Junk Miles:
A Brenna Blixen Novel
Book 2
by
Liz Reinhardt
Junk Miles: many miles run at a slow pace, attributed to a training strategy by runners who confuse high mileage counts with improvement
Chapter One
My mother is one of the most thoughtful, loving, caring women in the world. That doesn’t mean that she’s dumb, and it doesn’t mean that she’s nice.
I should add that I have no respect for nice mothers, at least not if you use the common teenage definition of “nice.” My mom doesn’t look the other way when I do something she doesn’t like. She doesn’t try to fit in with friends she doesn’t approve of, or with any of my friends at all, for that matter. My mom has high expectations for me, and she drives me with a huge mixture of love, neurotic pressure and guilt. A whole lot of guilt.
This complicated theory ran through my mind Christmas morning, while my head was still bent down, my eyes fixed on the open box on my lap. I had split seconds to come up with the appropriate face for my mom and Thorsten, my step-father, and I knew that my initial feelings of shock and disappointment were in no way appropriate. My mother had done exactly what she was best at.
She had rocked my world with her generosity and cunning.
I hope I can one day be that good.
I made my eyes wide, opened my mouth, and shook my head. “Paris? Paris!” I grasped the ticket in my hand and jumped up. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.” I hugged her tight. And I was thankful and genuinely excited.
Mom smiled and kissed me hard. I could feel her triumph. Because this wasn’t exactly what it seemed.
Mom had plotted this out with all the intelligence of a military tactician, and that was why there was no chance of moping or sulking. I had always wanted to go to Paris, and there was no one in the world I wanted to go with more than Mom.
But there was more to it than just that. I told Mom and Thorsten about my super sexy, super awesome boyfriend Jake a few months back, and they had handled it really well; no yelling, no threats, no unreasonable restrictions. They had even included him in things. Jake went out with us for my birthday, they gave him a gift on his, invited him over for Thanksgiving, and he was coming over for Christmas dinner later on this evening. I didn’t take advantage of their willingness to be nice about Jake. I am, after all, my mother’s daughter, and I knew that I had to keep Jake distanced from them or they would start to find things about him that weren’t good enough for me. Well, Mom would start to find things. Because Jake isn’t exactly what she wants for me, and my mother does not even consider second best when it comes to me.
I understand where she’s coming from, but it’s still constricting. And since I wanted to stay with Jake, I limited the time I spent with him, even though my body physically ached with the need to be near him sometimes. Cheesy as it might sound, that’s the best way I can explain it. I thought I had done a pretty good job of disguising just how obsessed I was with him and how deliciously he had taken over my life.
But Mom started watching me, exactly the way I knew she would. She looked for anything that would provide evidence that Jake was breaking my heart, making me sad, keeping me up too late, stopping me from pursuing my interests, hogging me from other friends, or any other trumped-up charge. In her mind, she filed any shred of evidence away to digest later.
If I woke up with dark circles under my eyes because Jake and I had an amazing conversation on the phone the night before, Mom narrowed her eyes and made a mental check. If I arranged to go out with Kelsie and she cancelled, and I went out with Jake instead, Mom noted it and frowned. Tiny charges, little details grew and compounded until Mom had, in her mind, a real reason to orchestrate a campaign against Jake, or at least against me being so wrapped around him.
Mom was a huge proponent of ‘dating lots of different people,’ ‘keeping your options open,’ and ‘focusing on yourself.’ All sound good in theory. Until you meet someone like Jake Kelly and have to think about living without hearing his sweet laugh or smelling the clean, minty smell of him or feeling his arms tight around you. Thinking about him made my heart skip and surge. This was love.
And my mom was no fool. She wasn’t about to drive a wedge between us by harping on Jake or voicing her neurotic concerns. My mother was too brilliant for that kind of novice work.
“It’s part of a program with the college, honey.” Mom took out a pamphlet and handed it to me eagerly. “They want to give the professors a chance to scout prospective study abroad locations before they choose them, so we’re allowed to bring any family and check out the museums, local universities…oh, sweetie, it’s going to be so incredible.” She hugged me again, and I took a deep breath.
“Mom, this sounds so great.” I swallowed hard and prepared for the worst. “So, when do we go?”
“We leave the day after tomorrow! We’ll be gone for a full week, just past your winter break. I’ve already cleared it at your schools if you need some jet-lag recovery time on the way back, so don’t worry about that.” She put an arm around me and squeezed me close.
“Mom?” I dug deep and willed up some courage to argue on Jake‘s behalf. She looked at me and the look was new-knife sharp. I swallowed back my arguments like the weak coward I often was around her. “I have to pack right now. What’s Paris like in December?”
“Chilly.” The flinty light was gone from her eyes. She took both my hands in hers. “Go ahead and get packing, honey.”
“Thank you, Mom. So much.” I modulated my voice carefully to keep it happy, and I hugged her again. “This will be amazing.”
And I hoped that by saying it, I would force myself to mean it. Because as I walked quickly to my recently redecorated room, I felt the itchy pain of tears pricking behind my eyes. I tried not to think too hard about the fact that I would miss New Year’s Eve with Jake. It would have been my first ever romantic New Year’s kiss.
In my room, with its robin’s-egg wall and poppy-covered bed, the Chagall and Cassatt hanging in wooden frames, the softly glowing paper lamps, and the books piled everywhere, I popped my iPod onto its dock and put on some happy packing music, even though I wanted to scroll through my specially-made teen-angst mix and let it all envelop me in something suitably dreary. I started to put piles of clothes here and there and took out my brand new pink leather traveling bag, the one I had unwrapped this morning and hugged Thorsten for. I didn’t feel any ill will towards Fa. He was a puppet in Mom’s very capable hands, no doubt about that.
