Joie

 

My dad used to beat us. My mom and me. My mom and me. I can never remember a time I wasn’t afraid of him. But he was pretty, and he always smelled good. His smile was handsome, and he dressed nice when he left the house for the day to go to work. I used to imagine him as this sort of changeling. I thought maybe when he was home he dressed nice and smiled pretty and acted like a monster and then when he left for the day he shed his handsomeness but turned angelic. The theory became so real, I became jealous of the rest of the world. All those other people who missed out on the nice-looking dad but were able to enjoy the one that didn’t hit me.

So, that’s it. The big secret. Cole found out when we were little kids. My dad would wake us up to his own special brand of torture and then leave for the day to spread his angel’s wings leaving my mother and I home to cope in his absence. Mom retreated to her make-believe land, writing novels in her office. I hid behind the trash bins. Yeah. I have no idea why. It just seemed the place to go. From there, I could see up and down the street. From there, I could see when he was coming home.

It was behind the trash bins that Cole found me. I’d seen him before, the happy little boy who lived across the street. When we were younger, Cole had white blond hair that his mom let grow a little long, so it was always flopping around his forehead when he ran. And it seemed to me the little blonde boy was always running. Cole ran to chase balls. Cole ran to chase bugs. Cole ran away when his mom called him in for lunch. When Cole ran, he smiled, and so it seemed to me that Cole was always smiling.

The day Cole found me beside the trash bin, we were both four years old. We lived on a quiet street and Mrs. Parker’s kitchen faced the front of the house and so Cole played under her watchful eye as she washed the breakfast dishes. Cole marched right to me, his Ninja Turtle sneakers lighting up with each step.

 

“Whatcha doing?” His voice was loud and brash, just like his walk was sure and confident.

“Nothin’,” I responded, barely above a whisper.

“Huh?” He leaned his head closer, his face screwed up with confusion. “Wud you say?”

“Nothing,” I said again only marginally louder. Cole stood straight, but his eyes squinted as he looked at me- deciding. Finally, having come to some conclusion, he shrugged.

“Alright. Want to play,” he asked, holding out his hand to help me up off the ground behind the trash bins.

 

I could still see that moment in my mind like it was a snapshot only no one was there to capture the memory on film. I wish I was the type of artist that could pull a picture out of their mind and capture it on paper, but I’m not. There have been so many memories since that first day, so many times Cole’s joy, and innocence had stamped itself on my mind and heart, I could fill a dozen scrapbooks with those snapshots if I had them.

Probably the best- and the worst- was the moment Cole understood what was happening to me when the handsome man came home after shedding his monster suit and angelic personality. It was the summer we were five. We’d been friends for a year and once this summer was over we’d go to kindergarten together. A big theme of our play during those warm summer months had been teacher and student. Not surprisingly, I was the teacher and Cole, my naughty student. Usually, I appreciated Cole’s exuberance, but even I knew you had to behave in school and it was the teacher’s responsibility to keep things in line.

Cole had been messing around, as usual, and drawing on the only authoritarian I knew with any certainty, I called him a nasty name and smacked him- hard. I’d learned long ago how to react to such things, but Cole- well, Cole had never been struck before in his life. I’d been shocked speechless, and devastated, by his reaction. It’s not a photo I would want for my scrapbook, but I would never forget the way his big, innocent, blue eyes filled with tears as he looked at me with such hurt and humiliation. It took a day or two, if I remember right, for us to get past that incident.

I have to wonder now, looking back, at Cole’s intuition or whatever it was that led him to make the connection he did between our little spat and the reason I hid behind the trash bins. But one morning, he came looking for me, his eyes filled with the same pain as he glanced between me and my house. I realize now, in a way I couldn’t have then, but Cole finally saw it for what it was- the agony in my eyes. He’d never known before, because he’d never experienced it himself. Cole lost a little of his innocence that summer.

We never talked about it, at least not for a few more years, but after that, Cole became my self-proclaimed protector. He saved me from spiderwebs stretched across the door to our secret fort. He saved me from threading worms on my hook when we went fishing. He saved me from ramming into the side of his house when we went sledding down the hill out back. He saved me from the darkness when darkness was all that was there.

“Do you need a ride home?” Startled from my memories, I glanced up to see him staring at me with unfathomable eyes. Only someone who knows your secrets can see you like that.

“I have my bike.” Looking around, I realized the auditorium was empty. Where did everyone go? Where did his friends go? Weren’t they just here?

“It’s dark out. Why don’t you let me give you a ride?” His voice was soft and filled with all the love and concern of my former best friend.

Ugh. Cole. I could handle domineering Cole. And sarcastic Cole. Even joking Cole. But caring Cole? Caring Cole threatened me in ways I wasn’t sure I could handle.

“Look, if you don’t let me give you a ride, I’m just going to have to drive home, following you with the windows down and the heat vents pointed at you.”

He was ridiculous, and it almost made me smile. Almost. “What about my bike? And getting to school tomorrow?”

Cole shrugged like it was no big deal. “Leave it here. It’s locked up, isn’t it? And I’ll just give you a ride in the morning. It’s not like it’s out of my way.”

I glared at him. This was not good. Not good at all. Suddenly, I was beginning to see the implications of what I had done by coercing Cole into being in my play. The hours of interaction. The exposure to him, his smile, his laugh, his hotness. Could I really resist him? Would it even be an issue? I figure in some ways it would be. Three years ago, it had taken six months for Cole to stop watching for me. To stop calling me. To stop knocking on my door. It was almost a year before he began avoiding eye contact and turning the other direction if he saw me walking down the hall. So, opening that door? Yeah, that was a big deal.

