Sometimes It Happens Here

by K. S. Thomas

  “Uncle Jimmy’s going to teach me to ride. Grandma Millie promised.” She beams up at her uncle, the only member of her father’s family who’s been around through everything.

  “That’s right,” he confirms, eyeing me carefully from the side. “But remember what I told you, there’s a long list of lessons that start on the ground before we get up on the horse.”

  “I remember.” She leaps forward and gives him a tight squeeze around his waist. “I had the best time today! I can’t wait to go back.”

  “Be sure and tell him thank you,” I remind her.

  She steps back just enough to glance up at him. “Thank you, Uncle Jimmy.”

  “You know you’re more than welcome, Mona. You’re going to make a fine cowgirl real soon.” He leans down to kiss the top of her head. “Now go on and get in your mama’s truck. Seems I remember you both have somewhere to be this afternoon.”

  She smiles at him one last time before she unwraps her arms from his lanky body and hurries to climb in the backseat of my old Suburban.

  “Thanks for doing this with her. With your parents. Means the world to her.” I smile, biting back my concerns. It’s only the first time out, we have many Saturdays ahead and I don’t want to cause problems right out the gate.

  But, Jimmy’s known me since we were kids, so he says it for me. “I didn’t know my mom would give her the horse. Hell, I don’t think she knew. She was so nervous, worried Mona wouldn’t like her. I think it just kind of slipped out.”

  I nod. I can appreciate how hard this was for her. “Please tell her she has nothing to worry about. Mona will adore her, no gifts required. If she really wants to impress her though, she should teach her how to bake those gingerbread cookies she only makes for Christmas. Mona would love those, and she loves learning new recipes.”

  He smiles, one hand reaching for the top of his door preparing to get back in his old Chevy. “I’ll be sure to let her know. Thanks again. I know this isn’t easy for you either, but I think it’ll be good for all of us in the long run. We just have to make it over those first bumps.”

  “I agree.”

  He nods his farewell and gets into the driver’s seat as I go to open the door to my own. “Thanks again, Jimmy!”

  “See you next week,” he calls out just before he shuts the door and starts up his engine.

  I wave and watch as his pickup pulls out of the parking lot behind the marketplace. Then, I get into my truck as well.

  “Mama?” Mona asks as I buckle up and prepare to start driving.

  “Yeah, baby?”

  “I think I’m going to like Saturday mornings on the ranch.”

  I turn the key and shift into reverse. “Oh, yeah?”

  “Yeah,” she says, and I can hear her flipping through the pages of her book. She always reads when we’re driving somewhere, doesn’t matter how short the trip. “It’s kind of cool getting to know the Parker side of my family. Grandma Millie is really nice and she says I have the same smile as my dad. Do you think that too?”

  “I do.” Used to feel like he was checking in on me all time when she’d smile at me out of the blue, no real rhyme or reason to it. “You’ve got his toes, too. You’ll have to show Grandma Millie your feet next time you’re there.”

  “What?” I can hear her feet shuffle around behind my seat. “Really?”

  “Yup. He had long skinny toes just like yours.” I laugh, pulling out onto the main road. “Always made them wiggle whenever he was wearing sandals, made them look like they were dancing.”

  She giggles. “I’ll have to try that when it’s warm enough for sandals again.”

  “I think you should,” I agree, pausing at the stop sign. “Might want to write yourself a note so you remember though, we’ve got a few months yet before you can get those sandals back out of the closet.”

  “I’ll remember,” she assures me. The flip of a page lets me know she’s getting back to her book.

  “You know, if you need more reading material, I bet we can get you a copy of the script for this year’s Christmas show.”

  “Really?”

  “Really. We’ll have to ask Hannah before we leave tonight.” I turn right, down Maple Avenue. Just one more intersection and we’ll be coming up on the school.

  “I’m excited I get to help this year with the set.”

  “I’m excited I finally get my own assistant,” I tell her.