I didn’t feel any ill will at all, not really. I picked up the picture of me and Mom in front of the big tree in Rockefeller Square. We were both really rosy-cheeked and pink-nosed with cute hats on, our arms around each other. I knew that what my mom was feeling stemmed from a lot of really deep emotions and events that all proved the one thing I’ve known my entire life; my mom loves me so fiercely, it’s scary.
Mom had me when she was barely out of high school. The guy, my father, left her high and dry. He was her boyfriend and as far as I can tell, she believed this guy was the love of her life. I knew that she assumed what Jake and I had was very similar to what she thought she had with my biological father. It took her a long time to get her life back on track after him. I knew it was the ghost of that experience that made her uber-protective.
Mom never told me much about the whole thing with my father, but I knew there was a lot of resentment on her part towards my grandparents. She felt like they should have been looking out for her more, making sure she was on the right track, that she had the right back-up.
It was what she was doing for me right now, or at least what she thought she was doing for me. So I couldn’t be upset.
But I was.
And I had to do the one thing that I really, really didn’t want to do. Especially on Christmas day, knowing the kinds of Christmases Jake had experienced every year before. But every second that I put off packing and moped, every second that I chickened out about calling him was one second that I took away from our time together, and I couldn’t do that.
I was always a good packer. Thorsten, Mom, and I traveled a lot, so I knew how to roll my clothes, how to pick things that will layer well and that will move from casual to fancy easily. I knew how to make a little bag of accessories that would dress everything up. I had a special tiny cross-over purse with a wide zippered strap to keep my passport and anything else important in. Once I’d laid out what I wanted to take on my bed, pared through the pile and taken out what I knew I didn’t really want to bring, I rolled the clothes up and put them in the suitcase. I picked up the phone and turned my music up a little bit. I packed so fast that I had time to call Jake and give him a little bit of a heads-up before he got here.
“Merry Christmas, Brenna.” His voice was silky and deep on the phone, and I felt my mouth go dry at the sound of it. I loved that voice.
“Merry Christmas, Jake.” I smiled despite the bad news I was about to deliver.
“Did Santa leave you some good stuff?” Jake asked. He sounded happy, inexplicably.
I had been to his house early on Christmas Eve, before the candlelight service and Christmas caroling at our church. He and his father bought a small, dry turkey and had two wilted vegetable sides and mashed potatoes, a veritable feast as far as the Kellys were concerned. We sat on the couch and ate off of plates that we balanced on our laps and watched It’s a Wonderful Life. Jake’s father barely spoke to me. He didn’t seem mean, just socially uncomfortable and nervous. When the movie was over, he got up and announced that he was going out bowling. Jake and I had a few hours before I had to go home, so we snuggled in his room and talked and laughed under the blankets. His dad kept the house at sixty-eight degrees in the winter, so snuggling was pretty much a necessity.
“I got a lot of great stuff.” I pawed through my bras and underwear, picking the nicest ones. This was a trip to Paris, after all. “Thorsten got me an awesome new design program for the computer. Um, did you get anything good?”
He laughed like I made a joke. “I got my socks, flashlight, and fifty. I told you, babe, it’s what I get every year.”
“Well, I got you some good stuff.” I tried very hard not to get aggravated at Jake’s dad on the most peaceful day of the year. How could he be so cheap with his own son? And I didn’t mean cheap monetarily, although that was true, too. Jake was this vibrant, amazing guy, but his dad put no effort whatsoever into making things good or nice for him. It was just basic necessities as far as Jake’s dad was concerned, and he didn’t even stretch his imagination much there.
“I can’t wait to see what you got me. I’m still trying to get over my birthday gift.”
I had custom-made him a motocross jersey. Jake was really into dirtbikes, and when he raced during his last big amateur competition, I had taken a bunch of action shots of him. I transferred them to the computer, played with the images, and made them into really high quality iron-ons. I had the shirt ordered and put his last name and the images on it; it was pretty professional looking.
“It wasn’t a big deal.” I sat on my bed and unknotted a tangle of necklaces from my jewelry box. “It was just a shirt.”
“And the rest of the outfit to match, and a helmet that you custom-designed. And the decals for my bike.” He sighed a happy, adorable sigh. “Don’t downplay it, Bren. It was awesome.”
“Well, it all had to match.” I moved on to my bracelets. “And it was cool that that big dirtbike magazine was at Dingmans when you won that race.”
“I can’t believe I got a spread.” Jake laughed. “It was your design. It was good luck.”
“I know I’m pretty great, but don’t you think it had something to do with the fact that you won the race?” I smiled at the memory, a little girly pride pricking me nicely. “Like by a mile.”
“By a couple yards,” he corrected humbly. Typical Jake. “Yeah, I guess. You just…” He stopped. “Alright, I didn’t want to get all mushy on you, but what the hell? I never had someone care about me the way you do. It makes me feel like I could do anything. Like you give me the confidence to do whatever I want. You don’t know how incredible it’s been for me to have you in my life.”
