Taking Mine (26 page)

“Your dad doesn’t seem so bad.”

“No, I guess he doesn’t.”

I don’t press the issue as I continue to put gentle pressure against his hands, trying to give him solace. He continues to stare at the ceiling as I wait for him to voice his thoughts.

“He was an angry drunk.” I hold my breath at his words. “He was verbally abusive to my mom, sometimes physically, too.” He can see the question behind my eyes, the fear in them. “He didn’t touch me or my brother. Only once when I was older we got in a fistfight. I couldn’t hold my tongue anymore, and I knew just what to say to set him off.”

“You wanted a fight.”

He nods. “I was angry. I wanted to hurt him as much as he’d hurt me, as much as he’d hurt my mom, and for everything my brother and I had to see. I’d been waiting on the day I could stand up to him.”

“Years worth of anger.”

“It was the same night of the robbery.”

The glimpses he’s shared with me are falling into place like puzzle pieces. “That’s what triggered him to get sober?”

“Supposedly.”

I lay my head down on his chest, letting the rhythmic rise and fall soothe the both of us. He runs his fingers up and down my side, easing me.

“Do you believe love has conditions?”

My question stirs him out of his thoughts. “What do you mean?”

“Do you think you can only love someone if they’re good to you? Can you love someone despite their wrongdoings?”

He takes a moment to think about it. “I think love is love. Even if you try to convince yourself it’s not, it’s still there.”

“But what if that person never loved you in the first place?”

He shifts to where he can see my face, pulling my chin upward. “Where’s this coming from?”

I shrug. “I understand how hard it is to forgive your dad. My mom was an alcoholic. After my dad died, she quit being a mom. She wasn’t mean, necessarily, just neglectful. Kip says she wasn’t always that way, but I don’t remember her being a mom, you know? How do I even know if she loved me?”

“Lilly,” he says, hurt lacing his voice. Hurt for my hurt.

“But I still feel like I love her. I don’t know if I forgive her for leaving us. I just kind of feel like she wasn’t emotionally there to process everything.”

He runs his fingers through the hair tucked behind my ear. “I can’t speak for your mom, but I can’t imagine anyone incapable of loving you.”

“But she still left.”

He doesn’t respond, most likely unsure of what to say. It’s hard to justify a mother leaving her children regardless of the situation. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me as close to him as we can possibly fit.

Momentarily, I'm guilty for directing the attention to my problems when we’re currently living in his, but I think it’s what he needs. He needs to focus on something to lessen his afflictions. A sense of belonging fills my chest, and I never want to be without it.

The feel of his lips against my forehead is the last thing I feel before I fall asleep.

A LOUD BANG SHAKES US
from our sleep, and we jump apart, sitting up to find the source of the noise. Justin’s bedroom door is wide open, Jacob standing in the middle. He’s wearing white boxer briefs and a long yellow cape tied around his neck. He stands tall with his hands balled into fists on his hips and chest poked out.

“What the fuck, Jacob?” Justin yells at him.

“Have no fear,” he bellows in an exaggerated deep voice. “Your trusty sidekick is here.”

I start laughing hysterically. Jacob wearing white underwear leaves nothing to the imagination. Justin covers my eyes.

“Get the fuck out,” Justin yells louder this time.

“Look.”

I hear rustling and struggle to remove Justin’s hand from my face. Jacob holds up a blue cape fashioned out of the same material his yellow one is in. “I made you one. Took forever for them to dry. And…” He pulls an extra pink one from behind his back. “I made one especially for Lilly.”

Justin is utterly baffled. He’s speechless as he looks at his grown brother dressed in tighty-whities and a cape. “Jacob,” he says, squeezing the bridge of his nose. “Get out of my room before I shove that cape up your ass.”

“Meet me downstairs. Clothing optional.” He winks at me and skips out of the door right as Justin hurls a shoe at him, missing by a centimeter.