  She giggles quietly but doesn’t say much else. Her book is sucking her back in. I love that she’s found such a joy in reading. Mona is never bored or at a loss for something to do, there’s always a new book waiting to be opened by her.

  She’s so engulfed in her story, she doesn’t even notice when we pull into the parking lot. Or even when we come to a stop.

  “We’re here,” I announce when she makes no effort to unbuckle her seatbelt and get out.

  “Just one more page,” she says, holing her finger in the air, signaling for me to wait.

  I meet her halfway and slowly get out to start retrieving my tools and things from the trunk.

  By the time I’m finished, so is she.

  “Are we going to get to watch them rehearse?” Mona asks as we come up to the big double doors leading into the auditorium.

  “We are. But,” I tell her, holding the door for her to enter, “it’ll be a while before the show really starts to look like a show. In the beginning, it’s a lot of reading lines and repeating the same scenes over and over while they figure out how they want everything to look and sound.”

  Mona nods. “That makes sense.”

  The sounds of voices coming from the stage brings our own conversation to an end. Moving as quietly as we can, we walk through the empty rows which will house an audience in just a few short weeks, down the length of the stage and to the side door leading backstage.

  It’s instant chaos as soon as we step foot behind the curtains. I love this part. The energy, the anticipation of what will become of these first few creative sparks igniting here. The music humming in the background, the explosion of voices all carrying on a multitude of different conversations. It’s the liveliest bit of theater and it never occurs on the stage.

  “There’s Kaleaha.” I point straight ahead at the stack of music books walking and wobbling its way down the hall.

  “Auntie Leaha!” Mona zips off in her direction. “Where are you going with all of those?”

  “Two doors down,” I can hear her mutter from behind her stack. “Lead the way and guide me, would you? I can’t see a thing.”

  Mona laughs, but jumps right into tour guide mode, carefully directing Kaleaha on where to go.

  I watch until they disappear into the music classroom before I make my way to the set.

  It’s mostly just old pieces from last year, waiting to be recycled. Which is to say, it’s exactly as it is every other year around here. A starting pile of rubble expecting complete transformation in less than two months. It can be done. We make it happened every Christmas.

  “You in charge of this mess?” Ruben asks, pointing at the remnants of last year’s holiday spectacle with the end of his hammer.

  “No, I’m pretty sure that’s your job.” I laugh. The old man’s been trying to push the gig off on me for nearly a decade now, but I wouldn’t dare take it. Not when he’s the master and I have so much left to learn from him.

  “One of these years, I’ll be too old to swing the hammer and you won’t have a choice, you know.”

  “Won’t ever happen.” I shake my head at him. “You’ll be out here building the sets until you’re dead in the dirt, Ruben. And when that day comes, we’ll have to give up the show. Just won’t be right without you.”

  He makes a face, displaying his lack of amusement at my idea of a joke. “You quit building sets after I’m dead and I’ll come back to haunt you, Lilan. You mark my words, you let this show die and I won’t ever rest.”

  I pat his arm to calm him. “You know I’m always going
to show up here to do the job, Ruben. I’m a lifer now. Just like you.”

  He laughs gruffly, scratching his chin through his thick beard with his palm. “I'm not sure that's a good thing either.”

  I shrug. “Can’t be a bad thing. Look at this mess. Getting to come in and clean it up is my one shot at taking control of my life each year. The rest of the time, I’m just barely hanging on for the ride.”

  His hazel eyes watch me for a minute before he sighs. “I guess now you know why I keep coming back.” He starts to take a few steps toward the rubble and I follow him, quietly chuckling. “Alright, Lilan, let’s play God.” And thus, the task of creating this year’s set begins.