And now my heart felt like it was singing and tearing apart at the same time. How could I help but fall in love with a guy like this? Jake was the whole package, no question. We had plans for winter break. Since Jake turned seventeen this November, he’d been cutting some of his hours at Zinga’s, the farm where he worked. He’d been a full time employee when he needed to keep a farmer’s license, which was a special permit that let younger drivers have more driving freedom if they worked on a farm, but since he’d gotten his regular license, he was able to scale back and spend more time with me. This break was supposed to be a chance for us to hang out as much as humanly possible. How was I going to tell him that we were going to have no time together at all?
“Jake, you don’t need me around to do all of that,” I pointed out. “You’re too hard on yourself. You’ve always had the talent and the drive. You just need to believe in your potential.”
It was an old speech on my part, and one I didn’t love making. I’ve never been great at pep talks in general, and I hated when people didn’t just admit what they’re good at. But in Jake’s case, I always made an exception because I honestly got the feeling that he didn’t realize his full potential. So I tried to reassure him without rolling my eyes too much.
“You can have whatever theory you want.” I could hear his goofy grin over the phone. “I know that it’s all Brenna Blixen magic. I’m just glad you had some sort of mental breakdown and decided to date me.”
“Jake.” I giggled. It was easy to dismiss all of his humble talk when he had such a good sense of humor about the whole thing.
“So, what’s up with tonight? It’s gonna be dressy like Thanksgiving was, right?”
He had worn his blue button-down to Thanksgiving. And my birthday dinner. And every other occasion he had had to come to my house for. Jake’s wardrobe was depressingly small, but I had remedied that.
“Look under your bed.” I bounced up and down on my springy mattress, excited despite the impending bad news that I knew I had to tell him sooner rather than later.
“What?” I heard him put the phone down and move around in his bland, boring little room. He picked the phone back up. “Bren, what is all this? How did you get it here?”
“I snuck it in my big purse. You know the one. You make fun of it all the time.” I smiled with pride. “Open your presents up.”
I heard him tear wrapping paper. “Wow. Um, these are from Banana Republic. That’s just a stupid amount of money to spend on clothes for me.”
“Jake. I love you in blue, but if I had to look at that button-down one more time, I was going to rip it off of you.” I jumped up and ran my hand over the many, many gorgeous outfits hanging in my closet, and it was such a deeply satisfying feeling. I was well aware Jake probably didn’t feel it quite the same way, but there had to be some sense of happiness when he looked at his new clothes.
“Uh, you did. The last three times I wore it. I thought you were ripping it off of me because of how good I looked in it.”
“Shut up.” But I smiled from ear to ear. I loved that I found him so irresistible. “Do you like them? I kept the receipts, so you can take them back if you want.”
“No way. You have the better judgment in clothes and stuff. If you think I’m gonna look hot in this stuff, I’m wearing it. Not that you need any encouragement.”
“Haha.” I rolled my eyes. “At least you dropped the whole humble guy thing.”
“Well, I think you exaggerate about how smart and great I am. But as far as my hotness? There’s no debating that.” I heard him opening the packages. “You seriously just quadrupled my wardrobe.”
“Well, considering you had less than ten pieces of clothing in total, that wasn’t very hard to do.” I took a few pair of shoes out and assessed them. Shoes were always big space-takers in luggage. As much as I loved going through my awesome clothes, I knew I needed to come out and tell Jake about Paris. But our conversation was so fun and sweet, I was greedy for a few more minutes.
“You spent a lot of money.” Now his voice had an edge of grumpiness to it.
“I made a killing at the last two Folly shows.” I designed shirts for a local band, Folly, and got a cut of the profits they made from the sales. It was only a small amount per shirt, but it added up quickly. Especially considering their fan base had been growing in the last few months after a couple of incredible shows.
“You should be saving that money. Aren’t you going to Ireland this summer?” he reminded me. “You’re going to need it, Brenna.”
I sighed. The Ireland trip was looming, and I was upbeat about my chances to get into the program, but not positive. Mom and Jake, on the other hand, had no doubts and talked about it as if it were already set in stone. “It’s not for sure.” I fell back on my bed, pushing clothes away with my elbows. “Rotary still has two rounds of interviews. I can’t be sure about it until the end of next month.”
“Yeah, like there’s any way they’re going to reject you,” he scoffed.
And that was why Jake was so amazing and so frustrating at the same time. He really did believe that I was pretty perfect. If I told him that I was going to quit school to be a model or a racecar driver or an astronaut, he would not have one negative thing to say. He would be supportive and wonderful and…Jake.
“So, speaking of Europe,” I started. And stopped.
“Yeah?” I heard his steady breathing, the happiness in his voice, and I didn’t want Paris. I wanted Jake! I wanted Jake all winter break. I wanted to drive around in his big blue truck with no particular place to go. I wanted him to take me ice skating. I wanted to eat out at our favorite Japanese place and go see late movies and talk on the phone all night. And if I worked on him long and hard, I knew I could get him to sneak over, climb in my window and sleep with me, spooned around me all night and into the gray morning.
“Jake, I got another big present today.” I sat up and pushed the bangs off of my forehead. He waited. “I got a ticket to Paris.”
“France?” Jake’s voice rang with more genuine enthusiasm than I’d been able to muster.
“Yes.” I was about to spill the details, but his excitement for me eclipsed my attempts.
“That’s perfect, babe. You‘ve wanted to go to forever.” Jake knew how much I wanted to see Paris. “You and Mom going?” It was weird to hear him call her ‘Mom,’ but also kind of cute. He didn’t do it to her face. When he talked to her it was always strictly Mrs. Blixen. He just referred to her as ‘Mom’ with me.
