Under the Orange Moon (6 page)

“Did Dylan tell you the news, boys?” Linda began, smiling behind her coffee mug.

“What news?” Brandon asked.

“No news,” Dylan snapped from the refrigerator. For whatever reason, Ben was not invited to share in this moment.

“Why are you being so modest?” Linda asked.

Dylan huffed loudly and rolled her eyes. “It’s really not a big deal.”

“Of course it is!” Linda sounded irritated and thrilled all at the same time. “What has gotten into you today?”

“What do you mean?” Charlie asked. “What’s wrong with her today?”

“She has been so crabby all morning,” Linda complained. “Honey, you need a nap. You must not have slept well last night.”

Ben choked on his stolen juice and all interest moved to him. Realizing that he had acquired the attention of the room, he slammed on his chest with his fist, and announced, “Wrong tube.”

“Uh-huh,” Brandon said with his brow raised at Ben. He slowly turned his attention to Dylan, and asked, “Weed, what’s the news?”

Dylan said nothing while she stared at her mother, waiting for her to jump in and tell them for her. It was inevitable, so she thought she would just let her take it from her to begin with.

Linda impatiently waved her hands at Dylan and began. “She has been asked to do a gallery showing her work.”

“What?” Jonah asked, shocked. “How long ago? You never said anything.”

“It happened only a month ago.” Dylan felt her face blush when she realized that Ben’s face looked pleased and, in a way, proud. “I don’t even know the man that wants to hold it. His name is Norman…something. He’s seen my work and asked if I had enough pieces that I would be willing to sell in a gallery.”

“That’s awesome, little sister.”
Brandon winked at Dylan and gave a satisfying grin before taking in a heaping mound of eggs. “When is it?” he asked with a full mouth. 

“June. The gallery is in
Lower Manhattan,” Linda answered for Dylan, surprising no one. “He has a store in Greenwich Village, which I hear is super trendy!”

“We’ll all have to come. Ben, do you think you can spare a weekend in June?” Jonah asked. His face gave the answer for him, knowing that Ben would never spare any of his time willingly.

“We’ll have to see. I’d buy a painting, regardless,” Ben answered, before stealing a dramatic drink from Dylan’s new glass of juice.

Dylan ripped the glass from his hand. “
You
couldn’t afford me,” she snapped.

Ben climbed the rugged, brown trails of
Papago Park. He grew up exploring the many holes and twists of Phoenix’s paths and hills, but he found in this particular moment that five years had given his feet just the right amount of time to forget which way to move along the rocks.

He wouldn’t admit to a soul that the desert sun on his face was calming and had somehow quieted the stresses that constantly plagued his overworked mind. He enjoyed being home, but knew he would be quite ready to go back to
Cambridge when his three weeks was up.

He stopped when he saw her. She stood on the edge of the giant rock and looked out over the zoo. Ben almost winced in pain at how much of her beauty she allowed to be seen now. Why did she have to be wearing another dress?

As the breeze whipped up, it lifted the ends of her dress and flapped against her legs. She bent to the side, a paintbrush in her mouth, one behind her ear and another between her fingers. She pressed the bristles to the canvas and brought a long, black line down all the way to the bottom.

Ben couldn’t tell what her painting was going to end up as, but since he knew the talent within the artist, he was very aware that it would eventually be a masterpiece. He watched quietly and took much satisfaction in how perfect she looked when she did what she loved most.

He took a seat on the first boulder he could find and watched as Dylan continued to paint. He looked around and realized where they were. He remembered this place very well, like it was yesterday.

Carl Mathews, Jonah and Dylan’s father, seemed to go quickly, but painfully, when he died of cancer. He went in for constant headaches and left with grim, unexpected news: three to six months to live.  When he died, after the funeral, Dylan closed up to the world around her. She ran around the house, only thirteen years old, picking up and cleaning for her mother. She made sure that there was enough food for the guests that came back for the wake and she handled everything else that went along with it. She didn’t cry and she wouldn’t allow anyone but her mother to cry to her. She was a rock.

After the wake was over and the guests all left, Ben found her weeping on the very rock he sat on now, which wasn’t a surprise; she could see the giraffes from there. He was only thirteen at the time, but he did understand even then how Dylan worked. Not even her twin brother knew how to help her or soothe her held in anger. Ben sat beside her in silence and didn’t say a word as she sobbed into her hands, eventually falling into his lap. He rubbed his fingers through her hair and continued to say nothing as he quietly comforted his Dylan. In that moment, he truly felt as though she was
his
Dylan.

In those very few, rare instances of their backwards relationship, he found it interesting that she knew he would be there for her. She didn’t resist crying in his lap like most teenagers may have been shy about doing. She knew that he would allow it, but her confidence in him only scared Ben more.

Now, watching her in all her beauty, beneath the sun and looking out over the scenery below, he only regretted more the way he acted when her brothers were around. He wondered if she knew how he really saw her: faultless and fascinating in every way. He wondered if it was written all over his forehead like he imagined it was whenever he spoke to her. Even five years later, that spark—that
fire
—still existed only for her.

