by Kate Morris
He heard her coming down the stairs and turned in time to see Jane enter the room.
“Do you play?” he asked, indicating the piano.
“No, Nana Peaches does. Or she used to. She has arthritis in some of her fingers, so it’s hard now. Do you?”
“Guitar. A little piano, but only what I taught myself.”
She was drying her hair with a towel that she slung over a radiator along the wall. Then she strode purposely toward the fireplace and assembled wood inside. He often saw smoke coming from their chimney and wondered if they had a working fireplace inside this house. His home had a gas fireplace that lit with a switch. It was very anti-climactic and pretty lame.
“Let me help,” he said.
“Want to ball up some newspaper pieces for me?” she requested.
“Sure,” he said and did as she ordered. He watched as she stacked little, cut pieces into a triangle teepee inside and squeezed the newspaper under them. Then she lit another wad of newspaper and stuck it somewhere up in the chimney. “Want to light it while I get that?” She was referring to the whistling kettle.
He nodded, “Sure, I got this.”
“You’re a real boy scout, huh?”
Roman chuckled and said honestly, “Not really. My dad used to take me on a few hunting trips every year with him when I was younger before his business really took off like it is now.”
“Hunting?” she asked from the kitchen.
“Yeah, fishing sometimes, too, up on Lake Erie,” he replied as he lit the fire. It started crackling a few seconds later. He knew from his dad that the wood had to be really dried out to get it lit well like this. “Sometimes my grandpa in Florida takes us fishing.”
Jane came in with two mugs with tea bag strings hanging out of them. When she handed him one, he noticed that her hands shook still. He followed her lead and placed his on the coffee table. Then he sat next to her on the worn out, old green sofa when she took a seat.
“So, you’re confused on this…”
Roman took her hands in his. They were slightly cool. Jane yanked them back.
“What are you doing?” she asked with caution.
“Your hands are shaking,” he said, taking one again. “Trying to warm you up.”
She tried to pull back, but he held more firmly this time, anticipating that she would.
“Are you cold?” he asked.
“I guess so,” she said, staring down at their clasped hands.
Her damp hair fell over her face, now free from the ponytail and braids she had it in, and Roman resisted the urge to push it back behind her ear. He was touching her hand. He didn’t want to ruin things.
“You don’t feel all that cold. Is something wrong? Are you…nervous with me being here?” he asked unsurely.
“No!” she blurted and pulled back, this time getting free.
“Then what is it?”
She shook her head. “Let’s just work on this assignment.”
Her eyes seemed frightened like last night. Something was definitely wrong. Even when Stephanie picked on her at school, to which he tried to intervene whenever he saw it happening, she didn’t look like this. This was fear. It was present in her eyes and had left its mark on her again. Her fear had, in turn, left its mark on him. He wanted to make her feel better.
“What happened?” he asked gently.
Her eyes popped up to meet his. Then she stared at the fire instead. It was crackling and snapping now, putting out some heat. In her baggy sweatpants and equally loose sweatshirt, she should’ve been warm. It was chilly out tonight, probably around the low fifties, but it wasn’t below zero. This was not from being cold.
She shook her head.
“Jane, what happened?”
She bit her lower lip with indecision. He could tell she was weighing out whether or not she could trust him.
“Tell me. I won’t tell anyone if you don’t want me to. It can just be between us.”
“Trust you? Is that what you’re asking? I don’t even know you.”
“I know, but I really want that to change,” he admitted, throwing it out there and hoping she wouldn’t slap him in the face or throw him off her cool farm. Her hands had poked through the ends of her shirt sleeves and were gripping the extra material in her curled fingers. She was scared. He didn’t know her that well, either, but fear was a universal emotion and one that had certain tells. She was also rubbing her fisted hands up and down her thighs.
Slowly, very slowly, Jane’s eyes traveled up to meet his. “You’re going to think I’m crazy.”
“Never,” he said softly and shook his head. “I know you well enough to at least know that much. You’re the most level-headed, responsible person our age that I know.”
Her dark brow knitted together as she contemplated that. Then she shook her head and said quietly, “Remember last night? With Randall and Brian?”
He nodded patiently.
“We had…” she said and swallowed. “We had something similar happen tonight at the restaurant.”
“What?” he whispered dubiously.
“See? You think I’m crazy.”
“No, it’s not that. I don’t doubt you. Not at all. Tell me what happened,” he said and turned his body more toward her and let his left arm rest on the back of the couch and bent his leg to rest between them. She didn’t back away. That had to be a good sign.
“Hector- he’s our chef- he just… I don’t know how to describe it. He just went nuts or something,” she said nervously and glanced up to gauge his reaction.
“Seriously? Like Randall did last night at Terry’s?”
She nodded vigorously.
“Whoa,” he replied, mostly because he couldn’t think of anything else.
