My Blue River (17 page)

She makes me crazy. She is maddening. She is an insane, moody, snotty, beautiful, smart, crazy, funny, and the most amazing person—she is everything I’ll ever need or want in life.

So the questions are: just how patient am I and in the end, will it even matter?

14. Regret

I knew if I spoke with Sheridan about how horribly I had treated Jack, she would validate my decision to distance myself from him. It was best not to involve myself with Jack romantically. He may have been a perfect gentleman with the perfect face, perfect body, and perfect personality, but he could not possibly be the one for me. I needed to end it before it even began.

It almost seemed like a cruel twist of irony. I had often fantasized about what the perfect boy would look like and where and when he would make his appearance in my life. Jack possessed so much of what I wanted, but those little exceptions would become big exceptions come August. He didn’t want to go to college and if he did, it wouldn’t be outside the State of Montana. It wasn’t even so much that he didn’t want to go to college that bugged me, it was that he had no intention of ever leaving Blue River. He wouldn’t even consider it.

I picked up my cell phone and thanked God once again that service had been restored. For some reason, this new version of my parents didn’t think long-distance service on the house phone was necessary. They argued the telephone was one more way for Aaron to connect with his former life. In a way I agreed, but in another way, it just increased how angry I was with Aaron for ruining my life.

I punched in the ten-digit telephone number of Sheridan’s cell phone. No surprise at all—she was at Bloomy’s, her name for Bloomingdales, one of her favorite department stores.

“Speak up! I can’t hear you very well!” Sheridan yelled into the receiver.

I now regretted calling her. If she was in shopping mode I would never have her full attention.

“Ya know what? I’ll just call you later,” I offered.

“No, no, I want to hear this. It sounds like something is up. I just need to go somewhere quiet. Hold on while I give up these Ferragamo sandals, which are pretty freakin’ sweet, so this had better be good.”

No. It wasn’t good and my heart pounded at the idea of sharing my feelings with Sheridan. It had finally hit me that I think on some level I had always known she was a heartless, shallow, snob, but the reality of that fact was striking me in the face. Yet here I was, about to pour my heart out to her because it wasn’t like I could share this with Claire.

“Well…um…there is…well…sort of,” I said timidly.

I could tell Sheridan was still relocating and wasn’t really hearing me so I patiently waited to begin my story until she asked, “Okay. I can hear you now. What’s up?”

“It’s Jack.”

“Who?”

“Jack, you know. The guy I told you I met who was totally hot and nice, but that we were just friends?”

She let out an impatient sigh. “Oh crap. What are you about to tell me? I thought there wasn’t
a Jack
. Did you cross over the friend zone?”

“Well…um…there’s not…really…I mean, there is but there isn’t a Jack…what I mean is…it’s just that he’s like a bad disease I can’t get rid of. He’s here all the time—the house, school, where we eat—my dad thinks he can’t get through one day without Jack.”

The reality was I couldn’t either. All I thought about everyday was when I would see him next. What would he be wearing? Would he be going with the casual look of jeans and a form fitting t-shirt? Would he be going with the cowboy look—boots, Wranglers, plaid shirt—the look that a year ago would have made me puke?

“Okay, so tell me what happened so I can fix it for you,” she demanded.

I relayed the day’s events that occurred at the car lot, and of course, I made it sound like Jack had provoked me. I made it sound as if he’d been nastier than he actually had been with his “
you’re so spoiled
” comment, not that it mattered. Sheridan would have been on my side anyway.

“What a jerk!” I cringed at her words. “Well, you did the right thing,” she reassured.

“Yeah, I know I did. He’s not right for me anyway.” I was wrong. He was very right for me.

“Excuse me? I didn’t know you were worried about whether he was right for you or not.”

“Well, there’s an undeniable chemistry. There’s something about him that draws me to him, but I’ll get over it.” I wouldn’t. I didn’t picture a day any time soon that I would get over Jack.