I’m still giggling when I make it into the kitchen, freshly dressed and showered from the long day before, feeling like a day of adventure lies before me. Jacob’s excitement might have rubbed off on me.

He’s sitting at the kitchen table, scarfing down a plate of scrambled eggs and toast, his cape tied around clothed shoulders this time. He gives me a cheeky smile full of food.

“You don’t have to pretend you don’t like what you see.”

Tess replaces Justin’s role and slaps Jacob across the back of the head. “Eat your food. Lilly, there’s plenty of breakfast on the stove. Help yourself.”

“Thank you.”

There is no mention of Justin and me sleeping in his room last night, and I don’t chance it by bringing it up. I fix a plate of eggs and breakfast sausage, sitting opposite Jacob.

“What’s up with the capes?”

“Other than they’re awesome?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“That’s the explanation…they’re awesome.”

Justin struts into the kitchen, running his fingers through his wet hair. “Morning.” He kisses me, something quick and endearing, moving toward the food on the stove.

It’s not until I tear my gaze from Justin that I catch Jacob scrutinizing me. It’s the only way I can describe the seriousness of his attention. My stupid, happy grin slips from my face. It’s a complete one-eighty from the happy-go-lucky personality he’s demonstrated since I’ve arrived. It’s assessing, and it sets me on edge, reminding me too much of Justin.

“What?” I ask self-consciously.

Slowly, his face morphs back to normal. “Nothing.” With a grin on his face, he tosses me the pink cape and stands from the kitchen table. “Meet me at the barn in ten minutes.”

“No jumping off the roof,” Tess states behind her curtain of newspaper.

“We’re not, Mom.” He slaps the table and points at Justin. “Don’t be late.” We watch him escape through the back door, his yellow cape flying behind him.

“He’s strange,” I say to no one in particular.

“That he is,” Tess says with an affectionate smile.

We finish our breakfast, and Justin walks me out past the rows of lemon trees. The ground slopes downwards, for irrigation purposes, Justin tells me. That’s why the worn barn can’t be seen from the house. The red paint on the wood is almost completely marred, closer to sun bleached with red patches here and there. It’s small with only two stalls on the inside that are used for storage purposes, not harboring animals. There’s a set of stairs, almost rotten through, that leads to the loft.

Justin cups his hands and yells for Jacob.

“Up here.”

“Are these stairs safe?”

“I’m up here, aren’t I?” He peaks his head into the small opening. “Come on.” And he disappears again.

Justin sighs. “Let me lift you over the bottom rungs. They look the worst.”

I hold the capes close as Justin easily lifts my body halfway up the flight of stairs, leaping up behind me. The loft opens to the outside. A sliding barn door is open, revealing a small balcony.

“We aren’t actually jumping off the roof, are we?”

“Not jumping,” Jacob answers, leading us to the railing. “Gliding.”

A line of cable runs from the corner of the roof all the way down into the lemon trees. A handle hangs from it. It’s a zip line.

“No way.” Justin’s voice matches Jacob’s excitement as he checks out the cable’s durability. “You did this?” he asks Jacob.

“Dad and me. It’s been up for a while now. Leads to the tree house.”

I squint, trying to see past the canopy of trees to find the end of the line. “There’s no way I’m doing this.”

“Oh, come on,” Jacob says, grabbing the handle. “I’ll go first and you can see that it’s perfectly safe.” He climbs onto the wooden boards of the railing, teetering his weight off the edge, hanging on to the handlebars for support.

“Nope,” I say, backing away. “Not happening.”

Jacob smiles and pushes off. His body soars through the air and glides underneath the lemon trees, out of sight as he yells the entire way.

“Nope,” I repeat again.

Justin laughs at my adamant refusal. “The girl who knows how to hotwire a car can’t handle heights?”

“What if I can’t hold on?”

“You’re not a weakling. You can support yourself.” He squeezes my upper arms a little. “You can do this.”

“My hands are sweaty.” I let him feel my palms. “I might slip.”