“Yes.” I dragged the word out slowly.
“Cool.” He seemed actually cool with it. “When?”
“Day after tomorrow.” I rushed the words out -- like ripping a Band-Aid off in one shot -- and winced. In the second of silence Jake took to collect his thoughts or quietly freak out or hang up on me, I added the clincher that was sure to break his heart. And mine. “And I‘ll stay all winter break.”
Jake let out a long sigh. I knew what he felt. I pictured a big, bright, shiny balloon suddenly punctured by a sharp needle. “It’s so good for you and Mom to do this together. I’ll be able to pick up more work at Zinga’s. Can I call you?” There was an almost unnoticeable shake to his words, but leave it to Jake to put the best possible spin on the situation.
“Jake, you can be a little less perfect about this.” I fell back on my bed with relief. I prepared myself for a tantrum, because that was what I would have done. But Jake was on a different level when it came to cool and calm. He was like a saint. Or Buddha.
“I’m not gonna lie.” His voice sounded thick, like he was talking around a lump in his throat. “I’m gonna miss you so much. I was really excited about seeing a lot of you. A lot of you,” he added. His voice went husky, and my body screamed for him.
Why? Why did the choice have to be between Paris and Jake? How evil could life be? Correction; how evil could Mom be? God, her love hurt.
“I’ll miss you so much.” I closed my eyes and let the hot tears fill right up to my lashes and drip out the sides of my eyes. “I almost don’t want to go.”
“Are you kidding?” he practically screamed. “You can’t ever not do something because of me, okay? I think Mom thinks that I’m going to drag you down. If you didn’t do this, she would assume I told you not to, or that you didn’t go because of me. And I want you to go as much as she does. Maybe more.”
And I had nothing at all to say. Because Jake was dead on.
Mom had come out and said that Jake wasn’t headed in the same direction that I was. She peppered that lecture with lots of nice compliments about Jake’s good manners, his work ethic, his good looks, his kindness, and careful driving. But the message had been that all of that didn’t make up for what he didn’t have: the right upbringing and a solid drive for education. She would use any excuse to point out how Jake was ‘holding me back.’
I felt like Jake had so much potential, there was no box to put him in. Mom felt like people couldn’t escape their fates or what they were born to do. Mom said that I was too young to understand, that I was too idealistic. It made me feel like arguing, but what could I say? I was too young. And I guess too idealistic.
But I didn’t want to be some hard-hearted gold-digger with a checklist and a chip on my shoulder. What was so wrong with loving someone good and kind and different? What was so wrong with believing that someone can be more than what he seems? It just wasn’t an argument I could have with my mom. We couldn’t see eye to eye on this one. And I was trying really hard not to be an average asshole teenager and take her opinion as seriously as I could.
“It’s not so long.” Jake’s voice was calm in my ears, smoothing out all the wild thoughts clawing around and tearing at my brain. “Don’t be upset. And we get to see each other tonight, right?”
“Yes,” I pouted.
“What time did you say?” I heard the springs on Jake’s bed creak as he stood up.
“Four.”
“Three?” he repeated. “Let’s just say I misheard.”
I smiled a tiny smile. “I love you, Jake.” I sighed. “You can get a calling card. Or I can call my cell and get international calling this month.”
“Can you do that?” His voice bubbled with hope. I’d let him down so hard, but he was still happy with the little I offered.
“To be able to talk to you? You know I’ll do whatever.” I wiped my cheeks dry with my fingers.
“You’re the best. Go pack. I’ll be over before you know it, alright? I love you, Bren.”
“I love you.” We clicked off, and I felt like a lifeline broke. Without Jake I was lost.
I put a big smile on my face and went out to the kitchen. Mom had wrestled the huge turkey into the oven early that morning. She peeled the potatoes over the sink. I went to a drawer and took out the extra peeler, the old metal one that dug into the skin on your hands when you used it.
“Hey, sweetie,” Mom said. She was already dressed to the nines in her red cashmere sweater, a present from Thorsten, and a black pencil skirt. She had on high black heels and the gold Virgin Mary necklace I saw her admire in Macy’s and picked up a few weeks later for her gift this Christmas. I knew she’d love it. Her light brown hair was curled, and it was already almost down to her shoulders, grown out since her last haircut. So pretty. She was just so pretty. She gave me a kiss. “You don’t need to do this. Go pack.”
“I did!” I cringed when I realized how cheesy and bright it sounded. It sounded artificial. “I think I’m all done.”
“I’m really glad we’re doing this.” Mom put a wet, potato-flecked hand on my arm. Her voice was getting that lecture quality to it, and I wanted to dodge it.
“Me too.” I picked up a hot potato and popped it from one hand to the other to cool it before I gouged and scraped. I hated peeling potatoes. I hated lectures, but my forced enthusiasm made Mom too suspicious.
“I know you and Jake probably made plans. But this is a once in a lifetime opportunity. The time to travel is now and for the next few years. You have to live your life, sweetheart. You can’t do everything based around a high school relationship.” Her peeler hung idle in her fingers as she talked.
I had to bite my lips and peel harder. If I answered, I was going to say something she’d disagree with. If I was quiet, maybe whatever deity there was would have mercy on me and make the lecture stop. But then Mom surprised me.
Her voice got very low and a little watery. “Your biological father was a guy who seemed so perfect. Nice and kind and really smart. I felt lucky to have him around. But when it came down to it, he wasn’t the right guy for me, sweetie. Or for you. He didn’t have what it took, and if I’d been more independent, I wouldn’t have fallen apart like I did.”
