Текст книги "Swelter"

Автор книги: Nina G. Jones

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I pulled a small table close to the porch steps to rest my utensils and drink.

“Ready?” I asked. Of all the things I thought I'd be doing when I woke up that morning, I never thought I'd be cutting the hair of a dead man.

Bobby nodded and grabbed the hem of his shirt. I held my breath as he pulled it over his head. How was I here, standing with Bobby shirtless in front of me, when I had just vowed to myself to never even have a conversation with him?

At this point, to acknowledge that his shirtless body fazed me was worse than to stop, so I gestured to the steps in front of me and he sat.

I grabbed the comb and gently swept through his locks. That's when I got the up-close view of his scar from the bullet. I reached out to touch the circular indentation and stopped myself just short of making contact. I couldn't touch his hot skin. I couldn't let myself go there. The reality of what he had been through came through like lightning, and I realized that these last few years had been cruel to him too.

He must have noticed my stillness. “I'm sorry, I should have warned you,” he said, tilting his head to the side of the scar.

“No, there's no need to apologize for that.” I sighed and wiped my sweaty brow as I continued combing Bobby's hair. Our conversation had distracted me from the heat, but my body went along sweating so that my white cotton night gown stuck to me. I wondered if he could see through it with the light shining on us like it was.

I swallowed nervously as I grabbed the scissors. “How short?”

“Not too short. Maybe just shorter on the sides, but keep the top longer. I like it to flop around.”

“Me too,” I agreed, wishing I hadn't.

I pulled all of Bobby's hair together and chopped off a few inches at once. Then I got to work with the details. I was quiet, he was still. Every other minute or so, I would grab a gulp of beer to cool me down from the intense heat radiating as I hovered around him.

“How's the ceiling?” Bobby asked.

I sniggered. “Well, there's a hole there. That's about as far as my expert opinion goes.”

“I know it was tense there for a minute, but you have to admit, it was kind of ridiculous. Who does that?”

I looked at Bobby disapprovingly, but nodded. “You should have seen his face when the gun went off. I thought he messed his pants. And then all the paint and plaster covered him and he was all white.” Recollecting the image of Rory cowering to the shot tickled my funny bone unexpectedly. I found myself laughing so loud I had to put the scissors down.

“Shhh!” Bobby chastised. “Rory is gonna be mad if we wake him up on a work night.” I could tell by the look in his eyes though, he was happy to make me laugh.

As I went back to cutting, I tried my best to keep my eyes averted from his tan, muscled shoulders. Rory was a looker too, but his long hours in the office had left him pale and softer. It seemed Bobby had gotten physically stronger over the years. But it was the tranquility I felt that was most disturbing. I just wanted peace, and Bobby had a way of making me feel that, even when we were at odds. I felt safe. With Rory, for so long I felt like I was performing. Always one bad showing away from his disapproval.

“Alright, I think I'm finished,” I said, standing in front of Bobby and holding a mirror to him to observe my handiwork. His hair still had enough length to match his spirit, but was sharper now.

Bobby grabbed the mirror and stood up, so that now we were inches apart. His chest, covered in perspiration, was at my eyes, and I froze. I realized this was a mistake, letting him lure me out here. I could be civil, but this had gone beyond that. Rehashing memories, inside jokes, and shirtless haircuts. He caught me in the still of the night, when I was hot and tired and feeling distant from Rory. This was going too fast. Bobby didn't deserve this side of me.

I grabbed the mirror and stepped back. “Alright, well good night,” I said frigidly, cradling my things in my arms. “Please bring the bottles in. I don't want ants.”

I headed for the door, wishing I had just stayed in bed. Wishing I hadn't just tortured myself with the taste of possibility. I wrestled with the handle and too many things in my hands and the mirror fell and shattered.

“Shit!” I scoffed.

“Don't worry, I'll clean it up.”

“I don't care about the stupid mirror,” I said, without looking back at him. I still needed help with the door, but I didn't want to ask, so I went for it again.

“Lil.”

I ignored him.

“Lil.”

I sighed and let my shoulders drop, relenting. But I didn't turn around.

I felt Bobby fidget behind me. I watched his shadow against the house as he rifled through his hair and took an abrupt step towards me before stopping. “You said I never wrote anyone, but that's not true. I wrote you. I wrote you on the days where I was so wet and cold and tired, that I hoped I would go to sleep and never wake up. I wrote you when I saw my friends blown to pieces. I wrote you when I missed home. Every single time. But I couldn't send those letters. You know I couldn't.”

