Authors: Mel Bossa
Aunt Frannie frowned. “Yeah?” She was putting the dry dishes away. “Sure? It’s okay if you don’t.”
The syrup wasn’t the good kind. More like water with sugar. I enjoyed it anyway.
“I mean, hon, you can tell me if you feel bad about things. Do you wanna go see your mom? See if she feels better today?”
If you let it sit in your mouth for a few seconds, it starts tasting a little like maple.
“Derek. Say something.”
I glanced up.
Aunt Frannie’s eyes were steady on my face. “You need to start talking about your feelings more. Doctor says you might have low self-esteem problems.”
Low self-esteem.
Probably why I feel so tired.
She put the last plate away. “Can I ask you something? Is it because of your stuttering? Is that what’s keeping you from saying more than five words? Because if it is, we can see someone about that. A speech therapist.”
I thought for a moment. Could this person, this speech therapist, could he help Nick with his reading and writing?
Nick.
I remembered he was gone.
“Is Nick ba-back?”
Her eyes narrowed. “Is that all you can think about? I’m asking you something, Derek. I wanna know what I can do to help you with things—with your problems.”
“Is-is he?”
She threw her hands up. “No, hon, he isn’t. Him and the Pinet boy are gone. They haven’t called or anything. Got poor Johan worried out of his mind. Helga too, I suppose, but she’s too proud to show it. Red, you can’t be thinking about that. You got your own things to think about, okay?”
Gone.
With Dave.
Did he go to Vancouver? Where is Vancouver?
“Are you listening to me?”
Could I ride my bike out there in the spring?
“So? What do you wanna do about your stuttering?”
“Dunno.”
She sighed. “Fine.” She faked a smile. “We’ll talk about it some other time. Go get cleaned up.”
I bounced out of my chair.
“Oh and Derek,” I heard her cry out as I ran down the stairs. “Your dad called. He’s coming home. Gonna be here next week.”
*
Dear Bump,
Everything has changed.
Since Kenya said she wouldn’t go to the Valentine’s dance with him, Boone’s been moping around. We don’t even do anything. Just sit around and watch the same old movies over and over. Stare out the window.
Wait for Nick.
“I love her,” he keeps saying. “She’s my soul mate.”
Soul mate?
Sounds like something that doesn’t come cheap.
“I’ll never kiss another girl again.”
Boone needs to see a special doctor, not me.
“Kenya stole my heart.”
It’s because he misses Nick, but won’t say it.
*
As we turned the corner of Crawford Street, I had lost the ability to frame a single coherent thought.
I did not sit, rather, I was perched, staring out the Jeep window, my eyes drinking in Boone’s world—his neighborhood, in deep swills of visual imagery. Two boys zoomed past us, riding their bikes with no handlebars, and I smiled, catching sight of their fleeting youth as they raced against the invisible threats of time.
I was them once. A sweet dream ago.
“Derek. Could you please relax?”
As I oscillated between reality and possibility, Nathan’s voice was a pesky fly at the edge of my ear.
“What number is he?” The
Jeep slowed down. “Oh wait, here it is.”
Surges of electrical synapses stirred my brain and nerves.
We were parked in front of Boone’s house.
Nathan turned the engine off and combed his fingers through his thick black hair. He looked smashing in his De La Renta jacket. He smelled like the expensive shelf in the men’s cosmetics aisle. “You have the wine?”
Boone has a house. A lovely house too. With a small yard and a fence. There’s a wicker chair on his porch.
“Der?” Nathan’s hand swept past my eyes. “Hello? Are we going in or what?”
The front door swung open and a girl, some kind of blond fairy, ran down the steps. “Derek!”
Nathan had climbed out and was shaking her hand.
Lene’s voice was the flickering candlelight in a stranger’s window. I sat, with my sweaty hand clasped firmly around the handle, unable to move.
She came round and tapped the window. I dared a glance. She has a mouth full of teeth. She plucked the door open, and laughed. “Come on, I swear I won’t make you look at my panties.” She winked. “Besides, I’m not wearing any.”
I heard myself chuckle.
“Get out here so I can get a better look at you, come on.” She grabbed my hand and pulled me out. Within seconds, her warm, soft hands were on my face.
Our eyes met. “Oh my God,” she whispered. “You’re so beautiful. I can’t believe it.” She turned to Nathan, but her hands never left my face. “Don’t hold this against me,” she said, her voice thick with femininity.
Her mouth found mine.
She moved her velvet lips against mine, and without a thought, or any hesitation, my hand reached up for her neck, and I pressed her curves against my body, deepening our kiss.
At our left, Nathan let out a hard breath, “Hey.” He chuckled, but his laugh was tense. “Okay, now, that’s enough.”
Lene’s mouth fluttered against mine, and regrettably, her lips moved away. She bent her face to my neck and giggled softly, embracing me. “Let’s go inside,” she murmured. “My dad is dying to see you.”
“Your dad?”
She slipped her hand into mine. “Yeah, him and Mom are here. You know us Lunds, everything is a family affair.” We climbed up the stairs, with Nathan a step behind. As she pushed the door open, her indigo eyes peered into my face. “We’ve all wondered about you, Derek. All these years.” She smiled. “I’m glad you’re okay.”
And with one shy step, I entered another dimension.
The first thing I saw was Kenya’s dark, luminous eyes. “Hello, Derek. Welcome.” She glided toward me. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.” Her long fingers cupped themselves around mine. “You’ll have to forgive me. Boone says you and I were in the same grade, but I can’t seem to remember you.”
I can hardly remember me either.
“And you must be Nathan. It’s lovely to meet you.”
“Likewise. It smells like heaven in here.”
One thing about Nathan, he is smooth.
