankfully Mr. Stanley started talking before I had an
answer.

  I had a boyfriend. I had some pretty big problems. Now I had my mind on Jesse more often than not. He was a loner, an introvert with an extroverted mouth and a semblance of silliness that was irresistible. He was worlds apart from Christian’s circle. And damn it, I felt like I could be myself around him.

  When Mr. Stanley finished his lecture, I took my part of the buddy project and started putting on the finishing touches. Being that Jesse was already done with his, he reached into his pocket for what I thought was a stick of jerky.

  “If you pull out one of those smelly--” and then I saw that he was holding a pretty purple stone. It was smooth and rounded on top, flat on the bottom and the size of a quarter.

  “I didn’t know rocks smelled. At least, I don’t think this one does.” He put it on the desk in front of me.

  I took the rock and tumbled it around in my hand, then held it up to the light to see its translucent clarity.

  “It’s for you, Rebecca.”

  “Nobody’s ever given me a stone before. Thank you.”

  “It’s not just any stone. It’s a reminder stone. I’ve used it a lot to remind me to stick to being myself and my goals. I thought you’d like to have it.”

  I felt touched that he thought of my needs, giving up his reminder stone to a girl he’d known only a few weeks. I slipped it into my pocket, and thought about the kiss we’d shared for the duration of the class.

  /////

  I was walking out with Jesse when Christian approached me. He eyed Jesse’s jacket with a questioning glance.

  “Ready to go?”

  I stood between the boys. “Christian, this is Jesse.”

  “Your art buddy?” Christian took a step forward and sized him up. Jesse kept one hand in his pocket and the other wrapped around his books.

  “Hey there, Christian. I’ve heard all about you,” he fibbed, extracting his hand and placing it out for a shake. Christian didn’t reciprocate.

  “Same here,” said Christian, wrapping his arm around my waist and steering me away. The meeting was too curt for my taste.

  “You could have been a little nicer,” I said while getting into Christian’s car.