I hugged my things as a tear escaped.

“And I left the wedding because I had to get away from you. And ever since then, I've been running.”

“But you're here now.”

“I am.”

“Why now?”

“Because no matter how far I go, you're there anyway. And I understand now that I just have to learn to live with that. “

I nodded. “Me too.”

“I shouldn't punish my brother for my sins. I see the damage I did now, and I want to make it better, Lil. I want to help Rory get back to his old self. For him, and for you. I want us to be a family.”

“No one asked you to fix anything,” I said. It didn't matter anymore. Bobby vanishing broke Rory. The cracks in his foundation would never fully be sealed. And I resented Rory for wanting his brother back so badly, that I was the only one who was treating Bobby the way he deserved—like a liar. A thief. Not of material things, but of trust, love, hope.

“I’m sorry. So, so sorry, Lil.”

“Don’t,” I rasped through clenched teeth. I wasn’t even sure if he heard.

“Just tell me. If you want me to leave, right now, tonight, just say the word, and I'll go. If you'd rather keep me dead, I'll leave and you'll never have to see me again. If you think you and Rory are better without me here, I'll leave. And I won't tell Rory it was you. I'll take the blame again.”

I should have taken him up on the offer. I knew it was the right thing. But I had already made the mistake of being out there with him too long. Of remembering what it was like.

I shook my head ever so slightly. Finally, I gripped the door handle and let myself in, leaving Bobby outside, alone.

“Look what the cat dragged in!” Rory teased playfully as I entered the kitchen on a Monday morning. It had been a few days since I had cut Bobby's hair on the porch and Rory had been sober the entire time. Besides the mishap on the night of Bobby's return, Rory seemed to be thrilled to have his brother back. I insisted they take the weekend to do some brotherly activities together while I stayed behind, which made it easy for me to avoid Bobby.

“Well, since it was finally below eighty-five for one night, I actually slept a bit.”

“It's nice to see you finally get some sleep. Maybe you won't be so grumpy,” Rory said with a wink before kissing my temple.

“We can only pray,” I replied.

“Morning, Lil,” Bobby said, as he tended to something on the stovetop.

“Good morning,” I answered. “Thanks for making breakfast.” I would be cordial, but that's as far as I could go again.

“Welcome,” he said, plopping a huge breakfast in front of me.

“Jesus, Bobby,” I reared away from the plate. “There's enough to feed an army on here.”

“That's right, fatten her up! She doesn't eat in this heat and she's losing those sexy curves.”

“Oh stop.” I waved at Rory, not wanting my body to become a topic of discussion, particularly in front of Bobby.

Rory sat in the chair next to me. “I'm leaving early to head to the office before the airport. Anyway, listen, Bobby and I got to talking...”

“I can't wait to hear what you two conjured up.”

“I'll be back for the fourth. So why don't we have a big Fourth of July cook out? Remember the one we had when we bought the house?”

“Well, I guess we could.” It had been a while since we had opened up our home like that. Over the past year, it had become a place I didn't associate with fun anymore. I was surprised to hear Rory so excited about the idea since he had seemed to want to be away as much as possible between the long days at work, nights at the bar, and travel.

“Bobby said he would help you plan everything in my stead. I know it's a bit short notice.”

“Oh, well . . . I’m sure I can handle it, but thanks for the offer.”

Rory scoffed. “You are so mean, Lil.” It was almost playful.

“I am?”

“You're going to exclude Bobby?”

“Hey man, whatever she wants to do. I'm just here to help,” Bobby chimed, eating from his plate on the counter as if to offer us the illusion of privacy at the table.

“You know, you guys aren't in middle school any longer. You're allowed to be nice to each other.”

“I'm nice!” Bobby called out.

“I'm nice too!” I insisted. I looked at Rory, then Bobby and sighed. “I promise if I need help, I'll ask. I just like planning things my way, you know that.”

“Alright, I gotta head out,” Rory said, glancing at his watch.

“I should too. I need to go to the pharmacy in town,” I added.

“Oh, I'm heading into town too. Let me give you a ride,” Bobby offered.

Be nice. The words lingered. If I rejected his offer, I'd get called out again.

“Yeah, sure, I just need to grab my things. Have a safe trip,” I said to Rory.