I held the cooling potato, peeled to a nub, in one hand and stayed still. Now I was hoping that the deity would ignore my former prayer and just let her continue. Who was he? Who was this dad of mine? She was so quiet I didn’t know for sure if she would continue.
“He kept right on going, after us.” Her voice was tissue-paper soft. I could see her gray-blue eyes, dewy with tears. Her lips made a wobbly line and her soft, small hands shook a little around the brown potato skin. “And I hated him for it. I hated him so much. But in the end, I learned from him. I learned that it’s important to have your own thing, your own life. I’m not saying he was a good person. He had a lot to learn about compassion and respect and love.” Her voice was wet with sadness. “But he knew all about being selfish. It’s something we have to learn.”
And I didn’t say, But Jake and I aren’t you and my father. And I didn’t say, This is a totally different situation. And I didn’t say, Tell me more about what happened. Because I knew that every one of those things would ruin this weird spell she was casting with her velvety soft voice. And I didn’t know how much I believed any of those things or how much more I really wanted to know.
“Because it’s hard to balance compassion and love for others with selfishness,” Mom continued. “I think, just by nature, you’ve got the loving thing down. So now I need to teach you to be selfish. And I need to see you experience a whole range of things, so you have a choice. We tend to get too comfortable too quickly, honey, and that’s no way to make any big decision.” Her eyes lightened like a soft blue sky after a summer storm. She smiled and took my potato-caked hand in hers. “Get dressed. I bet Jake will show up a little early. You two can have a nice dinner.”
Mom kissed my cheek and I knew I had the imprint of her lipstick on my skin. I floated to the bathroom, rinsed my hands, and peered at my reflection, marked by my mother’s lips. I needed to do what my mom asked me. I needed to listen to her, no matter how much I wanted to ignore what she was saying. I needed to prove to her that I wasn’t my father; she had raised me better than that. And I had to show her that I wasn’t her from that time. I wasn’t the same teenager she had been.
I realized that my mom was scared about this. She was afraid for me, and I had to show her that I would be fine. Jake wasn’t like my father, but the only way Mom would understand that was if I went with her and proved it. If Jake and I both proved it. We could do this. No words would change any of this. She had to see it for herself.
Proving that I wasn’t just like my mom would be harder. How could I deny that I loved being in love with Jake? And I would probably fall apart a little without him. Wasn’t that normal? And we had been spending a lot of time together, but that was because we wanted to, not because I couldn’t hang out on my own. Wasn’t it?
Well, at least I knew that Jake was just as loving as I was. He was not selfish. He wasn’t. I didn’t think. I didn’t really want to think about it. My mom’s lectures tended to do this to me. They took a perfectly rational, reasonable situation and turned it on its head. Was she right? Was I too comfortable?
I pushed that all out of my head for right now. I had an afternoon with Jake to look forward to.
And, on the bright side, it was a trip to Paris! I loved to travel, no matter how much leaving home would ache this time. It was a trip to Paris with my mom, and it would be wonderful. When I got home, I could fall right back into Jake’s arms, and Mom could be less worried and less critical.
At least I hoped that would happen.
Chapter Two
I went to my room and took out my dress, a scarlet red silk with cap sleeves and a wraparound waist. I loved it, and it was kind of my first adult Christmas dress. I had black stockings with a line sewn up the back like the old-fashioned silk style and a pair of really cute black strappy heels, which were uncomfortable enough that I was glad I would only be wearing them around the house. I had just cut my bangs, so they were right above my eyebrows, where I liked them. I put on a black silk headband and put the rest of my hair into a carefully messy bun, which is deceptively hard to do. A thousand bobby pins later, and it looked really good, in a windblown way.
I put my makeup on and a little jewelry, including the silver ‘B’ necklace Jake had gotten me for my birthday and the pearl drop earrings Mom and Thorsten picked up for me for Christmas. I also had a new watch with a wide leather cuff band. I loved watches, but hardly anyone wore them anymore. Most people my age just used their cellphones to tell the time. But I loved them no matter how old-fashioned they were, had at least a dozen, and wore them all of the time.
The minute I finished, I heard the doorbell ring, and felt a leap of joy. When I looked down at my watch, I saw that it was only two-thirty. I knew Jake had to be more upset than he was pretending about my leaving, because he was usually really careful about respecting Mom’s timetables. Mom was already at the door, being unusually nice and kissing Jake’s cheek. I realized then that she felt a little guilty about this whole thing, too. I shook my head. How could Paris cause so much upset? Paris!
Jake looked incredibly hot. And it actually had very little to do with my excellent taste in clothes. Jake was the kind of guy who would look hot in just about anything, since he was tall with delectably chiseled muscles and a face that set girls drooling wherever we went. But today he was wearing his gray dress pants and a black crewneck sweater. It was cashmere, which I’m sure he didn’t notice or care about, but it made me happy that he had something other than threadbare cotton or denim. His boots were new, too, a birthday gift from his ever practical father. Dress shoes weren’t part of Jake’s mindset, and I knew that buying them would just be a waste of my efforts. He was handing my mother a wrapped package.
I hadn’t realized he would get her a gift. Part of me was shocked that he hadn’t asked for my help with it at all. I wondered what he had gotten her.
“Oh, Jake!” she cried. It was a pair of leather gloves that were bright purple. They were almost funny, but so funny they were just plain adorable.
