September Rain

by A.R. Rivera

19

  -Angel

  Back inside my cell, lying in my bed, I'm trying to find the sleep that so often evades me.

  Of course, my mind drifts back to Jake, my very own Romeo. And the anxious feeling, the need to find him again is so strong that I cross my arms and pinch at the insides of my elbows.

  It's not time yet. My confession must be completed before I can think of taking the next step to get back to him.

  I spent so many nights with him; mostly in my bed, but sometimes in his. A memory, nearly forgotten, surfaces like a dream and pulls me in.

  My feet were tangled in his sheets as I ran my fingers down his bare back, lingering on his sculpted shoulders, his pecks, and then the finely tuned notes of his taut stomach. Jakes lips pressed against mine as we moved together. Loving me, he whispered my name in a way that turned the word into music. I can feel his fingers gathering the hair at my nape, the little scratches of his nails as he pulled me closer.

  Turning to my side, I sink into my thin mattress and thinner pillow, burrowing down, hoping to cry myself to sleep.

  But all the talking, cultivating all those memories has my mind going. There are so many moments I left out. Moments worth reliving scattered among times I long to go back and change.

  Memories I've long cherish are sprinkled among the signs I thought I saw, but never took them for what they were: a warning.

  +++

  We'd been together for a several months and Jake was anxious for me to meet his mom. He'd planned to introduce me several times, but I was always too nervous. I made up excuses the first couple times he arranged for us to meet. He didn't like my cancelling, but had been letting me get away with it. By the fourth invitation, his patience was gone. Seeing this, I agreed to go over one Sunday afternoon.

  "She's going to love you." He assured me, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the radio. "Just relax." His gaze drifted from the road to the rearview mirror.

  Avery was in the back of the van, watching the store fronts blow by. I'd invited her at the last minute because knowing she was there would help me feel confident enough to relax. And Jake didn't say anything when she got into the car, so I assumed it was okay.

  "Where's your mom work?" Avery asked.

  "Post Office." Jake turned to me and smiled.

  "Why do you want me to meet her so bad?" I asked.

  He looked into the rearview mirror again. "Because I like you."

  Just then, I looked into the back. Avery was staring at him, wearing a small smile that faded when her eyes met mine.

  My fingers clutched at a set of knots forming in my stomach. When I looked back to Jake he glanced from the rearview mirror, to the road, and then back at me. I straightened in my seat.

  When we stopped at a red light, Jakes eyes went right into the rearview mirror, again. He was looking at Avery, even when she wasn't talking. I understood why-I mean she was so much prettier than me-but it made my chest quiver in a very bad way.

  I told myself it was nothing, but couldn't help asking, "Why do you keep looking behind you, in the mirror?" My tone was low, hoping Avery couldn't hear.

  Jakes face didn't change, but his gaze shifted to the road ahead. "It's part of being a responsible driver."

  "It doesn't mean anything, Angel." Avery whispered, reaching up to pat my shoulder. I swear she had the ears of a jungle cat.

  I looked out the window behind us. There were a few cars. The light changed and we started moving. I watched Jake as he checked his mirrors and then switched lanes, but his gaze kept going back to that rearview mirror.

  "What are you looking at?" I asked more forcefully.

  Jake didn't take his eyes off the road, but they shrank. "Traffic."

  "Who are you looking at?"

  "Angel." My name was a warning. "Don't start this again."

  "Tell me. Who are you trying to scope out back there?"

  Jake shook his head and scoffed as he guided the van to the roadside. He parked and turned to face me, pinning me with his undivided irritation.

  "Are you trying to start a fight? Because I thought we were going to having a nice time. I thought you finally agreed to meet my mother. If picking a fight is your way of trying to get out of it again, you let me know. The way I'm feeling right now, I will fucking fight." His lips thinned and his voice was stern.

  The sliding door of the van slammed. I looked into the back and Avery was gone. I turned to look out my door and found her face in my open window.

  "I'm not fighting with anyone." She snapped, before taking off down the sidewalk.

  I jumped out after her. She stopped when she heard my door close and turned around, stalking back to me.

  "Angel, dammit, would you get back in the car?" Jakes' voice sailed from inside the van.