“Thanks hon.” He kissed me on the lips and I received the kiss, but didn't want to make a show of it in front of his brother.

The ride to town was brief and quiet, but the tension between us was blaring. It always had been in the past. Except we used to release it with play fighting, teasing, and verbal jabs. Now that we knew, we couldn't release the pressure like we used to, the secret was out. Innocence was lost.

We agreed to meet back at the truck in a half hour. I picked up some things from the grocery and went to the pharmacy to refill my prescription. It had been the longest I had gone without my meds and I figured that's why it was so hard to stop the tornado of emotions running through me. On the outside, I relayed calm, but inside, I felt like I had been mangled. Ever since the night I spoke with Bobby, I nursed a silent raw pain. Learning all those years he had wrote me was earth shattering. And I didn't know what was worse. Thinking he hadn't, or knowing he had.

One of the bag boys helped me walk the groceries to the beat-up blue pickup that Bobby drove. As we closed in on it, Bobby spotted us and crossed the street.

“I've got it from here,” he scooped the two bags from the boy’s arms and walked by my side. I placed my purse in the driver's side seat when I heard: “Shit.”

I looked over in the middle of the street and one of the bags had ripped, spilling its contents. I couldn't help but laugh as I scooted over to help.

“I'm glad this is so amusing to you,” Bobby replied dryly, scooping his finger into the partially opened box of a now mangled cake and swiping frosting on my nose.

My jaw dropped in disbelief. “You ass!” I exclaimed, one-upping him by taking a dollop and smearing it across his mouth.

“Mmmm, delish.” He licked his lips teasingly. Bobby's eyes searched the ground for another food item for retaliation when a honk got our attention.

A small line of traffic had backed up waiting for us.

“You lucked out.” He jabbed his finger at me.

“Looks like no cake for you,” I teased before running back towards the truck.

We managed to save almost everything except for the cake and a rogue apple and decided to cut our losses. As I opened the door to enter the passenger side, Bobby was already in and bent over.

“Your purse upended and spilled everywhere,” he said as he retrieved its contents. “You're a mess.”

I looked around me at the used-up truck. “I'm the mess?”

“If you are implying that this baby is a mess, then you wouldn't know quality if it smacked you in the face.”

“Let me get the rest,” I insisted, kneeling to the floor of the pick up.

“What's this?” Bobby asked, quizzically spinning my new bottle of pills.

“Give me that.” I snatched at it, but like a ninja, he yanked it just out of my grasp.

“Lil, you're taking this shit?”

“My doctor prescribed it to me,” I huffed defensively. “And it's none of your business.”

“I've been reading about this. The docs have been just handing these out like candy.”

“Don't—” I snatched the bottle out of his hand this time, but he didn't resist.

I hopped into the seat and slammed the door. He pulled out of his spot, the playful mood usurped by one of his fits of brooding silence. Once we were out of the main street, he couldn't help himself. I’ll admit, it was almost a relief compared to the raucous quiet of his thoughts.

“Lil, promise me you won't take that shit.”

“What do you care?”

“Lots.”

“You can't just come back and start demanding changes.”

“Goddammit Lil,” Bobby yelled, gripping the steering wheel. “Don't you understand? That shit numbs you. It makes the pain go away. You are supposed to feel pain. You are supposed to be uncomfortable. That's your soul telling you something.”

I shook my head. I couldn't do what my soul was telling me, so I had to find another way to cope.

“Now I get it. It's so glaringly apparent.” He shook his head as if he was blind to something that was in his face the entire time.

“Oh do you?” I scoffed sarcastically. “Do tell, Bobby.”

“I remember all the things you wanted to do. And this place, all these things, they're your prison. And you feel it. And you're trying to ignore it.”

“What do you want me to do?” I yelled in frustration. “Pack my bags and go to India? Life's not that easy. We're not all you. We don't all just walk away from our responsibilities.” I immediately regretted those last words, recalling the scar on his shoulder. There were some responsibilities Bobby faced when others would have run.

That was one of the things that hurt the most about Bobby leaving. He had options despite being drafted. He took a break from school, but could have gone back to college and applied for a deferment. His parents didn’t want him to go, and in a worse-case scenario, they had connections, and could have found a way to keep him home. But when Bobby left, Rory told me their parents said that Bobby didn’t even try. He got the notice and didn’t hesitate to step up. Maybe it was self-centered, but I felt like it was a silent message to me. That Bobby wanted to escape to the other side of the world, to be surrounded by the explosions of bombs and bullets, over ever seeing me again. I was so enraged that he didn’t try harder to run away from the conscription when he had the chance.

