14
I pulled my beanie over my hair.
It was nine in the morning on New Year’s Day, and I couldn’t sit in the house any longer and listen to Amy complain or Meg talk about Shia and Bell for another minute. I grabbed a broom and put on my strongest boots. I could sweep the driveway or something.
“What in the world are you going to do now, Jo?” Meg asked.
“Going to exercise.” I smiled and batted my lashes.
“You already took a walk this morning, and it’s cold outside. You are crazy for wanting to go out when we have a lit fireplace and Netflix.” Meg looked to Beth for support.
Beth didn’t seem interested in taking anyone’s side.
I lifted my broom into the air. “I’m not like you, Meg. I can’t just lay around all the time. I need more adventure than that.”
Meg huffed and pressed buttons on the remote. I left her alone and made my way outside. The driveway was actually pretty clean, so I wasn’t quite sure what to do with the broom I’d brought outside with me. I looked over to the Laurence house and counted the windows on its front. Six. The house was made from stately stone, and the yard in the front was better maintained than ours. Fort Cyprus would send someone out to cut your grass and maintain your landscaping while your head of household was deployed.
The Laurence house didn’t look like an officer’s house; it looked like a general’s house. It was nice, all matching patio furniture and a black town car parked in the front. It looked lonely, sort of lifeless. No kids were playing outside or teenage girls yelling inside, no shoes on the porch. There were always shoes on the porch at our house.
As I stared at the details of the Laurence house, my imagination started to run wild. I imagined the house as an enchanted palace, full of useless splendid delights that no one actually enjoyed. I wondered about Old Mr. Laurence’s family and why only his grandson was ever at his house. I knew it could be the simple military-family answer, that no one lives in the same state as their family because of PCSing. Laurie had already told me that his dad was in Korea.
I looked up to the second-story window, and by the time I realized Laurie was standing there, staring right at me, it was too late for me to move. I waved my broom in the air, and the window resisted as he yanked it up.
“How are you?” he asked.
I shrugged. His nose was red, and from down on the ground his eyes looked puffy. “How are you?”
“A little sick. I’ll be fine.”
“Are you going to stay locked in there all day?” I didn’t know the level of comfort you’re supposed to be at with a boy before you initiate hanging out, but I wasn’t sure if I cared so much about what I was supposed to do.
“Are you offering your company, Jo?” He grinned at me from the window. When he smiled, he no longer looked sick.
“No.” I grinned back at him.
“You should offer me your company,” he said, sure of himself.
I think I liked how confident he was. I wasn’t sure then if it was genuine, but I wanted him to stay around long enough to find out.
“Come on, Jo Spring!” he called from the window above me.
“I’m not sure I would be much fun if you’re sick!” I yelled up. “I’m not that nice or that quiet!”
I heard Amy talking inside the kitchen, watching my exchange with Laurie.
“I wouldn’t want you to be!”
I shook my head. I did want to get to know him better, and it was my turn to ask all the questions. But I did need to ask Meredith and make sure she was okay with it. I couldn’t imagine that she wouldn’t be, but I had never asked to go inside a boy’s house before.
“I have to ask my mom if I can come in. Now, shut your window before you get even worse!” I turned from him and carried my broom inside. I went through the back door and found Amy, Beth, and Meredith all standing in the kitchen.
After ten seconds of silence I finally asked the three of them, “What?”
“Nothing,” Meredith said, her lips turning up into a smile. She looked like she was up to something. Her heart-shaped face was staring out the window, up at Laurie’s. I walked over to check what she was looking at, and I saw Laurie standing in front of the mirror, taking a hairbrush to his hair.
“It’s not a big deal,” I told them. “You guys shouldn’t be so nosy!”
Amy started making kissing sounds with her little pink lips. Her blond curls bounced around her face. “He’s so hot, though. You’re so lucky,” she whined, kissing the air one more time.
“Amy!” Meredith and I said at the same time.
“What?” Amy’s hip jut out and she looked sixteen for a second. “He is.”
Amy grabbed her phone from the counter and asked Beth to make her breakfast. Beth immediately began to move around the kitchen, opening a cabinet and pulling out a loaf of bread.
“So, Meredith, do you mind if I go next door to hang out with Laurie?”
She was mid-drink of her coffee, so she swallowed and shook her head. “No, I don’t mind, Jo. Do you feel comfortable going?”
Amy looked up, raising her golden brows.
“Yes, I do.”
“Then I trust you to go there. Text me in an hour to check in.”
Beth shook a jug of orange juice, and if I wasn’t in a hurry to get next door, I would have been useless like Amy and gotten her to pour me a glass.
When I walked down the hallway, I passed a mirror . . .
I looked like hell. I hadn’t even thought about the way I looked when I saw Laurie, or that I was wearing black leggings, a Pac-Man sweatshirt, and dirty Vans. I thought I would be sweeping the driveway, not hanging out with Laurie inside his house.