“Come on,” urged Lene. “Everyone’s in the living room. Come on!”
Nathan laughed, pushing me forward. “You heard the lady, move it.”
I stalled a little. I wanted to take the time to scour the surroundings, to let my eyes roam. There was so much to take in, so many details I wanted to pause on, but I could do that later. “All right,” I whispered.
As we passed over the living room threshold, Boone jumped out of his chair. “My man,” he cheered. “How’s it goin’? Glad you’re here.” He slapped my shoulder, nearly knocking me over. “Lookin’ good. Nice shirt. Don’t you think, Ma? Look at this guy. I mean, shit. Where that skinny geek go?” His blue eyes shifted to Nathan. “Hey, how are you.”
There was a chill in Boone’s voice. I caught it.
Everyone caught it.
Nathan seemed to hesitate, but carefully, he extended his hand. I watched Boone’s bear paw swallow it. Nathan is five feet eleven, yet he was staring at Boone’s chin.
Boone is colossal. Like his father.
Johan rose, followed by Helga. They circled me. Embraced me. Soon, all of us are sitting at each other’s side, drinking Johan’s homemade wine, exchanging news in waves of short sentences that carried the power of our mutual affection.
The room buzzed with excitement. It was intoxicating. Kenya busied herself with the various starters, canapés, and refills, dazzling me with her quick moves and apropos comments, as if she was neither here nor there, never missing a single word of our fast-paced conversations.
Lene and Boone had sandwiched me into an interrogation.
“So? Accounting, huh?”
“Ducati, huh?”
“Doctor Penfield Boulevard, huh?”
I nodded myself through it, giggling at their childlike enthusiasm.
“Well, shit,” said Boone, more seriously. “You did good for yourself. To think I worried about you.” He raised his glass. “Salute.”
The silence fell gently on our heads like November’s first snow. For a moment, serenity visited my heart. I looked around. My eyes went from Johan’s charismatic face, to Helga’s sharp, crisp blue eyes spying on the world, then over to the mantel, which was cluttered with pictures frames of all shapes and sizes.
“Do you mind?” I had gotten to my feet and stood by the foyer.
“Take a look, man, it’s all there.” Boone came to me. “There’s even one of you.” He moved a few frames around and picked one out of the last row. “Yeah, see? The school picture you gave me. Fourth grade, I think. Yeah, that’s right.” He laughed softly. “Man, that is one
ugly
brown sweater.”
My eyes wandered over the redheaded boy who seemed to be staring back at me.
“It’s elegant Derek,”
Mom had said that morning. That was before you died, Bump. When her eyes glowed with health, when your presence vibrated inside her round, protruding belly.
“You look handsome. Look at me.”
Her fingers had lifted my chin.
“There is no child more beautiful than you.”
She had never looked at me like that again.
She’s lost to me.
I set the picture down. “Seems like forever.”
Boone’s eyes echoed my ardent emotions. “Yeah, sure does.”
My gaze wandered, passing faces, smiles, and all shades of blue.
My heart leaped.
Nick.
The second frame to last. It was him.
I burned from within, but walked slow, to the edge of the mantel. I wanted to pick the picture up to study his heartbreaking face more closely, but was afraid I wouldn’t be able to let it go.
“That’s Nico,” said Boone, standing behind me. “In case you didn’t recognize the cocky son of a gun.”
Nicolai Lund.
An abysmal omen.
All of hell’s temptations, and some of heaven’s expired offers.
Boone bent to my ear. “Take a breath, man.” He pinched my side. “Mr. Roboto’s watching you.”
“Who, Nathan?” I asked under my breath, still gazing at Nick’s smile. “Stop it. He-he’s okay-kay, just comes off as—”
“Whatever you say, man.” Boone’s voice dropped to an almost inaudible whisper. “Just hope your boyfriend loaded up on KY, ’cause he’s gonna be hurting when that stick comes out of his ass.”
This time, a loud, unpolished laugh shot out of my mouth.
“What’s so funny you two?” Lene had joined us. “Derek, don’t believe a single thing Boone says.” She slapped his back. “Remember, he’s brain damaged.”
*
Dear Bump,
Nick showed up yesterday afternoon.
Boone and I were outside building a jet out of ice and snow. It looked more like a canoe, but we have a lot of imagination. I was Goose (always am) and Boone was Maverick (again). We were tumbling down the sky at the speed of light, chasing bad guys, when Dave’s car pulled up in front of the Lunds’ yard.
“Nico!” cried Boone, scrambling to get to his feet. “Nico!”
The edges vanished.
I could only see Nick.
Cold air made its way into my open mouth. My cheeks seemed to give off steam. My breath streamed in and out of my lips in thick clouds of white smoke.
His hair. It was black and shiny like the dark jellybeans I love. And it stood straight up on his head. Like the pictures of the Iroquois warriors in my history book.
Boone had fallen into Nick’s open arms. “Nico.” he kept saying. “Nico.”
Nick cracked a broken smile. His eyes were faded, like his blue jeans. “Bunny boy.”
I wiped the snow off my coat, slipped my hat off, and got to my feet. “Hi.”
“O’Reilly.” Nick’s voice was strained. “No fat lip?”
I smiled.
Nick swayed a little, as if he could hardly carry his own weight. He glanced back at the car.
Dave was sitting still, staring at the steering wheel. He looked worse than Nick.
Nick tossed his chin up at him, and Dave slowly drove off.
“Mom here?”
“No, she’s doing hair.”
Nick ran his hand over his grayish face. “Okay.” He swung his bag over his shoulder and walked up the front stairs.
Boone cried out. “Nico? Where’d you go all this time?”
I stiffened.
Waited.
Held my breath.