100 Days (33 page)

“She told me. And I totally get it, man. I mean, I practically grew up in my
abuela’s
house and it was a wrench when we had to sell it. But it was all for the best, you know? She wouldn’t have wanted us all stuck down in San fuckin’ Pedro.”

Jake forces his splayed fingers into the earth and grips a handful. It’s noth­ing like the sand back home. He pulls his hand free and wipes it off on his dark pants, not caring whether he leaves dirty smears or not.

His fight with Charlie has been preying on his mind for nearly a month and he’s been inching closer and closer to telling her that they
should
sell the house. It’s probably time, after all; and other than Charlie and the house, he has nothing left to tie him to Brunswick anymore. But every time he’s come close to calling her, a fresh wave of sadness takes him under and he gets lost in memories; his mother’s window boxes and hanging baskets full of bougainvillea; the ocean smell that always clung to his parents’ bedroom; sharing plates of carrot sticks and apple slices with Aiden in the living room while they watched Saturday cartoons; and all the times he and Charlie built blanket forts or held stuffed toy ballet recitals under the kitchen table.

“You’re right,” he finally says, scrubbing over his eyes. “I guess… that house, it… it’s the last thing we’ve got left of them.”

“Like I said, man. Totally get it,” Eric says. “But we’ve all gotta move on sometime.”

It’s time you figure out a way to let go of Dad. It’s been seven years; don’t you think you need to move on?

Swallowing hard around the sudden lump in his throat, Jake says, “I know. I’m trying to work on that.”

“Tough stuff, man,” Eric says. In the background, Jake hears the unmis­takable sound of his own front door closing.

“Is that Charlie?” he asks.

“Yeah, one sec,” Eric says, and there are a few seconds of static that sound as if he’s covered the mouthpiece to speak to Charlie. When he comes back, he says, “So when’re you gonna be down in Cali, huh?”

Jake mentally flips through the binder in the RV. “Mid-December, I think. Can we come by?”

“Shit, I’ll be outta town. Big job in DC that month. That’s too bad; I coulda shown you around the place.”

“We’ll make it happen sometime. I miss your dumb face.”

“Miss you too, baby bro.”

“So tell me, Eric Batista, just when do you plan on marrying my sister?”

Jake waits for the customary laugh accompanied by the usual, “When I get that dirt off my shoulder, that’s when!” But it doesn’t come. There’s a moment of pregnant silence on the line, and then, “One of these days, man. One of these days.”

“Wait, wha—”

“Here’s Charlie.”

“Eric, wait!”

“Jakey?”

One word from his sister, and the light edge of panic he barely noticed creep­ing up on him fades back into the shadows. Jake smiles. It’s good to hear Charlie’s voice. “Hey, sis. Happy Thanksgiving.”

“You too,” Charlie says. “What are you crazy kids up to today?”

“I was just telling Eric that I’m lost in a maze somewhere near Wichita because Dan thought it’d be fun to make me work for my food,” Jake says, and Charlie’s ensuing chuckle makes him feel a little warmer.

“Yeah, I heard that you’re singing for your supper these days.”

“You—who told you that?”

“Aiden’s mom and I do talk, you know.”

Lump firmly back in his throat, Jake starts drawing on the ground again. “She told you about the singing.”

“Yep. She told me something else interesting, too,” Charlie says, and though she’s obviously trying to sound pissed off, there’s an unmistakable note of excite­ment in her voice too. Jake knows that his sister is a patient woman, but that she’s expecting an answer to a question she doesn’t even need to ask.

“What
exactly
did she say about—about me and Aiden?” Jake asks glumly, not the least bit surprised that Alice knows. Aiden speaks to her at least once a week.

“Nothing much, just that you two are ‘seeing how things go,’ whatever that means,” Charlie says. “Jakey, why wouldn’t you tell me something like that? I’ve always thought we can talk about this stuff.”

“We can, sis, it’s just…”
Where do I even begin?
“I’m so confused.”

“Confused about what? About Aiden? Jake, he’s
crazy
about you, has been ever since he was wearing those awful band T-shirts.”

“He still wears awful band T-shirts sometimes.”

“You know what I mean,” Charlie says, adding, “And I know you’re crazy about him, too.”

“That’s the whole problem!” Jake exclaims, getting to his feet and pacing back and forth. “I’m in… I
really
care about him.”