“It's not about what I want you to do, Lil. What do you want?”

What I wanted was no longer relevant. It was too late for what I wanted.

“You keep taking that shit and one day you are going to wake up and realize you slept your whole life away. There may be people who need that, but you are not one of them. Let yourself feel it all. The good. The bad. The fucking great. Don't imprison yourself.”

I knew he was right, but I had grown comfortable in the numbness. Yet there was something luxurious about the pain I felt upon Bobby's return. It was rich and textured. I could feel it in my bones and my chest and on my skin. I could taste it. I could feel again. And feeling the pain also gave me room to feel alive.

“If you keep doing this, how are you any different than Rory? We want to get him better right? Well, the changes start with us. I'm back and trust me, that wasn't easy for me. And now you've gotta bring yourself back.”

I swallowed sharply, preparing myself to say goodbye to my dear friend. A friend who had always been there. More than my sister, or mother, or Barbie could be. It understood my fears, my insecurities, the things I had sacrificed. It knew my secrets. I never had to explain myself to it. It never judged.

“Fine,” I surrendered. But I clutched the bottle tighter in my hands than ever before.

Bobby's body language relaxed as he glanced over to me and opened his palm. “Gimme.”

“What? Now you want 'em?”

“Don't be an ass, Lil.”

I sneered at Bobby, slamming the bottle in his palm. The pills tried to seduce me one last time as they danced in the bottle. He clutched it and threw it out the window without so much as a glance.

“Well, that's just great. Now some deer is going to be high as a kite running around town,” I scolded.

Bobby looked at me out of the corner of his eye and chuckled, as he used his available hand to ruffle my hair.

I cried out and swatted at him as he ruined my perfect little up-do.

“Atta girl,” he muttered.

After I got home, I kept my promise of keeping a healthy distance from Bobby by inviting Barb to come with me to the pool. She did her best to pry out tidbits of information about him, but he was someone I was unwilling to share with her. After a couple of hours, however, on our way back, Barbie invited herself over for some lemonade and rummy.

I figured there was no way I could keep her away forever, and bringing her over would at least make her a buffer. This was going to be a long two weeks and I needed all the help I could get.

I should have known better as Barbie trounced into the house in her high-waisted shorts and bikini top, a cigarette barely perched in her lips. I'll admit, the leggy blonde triggered a competitiveness I hadn't felt in a long time, but I wasn't going to strip down for Bobby's attention. Besides, I had no claim over him.

Bobby wasn't in the house when we arrived, and we headed to the kitchen. As I bent over into the fridge to pull out some iced tea and lemonade, the back door in the kitchen creaked open.

It was Bobby, covered in sweat and dirt, his white tank stuck to his body so that every ripple showed, his faded old army fatigues ripped and muddy.

“I didn't know you were here,” I barely eked out.

“I uh, patched up the ceiling from Rory's marksmanship showcase and fixed some things out back. The shed and one of the sprinklers.”

I sighed. “You didn't have to do that. We were going to get someone to fix it.”

“You know I've always liked working with my hands.” The Lightly boys weren't rich by some definitions, but then again others may have thought so. What was certain was they grew up never having to get their hands dirty. However, it was a way Bobby bonded with his dad, tinkering with cars and lawn mowers and the like.

My eyes rested on him for a moment longer than I had intended before I gathered my train of thought.

“Uh, you met Barbie. She helped with my lemonade fiasco.”

He nodded towards her. “I would shake but I'm a mess.”

Her eyes roved over him like a hungry lioness. I was shocked she didn't lick her lips and then pounce on him. She laughed. “Well, on a hot day like today, we could just set the hose on you out back.”

Internally, I cringed.

“You know, we could use your handyman skills if you're for hire. Stan keeps saying he's gonna tend to this or that, and I have a good mind to just get it done. He wouldn't even notice, I'm sure.”

I didn't like the sound of that. “Lemonade? Iced tea?” I offered.

“You know what I like,” Barbie quipped.

“How about half and half?” Bobby suggested, almost flirtatiously. Barbie leaned forward as if his drink request meant something else.

