The Understorey

“Mom, this meal is incredible,” I said.



Everyone agreed in silence, their mouths full to the brim. The chicken was hot, juicy and crispy. I sank my teeth into it and let its salty goodness slide down my throat.



“Arlene Chambers got laid off today,” my dad said somberly.



The rest of us continued eating accept for my mom.



“What?” She asked, setting down her cob. “That can’t be. They let Bob go just six months ago. What are they gonna’ do Mark? Arlene was just telling me the other day that because of Bob’s layoff they were several months behind in their mortgage. Trust Bank sent them letters threatening foreclosure. She said she’d need five thousand dollars to get them out of their hole and she didn’t know how she was going to do it because her wages alone were barely putting food on the table.”



“Don’t they have four kids?” My dad asked pensively.



“No, Mark, five,” my mom said with tears in her eyes.



The table got really quiet and none of us continued to eat, including Maddy. After a minute of silence, Jules rapped my foot with hers. My heart sunk to the pit of my stomach. I knew what she was thinking because I was thinking the same thing myself.



The next day, after school, Jules and I climbed into my truck and headed to Trust Bank in Charleston because the last thing we needed were people knowing what we were doing. We slumped out of my truck and dragged our feet toward the front doors.



“Wait a minute Jules!” I said stopping abruptly. “Maybe we can think of another way to help them.”



“No sweetheart,” she smiled at me, “there’s no other way.”



I knew she was right too, but I had to try. She held my hand while we stood in line and waited for the teller to call us to her station.



“May I help you?” Asked the short, blonde teller.



“Yes,” said Jules, knowing I wouldn’t be able to speak. “We’d like to make a withdrawal from our joint savings.”



I sighed heavily and Jules rubbed my back in sympathy.



“May I see your I.D.? And do you know your account number?” She asked with a smile.



“Of course.”



Jules took out her wallet, handed over her driver’s license and wrote down the account number on a withdrawal slip. The woman notated the license in her system and handed it back to Jules.



“Whoa!” I said, perking up and grabbing her I.D. “I’ve never seen your license before. You’re very photogenic Jules.”



“Oh hush!” Jules said embarrassed. “But thank you.”



The teller pursed her lips trying not to appear amused by my comment and exchanged a glance with my Jules. Jules rolled her eyes with a grin and shrugged her shoulders.



“Do me a favor,” asked the teller, “and fill in the amount you’d like to withdraw.”



Jules bit her lip crookedly, almost sending me into a frenzy.



“Well,” she said, “that’s the thing. You see, we’re trying to help out a friend and we need to know what they owe in missed mortgage payments.”



“Oh,” said the teller, her face squished, “I’m afraid I can’t give information like that out.”



We all sat in silence for a minute.



“Well, let’s see what I can do,” whispered the teller. “Do you know the account holder’s name?”



“Yes,” said Jules. “Their names are Robert and Arlene Chambers.”



We heard the clacking of computer keys.



The teller looked up, her eyes hopeful, “And their address?”



“Yes, I think so,” said Jules eyeing me.



“Uh, yeah,” I said, “it’s 587 Sycamore, Bramwell.”



“Okay,” said the teller perching closer to us from her chair and speaking under her breath, “I could get into tremendous trouble for doing this, but I figure, you came all the way from Bramwell and that means you’re looking for anonymity. So, I’ll strike you a deal.”



Jules and I leaned closer.



“I’ll give you the dollar amount owed on the loan each month and you tell me how many months you’d like to pay.”



“Deal,” said Jules.



Her eyes lit up like fireworks in July. The teller wrote down a figure on a small post-it. Jules and I borrowed her little hand calculator and did some figuring.



“We’d like to pay for four months,” she’d said.



“And for the next two,” I chimed in.



Jules looked at me with surprise.



“Might as well do some real good. I mean London’s out anyway,” I said.



Jules kissed me on the cheek.



“And the next two months as well,” she repeated.



We ended up withdrawing most of the money and decided to leave the rest for a rainy day. The teller made the payments in cash so they’d never know who made them and we asked the teller to have her manager ring the Chambers’ home and let them know to disregard those letters.



She agreed and waved at us as we walked away from our painful good deed. The pain seemed to dissipate as we got closer and closer to home and also as we came to terms with missing out on London. We promised ourselves that we would do it someday and that someday should be soon.



When we arrived at my house we had almost forgotten about it and were bickering in good fun back and forth about who was more annoying, pop singers or those people who pretend you can’t see into their cars when picking their nose.



“No way,” I said, “at least when they pick their noses it’s not hurting anyone.”