  Bodhi

  TURNS OUT HANNAH WAS downplaying my popularity among her high school students in a massive way. I barely walked into her classroom before I was nearly wrestled to the ground by five or six teenage girls. The humiliation notwithstanding, there was a substantial amount of physical pain involved in wrangling them back into order after having been caught completely off guard and admittedly vulnerable to their surprise attack. I spent the following hour doing my best to accommodate everyone’s questions and interests in an organized, classroom appropriate fashion, but have since taken to hiding out in the prop closet. Well, Hannah called it a closet, I call it a room. A very small room, but there’s space for pacing and a small bench to sit on (and yeah, it’s a prop...in the prop closet) so I’m calling it a room. I feel less ridiculous about my current state of being that way.

  A manic knocking on the door interrupts my thoughts of self-pity. “Let me in!” Teran demands from the other side. “Time to share the hideout. I mean it, Bodhi. These girls are like wolves. Don’t leave me to die this way.”

  I stand up and place my hand on the knob, not committed to opening it just yet. “I thought you said I was a ridiculous ego maniac who was blowing a harmless meet and greet way out of proportion.”

  “I did. And you were. This is about me. These girls know I know things about you, and they are taking ruthless measures to get me to talk. Now open up before they notice I’m no longer in the costume closet trying on smelly masks and wigs with those psychopaths.”

  I could be polite and pretend to take him seriously, hold in my laughter and act with the sort of maturity I should have at this stage of my life, but it’s Teran and he’s an ass, so I’m laughing unapologetically as I open the door and watch him all but fall on his face in his efforts to get into the room with me. Amusing though he may be, I waste no time in getting the door locked again as soon as he’s inside.

  “How are we going to get through rehearsals the next few weeks without being mauled before Christmas?” he asks, panting from nerves and adrenaline, I assume. And he says I’m the dramatic one.

  “What do you mean, we? You don’t need to do anything except not show up again. Which, by the way, you didn’t need to do in the first place,” I remind him, still chuckling at the sight of him. His hair is disheveled, and his shirt is half untucked. Sixteen-year-olds have no shame, I tell you.

  He scowls, tucking in his shirt and tightening his belt as if it’s some grand act of self-defense. “You don’t always have to act like being the great Bodhi James is a lot in life that affects no one but you. You think it’s easy being your damn brother? Think it’s fun always being more interesting for my genetic connections than anything else I bring to the table? Fine, maybe I didn’t need to show up here today. But maybe, just maybe I did it anyway for reasons that have nothing to do with riding your curtails. Maybe I’m actually trying to escape your damn shadow. Maybe, because I’m a fucking idiot, I thought you could support me in that.”

  I feel like I’ve missed something.

  “What are you talking about? When have I ever done anything but support you?”

  Teran’s eyes look like they might pop out of their sockets. “Hannah!”

  I can’t tell if I’m meant to keep taking him seriously here or not. Hannah has been one of my closest friends since my freshmen year at college and he’s never been interested in any one female for more than a couple of weeks. Admittedly, he’s been harboring this little crush on her since the time I brought her home for Thanksgiving our first semester, but I blame that most on the fact he’s never actually had a chance with her and he can’t help but want what he can’t have.

  Nevertheless, he’s my brother. Not just that, he’s my best friend. And right now, I think he’s genuinely upset with me.

  I sigh as I lower myself to have a seat on the small bench which may or may not be made more for display over use and will likely collapse beneath me at some point. It’s time to have a heart to heart and get real.

  “Why Hannah?” I fold my arms over my chest and stare up at him. “Of all the women you’ve crossed paths with over the last decade, why is she the one that’s left an irreversible mark?”

  Teran looks at me, eyes narrowing, and I realize this conversation is long past due between us. “You’re joking, right?”

  Actually, quite on the contrary. “No, I’m completely serious. If you expect me to get on board with this, genuinely support it, you have to tell me why.”

  He averts his gaze and begins to pace in the small space allotted for such activity. “You should know better than anyone, why. Hannah’s one of your best friends, you’re telling me you can’t think of one or two reasons I might be stupid in love with her?”

  “Whoa.” I get to my feet instantly. “You’re in love with her?” Never in his twenty-seven years of life has Teran uttered those words. Not even in a joking manner.

