The Maple Effect

by Madeleine Cull

  “I thought you weren’t coming!” she said, fixing her top and jean shorts a little. “I mean—you called me a week ago and said that your family couldn’t make the trip this year and I just—June I was SO MAD! But now you’re here!”

  “I know, I know.” He held up his hands in defense. “Listen I—”

  “How’d you convince them to come?” She shook her head in disbelief, turning back to the counter to check on the other guy. He was busy refilling a bottle of caramel sauce, although probably eavesdropping too.

  “I didn’t.” June ran a hand through his hair, sheepish. “I came on my own.”

  Her chocolate brown eyes sparkled deviously. “How’d you convince your parents to let you come alone? Did you pull the I’m-eighteen-I-can-do-what-I-want card?”

  “Uh,” June stalled, remembering how he’d sat on the porch while his family was out of the house and decided he was leaving. It had happened so quickly he couldn’t even remember dialing the cab number. “No…”

  Angie’s expression faded into something skeptical. She did a double-take around the shop to make sure no one was listening or had snuck in around them before pulling June toward the door leading him to the back room.

  “Charlie, I’ll be right back!” She waved at her employee, and he nodded dutifully. It made the dark, nutmeg colored curls on his head bounce.

  June was pushed through the door and into the storage area with vigor. Angie turned on him, voice high with disbelief. “Did you run away from home?”

  His stomach did a nervous little flip. However, Angie’s eyes still sparkled impishly. She didn’t look like she was ready to lecture him—maybe give him a friendly punch to the shoulder or something.

  “I…just…had to come.” June looked around the room, observing bottles of flavoring and sprinkles in jars. “They’re not renewing their contract for the cabin, and I didn't…get a chance to say goodbye, you know?”

  She did know. More than anyone else actually. Angie had the same untamed love for this lake and their summers together that he did. No doubt that if the tables had been reversed, she would have done the same thing.

  “They must know you’re here, though?”

  June nodded. “I’m sure they put two and two together. But they haven't shown up to drag me back home yet, so…”

  She sighed, brushed a few stray locks of hair away from her neck, and turned to lean on the shelves next to him. June knew this whole thing was a clusterfuck, but that didn’t mean he was about to admit it. Not when it was going so well (minus the fact that a stranger showed up in the middle of the night to join him).

  June thought about Aaron and what he might be doing right now. He’d left without explaining where he was going, and Aaron hadn’t bothered to ask because he’d been fresh out of the shower and still getting dressed behind the bathroom door.

  Angie would want to meet Aaron. June looked at her and knew she would welcome him with open arms just like she did everyone else. He grimaced. She would probably point out something really stupid and obvious like the fact that Aaron was SO HOT. June wasn't ready for that yet. Maybe because he didn't want Aaron to intrude on his last summer with his best friend (or maybe because he wasn’t willing to share Aaron with anyone else).

  “Well,” Angie spoke, lifting her chin and smiling at him. “If they haven’t come to get you yet, they probably won’t. I bet your Dad thinks he’s teaching you a lesson or something.”

  June smiled. “Maybe I’ll never be allowed to go home again.” Wouldn’t that be nice?

  “That’s it! June Crow, you made the decision to leave, you’re never coming back!” Angie crossed her arms, doing her best impersonation of his dad that she could. “I hope you know the shame you have brought to this family!”

  He snickered, shaking his head and looking up to the old, wooden ceiling beams like they held the answers to all his problems. He sighed, shoulder against his best friend and fingers playing with a chip of paint that came off the shelf.

  “What time do you get off?” he asked after a moment.

  Everything about Angie suddenly drooped, even her freckles.

  “Probably nine or so tonight. I have to train the new guy, and my mom is down in town running errands.”

  June figured as much. The lake was always busy at this time of year, and therefore, so was Angie. “Sucks to be you,” he murmured.