“I know they’re kind of a weird color.” Jake shifted his weight from one foot to the other and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “But I just thought that if anyone could pull them off, it would be you, Mrs. Blixen.”
Mom’s eyes glistened again. “How thoughtful. I love them.” My mother moved in for a hug.
“And now your hands will be warm in Paris.” Jake put his arms around her in an awkward reciprocation of her offered hug.
“Brenna told you?” Mom asked, her voice surprised.
“She called right away. She was really excited. I am, too. I mean, for you two. It’s so great that Brenna gets to travel so much, and I know how much she’s been missing you since you two moved back to the states and you got your job and life just got crazy.” He was rambling now, but I could see Mom get emotional, and I felt the dangerous burn in my own eyes. I had to sternly remind myself of just how crazy I would look with all of my new Bad Girl mascara running down my cheeks, and the tears held back. “I hope you two have a blast.”
Mom hugged him again, murmuring kind Christmas-y things. My heart swelled a little. I came into the foyer, and Jake looked over at me. His eyes went wide.
“Wow.” He licked his lips quickly, like he was nervous. “Bren, you look incredible.”
And now Mom was eating out of his hand. All you really had to do to get my mom to like you was be super complimentary to me, and Jake was a natural at that.
“You look pretty good, yourself, Kelly.” I walked around him. He turned to see me as I circled him, like he couldn’t stand to take his eyes off of me. Oh, Jake!
“Thank you.” He turned back to Mom. “Brenna got me some new clothes. I guess she was tired of my five t-shirts.”
“Well, if I saw that blue button-down one more time, I was going to take you shopping myself. I mean, you’re a handsome young man. Take Brenna’s advice, and you’ll have to beat the girls away.” She smiled, and I saw through her weird comments the kind of tough love that she usually restricted to me alone.
“No worries there.” Jake was completely oblivious to my mother’s motives. “I’ve already got the best girl there is.”
Mom just smiled. “Bren, why don’t you and Jake grab a cup of cocoa from the stove and sit by the fire? I’m almost done in here.”
I got two mugs and hurried to the living room with Jake, thankful for Mom’s thoughtfulness despite her odd ‘date other people’ messages.
Our fireplace was set in a big stone-covered wall that went around to the kitchen. Most of the time when you see that design, the fireplace goes through the wall, so you can access it from both rooms, but ours didn’t. We just had one big wall that was flat stone in our kitchen. Jake and I sat on the couch, and he put our mugs down and took me in his arms, our nearly silent kisses so ravenous, I was instantly turned on.
“You’re so beautiful.” He pulled his mouth away and held my upper arms hard in his hands. “You look like Christmas.”
I laughed and kissed him really softly and silently, since Mom and Thorsten were just around the corner. “Thanks. I got you other stuff. Do you want to see it?”
“I don’t want you spending all of your money on me.” He looked really serious, his gray eyes wide and his mouth set in a line. He was so hot, it was hard to breathe steadily around him.
“I didn’t. I mean, I made some of it. Anyway, it’s Christmas, so stop arguing about it.” I went under the tree and found some silver wrapped packages. In our crazy Christmas-centered house, each person got assigned a different colored wrapping paper. Mom was red, Thorsten was green, I got gold, and Jake got silver. Mom always went a little crazy with Christmas decorations.
Jake laughed. “Man, your house is like a magazine.” He craned his neck and took it all in. “Christmas music, cocoa, a fire, that big-ass tree, all the dinner smells. I’m glad I get to do Christmas here.”
I thought about this morning, how depressing it must have been for him in comparison to my morning. It made me too sad to think about it for long, so I didn’t.
“I’m glad you’re doing your Christmas here, too.” I brought his little shiny pile over. “Open them.”
He undid the paper so carefully it was obnoxious. A full minute into the first one, I lost my cool. “Jake! It’s just paper! We’re not saving it, so rip it open!”
He smiled. “Fine, bossy pants.” He ripped it with exaggerated relish. “Hey, a watch!” He took it out and put it on right away. I hated when people bought gifts that were things they liked, but I thought my watch obsession had a lot of merit, so I got Jake in on it. “Thanks.” He pulled me over for a long kiss.
I also got him a new sketch pad and really good pencils, and the rest of my English reading on CD. Jake liked to keep up with me, but his dyslexia made it impossible. I liked to be able to talk to him about the books I’m reading, so he listened along.
“Some of them look so awful,” I apologized. “Oh, and this one was really bad, so I recorded it for you to make up for it.”
“Like, you read it?” He turned over the jewel case with its obviously homemade insert.
“Yeah. I have a program on my computer.” The truth is, I have every program on my computer. Thorsten got me a laptop so jacked, I don’t think secret government agents have the kind of programming I have. “Anyway, it’s pretty short, but Ethan Frome is just plain torture, so I hope the fact that I’m reading it makes it a little easier to swallow.”
Jake crunched me in a bear hug. “Thank you,” he said, his voice a little husky. Jake never had anyone really care about him or think about him, so this kind of gift receiving had been a little emotional for him. “I left your stuff on the porch. I’ll be right back.” He ran out the door, my mom glancing at him curiously. He came back with a big bag.
Jake got me a bottle of the perfume I’d tried on this fall and loved, every Jane Austen movie made on DVD, a sketch book with a bright blue cover and little brown birds flying on it and finally, there was just one tiny box in the bottom. Jake sat on the floor in front of me on the couch. When he fished that box out, he was on his knees and my heart leapt. I felt like I might faint and wanted to tell him no right then.
