The Understorey

“Uhhh,” Jules hesitated, “no, unfortunately we didn’t make quite enough.”



“What?” Isabel asked, shocked, “that’s impossible!”



“Well,” I interrupted, “something came up and we had to use the money for a family emergency.”



Neither one of our families, but a family emergency all the same.



“Oh,” she said, not wanting to pry any further. “Shall we head toward the kitchen? I can hear everyone buzzing around in there.”



We started toward the kitchen and Jules grabbed my hand. She apparently felt comfortable enough to do that and I wasn’t going to pitch a fit so I wove my fingers with hers and brought the top of her hand to my lips and kissed it. I didn’t let go of her hand once while being introduced to the cousins I had been so fairly warned about. Jules was right, Lizzy was the thoroughly cool one. Then Jules led me to a spunky, elderly lady with the whitest hair.



“You must be memaw Joan E.?” I asked.



“No, fool, I’m Julia’s aunt. How old do you think I am?” She asked, her eyes wide.



I turned bright red and my eyes nearly popped from my head.



“I...I....I,” I stuttered.



“I’m just pullin’ your chain son!” She laughed a hearty laugh. “Come here!”



She planted a large kiss on my face and tapped my cheek lightly with her palm. I laughed along with her and Jules.



“You pass boy.”



Then she walked off.



“And that was memaw Joan E.,” Jules said. “Great isn’t she?” She beamed.



“Very Jules.”



“Are you going to see Caroline, Julia?” Isabel asked us from the sink.



“Is she in town?” Jules asked excitedly.



“She is and I believe they’re playing tonight at Antone’s.”



Jules walked the length of the kitchen and we sat in the corner window seat together. The entire kitchen was full to the brim of her chattering family. Yes, quite an impossible size of such incredibly interesting people. Why Jules’ mother decided to live in Bramwell with Jules’ dad I’m not sure, being that she was from Philadelphia and all, maybe she preferred a quieter life. I’m sort of glad she did though, whatever the reason. Jules’ grandfather, Benjamin, was a physician. I picked his brain for quite some time and he actually said to me,



“You want to become a physician? You must be insane.”



He was joking but I couldn’t help but feel a small sting of truth in his words. Although, he did reveal that it was a profession made for him and that made me feel whole lot better since I’d felt that same way for years. Ben was one of the smartest men I’d ever met. Her aunt as I mentioned before was an attorney. Her grandmother was an author of a children’s series about a little bird named Charlie.



Her cousin Richard was a pilot of drones for the Army and his wife devoted her life to helping children with Autism. Another cousin of hers, Sylvia, currently lived in D.C. helping homeless and destitute families. Her cousin Caroline traveled the country with her tribal dance group.



The rest of her family was in finance, basically, a family of abnormally large brains. Interesting people, very interesting. Seeing Jules with her family, in her element, was fascinating. She was brighter, even more energetic and inspired.



Caroline’s in town?” I asked.



Caroline was her older cousin. She’s the one who got Jules into tribal belly dancing.



“Yeah,” she said, “my mom told me she was thinking of booking a gig here in Mauch Chunk so she could be with the fam for the holiday.”



Then to everyone she said, “Should we all go? Make it a huge family affair? Caroline would love that!”



Everyone agreed and all consented to leave for her show at nine that night. Jules’ mom and dad volunteered to watch everyone’s children because they felt drained from the car ride. I think it was further proof that they preferred a quieter life.



We had several hours to kill so Jules’ aunt Isabel showed me to the room I’d be sharing with the other boys of the house. It was a game room they just added a bunch of cots to. She gave me the cot between the pool table and the wall. It was slightly secluded and I appreciated the privacy it provided me. She showed me the massive bathroom where I could shower and ready myself in the morning. The house was so big that if Jules hadn’t been with me almost the entire time I would have gotten lost for sure. Isabel instructed Jules to show me the rest of the house and headed back downstairs to see to dinner.



“I’m in desperate need of a shower,” I pleaded.



“Me too,” she said. “Meet you back here in an hour? I want to wash my hair again and curl it.”



“No prob Bob.”



I grabbed my bag and closed the bathroom door behind me. I tossed it onto the marble tile and turned the shower on. I sat at the edge of the sink while the water warmed. It was an incredible room. Cream marble from floor to ceiling cut into large subway tiles. The toilet actually had an electronic keypad next to it and I wasn’t about to mess with it for fear it’d set the whole house on fire, as that was my luck. I kicked off my heavy, large boots.



Jules always kidded me that their weight is what kept me grounded. I undressed and tossed my jeans, boxers and weathered thermal to the ground.  I could tell the water was plenty warm now because the steam billowed out from the top of the massive glass doors and touched the immense mirror above the double sinks. I suddenly realized that the faucets actually came from out of the mirror. I glanced around me and there were, previously beyond my notice, Jack and Jill doors and they hadn’t been locked. That would have majorly sucked, I thought, locking both the doors before someone came screaming in, embarrassing us both.