  He pauses his pacing, hand up to stop me, “I said you should know a reason or two I might be, not that I was.” He turns away again. “I was making a point.”

  I nod. “Yeah. That you’re stupid.” I laugh. “And that you’re in love with Hannah.” I sit back down now that the shock of his revelation is wearing off. “By all means, go on. I can’t wait to hear what spills out next.”

  His head swings back to cast a dirty look in my direction before he continues on with his pacing efforts. “You really need to hear this? In actual words?”

  “Actual words,” I confirm. It’s strange seeing my usually overtly confident brother be so panicked by his own feelings, especially in front of me. Falling in love should prove far less humiliating than some of the other things I’ve witnessed over the years, like the time he laughed so hard he peed. At fifteen. And in front of several of our closest friends.

  “Fine.” He shakes his head, rubbing his palms. He’s legitimately nervous and I have to wonder if it’s me he doesn’t want to admit his feelings to or himself. “She’s smart.”

  “Uh-huh.” It’s not an unusual quality to find in women, thus it’s hardly an acceptable response.

  “I don’t mean smart the way it sounds. Obviously, she’s smart. But it’s more than just book smarts, or even street smarts. She’s got something else, some sort of big picture smarts. Like, every time I hear her share something from her perspective, even if it’s something I thought I already knew, I learn something completely new. She sees things I’d never think to even look for.”

  She does do that. It’s why she’s my favorite person to brainstorm ideas with. It’s also why I auditioned for everything she directed back when we were in school.

  “What else?”

  “I like that she’s hard to impress.”

  Impossible is more like it, but I don’t want to stomp out his dreams of wooing her completely. “Go on.”

  “She’s competitive. We both are. Except when I’m competing with her, I don’t care about winning, I just know that she’s making me better...at everything. And I know I need that.”

  He does. Teran’s one of the blessed few in this world who comes by everything naturally. Nothing comes hard and so it took him years to figure out there were things out in the world worth working for. Worth the effort of going beyond just getting by on what came easy. “You’ve convinced me. Now tell me what she gets out of the de
al.”

  Teran stops, momentarily perplexed.

  I laugh. “Are you surprised you won me over or stumped on what you have to offer her.”

  Gradually his mouth leans, tipping half into a smirk. “Both.” He stops pacing for good and instead chooses one of the floor-to-ceiling shelves lining the walls behind him to prop himself up against. “I guess I don’t know what she’ll be getting, because I don’t really know who I’ll be when I’m with her. What I’ll be capable of. But I know for damn sure she’s getting more than my usual game. My bullshit charm wouldn’t work on her anyway.”

  “I’m glad you finally realize that.” I stand up. “Now we have a solid starting point.” I reach out and pat his shoulder. “I’m not saying it’ll lead anywhere, but it’s nice to know you’re not oblivious to your faults. In the meantime, we need to figure out how to function in the world outside of this prop closet.”

  He casts a wary glance at the door. “I don’t know, man. It’s brutal out there. I say we wait it out until after rehearsals are over.”

  “And tomorrow?”

  “Tomorrow we skip showers. No deodorant. No toothpaste. And we go for a five-mile run before we get here. That ought to do it.”

  I laugh. “Yeah, well that won’t just keep the high school kids away. It’ll be a surefire way of getting Hannah to keep a safe distance from you until further notice as well.”

  “Point taken.” He straightens up, moving away from his backrest of shelves. “Let’s hear your idea then. You’ve got to have a way of dealing with this sort of thing. This is hardly your first prop closet.”

  I shrug. I’ve got nothing actually. “Most sets I show up at, people aren’t that impressed with me. And most fan encounters are temporary, not ongoing over the span of four weeks. So, no. I don’t have a way of dealing with this particular situation other than I have to assume the novelty of being Bodhi James has to wear off at some point, even around sixteen-year-olds.”

  Teran is less than impressed. I can tell by the way his lip curls up in disgust.