“Jake, what is that?” My voice shook hard.
He seemed oblivious to my nervous dread.
“I just thought of you when I saw it.” His ears burned a little red. He pushed the box into my hands, but I dropped it twice because they were shaking so much. Finally, he just plucked it out of my hands and opened it himself. He popped the top of the box off, and there was a ring.
I felt myself freaking out. This was a lot. This was too much. Mom and Thorsten would freak. I wasn’t ready. I didn’t want to look at it.
But it didn’t have a stone or anything, and I felt a hot flush of relief about that.
“Jake…” I began, but he cut me off.
“It’s called a posey ring. People who were…in love exchanged them, like a long time ago. It says, Here is my heart, guard it well. In French. Weird, right? I didn’t even know you were going to Paris.” His laugh was nervous. He looked up into my face. “Don’t freak, Bren. It’s not like an engagement ring.”
I laughed a little breathily. “Duh. I mean, of course. We’re still in high school!” My voice sounded on the verge of hysterical.
I picked the ring out of the box carefully. It was shiny gold, the words etched around the outside; A Vila Mon Coer, Gardi Li Mo. I traced my finger over the smooth metal, loving the feel of the bumps and grooves despite my general unease about it being a ring.
I looked at it for a long time before I slipped it on the tip of my right index finger, and Jake took my hand and pushed it on all the way.
“I shouldn’t have bought that one, huh?” He held my fingertips and didn’t look up from the ring on my hand. His ring on my hand. It sent a little shiver along my neck, even as I told myself that it was silly to think that way. It was just a piece of jewelry! No big deal! No hidden meanings!
Right?
And when I looked at his face, crestfallen with worry that he’d given me the wrong gift, I stuffed all of my crazy neurosis aside and let him know that I loved how much he loved me and the way he showed me. Even if it was overwhelming sometimes.
“It’s so beautiful.” I cupped his face and kissed his gorgeous model-perfect mouth. “I love it.”
“Good.” He nodded, relieved. “I’m not great at picking out gifts.”
“Are you crazy? These are perfect. Thank you.” I waited a minute. “So, how did you pick the wording on it?”
“They had all different ones. The girl behind the counter told me what they meant. Like, I am yours, you are mine. Or, All I desire. They all made sense. This one just made the best sense. I feel like I can trust you with my heart. I guess.” He ducked his head shyly. “Jesus, Brenna, you make me say the sappiest crap.”
“You love it.” I wanted to say whatever would break the awkward energy in the air. I was about to kiss him again.
Mom and Thorsten came out just then. Jake quickly broke away from me and started picking up wrapping paper and putting it in the bag that he’d packed the gifts in. He held out a box to Thorsten, who opened it and got all excited over a little pouch of tobacco.
“My dad picked it up for me,” Jake explained. “It’s a special blend. Something they still pick by hand. Brenna told me you smoke a pipe, so I thought you might like it.”
Thorsten slapped him on the back and smiled happily. He and Mom looked at the gifts, and Mom didn’t even make a big deal out of the ring, though I caught her looking at it a few times with her mouth twisted disapprovingly. They gave Jake a new pair of riding gloves. It was the only thing I hadn’t given him for his birthday.
“These are great.” Jake turned them over in his hands. I had been with them when they bought them, so I knew they were amazing. You can buy a whole range of gloves, and, of course, Mom and Thorsten had gone to the top of the spectrum for them. He hugged Mom tightly, then bypassed Thorsten’s hand and hugged him, too.
I felt a little choked up, and I think my parents did, too. We all sat in silence for a long minute before Mom said, “Oh! Dinner!”
We went to the dining room, laughing. We all walked back and forth with food, way too much food, for the long table. Thorsten got us together and took pictures, snapping a few himself, then setting up the camera so we could all get in one together. Jake took over and made the three of us squeeze together for a family shot.
I tried to stretch the dinner out as long as I could. Jake ate so much, even Thorsten, who is a bottomless pit, was impressed. We made conversation and laughed. Mom and Thorsten drank wine and she relaxed a little, then a lot. We laughed more, and then Mom brought out dessert. It was delicious and cozy and wonderful.
Jake and I offered to clear and clean up. Mom and Thorsten went to the living room to watch an old movie on AMC.
“Wash or dry?” Jake picked up the sponge in one hand and the dishtowel in the other.
“Normally I’d pick dry.” I rubbed my chin as if I had to give this a lot of thought. “But I don’t know if I can trust you to wash the way my mom would approve of.”
“You doubt my abilities?” Jake teased.
“Definitely.” I turned the water on and started to soap everything up. I had one of my mom’s crazy aprons on, a red plaid one with a Santa head on it.
“You look really pretty.” Jake leaned one hip on the counter and took the first dish I handed him, his eyes on me the entire time.
“You just like to see me slaving over a hot sink in a crazy apron.” I stuck my tongue out at him.
“I’m gonna miss you a lot.” Jake dried the plate in his hand with his eyes down.
“I wish the timing was different.” I looked down at the food-encrusted plates in the bubbly water.
He put a hand on my shoulder and squeezed gently. “No matter when it was, I would be sad you were going. But you have to go. Every time. You can’t put this stuff off.
Sometimes I was scared Jake wasn’t going to be into what I was into. Sometimes I was really scared that I was going to outgrow him. I couldn’t really imagine anything worse than growing away from Jake, but the reality was that he and I didn’t have remotely similar goals when it came to things like travel and education. I cringed.