“Oh, girlfriend. You are not going to marry some country bumpkin, I mean seriously, Addy. Can’t you see what hooking up with this guy will do to your future? You’d be miserable. You’d be living in that dumpy little town living in some love shack with six scraggily kids clinging to your leg. Get real. Here’s the answer to this problem. He’s not who you want. I mean, if you want to play around with him a while then cut him loose, I’m all for you doing that, but you can’t be serious about there being any actual relationship.” Sheridan said it with such finality that I knew she wasn’t really looking for me to respond.

All I could say was “that’s true.” I tried to sound confident, but I wasn’t sure she was right. Besides, that wasn’t Jack. He would have built me a mansion on the river’s edge if I wanted him to, but that was a fantasy for another day.

“Tell me you don’t feel bad about this,” she demanded.

“Oh, I don’t,” I lied. I felt bad. I felt
very
bad. I deeply regretted every word I had said to Jack, and it wasn’t just the words I said, it was the way I had said them. Each sentence was filled with an edgy bitterness that Jack in no way deserved. I couldn’t shake how hurt he looked. Jack was perhaps the best person I had ever met in my life but because I had convinced myself it could never go anywhere serious. I was on a mission to destroy any chance of not just romance but friendship.
I must be certifiably insane or just really, extremely confused.

“Well, get over it!” snapped Sheridan.

“I already am,” I lied again.

“He’s not worth it.”

“I know.” That was another lie. Jack was worth it and then some.

Sheridan had obviously reached her limit of compassion for a conversation that didn’t revolve around her so she shifted the subject to describing her latest victim. His name was Brad. He was a lot of fun and best of all his family was rich which made her feel that he was her equal. I spoke the occasional “oh, really” and “uh-huh” but truthfully, I had drowned out her words while I pictured Jack. I pictured him laughing at something my dad had said while they planted trees, I pictured him while we fought with the garden hose; I pictured every moment we had shared together over the summer until I felt physically ill. I was so disgusted with myself I couldn’t focus on anything Sheridan was prattling on about and I didn’t even need to hear what she was saying to know I was disgusted with her, too. I finally managed to interrupt her. I lied and told her my mom was calling for me. She reminded me once again to use Jack as a boy-toy then dump him in August. I offered a fake laugh.

I wasn’t sure which I regretted more—hurting Jack or calling Sheridan.

15. I Love You

I looked out my window to check on the weather and saw Aaron sprawled out on the lawn, lying on his stomach, drawing in his sketchpad. It must be an unusually warm autumn day because he was only wearing jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt.

Aaron was an incredibly gifted artist. It had been a very long time since I had seen him drawing. I often envied his talent and couldn’t believe he never talked about pursuing a career somewhere in art, but since he didn’t even seem to think past where he would score his next fix, it was unreasonable to believe he would be thinking of anything past high school.

I grabbed a sweater off the back hook of my bedroom door. I was learning that looks could be deceiving in Montana and when I stepped out onto the back porch, I learned I was right. I still felt a slight chill in the air. When I reached the backyard, I decided to sneak up on Aaron. I measured each step slowly, but since Aaron and I hadn’t raked the leaves like Dad asked us to, I kept crunching brown, red, and orange leaves under my feet. I snapped the occasional twig, but he was so deep in concentration that he didn’t hear me or notice my presence until I yelled, “Boo!”

Aaron’s body visibly jumped from the ground. He looked up at me with a scowl.

“You suck!” he yelled at me.

“I know, sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” he said sarcastically.

“So what’s up, twerp?”

“Not much, snoberella.”

I laughed. It had been a while since Aaron had called me snoberella. He started calling me that long ago because he hated the relationship I had with Dad and he was tired of him calling me princess. Since he thought I was a combination of Daddy’s little princess and a snob, snoberella was a by far more fitting name for me. I spent years hating it but today, I found it amusing. I sat down on the lawn beside him and gave him a gentle smack on the arm.

“What are you drawing?” I asked as I peered over his shoulder. He had a number of different drawings on one page. In the upper right hand corner was a Cannabis plant.