  “Whatever, I’ll make sure I get some time off soon.” She pushed away from her place against the shelf and turned back toward the door. “Now come on, you want a sugar cone with strawberry cheesecake?”

  “You know me so well.” June followed her, grinning. “And a treat for the big dog up the hill.”

  She threw her arm around his shoulder and led him back into the shop.

  “Just like old times!”

  Aaron spent a large portion of his afternoon doing nothing. Rolling around the uncomfortable mattress in the guest bedroom and walking out onto the porch to drink in the mountain air. He pitifully checked his phone around different areas in the house, hoping to get maybe a scrap more service (just enough so maybe a text or voicemail would come through). He tried to convince himself to take it off the charger and just let it die for the rest of his time here. However, a nagging curiosity ate away at him. He just…wanted to know if anyone was reaching out to him. Wanted to know if anyone even worried about him.

  Aaron had made himself a bowl of cereal long after June had been awake and left the house. June had told him while cooking dinner last night, that Aaron could use whatever groceries he wanted so long as he bought more when they ran out, which was fair. Aaron agreed and was happy to feel less like an intruder when he opened the fridge today. June had bought a lot of fresh things—things that needed to be cooked or took time, and some level of skill Aaron did not possess. He avoided anything that would involve turning on the stove.

  He sat on the couch, eating Captain Crunch and wondered just how far away June had gone by foot. There was a lake around here somewhere—he’d seen signs for it on their drive back yesterday—so maybe June had gone swimming? He pushed a few pieces of cereal down into the milk and watched them float back up to the top. If June had asked him…Aaron would have gone with him.

  Today was relentlessly hot. The air thick and slightly humid with little breeze. He sweated with the windows open, plain black tank top hanging loose against his chest and forehead sticky when he wiped his hand across it. He sighed, watched the ceiling fan in the living room rotate lazily (the string was too high for him to reach without standing on something). He tried to relax, not wanting to think about anything too pressing in the silence. It was easy to let his mind wander back to Portland or his cousin when he was bored and alone. Unguarded. He looked at the flip phone sitting on the arm of the couch next to him and wished it would buzz.

  Aaron closed his eyes and breathed. A clock on the wall near him ticked quietly.

  Where’s June? Aaron didn’t really care, but it was a nicer topic than thinking about his problems.

  He finished his bowl of cereal and took a sip of the sugar-sweet milk while considering leaving the house to find something to do. It didn't matter how far the lake was because he had his car. Maybe he could find a place to pull over and walk down to the water? He could at least cool off that way.

  A few moments, before Aaron committed to anything, he was startled by the sudden, silent presence of June’s cat. The creature moved toward him from the opposite side of the room, yellow eyes careful. His feathery tail flicked back and forth nervously, unsure about his decisions. Aaron slowly set his bowl on the coffee table.

  “Hi, Quail.”

  The cat looked up at him cautiously, eyes unblinking and a little wide. He had a broad head, short ears, and narrow muzzle. His thick, grey fur looked like it was too hot for a day like today.

  “You probably shouldn't drink that,” Aaron said. “But…I won’t tell if you don’t.”

  Quail hesitated, eyes on the bowl before he finally
made a move. He hopped up onto the coffee table and crouched down at the ceramic rim, sniffed and then licked the remaining milk in the bottom. Aaron listened to the gentle lapping of the cat’s tongue and sighed. June had said Quail would warm up to him with some time—but it seemed like food was the real advocate here.

  Ten minutes later, Aaron searched the cupboards quietly for some cat treats and Quail followed him around with muted interest. As long as Aaron didn't move too fast or make any loud noises, the creature didn't seem as afraid of him. Eventually, he found a heavy bag of kibble under the sink and took a small handful of it with him back to the living area.

  “Come on, Quail,” he said in a higher, softer voice. “We might as well make friends.”

  At the very least, it was something to occupy his time.