“That actually sounds good,” I said, pouring myself the same concoction.

“Well, I'll let you two ladies get back to whatever it is you do.”

I rolled my eyes behind my cup as I took a sip.

“Oh nonsense!” Barbie exclaimed. “Join us. All we're doing is having some drinks and playing rummy. It looks like you've done enough free labor for today.”

I knew this would happen as soon as Barbie invited herself over, and I had already decided I would let it slide.

“I'm sweaty and stinky. You don't want me at the table.”

“So? Shower or hose yourself down. I wasn't kidding.”

Barbie was always tart with the cute young men at the pool or the grocery store but now she was in full effect and I actually admired the prowess. It was quite entertaining.

I watched with one eyebrow cocked as Bobby looked over at me. I simply shrugged, leaving him stranded on Barbie Island.

“Oh, come on!” Barbie stood up, grabbing Bobby by the forearm and dragging him out to the backyard. Never one to pass up on an adventure, Bobby shrugged and let her lead him out.

“Okay, stand there,” she ordered, the cigarette still magically dangling from her lips. “Where's the hose?” she asked.

“Over there.” I pointed. She wobbled on her heels along the grass to the side of the house.

“Ready?” she called out.

“I guess?” Bobby replied with his hands up at his sides.

“Okay!” Barbie turned the knob at the base of the hose and aimed the frigid stream of water at him.

He called out some curse words as she soaked him, mud running down the entirety of his body. His shirt became transparent, the slopes of his arms like tiny brooks as water streamed down them.

“Woohoo!” he yelled, leaning into the water so that his hair became drenched. He slicked it away from his face and then shook ferociously like a dog. I scurried away from the resulting spray of water.

It actually worked and he was reasonably clean, albeit soaked.

“Well, now how am I supposed to go back in like this?” he asked. “I feel like cattle.”

“I'll go get you a towel, just pull off your wet clothes and I'll bring you something of Rory's.” I headed to the house. “But keep your skivvies on!” I pointed back at him.

“Oh great, I get to dress like Rory,” he murmured.

I came back out to the yard with some old clothes of Rory's and a towel. I almost tripped out the door to find Bobby completely naked, just covering his crotch.

“What the—” I looked over to the neighboring yards. “Are you insane?” I whispered.

“Don't worry, I closed my eyes,” Barbie chimed.

“What's the point of putting on dry clothes over wet underwear?” he argued.

I hated him at that moment. For being so fun and spontaneous. For being so tall, tanned, and sculpted.

“Can you hand me the towel, please?” he asked with a touch of playful snark.

“I'm not getting near you,” I protested.

“If you toss it a hand goes up. I'm not sure one hand can cover it all.”

I was certain it wouldn't.

“Oh just give the man a towel!” Barbie and her terrible peer pressure.

I shook my head in dismay. “Oh, fine!” I marched over to Bobby. “Here.” I jutted out my hand with the towel.

“Thank you,” he said with an exaggerated head bow as he quickly snagged the towel with one hand to keep his crotch covered. I turned away to get a reasonable distance, when I felt his large hand grip my forearm and yank me so that I fell back on him.

I yelped as I realized I had been setup. Betrayed. Bamboozled.

“Now!” he yelled, as Barb dug into a quarter squat and went to town on me with the hose while Bobby held me down. I screamed and kicked as he gripped me around the waist with one arm, the other arm keeping the towel between us. No matter how hard I wrestled, his strong arm kept me in place until I was thoroughly doused.

His laughter howled in my ear and for those few seconds, it was like we were sixteen again. Bobby taunting me and making my life hell and me loving every second of it.

Finally, he let me go.

“You jerk!” I called out, my hair in wet clusters stuck to my neck and forehead. “And you!” I pointed at Barbie. “Et tu Brutus!”

“I'm sorry, I don't speak German.” She dropped the hose and raised her hands like she was under arrest. “He was just too convincing.” I knew exactly what she meant.

“You're gonna have to get your own towel this time around, you bastard.” I glared at Bobby and that sly smile. And in that moment, the inspiration hit me to do what I would have always done with Bobby, if I wasn't overcompensating in the other direction, staying away from him like he had some sort of plague. If we were going to be normal, then we had to be the way we were before things changed.

I knew he wouldn't see it coming when I snatched the towel, leaving him buck naked, chasing me into the house as Barbie's cigarette finally fell out of her mouth.