Jacob runs back from the tree house and emerges from the barn, clipping the handlebar back on the cable. “See, nothing to be scared of. I'm still alive and breathing.”

“What if you went with me?” Justin says, sitting on the railing and holding a hand out for me.

I’m hesitant.

His eyes meet mine. “You trust me?”

He gives me a soft smile, encouraging me to step forward. With a pounding heart, I place my hand in his and hand Jacob the capes. Shakily, very shakily, I pull myself up onto the railing.

“Okay, now straddle me.”

Jacob makes a smartass remark about straddling something, but I fail to hear him over the pounding of my heart. Every one of my extremities is shaking violently. The ground looks like a death sentence from this high up. Its own smoking gun.

“Don’t look down,” Justin demands, pulling my chin up. “Focus on me.” He helps me, pulling my arms around his neck for balance. I squeal and he chuckles, kissing the inside of my wrist. “Now, wrap your legs around me.”

Jacob hands Justin the handle as I latch on. “You ready?” Justin asks, letting go of me and placing both hands on the handlebars. “I’m going to count to three. One…Two…”

I squeeze my eyes shut and bury my face into his neck. There is no three, or I didn’t hear it, because the next thing I know we’re flying through the air. My hair whips against my face, and I pry my eyes open, catching Jacob’s smile, and fist pump as we soar farther away. I understand the term zip line now from the sound the handlebars make against the line.

“Hold on,” Justin yells over the wind.

If I weren’t in a weird state of panic and exhilaration, I would roll my eyes. Like I would just let go? Justin grunts as his feet hit stable material and hoists our bodies over the ledge. The tree house is nothing more than a platform of wood built in the center of three lemon trees. Only one wall has remained standing over time. My legs feel like Jell-O as I unwrap them from Justin’s waist. His hands remain on my hips until I find my balance.

“Not as bad as you thought?”

“It was terrifying.” But the smile on my face gives away how much I enjoyed it.

He shakes my hips back and forth. “Go again?”

“Fuck no.”

He throws his head back, laughing, his chest rising and falling rapidly from leftover adrenaline. With my own endorphins soaring, I can’t stop myself from placing an open-mouth kiss to his neck. His laughter dies under the touch of my tongue, and his neck bobs as he swallows, slowly tilting his head toward mine.

“Do you think Jacob will come looking for us?”

He wraps his arms around my shoulders, his chin balanced on top of my head. “Yes. If he’s anything, it’s intrusive.”

The air is chilly, and morning dew clings to the rich green on the trees. The makeshift tree house is nestled right under the surrounding branches, creating a sense of seclusion.

“It’s so pretty here.”

“Yeah,” he says, admiring the view with me. “But you should really see it when the trees are in bloom.”

“They still smell like lemons even though there’s no fruit.” My eyes trail to the two remaining sides of the tree house and the writing taking up most of them. “Who wrote the entire lyrics to The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air?”

Justin laughs. “Jacob was so pissed when they pulled the show that he made a memorial in its honor.” He trails a finger over the multitude of writing. There are plenty of signatures of friends who’ve come and gone over the years, and I notice quite a few phone numbers or dates posted next to them. Justin smiles as I run over a Natalie and then an Elise.

“I’d hate to see what the other walls looked like,” I say.

“They got knocked down when Dad planted the trees.”

There’s a sense of melancholy as his eyes take in everything. It’s easy to see how much he loves it here, but not enough to put aside his resentment toward his father. Maybe the happy memories mix a little too much with the bad ones.

“Hey!” Jacob’s voice breaks us apart for the second time this morning. “Quit humping each other and bring the handle back.” We can’t see him, but we can hear his footsteps crunch against the leaves as he walks away.

“He’s still just as annoying as when we were little.”

When I arrive back to the house, Justin’s dad is sitting on the porch, rocking in a chair. There's a pitcher of tea and two glasses on the end table in the middle, and he raises a glass in my direction. Unsure as to how to greet him, being a man who has said few words since I’ve arrived, I smile politely.