“Okay, okay. You’ve a valid point. I concede,” she laughed.



We slammed both the doors of my truck closed and a few seconds later my mom opened the screen door and leaned against the jamb, the proverbial tea towel tossed over her shoulder.



“Hey Elliott?” She asked across the little hill.



“Hey ma. What’s up?” I said, clamping my hand in Jules’ and leading her up.



“I was just thinkin’. When is the deposit for your trip due?” She asked.



Uh oh, I thought.



“Not sure. Actually, turns out, Jules and I don’t have enough money to go after all. I guess we underestimated the cost. Right Jules?” I said turning to Jules.



“R,Right,” said Jules nervously.



She was a terrible liar.



“Oh, well, y’all are only needin’ a small deposit right now. I bet you could earn enough by the time the last payment is due,” she said in reply.



“Maybe,” I said, “maybe not. Actually, it doesn’t really matter because Jules and I were talking about it, ma, and we’ve decided that we’re not interested in going after all.”



“Is that right?” My mom asked suspiciously.



Aw crap.



“Guess what Elliott?” She continued.



“What?” I asked.



“I just got off the phone with Arlene Chambers and can you believe it? Some bank manager in Charleston called her up and told her that her mortgage was not only paid to date but that the next two payments were also covered and that they didn’t owe a dime until January.”



“That’s fantastic news mom,” I said. “I hope that it helps them.”



“Oh,” she said, tears streaming down her face, “I think it will son. I think it will.”



We tried to walk past her into the kitchen but she stopped us at the door, hugged us firmly and kissed us each on the cheek.



“Feelin’ sentimental mom?” I asked, wiping a tear away from her face with my thumb.



“No, son. I’m just choppin’ a few onions.”



We both smiled at my mom and walked straight into the living room.



That night, when I took Jules home we sat in her driveway but before I would let her leave I grabbed her door and slammed it shut.



“You don’t think your dad heard that do you?” I asked.



“No,” she shook her head, her eyebrows pinched together, her bottom lip in a pout.



My face was right next to hers and I could smell her perfume. It stung sweetly. I sat back up and pulled her closely to me.



“I’m glad we did it,” I said.



“I know, me too.”



“You know,” I began coyly, changing the subject, “your parents are probably asleep.”



“Your point?”



“And you’ve got half an hour before curfew right?”



“Again, your point?” She asked cautiously.



“I just thought that maybe, if you wanted to, we could hang in the cab of the truck for awhile before you go in.”



“What are you suggesting we do?” She asked flirtatiously.



“I don’t know, maybe, as a reward for doing such a good thing today we could make out?”



“Elliott,” she laughed, “what am I going to do with you? You know one good thing doesn’t cancel out one naughty thing right?”



“Wait a minute! There’s nothing naughty about making out,” I protested.



“No, there isn’t, but there are things it can lead to that aren’t exactly good for us,” she replied, “and we aren’t exactly the suppressing type.”



“I think we can control ourselves for a few minutes Jules. We did that night I fell asleep on your living room chair,” I basically pleaded.



She sat for a few seconds, thinking.



“No argument there,” she smiled.



We were at each other before you could blink an eye. She felt so warm to me, warmer than the heater blowing through my vents. There’s always something so romantic about the winter. The chill in the air forces you closer to one another and what can be an already satisfying touch always feels extraordinary when it’s cold outside but there was also, for me, the added bonus that every touch from Jules included a shivering electric shudder through my spine.



Winter also brought with it the most enticing smells as well. The clean snow, warm chocolate drinks, the satisfying punch of the woodsy billowing smoke from everyone's chimneys. The smoke was always my personal favorite, besides Jules’ fragrance that is.



When I began to kiss her, I could feel her breath warm against my mouth. I pressed my fingers into the small of her back and culled her into my body. I ran my hand down her hip and thigh and cupped my hand around the back of her knee. She let her hair fall behind her and I brushed my lips along her neck until they reached the hollow beneath her ear. I repeatedly kissed her there. Tiny, insignificant kisses that spread a shiver across her skin. I continued across her collarbone to the bottom of her neck, kissing up her throat and paused when I heard her swallowing hard.



“Stop,” she barely whispered.



“Stop?” I asked quietly.



“Don’t stop,” she corrected.



I continued until I reached her chin and kept going until my lips met hers. She slammed her mouth against mine and the electricity hammered its way through my body, ravaging every nerve that I had, firing off each one with tumultuous effectiveness. I pulled her knee up and around me as I pressed her against the window on her side of the car. I propelled my body into hers, pressing my left hand against the cold glass.



The cold shocked me back into reality. I sat back up and scooted myself away from her.