Her words flowed more quickly from her next. “I know. You don’t know Hector, but I do. I’ve worked with him for over a year now. He even threatened him by pulling a butcher knife on him. He’s never done anything like that. He’s always been so kind. He was attacking his friend, Jose- he’s our sous chef. They’re really good friends, too. Just like Brian and Randall were. It was so weird. It…”
She paused, and her eyes took on that haunted look again. There was such an innocence about Jane but also a darkness that lurked deep below the surface. Her life, although she was still young like him, must’ve been troubled.
“What? Tell me,” he urged and retook her hand. This time she didn’t pull away.
“It was surreal like I was watching it happen in a movie or something. His eyes were so…bloodshot, just like Randall’s. But he was also really pale and sweaty, you know, like when you get a fever and you’re sick?”
“Now that you say that, so was Randall. I noticed it earlier at school, too. I even asked him if he was feeling okay after last period yesterday,” he told her.
“I…I’ve seen people like that before,” she confessed barely above a whisper.
“What do you mean?”
“My mom’s friends,” she said. Jane turned to look at him, and he could tell she wanted to expose something secretive to him but wasn’t sure if she could trust him still. Her mouth opened but shut again, clamping closed.
“Go on,” he encouraged.
She looked around the room nervously as if Stephanie and her asshole friends would come out from behind the curtains to ambush her.
“Let me make a promise to you right here, right now,” he said in a grave tone. “Anything you ever tell me will never be told to anyone else.”
Her eyes rose to meet his, considering him.
“Would you do the same?” he requested, trying to earn her trust.
“Who would I tell?”
“Your grandmother. Destiny. People you work with.”
She nodded and offered a sad grin. “Sure.”
“I promise, Jane,” he said more seriously this time. “Your secrets and stories are safe with me. Anything you want to tell me, you can. I’ll never reveal anything to anyone.”
A
flicker of doubt crossed her soft features before she nodded.
He smiled and said, “Ok, I’m going to defer to my much wiser and very reliable brother, Connor. Pinky swear?”
Her full lips split into a grin, and she hooked her pinky finger around his. It was as if a minuscule bolt of lightning passed between their fingers. He felt it. By the look on her face, so did she. Roman swallowed and unclasped their fingers. He took up her other hand again, though. He felt it still, but this time it was more like a soft, warming feeling spreading from her palm into his and back through hers again.
“Go ahead,” he urged.
She took a deep breath and said, “When I told you before that I lived in Cincinnati, it was a lie. I mean, I did. I lived there but not for very long. My mom and I moved around a lot. I mean, a lot lot. It was usually her moving us in with drug dealers or her friends, who were all users.”
Roman scowled, not with judgment but with disapproval of her mother’s behavior that she would’ve put Jane in such peril. What an irresponsible thing to do with your own daughter. For some reason, it pissed him off.
“Some of the people we stayed with would occasionally tweak out as my mom called it.”
Her gentle hazel eyes were nervous. He knew some of that came from the fear of trusting him with these dark secrets.
“Yeah? Like overdose?”
“Yes,” she said and took a deep breath again. “Sometimes they got…weird.”
“Weird,” he repeated when she paused.
Jane nodded, “Yeah. They’d get crazy and sometimes violent and do…stuff.”
“What kind of stuff,” he asked, dreading her answer.
“Hurt themselves sometimes. Start fighting with other people. Hurt other people. Act completely irrationally. When they were violent, it was hard to get them to calm down. Usually, my mom would just get us out of there. It was bad. Randall and now Hector reminded me of those people.”
“Was it always men?”
She shook her head, “No, a few times it was women, too. My mom said it was because they got ahold of a bad batch. I didn’t know at the time what she meant, but I do now. All I knew is that when they were like that, it was really…scary. I felt that same fear last night and again tonight at the restaurant. I didn’t think I’d ever feel like that again.”
He nodded with understanding. No wonder she’d stood there mute and frozen in place last night when it was going down. She was paralyzed with fear and bad memories from her messed up childhood. For this, he was glad her worthless mother was in prison. He hated to pass judgment on someone he didn’t actually know, but she sounded horrid and selfish and ignorant.
“Where is Randall now?” she asked.
“I asked around. I guess his parents took him to the hospital this morning. That’s all I know.”
“That’s where they took Hector,” she said, leaving Roman with an ominous feeling.
A bright streak of lightning flashed across the sky outside followed by a peal of thunder that caused her to jump and squeeze his hand. Then she pulled away.
“This is stupid,” she said, her eyes focusing again.
“No, it’s not. Something might be going on,” he said. “Maybe they both got some bad drugs or something.”
She shook her head decidedly and said, “No, no way. Hector lost his son about six years ago to an overdose. He’d never touch drugs. Never.”
“Yeah, Randall’s not a drug user, either. He hardly ever drinks at parties ‘cuz he’s gotta get tested a lot during football and wrestling season. He’s got a scholarship to Penn State, so I know he doesn’t wanna’ blow that.”
She nodded and reached for her tea. Roman did the same and took a sip. Jane was just sitting there with her hands wrapped around the hot mug. Her face was one of deep concern.
Finally, she broke the silence and asked, “What if it’s not that? What if…”
“What? What are you thinking?” he prodded.