I slid open the wide glass door to the shower and stepped in. The water was the perfect temperature. I let it wet my hair and face and stood underneath its warmth. It cascaded over my head and shoulders and down my back, I could feel it splash at my feet, and it quelled my screaming muscles. Nine hours in a car will do that to you, especially when you’ve been hit pretty hard just a few days before at a football game.



I’m a tall guy and stout enough to take a few hits but I’m a quarterback, not a lineman and sometimes being hit by a three hundred pound boy just wouldn’t sit well in my bones or muscles.



The water heated me through and I realized I’d probably been in there for quite some time. I washed quickly, shampooed, and rinsed. I opened the door and the steam had made the room almost invisible. I stepped on the marble expecting it to be freezing but it was quite the opposite. The floor was heated. What kind of place is this? I asked myself. I had forgotten to set a towel on the railing of the shower and the bath mat was too far away. I had to walk across the floor to the mat and then try to reach for a towel without dripping all over her nice floor or worse, slipping and hitting my head on something.



Egad! I can just imagine some random relative having to come in here and find me sprawled over the tile. I jumped and hit my target but my legs were sore from all the extra running around at Friday’s game and I winced in pain. What I wouldn’t have given to be married to Jules. I’d have her massage all the kinks out. I could just as well have her do it now over my jeans but that would have been an invitation for disaster, stupid teenage hormones. I couldn’t wait for those to subside.



Though, there was one sensation I hoped would never diminish. Every time I would see her, even after only a five minute absence, my heart would beat an unhealthy rhythm and I loved it. Oh, and of course our electricity, but I knew that wasn’t going anywhere.



I reached for the towel and dried myself off, then the floor where I’d dripped and then threw the towel in the laundry chute. Are laundry chutes something people actually use? I wondered if I had just sent my used towel into some random open alcove in the kitchen in front of everyone. I paused and waited for the impending uproarious laughter but there came none. Huh. They must actually use the laundry chute here. Why do I keep questioning myself? And imagining the worst? Why am I being such an idiot? Am I nervous? I rarely got nervous, so the feeling was strange to me. I chucked it up to meeting so many of her relatives in one sitting. I wanted so badly for them to love me the way my family loved Jules.



It was easy to love Jules. She was delightful, kind, perfectly social and funny as hell, not to mention drop dead gorgeous. I sighed at the very thought of her. I dressed. I pulled on a pair of torn jeans I had brought on a whim and an old grey jersey knit shirt with long sleeves. I pushed the sleeves so they met midway up my forearm. I wore a black vest over the knit and threw my boots back on. I stood at the mirror and shrugged my shoulders. I looked like a hobo but I never much cared for what I looked like so it was of no concern to me. Jules seemed to like me and that was all I cared about. I tossed on my wool cap and tucked my hair behind my ears.



My hair was starting to get a little too long. I usually kept it at my chin but it had grown an inch or two below it now and I looked like a mess. The very sight of myself made me laugh almost uncontrollably.



Just then, I heard a knock at the door. I tossed all of my stuff into my bag and answered it. There was still a little steam left in the room and it emptied itself around a desperately striking Jules, as if she were in one of my dreams. When the steam dissipated, I caught my lost breath and choked.



“Jules, you’re killing me.”



She spun around so I could get a better look.



“Uh, I’m gonna’ die trying to fend off the Mauch Chunkites.”



“Thanks, but don’t. I’d rather you live. I like you alive, it suits you.”



“Feeling’s mutual,” I joked.



She grabbed my hand and that familiar jolt coursed through my body soothing every aching muscle I had previously complained about.



“Wait,” I said, “I’ve gotta’ put my bag on my cot.”



I tossed my bag onto the cot and she grabbed my hand once more.



“Okay, for the rest of the tour. I’ll start down the hall, in their home theater.”



“Seriously?” My mouth fell open widely.



“Yeah,” she laughed.



“Any chance we could live here while attending Penn? Just askin’.”



“Not a chance,” she winked. “We need to experience dorm life. Apparently, ‘it’s awesome’. Although I doubt that seriously, seeming as my source is an unreliable one.”



She motioned toward the open room below us and I realized she meant her older teasing cousins.



She led me into the theater and paraded me around the seats and up to the screen. It reminded me of a miniature version of the theater in Charleston.



“Wow,” I said, practically speechless.



“Tomorrow we’re all going to watch The Princess Bride after lunch. Isabel’s breaking out the popcorn machine.” She pointed at the little red machine in the far corner next to a brightly painted faux box office.



“I’m seriously reconsidering the physician route. Maybe I’d do well as a lawyer.” I teased.



“I don’t think so Elliott. This would be a little too much for us. I imagine us in a needy country somewhere, living in squalor conditions but we’ll be the happiest and most in love people in the world.” She paused, and inched closer to me, fiddling with the hem of my knit with her fingers. “You’d have two jobs there, you know. Are you okay with that?” She teased.