I didn’t feel like changing, though, and he’d already seen me in this outfit anyway. It felt like a lot of work to consider my clothes and get primped just for a boy. I never understood that concept, because what happens when you move in with someone? Do you have to set your alarm for an hour before they wake up just to get ready? No, thanks.
I went into the bathroom and brushed my teeth, raked Amy’s hairbrush through my hair, and tucked my hair behind my ears. My hair always got so oily, so fast, and I didn’t feel like breathing in the powdery fumes of Meg’s dry shampoo, so I shoved my beanie back on my head.
Then I leaned into the mirror and studied my face. My lips were their usual puffy selves, and my thick eyebrows were unruly again. Meredith always told me to leave them be until she took me to get them waxed. She even pulled out pictures from ten years ago when the tiny-eyebrow trend was in. I was glad I came after that period in beauty history.
I still had sleep in my eyes, so I wet a warm rag and wiped them, plus my mouth. Before I could find something else to do with my appearance, I shut the light off and walked back to the kitchen.
“Here, take him some of the leftovers from last night.” Meredith handed me a covered dish, then gently set a pie on top of it. The pie was from Christmas. It was Meredith’s cherry pie recipe that no one except Dad ever ate. Since Aunt Hannah was here now, it seemed like she wanted to make up for missing Christmas by making as many pies as humanly possible.
“Okay, okay.” I blocked Meredith from putting another pan, this time meatballs, on top of the stack. On the edge of the kitchen island was a little bowl of the barbecued sausages that Laurie seemed to like the night before, so I grabbed them and loaded them on top.
“Careful, you’ll crush that pie,” Meredith warned me. Beth grabbed the stack from my hands and dumped the sausages into the big dish on the bottom.
“I’ll get the door,” Beth said, moving past Meredith to help me. Beth’s eyes looked a little tired, I thought.
I adjusted the pans in my arms and walked through the backyard.
“Jo! You’re not wearing that?” Meg cried from inside the house. I continued across the yard and didn’t look back at my sister.
When I got to the door of the Laurence house, I rang the doorbell twice before someone answered. I was just about to walk away when an elderly man pulled the door open. His hair was white and almost transparent, but was combed neatly and looked like even the wind couldn’t move it. I recognized him immediately as Old Mr. Laurence.
“Send her up!” Laurie’s voice carried down the stairs, and Old Mr. Laurence waved me in.
His eyes were suspicious and the oddest shade of river-green I had ever seen. Laurie’s eyes were so dark, it surprised me that he looked so different from his grandpa. Old Mr. Laurence had a sharply squared jaw, and his thick shoulders reminded me of someone on TV, but I couldn’t think of who.
Thanking the old man, I walked toward the staircase and saw Laurie making his way down. My arms were killing me. The interior of the house was so strange. The curtains were maroon and massive, draping over the hunter-green wallpaper. There were so many curtains, it was distracting. The random candlesticks and books everywhere reminded me of the set of Downton Abbey or something. It was messier than I had imagined, especially compared to the view from the windows I usually snooped through.
“Do you need help? What is all that?” Laurie’s long legs carried him down the staircase quickly, and he reached for the food in my arms.
He led me back up to his bedroom and set the food on a desk near the door. His room seemed bland at first glance, but as I looked closer, I saw touches of magic everywhere. From a distance, his wallpaper looked like black squiggles on a white sheet, but when I walked over to it, I realized it was sheet music.
Against the wall farthest from the doorway was his bed. The sheets and pillowcases were all white and burlap and reminded me of an IKEA ad. The Louisiana sun was beaming through his big, open windows. It was warmer in the room than outside, and the ceiling fan made a nice breeze. As Laurie pulled the Tupperware lid off the sausages, I explored his bedroom. He didn’t seem to mind, because he sat down on the edge of the desk and started eating while I flipped through the pages of an old coffee-table book with Barcelona on the front cover. The pages were filled with bright, vivid pictures of beautiful beaches and tapas-style food.
“Have you been to Barcelona?”
His mouth was full of food. He nodded.
“Was it wonderful?”
He nodded again.
I couldn’t imagine how it would be to be so young and have traveled so much. Being an Army brat, I have moved with my family a few times, from Connecticut to Texas, and now outside of New Orleans, but that was nothing compared to traveling Europe and having an Italian artist for a mother. I loved Meredith so much, but I didn’t get my love for writing from her.
I put the Barcelona book down and grabbed a notebook full of scribbles.
“Not that.” Laurie grabbed it from my hand before I could flip to any of the pages.
It made me want to see it even more. “What is that?”
“It’s a book of drawings, but I’m not good at it.”
I let him hide it away from me. One day, when we were friends, I would ask again if he would show me.
I moved to another part of his room, near his bed. He had stacks of graphic novels in languages that I didn’t even recognize. Next to that were empty bottles of Coke and two glasses of what I assumed was water. On the nightstand, his wallet lay on top of a GQ magazine, and was stuffed with cards and receipts. I picked it up in my hands and started looking through the cards. Honestly, who hoarded so many cards? There was an Urban Outfitters gift card, a punch card for Panera Bread, a business card with a Realtor’s name on it.