She shook her head, “No, this is just a few random cases of people being off. Maybe it’s the full moon. You know I read once that emergency rooms are always busier during a full moon. That must be it. I’m just blowing the whole thing out of proportion because…”
He peered closely at her and thought about her theory as she zoned out. She was thinking about whether or not to believe the full moon theory, too. Roman didn’t. Thunder cracked loudly outside, hard enough to rattle the windows of the old house. Jane jumped, spilling her tea on her hand.
“Ouch, dangit,” she said as Roman grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table and dabbed at her hand.
She placed her tea back on the stand and took the tissue from him to finish drying her hand.
Roman tenderly took her fingers in his palm and asked with concern, “Did you get burned?”
She merely shook her head as she stared at her upturned hand in his. Roman allowed his thumb to stroke gently against the center of her palm.
“Why are you doing this?” she asked in a whisper.
He swallowed and used his other hand to swipe her hair behind her ear. She didn’t even have her ears pierced. The girls in the crowd he ran with had multiple earring holes and only wore real diamond studs in them. Many also had their noses or belly buttons pierced, too. A few had even more scandalous areas pierced and liked to brag. He knew about their expensive jewelry because he’d heard their conversations about getting pieces from their parents for birthdays and Christmas. They all tried to one-up each other in size, too. He always thought it was ridiculous that teenage girls wore real diamonds anywhere on their bodies. It seemed like something a husband should give a wife.
“Doing what?” he asked in a hushed tone.
“Being nice to me? Did someone put you up to this? Did Destiny? Is that it? Is this some sort of pity thing?” she asked without looking at him.
“Pity? Why would that make sense? I don’t get it.”
“Or are you doing this for your friends?”
“My friends?” he repeated confusedly.
“Is this all a part of some elaborate hoax that Stephanie’s behind?”
“Hey, no,” he stated emphatically and took her chin between his thumb and index finger and forced her to look at him, which she rarely did. “No, way, Jane. I’m not here under some guise. Nobody set this up. I want to be here.”
“What about the English paper?”
He smiled guiltily and let his hand fall away from her face. “Yeah, about that…”
“What?” she asked quickly and nervously.
“Well, it’s just that I don’t really need help. I just wanted to hang out with you and couldn’t think of a good excuse. I figured you wouldn’t give me the time of day if I didn’t come up with something.”
“I wouldn’t give you the time of day? I think you’ve got that a little backward, Roman,” she stated with a scowl that bordered on angry.
He chuckled away his nerves and replied, “Not everything is what it seems sometimes.”
A log snapped and popped on the fire behind him, and Roman turned to look and make sure nothing sparked onto the hardwood floor. They looked like original hardwoods because the planks were wide and scarred. It had character. Their house was small but very comfortable. And it was warmer than his own. Not because of the fire lit in the fireplace, either.
When he turned back, Jane pulled her hand away from his, which made his feel empty all of a sudden.
“What do you mean?” she asked.
“Just that, I’ve always thought you were…different, and…”
She snorted. “Ya’ think? I don’t exactly blend in nicely with the rest of the people in our school. Different would be great. Different would be mysterious and interesting, not a social outcast.”
“No, that’s not true. You are interesting. That’s what I meant.”
“You have a strange way of showing it,” she said, this time with more irritation.
The sound of the door opening and shutting in the kitchen cut
him off from convincing her further that he was genuinely interested in getting to know her. Jane shot to her feet, so he followed suit as her grandmother walked into the room.
“You’re home early,” Jane stated.
“Meribelle wasn’t feeling well. Said she thought she was coming down…” her grandmother stopped short when she noticed Roman.
“Nana Peaches, this is Roman. We go to school together,” Jane said, introducing them.
“Roman Lockwood isn’t it?” her grandmother stated.
“Yes, ma’am,” he said.
“Right, your mother buys apples from me,” she said.
“Yes, she does.”
“She brags about you a lot,” her grandmother said with a grin.
“Oh, I don’t know why she’d do that. It’s nice to make your acquaintance, ma’am,” he said and extended his hand, which she took in hers and shook firmly. She was tall, much taller than Jane, and wore high-waisted, flare leg jeans and a denim overshirt that looked like it was bought in the men’s clothing department.
“Roman was just leaving,” Jane said, confusing him as she started for the door.
“Oh, um, okay,” he stammered like an imbecile and followed, leaving her grandmother in the living room by herself. He looked over his shoulder and saw she was stoking the fire.
Jane walked him to the door where she plucked his jacket from the hook. He swiped a hand through his damp hair and took his jacket from her outstretched hand.
“Jane, I…”
“Good luck with your paper,” she said brightly, falsely.
“I don’t understand. Are you mad? Are you not allowed to have visitors?” he whispered.
“No, I’m allowed to have anyone I want over,” she explained. “This,” she said, pointing to him and back at herself, “is not a friendship. It’s not an anything. You know it. I know it. Whatever you’re thinking, stop. I’m not going to delude myself into thinking you seriously want to be my friend, Roman.”
“But…”
“Goodbye,” she said and squeezed past him to open the door in the mudroom.