The Other Fish in the Sea (12 page)

Riding is always good for thinking and it appears I have some decisions to make. If you were expecting me to lose it, then I’m sorry to disappoint you. And you can go ahead and think of me as heartless if you want, too, but I’m not. I’m analytical. It’s just how I roll, can you dig it?

So, back to my thought process and decisions…

What is Dad going to do without her? He’ll learn to cook. What are
we
going to do without her? We’ll help him learn to cook. I can’t believe they’re not going to tell us. Yes, I can. They want to protect us. I wonder if I should tell Camie. No. She’s too emotional, she’ll fall apart. Well, maybe not. Even though I don’t think he’s said it, it’s clearly obvious…he’s so in love with her. He’ll hold her toge— Oh good lord, I should be ashamed of myself…I’ve been so blind. It’s all starting to make some convoluted sense.

Tristan. He’s a lifeline.

Jeez, God and my mom are really expecting a lot from him. I know he’s got really wide shoulders and all, but dang. I wonder if I should tell
him
. No. That would be too much pressure for even
the
most devoted of Romeos. Maybe I should tell Mom and Dad that I know. It could take some pressure off.
Or
it could very possibly break them. So no. If our parents want to try to protect us, then let them.

Jillian, just keep your mouth shut and deal with whatever happens the way you deal with everything else. Maybe God’s working on taking care of everything right now, and if He is, He certainly doesn’t need help from a twelve-year-old.

Slam on the brakes! I like this spot.

I feel oddly cold
,
but at least the sun feels good and the sand is nice and toasty on my butt. Since they made it illegal to swim in the canal
,
it’s more or less nice and quiet here.

Aw, cheese and crackers. I take that back. It would be nice and quiet if it weren’t for him. At least he had the good sense not to let the others follow him
,
though. Then he and I would be havin’ some fightin’ words.

“You’re not supposed to ride alone.”

“I wasn’t.” It’s a matter of semantics. You can’t really ride alone with hundreds of other people riding the same dunes, now can you?

“Humph.
No Twinkies?”

I grabbed a couple Suzie Qs for the road.

“You wish. What were they saying about me?” He really likes Twinkies and he was riding with Dylan and Jeremy…

“Why ask when you don’t care?”

Smart boy.

“For the same reason people text, chat and email.”

“Okay, what are you afraid of?”

Ooh…
very
smart boy.

“At the moment, Elton John.”

“I’m not gonna pretend to understand that.”

“Good idea.” I’m sure that’s exactly what he needs…yet
another
peek into my mind.

“So, are you gonna ask
,
or are you gonna try to tell me you’ve figured it out?”

He’s infuriating so neither. I’m going to ignore him.

It’s really just another trick
,
though. It’s the “appear as if you couldn't care less trick.” That’s the official name.

“I bet you’ll only need a hint and you’ll put it together.”

“Why do you think I care?” Works every time.

“I don’t care if you do or don’t. I wanna watch you do it.”

Well wasn’t that a surprising statement? I’ve been sitting here staring at the water—i.e., ignoring him—but now I have to look at him. I really dislike being taken by surprise and he does it a lot.

“Fine, what’s the hint?”

Watching him push up his sleeve past his elbow has just revealed the hint and yet another surprise. But it’s really more than a hint and a surprise…it’s a scar.

“You’re a pitcher.”

“Yep.”

“You had the Tommy John surgery.” I freely admit that I looked it up on my phone last night. I told you, I hate enigmas even though I didn’t know the two were so closely related.

“Yep.”

“You’re afraid.” He’s petrified, I just don’t know why.

“Yep.”

“What are you afraid of?” I won’t, but I
should
hang my head in shame. I can’t believe I asked. Enigmas, a pox on all of you!

“At the moment, Jack Norworth.”

“What song did he do?”

“Take me out to the ballgame.”

Smart and funny. If I can admit it, so can you.

“Did that work?” There’s an eighty-five percent chance the surgery worked…I think he’s afraid of the fifteen percent chance that it didn’t.

“I don’t know yet.”

“And if it didn’t?” He’ll be like Grey.