Groaning, irritated, Cole tossed his backpack over his shoulder and started for the door. “Sheesh. It’s just a ride home. I’m not letting you ride your bike in the freezing dark.”

And that’s just how he was. He just turned and walked away, knowing I would follow. I ordered my feet to stay where they were.

“Oh my gosh, Jo, come on. I’m not getting any younger here.” His voice echoed through the empty auditorium.

I could just sit here. At least it was warm. I didn’t have to go out there and deal with Mr. Bossy. Where were his admirers anyway? The Cole I knew never walked the halls of this school without girls following him around waiting for any small particle of his attention. It was nuts. I mean yeah, he looked like a younger, taller, Tom Cruise (after the braces, Tom’s not Cole’s). Still, that didn’t mean he was all that, right?

Ok, maybe he was all that. You know, sweet.

Hot. Strong. Gorgeous.

Friendly. Built like nobody’s business.

Tender.

Protective.

Did I say hot?

But that didn’t mean anything, right?

Bracing myself for the confrontation to come, I shouldered my bag and made my way up the sloping aisle to the doors at the back of the auditorium. Stay strong, Joie! Oh, but Northern Indiana was cold! The blast of freezing air when I opened the door threatened my resolve. It was silly, wasn’t it? What good would it do to spurn a ride in Cole’s car which was already running while he scraped the windows? No good. It would do no good.

But, no! Like I said before, encouraging Cole was a bad idea. Relying on Cole was a bad idea. Relying on anyone but myself? You guessed it- bad idea. Fumbling with the lock on my bike with gloved fingers, I preached to myself. No Cole. No Cole.

“Joie! Stop being stubborn and get in the car! It’s like ten below out here.” Cole was in his car now and had pulled up to the curb by the bike racks.

No. I shook my head and continued to try to unlock my bike.

Cursing and the slamming of a car door preceded him. “Joie, I don’t want to have to manhandle you, but you are getting in the car.”

I flinched. I didn’t want to. I knew Cole wouldn’t hurt me, but he did hurt me. Missing him hurt me. Him being nice hurt me. Knowing I’d hurt him, hurt me!

Cole placed his hand on my shoulder. “Come on. Please. I can’t let you ride your bike in this. It’s starting to snow.”

Darn Cole. Darn his soft voice. Darn this cold, snowy, weather. Christmas is over, Indiana! No one likes snow after Christmas!

Cole’s hand drifted down my arm until it reached mine and closed over it. “You can still hate me and give me a cold shoulder. Just get in the car.”

I let him drag me to the passenger door. He opened it and waited like a freaking chauffeur for me to get in. Knowing I’d lost this battle of wills, I plopped down in the seat and reached my hands toward the vents. Cole slammed the door shut and made his way, slipping and sliding, to his own door and seat.

“Buckle up,” he ordered. “The roads are gonna be terrible.”

I couldn’t argue with that. Cole reached down to the controls for the heat as though he wanted to turn the blower up higher, but it was already up as high as it would go. “Man, it’s cold.”

“I swear, I hate Indiana. I’m moving somewhere warm as soon as I can.” Crossing my arms over my chest, I tucked my hands in my armpits in hopes that I wouldn’t lose my fingertips before we made it home.

Cole laughed. “Yeah, I hear you. But then in summer, it’s like so hot and humid, you’re praying for winter, because the heat sucks so bad, too.” He shifted the car into drive and pressed on the gas. It fishtailed before straightening out and I held my breath. Thank goodness, the parking lot was empty.

Cole drove toward the main road, but swerved at the last minute, heading back into the parking lot.

“What are you doing?”

But he just grinned and gunned it.

“Cole, you idiot. Stop!” I shouted, but I couldn’t hold back my grin as he made donuts in the school parking lot.

“Woohoo!” Cole laughed and pulled the emergency break sending us spinning. “You love it!”

“I knew I should have ridden my bike,” I squealed the last word as I crashed into my door. “Cole!” But I was laughing. Probably harder than I had in three years.

Around and around we spun for probably ten minutes. Cole would stop and act like he was going to pull out of the parking lot and head home and then at the last minute send us into another donut. My abs ached from laughing and my hands were cramped from holding onto my seat and door so tightly. Finally, when we were breathless and weak from the exhilaration, Cole made his way to the stop sign leading out of the parking lot.

We were halfway home when Cole turned to me, a half-smile curling his lips. “See, that was way better than riding your bike in the freezing snow.”  

Rolling my eyes, I turned my head toward my window, so he wouldn’t see the smile I couldn’t seem to keep off my face. “You saved me from the cold just to see if you could off me by crashing?”

Cole scoffed. “Crashing? We were never in danger of crashing, Jo. Come on.” He shook his head.

“It’s still weird that you have your driver’s license.” The thought came out before I could stop it. Not that it wasn’t true, but it had been a thing between us when we were in middle school. Cole was a whopping twenty-six days older than me and always used to tease me about how he would get his license first. He graciously offered back then to drive me around wherever I wanted to go until I got my own.

Ha. My sixteenth birthday came and went without cake or singing, no way was it going to include a trip to the DMV for a driver’s license. I suppose I could ride my bike down there to get it, but you must have so many hours driving and that’s hard to do when your mom was drunk or high all the time.

The air between us quivered with awkwardness. I was sure Cole’s brain was just overflowing with questions, but I wasn’t in the mood to answer them. Instead, he settled for saying something else.

“That offer to drive you around still stands.” The words were low and sincere, and they broke my heart.