  June arrived back at the cabin during the hottest part of the day; sweat sticky on the back of his neck and clothes clinging damply to his skin. He could feel every portion of his exposed body darkened with heat, aching for some shade or better—the A.C. unit. By the time he sauntered up the driveway and under the carport, his muscles ached with exhaustion—chest tight. The cabin welcomed him, the door unlocked as he had left it, kitchen quiet and calm. Linoleum cool when he kicked off his flip-flops.

  Aaron slept on the couch farthest from him, one leg halfway off the side and the other propped up against the old, faded pillows. His head was on the armrest and tilted to the side; his mouth slack.

  Nothing about Aaron’s presence particularly surprised June. He looked about as normal as he always did. Soft and innocent and open. Pleasant. However, what did surprise June was that his cat was willingly laying on the boy’s solid chest. Yellow-orange eyes peered up at him with quiet interest. Quail was curled tightly together; paws underneath his poofy body and tail swept neatly around himself. Unlike Aaron, he’d heard June enter the room.

  June smiled, something strange and unprovoked flickered like a Bic lighter in his chest. Maybe he was just dizzy from the heat, but Quail looked at him with such intense, questioning eyes it was hard not to laugh.

  Who is this Human you brought into this house? He’s for me, right? He’s mine now.

  Grinning, June moved stiffly to the sink in the kitchen to wash his face. There was a fleeting and gentle thought in the back of his mind that he rather liked coming home to someone else in this house. It was strange and comforting in the same kind of way it normally was when his parents or sisters were here.

  That said, June couldn't figure out why he was so hell-bent on keeping Aaron to himself and not telling Angie about the situation. The more it stayed in the back of his mind. The more anxiety crept into his chest. The more he felt like he wanted to hole up here and protect what fragile friendship they’d already developed. It wouldn't harm anything to tell Angie, and she would keep his secret just fine, but something still felt wrong about exposing it. It was too soon.

  He’d sat in the ice cream shop for a few hours chatting with Angie between customers and never once brought up Aaron. Every time an opportunity arose, he couldn't get the words off his tongue. Instead, June had let her ramble about all the things that had happened in the last year or so; much of it stuff he’d already heard once before while tethered to the landline in his Mother’s kitchen (and who still had a landline with a cord anyway?).

  The point was; Aaron felt like his mission. His personal side-quest on this last summer journey. June wanted to overcome and conquer him...needed to solve the Aaron Valentine puzzle before he brought it to the surface of his real life. He needed to know more. Needed to understand why Aaron was here and what he was running from.

  Because he was…running from something, right?

  June made a show of washing his face in the kitchen sink with the tap water running as cold as it could get. He took the old plastic nozzle and sprayed his head to try and drench the heat out of his raven black hair. Wiped down his neck and shoulders and sighed into the cool tile counter. Turned the water off and stayed there a moment, dripping into the sink and remembering how he and Angie used to spray each other with the hose outside on days like today. It felt the same as this—bitter tap water oddly satisfying as it rolled tiny rivers down his spine. He smiled, finally brought his head back up and shook it out a little before reaching toward the hand-towel draped over the stove.

  When he turned back around, Aaron stared at him with strange, distant amusement in his green eyes. Quail still sat on his chest.

  “I see you made friends with my cat.” June toweled his head until his hair was damp. It was just long enough to slick back, revealing his usually covered forehead.

  “He wasn't too hard to convince…just took a little time and incentive.”

  June snorted in agreement, walking his sore legs over to the adjacent couch and promptly flopping back into it. He sighed, head tilted back to feel the lazy breeze on his face from the fan. It was warm—too warm—and the silence clung to him like the moisture in the air.

  “What did you d—”

  “Where did you—”

  June rubbed a hand through his hair, looking across at Aaron. “You first.”

  “Where did you go?” the honey blonde asked. June noted his voice sounded casual but forced. Curiosity burned in his eyes.