Before I could see any more of them, Laurie said my name and then, “Um, what are you doing going through my wallet?”
I felt myself getting a little anxious. “Just looking.” I shrugged and turned around to him.
He was holding the pie plate in his hands. but he didn’t seem upset. He half-smiled at me. “Is that something people around here do? Pick up someone’s wallet and go through it?” Humor was in his voice. “Imagine if I picked up your purse and opened your wallet!” He sat down on the small sofa in his bedroom.
“I don’t have a purse.” I guess it could be considered invasive to go through someone’s things like I just did. The wallet felt heavier in my hands and I dropped it back onto the nightstand.
“I have three sisters.” I couldn’t help but laugh at myself. “We don’t have any privacy. Sorry.” I took a few steps away from the nightstand and tried to find something else to look at.
“Did you know that the Russian language doesn’t have an original word for privacy?” Laurie asked.
His couch was big enough for both of us to sit on, so I sat on the opposite end from him. An orange pillow with a fox’s face on it was between us. I put it on my lap and touched the soft fur. For a second, I thought his comment was a random thing to know, but then I remembered that I knew that, too.
“I did know that, actually,” I said rather proudly.
Laurie’s chin turned to me. “Did you? How?”
I didn’t think he believed me, and I found that funny. “I read it in a book once.”
“What book?”
“The Bronze Horseman. It’s a—”
Laurie shot up from the couch. “I know it! It was my mother’s favorite book. Well, books. I read the trilogy last summer.”
“No way.”
Laurie was definitely the most interesting boy I had ever met.
“Yes, way. The Italian version cut some of the text—can you believe it?”
I liked how he got excited easily. I did that, too, but Meg always told me it was immature. If Laurie was immature, then so was I.
“What? Why would they?”
“Not sure. But they did.”
“What were we talking about before?” My head was fuzzy when I tried to remember what was happening before I was on the couch with Laurie.
“Who cares? Let’s talk about your aunt and your mom. Are they sisters?”
I told him about us girls’ theories about Aunt Hannah and Meredith and the drama between them. I told him more than I should have, but I felt like that was okay. For a second I thought about Meg and how River had tortured her when they broke up. I had to remember that guys can be important to me, but I’m more important. I want a career and I want to be taken seriously. I couldn’t imagine being someone’s wife and liking it. I didn’t think anyone was out there that I would like enough to share the remote with.
His phone rang twice while I was talking, and when I stopped for a moment, he said, “It’s my mom,” with the kind of shy smile that boys in magazines wear.
I wondered if he knew that he looked like a troubled musician or a struggling actor. He had the polish of a well-groomed politician’s son, but the wit of a bartender’s son. I stared at his mouth and the slow way it moved when he explained things in detail with memories from Rome and Boston and how he somehow loved the two equally. I wondered what the girls that he usually dated looked like. Not that pretty girls couldn’t be smart, because I knew they could be. I knew many. The thing was, though, that pretty girls are sometimes taught that it’s their job to be pretty and not to be smart.
I wondered if boys were taught the same. Once, Meg told me that girls who were prettier had easier lives. I didn’t believe her then, and I didn’t think I could ever agree with that. I wondered if the pretty girls Laurie could date were ever interesting. It wasn’t fair to assume they weren’t, but since I didn’t have much social experience, I only had the basic stereotypes to base my ideas on.
After a few minutes, Laurie changed the subject. “What about high school?”
I groaned. “I hate it. I can’t wait to be a journalist. Or a businesswoman. Or a writer, or all three.”
Laurie’s expression changed and I thought he wanted to say something, but he kept tapping his lips with his fingers and pulling at the corners of them. I used to do that when I was younger, and I constantly had the worst red rash around my mouth. Meg called it my “ring around the rosie,” and Amy told me it was a disease. There were two types of people, I supposed. Well, three, including sweet Beth, who helped rub cream on my lips before bed.
I started telling him about high school and how I felt about my teachers. Mostly Mr. Geckle, and how he kicked me off the newspaper and demoted me to yearbook. Laurie laughed a lot and looked pissed a lot, especially about Mr. Geckle and his red cheeks and hairy fingers.
“You have such a funny way of explaining things and telling stories. It’s so . . . so . . . true, but told in a way I wouldn’t have thought of,” Laurie said. “When I was younger, my dad had this girlfriend who talked like you. She lived in New England somewhere, and she was like a Gypsy or something.”
I laughed like it was a silly thing to say, but I loved the comparison.
“Do you want a tour of the house?” Laurie asked me the third time his phone rang.
But by the time we reached the big staircase, Meredith had texted me and told me that my dad would be calling in twenty minutes. I told Laurie I had to go, and he showed me to the door.
Old Mr. Laurence was watching me and opened his mouth like he wanted to say something before I left, but he turned away and disappeared behind another door.