“I’m drawing my future tats.”

“Dude, you are
not
getting a tattoo of a pot plant.”

“Hell yeah, I am. I’m getting one just like this as soon as I turn eighteen.”

“Yeah, well, good luck with that.” I continued to scan the page of drawings. “Are you getting a landscape tat too?” I pointed to the completely awesome drawing he did of the nearby mountains.

“Oh, well, no, that was just…that’s…that’s nothing…” He fumbled for words, seemingly embarrassed that he’d been captivated enough by the view to draw it.

He went back to the pot plant, increasing the shading. I suspected he thought it looked cooler to work on that drawing instead of the mountains. I watched him draw for a while until he could no longer stand my presence.

“So what’s up? Why are you bothering me?” asked Aaron.

“Nothing’s up. I just thought I would come see what you were doing.”

“Don’t you have somebody else to bug, like Jack?”

“Jack and I aren’t speaking.”

Aaron looked up with his eyebrow arched. “Oh, reeeeaaaaally?” He dragged the word out. He always loved it when misery found me. “What did you do to piss him off?”

“Hey, he started it. You missed quite the argument while we were test driving the Land Rover.”

He cocked his head to the side and looked confused. “I thought I was with you.”

“You were, but you had your headphones in your ears, remember?”

His green eyes looked up as if searching a file of memories when suddenly, a look of recollection washed over his face.

“Oh, yeah. I remember,” said Aaron.

“Yeah, well, anyway, we got in an argument so now I’m not interested in speaking to him.”

“He’s probably not interested in speaking to you either.”

That was a jarring statement. I had been so focused on my own misery that I hadn’t thought of Jack’s perspective. No wonder he ignored me whenever he came here for work. I thought he had decided to be professional now or that he was picking up on my anger. Aaron’s statement brought a new perspective to the situation. Jack was probably no longer interested in me. I suddenly felt a little deflated, but I guessed that was for the best because after all, that had been my goal that day. That was exactly why I had started an argument with him, but now, just like when I shared the story with Sheridan, I felt deep regret.

“Good point, brat,” I said.

“Enough with names.”

“Oh, come on. It’s all in good fun.” I reached out and ruffled the top of his blond head.

There was a silence. Aaron seemed to be conjuring up the courage to tell me something and when he did, it sent my heart reeling. “I know you hate me,” he said.

Ouch
!

“Dude, I
do not
hate you. It’s just in the bylaws of being the big sister. I have to treat you this way or I’ll lose my big sister license.”

Much to my relief, he offered a weak laugh at my joke.

“Seriously, Aaron,” I gently touched his chin and pulled his face to meet mine. Amazingly, he allowed me to touch him which pleased me because I wanted him to know I meant my words. I looked directly into his eyes and said, “I DO NOT hate you—you could even say, I love you. You’re my little brother.” I released his chin. “But if you tell anybody I told you that then I’ll have to kill you. It’s part of the big sister code.” We both laughed.
I love you but I’ll kill you
was such a silly concept.

“Well, since you
love
me…” He nearly choked on the word, “…stop with the
twerp,
nickname, too, okay?”

I offered a smile and luckily for me, he seemed agreeable today so I thought I should be too. “Okay. I’ll try to be better. But you have to try something for me.”

His head popped up from the doodle he was creating during most of the conversation—a doodle that was really more of a masterpiece I could only dream of creating. His eyebrows furrowed in suspicion of my request.

“What do you want me to do? Is it legal?” he asked.

I snickered. It was such a ridiculous notion that the bad kid of the family was asking if the good kid’s request was legal. I refocused and became serious, letting out a heavy sigh. I almost hated to admit my request and even further the level of my concern for him.

“You need to lay off drugs, okay?’

“What?”

“Seriously, you smoke way too much weed and drink way too much alcohol. I’m worried about you.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Huh.”

There was a long silence. He was considering my request yet started to explain his position on the subject instead.

“You don’t know what it feels like, do you?” he asked.