“Well, that’s really not an option for me.”

“Why not?”

“I love baseball. It’s who I am.”

I wonder if he’s singing “Lies” in his head, too. He should be, because that’s what he’s doing. I have no doubt he loves the sport
,
though. Anyone who is willing to go through an operation that requires ten to twelve months of recovery time just so they can play a game would have to love it. But, it’s not who he is.

“No, it’s not.”
 

“You don’t know me.”

He’s wrong. Analytical, remember?

“Sure I do.”
 

“Alright, prove it.”

Buckle up
,
kids…this here’s gonna be a bumpy ride.

“You’re afraid that if you don’t have baseball you’ll disappear and be nothing. Invisible. And you will be—if you allow yourself to be
or
allow others to change you. But you have to allow it to happen. Which you won’t…you’ll still be here. You’ll still be you.”

“I’ll never be who my parents want me to be without it.”

“
What
you do doesn’t define who you are, it’s
how
you do it. And that’s their problem, not yours.” Some parents just need to get a clue.

My parents have a clue. I just wish I didn’t right now. So…it appears I’ve come full circle. Aw, DANGIT!

“Your turn. Elton John wrote a lot of songs.”

“No.” I don’t share.

“You know me and I’m not afraid of you.”

“So?”

“So get it out.”

Uh-oh. No. This can’t be happening. Oh please God, I don’t want to cry. Not now. Not here.

“It’s none of your business!” You’re losing it
,
Jillian. Get up and leave.

“I’m making it my business.”

He’s pushing me…

“Well don’t!”
 

“You’re acting your age, Jillian.”

He’s pushing really hard.

“I’m TWELVE! This is who I am!”

“No, it’s not. The accumulation of years doesn’t define who you are, how you live them does. Tell me why you’re crying.”

“I can’t get ‘Circle of Life’ out of my head!”

And I
allowed
him to do it. What is happening to me? I hate that letting him in feels good. And I hate that crying looks so weak even though I know it’s not.

“Ah. She’s not in remission. Does Camie know?”

“No! And if you tell her, I’ll do everything in my power to make you wish you hadn’t!”

“You know you can trust me to keep secrets. If you ask me to keep another one, I will.”

“And you can’t tell Tristan either…my mom thinks he’s got a red cape and she’s praying he’s more powerful than the locomotive that’ll demolish Camie and my dad.”

“What about you?”

“She knows she doesn’t have to worry about me.” She doesn’t. I like her idea of being normal
,
but I’m not going to kid myself. I’ve never been normal and she knows that. I’m too much like her.

“Jillian, come here.”

“Wh—What are you
doing
?” He’s hugging me. What has this world come to? I’m crying and liking it
,
and he’s holding me…and I’m liking that too. Again.

“Defining who I am.”

“And just who do you think you are?” I should ask who he thinks
I
am, because I don’t think I know anymore.

“Right now, I’m just your friend.”

“You don’t want to be my friend
,
though, do you?” I already know the answer to that. He doesn’t. So the better question would be, is that what I want?

“It doesn’t matter what I want. What do you want me to be?”

Very
smart boy.

 
“Nothing.” I wonder if he knows I’m singing The Thompson Twins to myself again.

“Okay.”

“Now what are you doing?” He pick-pocketed my dang phone! I’m so impressed…

“Calling myself so you have my number again.”

Jeez my rolodex is sure getting full—stupid cupid. Rhyme unintended. It just tells you where my brain is.

“What for?”

“For when you’re not afraid and you wanna tell the truth.”

Very, very smart boy.
You’d never know he’s this quick by looking at him.

“I’m not afraid of the truth.” I’m really not afraid of the truth, but, I am afraid.

“That’s not what I said. You’re afraid of the unknown.”

He’s not just smart; he’s a boy-genius!

“So are you.” This is strange. There’s no more tension; it just…disappeared.

“Yep. Are you afraid of death?”

 
“A little. Kind of a big unknown, death. Are you?”

“Nope.”

“Why not?” I believe him. He might be afraid of many things, but he’s not afraid of me, and he’s not afraid of death.

“You wanna laugh at death.”