“So…
what’s
the problem? Everyone knows you’ve been in love with him for years.”

“But
I
didn’t know! I didn’t know. And it’s just… it’s
terrifying,
” he says, running his free hand through his hair and down his face. A torrent of fear is rising inside him like a tidal wave, and for once, he can’t help but let it out. Suddenly, he has his sister back, the girl whose toenails he used to paint while they looked at teen magazines together and rated guys on a scale of one to ten. “What if… what if we get back and he finds someone else, or what if he wants to go back to London, or what if he decides he wants to join April’s new band in New York and I’m just left behind
again?
What then?”

“Jakey, I’m only gonna say this once, so listen,” Charlie says, her voice low and controlled.

He takes a deep breath and braces himself. “Okay. I’m listening.”

“Get your head out of your ass.”

“Charlie!”

“I’m serious. So what if he wants to go to London or New York or, Jesus, even
Guam?
What you guys have is special, and it’s
rare.
Don’t let it go to waste before you even give it a chance.”

Her words are meant to comfort him, energize him into doing something about his situation, he knows, but they only make him shiver in a way that has nothing to do with the cold. It isn’t as simple as not letting it “go to waste”—he needs to save
something
for himself. What if he takes the leap only to find that there is no net? What if he lets his heart be cradled in Aiden’s no­mad­ic hands, only to have it stolen away from him completely while he winds up left with nothing? In five minutes’ time—once he tells Charlie that he wants her to sell the house—he won’t even have home to fall back on anymore.

“I don’t know if it’s that simple,” he finally says, his voice much smaller than he wants it to be.

“Because you won’t let yourself see the end of the movie. You never do,” Charlie says, and Jake stops in his tracks. “You’re just making the most of the scene you’ve got in front of you.”

That’s all I know how to do anymore,
Jake thinks, remaining silent.

“Just think about it, okay? Promise?”

Jake nods, feeling as though he’s just been hit with a sucker punch to the gut, and says, “I promise.”

“Okay then,” Charlie says, seemingly satisfied.

Lowering himself down once more beside his backpack, Jake listens to the silence on the line and that of his surroundings: one is unavoidable and the other slightly awkward, and he hates them both. Before he can even think about it, he blurts, “I want you to sell the house.” This doesn’t exactly have the desired effect—there is yet more silence. “Charlie?”

“You want me to—are you serious?” she asks, her words a disbelieving rush.

Sighing, Jake throws up a hand and says, “Yeah, I am. You were right when you said that it’s time. Actually, it’s probably way overdue.”

“You
have
to be sure about this. And
you
were right, too; I shouldn’t have gone behind your back, and I’m sorry.”

“No, sis. No. I was awful to you when we talked about it before, and
I’m
sorry,” Jake says. Glancing up at a sky thick with clusters of stars that he can barely separate, he takes another deep breath and goes on. “Look, when we… when we lost Dad, you didn’t just lose
him
, you sacrificed everything to come home and be the parent. I know how much you gave up just so that I could have some normalcy, and you didn’t have to do that.

“That house, it… it’s just a place, you know?
We’re
the ones who remember all the good things that happened there, so… yeah. Let’s do it, let’s get you back to school.”

When Charlie finally speaks, she’s sniffling and her voice cracks. “God, you’re such an asshole. Why do you have to be halfway across the country where I can’t hug you?”

“Blame Dan, it was his idea,” he jokes and smiles at Charlie’s laugh, the one that always reminds him of their mom.

“Smack him upside the head for me, would you?”

“Believe me, he’s got a lot worse than that coming when I find him. A fucking maze on Thanksgiving, who
does
that?”

Charlie takes a deep, shuddering breath in and lets it out slowly, still sniffling. “So it looks like we have a lot to talk about when you get back.”

“Screw talking,” Jake says. Now that he’s made the decision—not to men­tion how happy it’s made his sister, whom he loves dearly and has missed more than he realized—he just wants to set the wheels in motion. “Let’s just do it.”

More laughter, relieved and musical, and then, “Okay. Oh my god, oh my god—okay. Okay, I’m stopping, I promise. I’m just… I’m really happy, Jakey. Thank you.”

“Thank
you,”
Jake says. “Love you, sis.”

“You love Aiden, too.”

