Jake

 

The words leave my mouth before I have time to consider the consequences.

“You think you know me?” Maddie’s teacher asks while pointing to her chest.

“You look so much like a girl I once knew, and your last names are the same. Rebecca … was she your sister?”

Ms. Lockwood’s skin pales. “Yes, Rebecca was my sister. How did you know her?”

“I’m Jake Callister. My cousin is Thatcher Davenport, and I used to spend summers with him at his home in the Hamptons. I got to know your sister at some of the beach parties.”

Giving a nod, she examines my face. Maddie pats my cheeks before attempting to turn my head toward her.

“Can we go get ice cream?”

“Sure, in a minute.”

“Yes, I remember you now,” Sailor says. “Thatcher hosted a lot of parties.” Her eyes stray, and I feel like shit for bringing up her dead sister. Who does that to someone they barely know? Looking back, she scrutinizes me again before giggling.

“You in no way remind me of Thatcher Davenport.”

“Yeah, well, my mom’s sister married up. Thatcher’s father met my aunt at her, uh, place of employment. She was a dancer.” I look at Maddie in my arms. “And not the kind you’d see in a broadway show at the Lincoln Center, if you know what I mean.”

Ms. Lockwood giggles again, and damn, it’s a sexy sound. She’s smokin’ hot, and now I’m the one doing the examining. She’s more petite than I remember Rebecca being, and her hair is much darker. Hell, it’s black.

“I wasn’t trying to insult you when I said that about Thatcher. It’s just that I can picture him in his polo shirts and plaid golf shorts, and you look nothing like that.”

“Yeah, we’re different. I’m the cool one, and since he’s my cousin, I can give him loads of shit about it.”

“Uncle Jake, you said a bad word. That means I get two spoons of sugar on my Lucky Charms. Am I staying the night?” she asks excitedly, the thought just hitting her pretty little head.

“Yep, but someone keeps eating all my Lucky Charms, so you might have to eat Wheaties.”

She twists her mouth up in disgust. “No, yuck.”

“Um, I need to get back inside, but I wanted to talk to you about Maddie’s arms. I don’t know how you missed her lovely artwork.”

I lift my niece’s arm to have a look. “Oh, yeah, those are her tattoos. She wants to be like her Uncle Jake.”

“Well, I have no issues with her creative self-expression, but in her new school supplies sent in, there were Sharpies instead of washable Crayola markers, and I didn’t notice until she’d decorated one entire arm and part of the other.”

“Oooh, sorry about that. I’ll have her dad pick up the right ones this weekend.”

“I wanted to tell you the easiest methods to remove it. Coconut oil works great, but if you don’t have any, hand sanitizer works, too.

“I thought I should tell you so you don’t scrub her arms too much with soap and water since it might only irritate her skin. It’s so hard to get the dark colors off.”

“OK, cool. Thanks for the tip.”

“Otherwise, Maddie is having a wonderful first week. She’s sweet and helpful. Oh, and her homework is in her folder.”

“Homework? What kind of homework are we talking here? Because I’ll be the one helping her with it, and I stopped taking my Ritalin about eight years ago.”

She smiles. “I think you can handle it. There’s a paper in her folder that has Madeline on it multiple times, and she needs to trace the letters. The book she chose to practice her reading is inside her backpack, too.”

“OK, I think I can manage that.”

“Great. Bye, Madeline,” Ms. Lockwood says. “You have a fun evening with your uncle.” She glances at me, and her alluring smile doesn’t go unnoticed. “It was nice meeting you, Jake.”

“Same. Uh, can I get your first name?”

“It’s Sailor.”

“Sailor, right. I remember the name now.” Her smile disappears, and I wonder what I said to upset her.

“Have a nice night.” She walks away, and as I admire her toned ass in her pale pink dress pants, Maddie tugs on my face again.

“I want a snack.”

“Right. Ice cream.” Lowering her to the ground, I take her hand, and as we walk to the car, I can’t stop thinking about Sailor and the past.

It’s weird because I seldom dwell on Rebecca, or what happened the night she died, but I did think of her this morning when I was talking to Elliott about not being able to save every life. If anyone can’t let go of the past, it’s him, but maybe I haven’t let go of it either.