Was Mom right?
“Maybe next year we could go somewhere together.” I willed Jake to horn in on my get-independent plans. Did it still count as his goal if I suggested going? Was it independent if Jake came along? Was it weird to think we could pull off a European trip together? Like my mother wouldn’t freak out too much over that.
Jake looked at me for a long time. I could tell he was wrestling in his mind between the desire to do something new and all the fear that went along with doing just that. “How much money would I need?”
I shook my head. “I’ve never really paid for it when I traveled.” I felt a little embarrassed admitting that.
“Of course not.” Jake pulled his eyebrows together. “How do I get a passport? I need one, right?”
“You do.” I scrubbed the gravy boat, rinsed it, and handed it to him. “There’s an application online you can download. You have to get it notarized and get your picture put on it.”
“It doesn’t sound any harder than a driver’s license.” He made neat stacks of the dishes he dried. “So, where are we going, Bren?”
“Where do you want to go?” I squirted more dish soap into the water.
“How about Australia?” His eyes were bright as, I imagined, kangaroos and wallabies jumped through his head.
I honestly hated to shoot his wallabies but... “That’s like a twenty hour plane ride.”
“You’re kidding.” He stopped drying, and I could almost see his brain visualizing where Australia was in relation to the States.
“It’s on the other side of the world, Jake. Not that we can’t go. Maybe we should just think closer. Like Europe.” I closed my eyes and focused on the first amazing, beautiful image that popped into my head. It was Venice. “I’ve always wanted to see Italy.”
“That would be incredible.” The kangaroos hopped away, and I imagined Jake thinking of marble statues, cobblestoned streets, and the Coliseum. “Wow. Italy. Okay, Italy next year. It’s a deal.” He stuck his hand out, I took mine out of the soap suds, and we shook.
Next year. I’d be a junior plus and Jake would be a senior. I hoped we would still be dating, but just thinking like that made me scared to death I would jinx something. Would my mom and Thorsten ever agree to it? Right now it was too much fun to think about. There was no way I was going to let the whole plan get bogged down with possible problems.
Jake rubbed his thumb over the gold posey ring on my finger. “What are you going to see in Paris?”
I shrugged. “Mom and I barely had time to talk about it. But the flight is long, so I’m sure she’ll fill me in.”
“You’ll take pictures?” Jake asked. He let my hand go reluctantly, and I went back to scrubbing the dishes.
“Of course.” I imagined the two of us looking through my pictures together when I got back. “Will you take pictures?”
“Of Sussex County?” He shook his head. “Why?”
“I don’t know. I’ll miss almost two weeks of Sussex County in the winter. You can document it for me. Like a fortnight in the life of Jake Kelly.” I slid my eyes over to him. “Or you don’t have to. It was just a thought.”
“No.” He smiled from behind the cabinet door as he stacked clean, dry dishes in. “I’ll do it. You can look at it when you’re having trouble sleeping.”
“You’re not that boring.” I finished the final pot and came to help him finish drying and putting away.
“You’re delusional. My life is painfully dull.” He took a pan out of my hands and pulled me in for a kiss. “And soon I’ll have photographic proof.”
We finished the dishes in good-natured quiet, then Jake got more dessert and we settled in the living room. It was nice having Jake around. I had grown up an only child, and Christmas tended to be pretty quiet at my house. This was the first Christmas I had someone my own age around, and it was nice even beyond the fact that it was Jake and he was my boyfriend. It was fun to have someone to talk to and be with. Mom and Thorsten had on White Christmas with Bing Crosby and Rosemary Clooney, and Jake soaked it in with wide eyes.
I slipped my heels off and tucked my feet under me, checking him out for a few minutes. I leaned close. “You like musicals?” I took a deep breath of his clean, crisp smell.
“I guess so.” His index finger ran along my fingers gently. “I’ve never seen this movie.”
“It’s a Wonderful Life isn’t the only Christmas movie in the world.” I weaved my fingers with his and held on tight.
He clicked his tongue at me. “I know. I’ve seen The Grinch and Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer.” He paused. “And Frosty the Snowman.”
“What about Elf?” He shook his head. “What about Emmett Otter’s Jugband Christmas?” He looked at me like I was crazy. “Oh, man, we have some catching up to do.”
So for the next few hours we laughed through Christmas movies. Jake had seen A Christmas Story, but had never heard of A Child’s Christmas in Wales, my all time favorite.
“Figures your favorite would be a weird poem story.” He pulled me over and kissed me on the temple.
“Dylan Thomas is not weird.” I defended one of my favorite poets. “You’re the most unexposed person I’ve ever met in my life.”
Jake tweaked my nose, which I thought was completely adorable and lovable of him, even if he hadn’t taken my seriously-made comment very seriously at all. Thorsten and Mom had more coffee and dessert, and Jake joined them. When they were done, he stood up, thanked my parents, and told them that he had to get home. One thing Jake was really good at was not overstaying his welcome.
Everyone wished him a merry Christmas and Mom shooed me outside with him. There was no snow. Except for a freak storm in September, we hadn’t had a single flake. The ground was hard and cold under our shoes and the sky had a crisp, clean smell that meant snow was near, but there was no actual snow.
“Maybe I can see you tomorrow.” He wrapped me in his arms.
I put my head on his chest and breathed in the sharp smell of aftershave wafting from his neck. “Maybe. I’ll work on my mom.”