  June paused, shifting a little to sit upright against the couch pillows. Was it all right to tell Aaron about Angie? He bit the inside of his cheek, trying not to make it a big deal. Angie was the nosey one who would want to meet Aaron and force her way into their life…he didn't expect that kind of behavior from someone who didn't know him very well, let alone anyone else on this whole mountain.

  “I went down to the lake,” June began. “Saw an old friend.”

  “Oh.” Aaron’s response was instant. Planned ahead of time. Aaron seemed to consider that. “I didn’t know you knew anyone out here.”

  “My family has, no joke, spent every summer here since I was a toddler.” June hummed. A sudden sense of pride and belonging filled his chest. “I learned to swim in that lake.”

  Aaron’s eyes softened, something happy and yet almost forlorn and quiet there that June didn't understand. Empathy? He looked like he saw right through June. Like June had just revealed to him his every reason for being here in the first place.

  “Are you upset that your parents are no longer renting the summers from us then?”

  Us. Us, of course, he meant the Valentines. Aaron’s parents who owned this cabin and spent the winters here (probably just as long as June’s family had been spending the summers. Maybe even longer). It took June a solid minute to remember that he had explained to Aaron a little bit of his situation that first night they had met. He’d had to, of course, at the risk that Aaron would think he was some criminal hiding out.

  As for Aaron’s question…June ignored it with all of his might. “We still have this summer,” he clarified. “Technically, our contract isn’t up with your family until the end of August.”

  Aaron shrugged. “My mother told me no one would be here this summer.”

  “She must have misheard.” June narrowed his eyes, trying to cover the lie beneath them. Of course, Aaron was right. He wasn’t supposed to be here right now—not really, anyway. But he wasn’t about to explain why he’d run away from home. No. That one was a secret he couldn’t surface with a stranger.

  “And anyway…” June cleared his throat. Cleared the concerned expression on Aaron’s face before it could drown him. “You’ve never actually been here before, right?”

  “Nope.” The blond shrugged, tilting his head back to look at the lazy ceiling fan. “My parents come here to spend quality time together when they aren’t working. They’ve never really invited me.”

  He spoke like he didn't see much of his parents. June hummed, trying to picture this cabin in the middle of winter, occupied by two middle-aged white people rekindling whatever love they sacrificed due to time. He tried to imagine candles on the coffee table instead of Uno cards. The smell of wine being
poured instead of melting Otter Pops. The gentle flow of silence versus the stampede of triplets fighting over who got to take a shower first.

  June had a fleeting and unusually compassionate thought about what kind of family Aaron grew up in, and what kind of summers he might have had. He figured they couldn't be as true and good and substantial as his own. Aaron looked too soft around the edges to have had the same kind of childhood he had. Part of June pitied him.

  “I’ll take you down to the lake.”

  Aaron shifted then, sitting up a little straighter against the other couch. Quail leaped from his lap at the motion, landing silently on the beige carpet.

  “Okay,” his smile was small but unabashed. June had to look away.

  “Yeah, we can go tonight…or tomorrow.” It wasn’t like he planned on suddenly giving Aaron the best goddamn summer of his life or something. “Whenever.”

  “Awesome,” Aaron agreed again, and it was like sealing his fate. Licking the envelope shut. Slamming the door. Sticking around.

  Sticking around with June for who knows how long.

  June had to remove himself from the couch to stifle the heavy crickets jumping around his stomach. He grunted, mentally tried to reason with himself. Of all things, he shouldn’t feel nervous.

  It was just Aaron.

  Instead of making breakfast—which had become a normal activity for June over the last few mornings—he focused his attention on smearing peanut butter on white bread and finding a jar of jelly in the fridge that hadn’t been touched since last year (which for the record, was still within its expiration date). He whistled while he worked, bopping his head to a Nelly song on the radio. The signal out here sucked and he could only get one real station to come through, but couldn't find it in himself to be offended by the ancient device. Next to him, on the counter, Quail watched a spider tiptoe around a web in the corner above the sink.