“What do you mean?” I replied.

“You don’t know what it’s like to
need
the high. You don’t know what it’s like to
crave
a buzz.”

“No, I don’t, but I can’t imagine it’s that important.”

“Well, it is. It’s how I cope. It takes the edge off.”

“Yeah, right. A fifteen-year-old life has an
edge
.”

“Yeah, it does. Everyone’s life has an edge.”

“Listen. I hate to admit this, but we have a pretty pampered life. We have wealthy, loving, caring, parents who have given us a good life and despite moving us to this crap hole of a town and their new found need to be frugal, you and I have it pretty good.”

“But you don’t have the pressure to live up to Dad’s expectations and I’ll never be who or what he wants me to be!”

“Aaron, Dad is wonderful. It’s Mom you need to look out for.”

“Wow. Funny how two people from the same family can have two completely different perspectives and live such completely different lives. You’re Dad’s princess who can do no wrong but as for me, I’m the screwed up mess he wishes he hadn’t made.”

“No, Aaron. Don’t say that,” I pleaded. It hurt to hear him speak this way about Dad.

“No. I have to say this. He constantly tells me how I’ve disappointed him. He’s on me about my grades and he’s on me about how I should be thinking about college already and…oh! Did I tell you that he said, and I quote—‘
there is no way in hell you are majoring in art, young man
.’”

His voice cracked as he mimicked Dad’s voice. His feelings showed through far more than he had intended. His young mind had been in deep thoughts about so much and I never even knew it. I had no idea the degree to which he felt the pressure from Dad and how much he was hurt by thinking he was Dad’s greatest failure.

“Aaron, I’m so sorry. I had no idea, but still—you’re messing yourself up with all the drugs and I worry about you. I mean, geez, I can’t seem to please Mom so I do know what you’re talking about when it comes to pressure but I don’t turn to drugs to cope.”

“No, you just become a total sarcastic, b-otch.”

I grimaced. I didn’t want anyone thinking that way of me. I knew I was sarcastic and I always thought sarcasm never hurt anyone, but right now, his message was echoing off the nearby mountain range. For the first time in our relationship, I was hearing him loud and clear. It was a cheesy expression, but it was true—
words are powerful and they can hurt
.

“I’ll think about it,” said Aaron.

I was so lost in pondering what Aaron just said to me that I didn’t quite catch his statement.

“Wait. What did you just say?” I asked.

“I said, I’ll think about it.”

I smiled and was about to lean in for what I knew would be a semi-awkward hug but right at that moment, a gust of wind blew through, flapping the pages in his sketch pad. I caught a glimpse of something amazing.

“Whoa! Who—is—that?” I exclaimed. I couldn’t believe what I had just seen.

“Umm…nothing…no one.” Aaron scrambled to push the pages back down.

“Too late, Twer…” I stopped myself. “Aaron, come on. Let me get a better look.” I wrestled the sketch pad away from him and thumbed through the pages until I found what I was looking for.

“Aaron, this is amazing.” I shook my head. It was a shame he didn’t understand the depth of his talent and in my heart-of-hearts, I knew he would one day dismiss Dad’s advice and be a starving artist. I thought that would be just fine, as long as he was alive and happy, I really didn’t care what profession he had. “Seriously, you have no idea how good you are.”

I was staring at a face I didn’t know. His drawing was the face of a very beautiful girl Aaron clearly had a crush on. He had sketched her in pencil and the drawing depicted so much detail that I felt certain I knew what she was thinking. Her smile was closed-mouthed and her eyes were looking off to the left. It was as if she was looking at something that pleased her. Every part of her face in the drawing had such amazing detail that even though I didn’t know her, I had to believe she must look exactly like his drawing. If her body matched her face, I had to assume she was very petite. Her features were delicate and although it was a pencil sketch and basically black and white, the way he drew her eyes led to me to believe she must have light colored eyes, like blue or green. What was colored was her hair. It was pastel blue and I just had to know more.