“And how, pray tell, does one do that?”

“You can still receive videos on your phone, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Can I have my own ringtone this time?”

Individual, specially chosen ringtones…my generation’s version of being pinned.

“Are you gonna give me a new one?”

“Yep.”

“Okay.”

“How long have you had mine picked out?”

“Since last month.” The first time he got my attention, I told myself it was a one-time thing, but...I’ve known he was coming for me. He’s been ringing “Hell’s Bells” for weeks.

“Are you gonna tell me what it is?”

“If you tell me what you just chose for me.”

“‘Rhinoceros’.”

“Smashing Pumpkins. I like it.” She knows. It’s repeated over and over again in the song
.

“Your way, right?”

It’s not a question. I know what he’s saying…that’s part of the song too.

“Thank you.” That’s right, I said thank you. When someone agrees to give you your way when they wish things to be otherwise, you should be polite and say thanks.

“You’re welcome…now what’s mine?”

“Send me the video.” We’ve been lying on our backs in the sand
,
programming our phones with aliases and ringtones so AC/DC can just tell him.

“You gonna let me take you to Hell, Jillian?”

Good God. The change in his expression was so,
so
subtle
,
but the spark in his eyes and wicked curve of his lips when he asked that quite literally sent a shiver down my spine. The thing is, this happened once before and I thought it might be a fluke—apparently it’s not.

“Do I have a choice?” I don’t. He’ll do it my way
,
but like the song I chose for him says, he won’t spare me. And the truth is, I don’t want him to. And now thanks to my body’s automatic and unbidden response, he knows it.

“Not if you tell yourself the truth about this.”

And there’s another shiver inducing micro-grin. Dang it…I think I’m going to have to learn how to hide that.

“I don’t lie to myself.” I don’t, but this truth isn’t anyone else’s business, thus my need to hide the fact that he can make my skin crawl at will.

“Good.”

“You know, you don’t need to be so smug about this.” He did it again…just because he knows he can.

“I’m sorry.”

“No, you’re not.” He’s enjoying getting a reaction out of me. And since I’m in the mood to be honest, I’m kind of enjoying it too. That is aside from the fact that I now have a stupid tell and I have to figure out how to get rid of it before I get back to camp.

“You’re right, I’m not.”

“I should’ve lied about your ringtone.”

“
But
,
you didn’t… Now, speaking of bells, you ready to laugh at death?”

“I’m dying to laugh at death.”

“Then play the video.”

Ha! He
is
a genius!

“You can never have too much cowbell.” How can you fear the reaper when Will Ferrell and Christopher Walken have your back and an attractive, interesting and very smart boy holding your hand and giving you nifty little goose bumps?

And I told you I knew the information would come to me. It always does.

Oh by the way, I realize you’ve probably figured out that he and I have had quite a bit more interaction than anyone is aware of
,
but guess what?
That
,
my friend, is a story best left told some other time…

6.

Wild Kingdom & "Lonely Pete"

It was Friday night and the usual crew minus Jillian, Pete, Bridget, and Dylan’s friend
,
Jeremy, were sitting in the tent when Bridget came in and had a conversation with Julia which sparked an idea I hadn’t yet consciously considered, but I had in the very back of my mind—if that makes sense.

“Well? What did he say?” Julia asked, setting down her own magazine and sitting up when Bridget sat down next to her.

The people not living in this tent were wise and brought distractions of their own tonight. You know, just in case.

“He wasn’t in the mood.” She looks very irritated and I’m not sure who “he” is.

“Not in the mood?” Julia asked like what guy
wouldn’t
be in the mood.

I’m guessing the mood to fool around or have sex, but I’m not sure. It’s hysterical too; everyone else is totally listening but using their distractions to pretend like they’re not. For instance, Brandon has his head bent over his guitar and he
was
looking busy tuning it
,
but even though he hasn’t once looked up, his fingers aren’t moving anymore and there’s no sound coming from the instrument he’s holding.

“Yeah. ‘Not in the mood’…” Bridget said using air quotes. “So I offered him a rain-check and he turned it down
flat
.” Now she looks bitter.