  I ignored him. "Ave-"

  "Go, Angel." She told me. "I'm only a few blocks from my mom's store. She'll give me ride home."

  "Angel!" Jake called, sounding more upset.

  I was torn. "I'm sorry," I told her.

  "Angel, you're really pissing him off right now. Over nothing. Just get in the van and go meet his family. It's important to him." She turned and started down the block again.

  A second later, Jake was behind me. "Well? Are we fighting or what?"

  I turned to face him, but kept my eyes on the ground. "Let's go."

  He opened the vans passenger door for me and I hopped inside.

  Jake's temper vanished as we drove down the road. My mood improved considerably as I watched him repeatedly checking the rearview mirror.

  The ease of his hand on my knee didn't last long. Once we got to his moms place, I was nervous all over again.

  I stood in her pale yellow kitchen, fidgeting as she stared me down. Mrs. Haddon collected ceramic roosters. There was a high shelf on the back kitchen wall that was covered with them. The pale yellow curtains over the sink had little white outlines of roosters crowing. Jake had gone off to the bathroom or something and I felt helpless, trapped under her searching stare.

  She lifted her Snoopy coffee cup and took a sip. "My son tells me that he loves you."

  My stomach dropped at the blatant honesty, but I couldn't hide my smile. I cleared my throat, staring at the faded yellow and white linoleum floor. "He tells me the same thing."

  "Well?" Both her eyebrows lifted.

  A moment passed before I managed to answer. "I love him, too, ma'am. He's very special."

  She nodded. "I thought so. You know, you're the first one he's brought home in a long while."

  My smile grew. "I didn't know that."

  She grinned and then asked about "my people." When I told her I didn't have any to speak of, her soft demeanor became tender. She wrapped an arm around my shoulders. "Well you do, now."

  I liked his mother. She was so warm-hearted and open. I think that's where Jake got it from. He looked like his dad, but he was sweet like his mother.

  His older sisters were identical twins. Both nice and smart-they were off in college before we got together, so I didn't really know them, but they seemed nice the two times I met them. His younger brother, Henry, was three years younger than me.

  Jake's mother busied herself in the kitchen, putting an end to our talk. I wandered out to the living room and watched Henry. He liked to rock himself back and forth when he played alone on the living room floor. It was a game no one understood but him. From what I could tell, it required his imagination, a sharpened pencil, and the mumbled sounds of explosions. Jake said Henry played it all the time. He was either painting or crouched on the floor, flipping a pencil.

  Henry hardly spoke to anyone and when he did, he never looked them in the eye. Jake said he could tell Henry was listening by the way he leaned his head to one side, inclining his ear. Sometimes, when I greeted him, he'd pat my shoulder as he turned away.

  What Henry lacked in etiquette, he made up for in talent. He was a really great painter-he did abstracts in oils, mo
stly. But there was this one charcoal drawing he'd done of Jake that literally took my breath away every time I saw it. It was mounted in the hallway because Jake hated walking in and seeing himself hanging over the sofa. It was a still-life; Jake sitting on a stool with his legs outstretched. His face held a faraway look, like he was lost in thought with a cigarette in his hand.

  +++

  After that first day, Jake took me by his moms whenever he felt like it; usually for dinner.

  He also used to tease me, relentlessly, about my taste in music that wasn't his. He sincerely disliked hair bands in general, but knew how I loved them. One night, when we went over to his moms place to eat, we walked inside and Jake went straight to the living room, mumbling something to his mom. She pointed at the entertainment center.

  Jake turned around, wearing a ridiculous grin. His mom walked over to the kitchen doorway. She paused to wave to me and laughed when she looked back at Jake.

  "What?" I asked, loving the greeting and sparkles in their eyes.

  "Listen to this." Jake smirked and quickly turned around to the stereo. He popped a tape into the tape deck. The room filled with screeching guitar. I jumped at the sudden noise and he laughed.

  "This is my new song for you." He took me into his arms, leading me in a misplaced slow dance to Seventeen by Winger.

  We both laughed out loud. "It's fitting. Don't you think so, Liar?"

  +++

  The memory of his sparkling gaze leaves at quickly as it came and I am alone again, with only my fragmented mind to keep me company. I shut my eyes, willing myself to sleep.

  + + +