“Oh my
god.
Are you five?”

“Well?” Charlie prompts.

“Yes, Charlotte Anne, I love Aiden, too,” Jake finally admits.
Does that ever get any easier to say out loud?
“And… thanks. I’ll think about what you said.”

“Anytime, little bro,” she says. “Now go kick his ass. No one keeps a Valentine from food on Thanksgiving.”

As Jake ends the call, feeling comforted and confused and relieved, he notices a string of text messages on the screen.

Aiden (8:01
p.m.) –
I just realized that I haven’t kissed you all day. It’s driving me crazy.

Aiden (8:04 p.m.) –
Are you mad at me? You’re mad at me. Come let me make it up to you?

Aiden (8:10 p.m.
) –
Where are you?

Aiden (8:16 p.m.) –
Shit, are you lost? This was a bad idea, wasn’t it?

Aiden (8:19 p.m.) –
Sweetheart?

In spite of everything, Jake’s stomach twists pleasantly and he smiles a little. Just as he moves to pick up his backpack and get moving again, something grabs him around the waist and knocks him sideways.

He shrieks and struggles as he hits the ground, panicking and lashing out, but within moments he realizes that it’s Aiden pinning him down.

“Asshole,” he spits as his anxiety subsides. He pushes Aiden off and staggers to his feet.

“Just came to see what was taking you so long,” Aiden says, slinging Jake’s backpack over one shoulder as Jake brushes himself off.

“We’re in a fucking maze and I got fucking lost,” Jake retorts, and tugs his jacket straight.

Undeterred, Aiden takes Jake’s hand and leads him out of the dead end. As they make two more left turns and then a right, Aiden almost running in his apparent eagerness, Jake sends up a silent thank you for the fact that—even in the bleakest of places—Aiden always manages to find him.

And then they’re out of the maze, jogging across the parking lot toward the RV. All of the lights are on inside, and Jake considers pointing out that, if the picnic is in the middle of the maze, they’re going in entirely the wrong direction. He’s so cold at this point, however, that the RV is even more welcome a sight than usual.

When they get inside, everything becomes clear. The picnic that Aiden has set up takes Jake’s breath away. He has laid out two blankets on the floor of the RV in an overlapping diamond, at the center of which is the brown paper bag of groceries they got from the Whole Foods in Oklahoma City. Next to it are a small stack of plates, two cups and a bottle of hard cider. The setting is lit by tiny votive candles, set at intervals around the perimeter of the blankets.

“So… I’m hoping that this gets me off the hook for letting you get lost in a maze,” Aiden murmurs, squeezing Jake’s hand. “But I needed to get you out of here while I set up.”

“You planned this for me?” Jake asks, swallowing the declaration of love that rises in the back of his throat.

Aiden shrugs and absently scratches the back of his neck. “I figured since we can’t spend Thanksgiving with our families—”

Jake cuts him off with a swift kiss and whispers against his lips, “You’re my family, too.”

Aiden shifts on his feet, shoots him a shy smile and gestures to the picnic. “Shall we?”

When they’re seated, Jake between Aiden’s legs with Aiden’s arms around his waist, Jake pulls the grocery bag closer and finds that Aiden has already made up the turkey, stuffing and cranberry sandwiches Jake suggested this morning. He passes one back to Aiden and carefully unwraps his own to take a bite.

“Oh my god, these are perfect,” he says around a moan. The cranberry’s sharp sweetness bursts across his tongue and brings out the flavor of the turkey.

“They are pretty good, if I do say so myself,” Aiden agrees.

“So,” Jake says, setting down his sandwich for a moment and running his fingers along Aiden’s arm, “what are you thankful for this year?”

“I’m thankful that Grandpa left me this place,” he says, hooking his chin over Jake’s shoulder.

“I’m thankful that you came back, and asked me to come on this trip with you,” Jake replies.

“I’m thankful that you agreed to come,” Aiden says, pressing a kiss just behind Jake’s ear.

“And most of all…” Jake trails off, sits up and turns to face Aiden. He takes a deep breath and thrusts his fist into the air. Aiden does the same, and they cry out in unison, “I’m thankful for dolphin-friendly tuna!” Then they collapse against each other in a fit of giggles, just as they have every year since they were fourteen, when Aiden got drunk on his dad’s beer and started rambling about everything he was thankful for.