Beauty was not hard to come by. Ben could find it easily wherever he happened to glance. It was all around him on a regular basis. Dylan was more than just beautiful, though. She was resplendently perfect. But he could never have her.

With each stroke on her canvas, her painting was brought to life. In very little time, it began to take shape and perfect form. The longer he stared, the more he came to recognize his own face on the canvas. He smiled in bewilderment and slowly crept away from her, managing to go unseen and unheard for the entire time he sat behind her, watching as she painted him.

On Saturday afternoon, Dylan and Meredith walked into the fifth bridal store that they had been to that day. Dylan cleared her entire schedule, so she didn’t mind modeling the endless choices of bridesmaid dresses that her future sister in-law pulled from the racks.

“That one’s pretty, but not all the girls look good in everything like you,” Meredith pointed out. “My sister is a bit…uh…rounder.”

Dylan smiled and shook her head. “Then maybe your sister should have come instead of me.”

“No. That won’t work either. She bothers me and you don’t,” she answered simply. Meredith put her finger to her mouth and looked around the store. “I think I might just have you all wear different styles, but in the same color.”

Dylan sighed deeply and stared into the mirror. She did enjoy the way the dress fit her. The long, light pink fabric hugged all the right spots and showed off her defined collarbone and shoulders. Although the sparkly accents were something she could have done without, she knew that she looked good in that one and secretly hoped Meredith would agree.

She stood up on the highest part of the floor, next to the window, and turned halfway to look at her bare back in the reflection.

A knock on the window startled her. She spun around and felt her face flush when she realized that Michael Olerson was on the other side, grinning at her from ear to ear.

“Nice,” he yelled through the glass, pointing up and down with his finger.

Dylan smiled as she lifted the end of the gown and displayed a sarcastic curtsy for Michael.

He raised his curled finger and motioned for her to come outside to speak with him. “Just for a minute,” he pleaded loudly when she shook her head and frowned.

Dylan nodded as she gave in and hopped down the steps that led to the mirrors. As she walked to the dressing room, she unzipped the dress and began to pull it from her body, unaware that Michael was still watching and nearly collapsing from the unintentional show.

She stepped out from the dressing room and walked outside barefoot.

“Hey,” Michael said, attempting to regain his composure. “Bridesmaid duties?”

Dylan glanced back into the store and sighed. “Yep.”

“I see. I won’t keep you then.” He fiddled around with the bag in his hands. “What are your plans for tonight?”

Dylan cocked one eyebrow up into her forehead. “Uh, nothing. Why?”

“I’m not going to ask you to work. Don’t worry.” Michael stammered and fiddled some more. “I told Charlie I may swing by tonight to have a few beers with him. That’s all.”

“And?”

“Well, are you going to be there
—home, I mean?” he asked, hopeful and humiliated at the same time.

“Most likely,” Dylan answered carefully. She knew that it was her he was attempting to see, but she felt too awkward to help him out. He was so nice and so right for any girl. She almost hated herself for not returning his feelings.

“Alright then,” he replied. “Meredith looks like she’s going to go Bridezilla soon. You should get back in there.”

Dylan glanced back through the window and waved at Meredith’s nagging glare. “Yikes. I have to go,” she said to Michael, before practically sprinting back into the store.

Back inside, Meredith grinned. “He won’t give up, will he?”

“He hasn’t even started,” Dylan answered with a smirk. “He’s too shy to even begin.”

“Would you go out with him?”

“I know I should, but
—” Dylan shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t force feelings you don’t have,” Meredith warned. “You’ll just hurt him more in the end.”

Dylan nodded as she put on her shoes. “I know.”

Linda didn’t leave very often, but, when she did, she was well aware that the boys would stay in and drink themselves stupid. She didn’t mind this now. Just the thought that they were noisily filling up her home once again sent warm feelings through her heart.

Charlie passed around bottles of beer as they all relaxed in the living room. With everyone present, even Ben, Dylan knew this was going to be a long night full of boozing and vulgar language.

“Where’s Mom at anyway?” Jonah asked, sitting on the couch with his legs stretched out into the middle of the room.

“She went out with a few friends,” Brandon answered. He slapped Charlie on the back of the head. “Use a coaster.”

“Isn’t Michael coming?” Dylan asked. 

“Who invited Oilie?” Ben asked with a scowl.

“I did,” Charlie announced. “He likes Weed. I thought I’d help him out.”
             

“That idiot? Seriously?” Ben snapped, catching himself immediately after. His voice grew calmer, as he asked, “You want your sister with that guy?”

“Why not?” asked Hugh. “He’s a good guy. Successful.”

“He owns a bar,” Ben half-laughed, choking on his resentment. “I wouldn’t call that successful.”

Dylan sighed and rolled her eyes. “Why is this in discussion right now?”

“Because we want you to date Olerson, that’s why,” Jonah teased.

The doorbell rang, causing Dylan to jump to her feet and Ben’s throat to tighten. She turned and scolded her brothers and Ben at the same time. “Behave,” she warned, before heading to the front door.

She returned with Michael in tow, smiling as everyone, all except Ben, greeted him loudly. Ben wouldn’t lower himself to say hello; there was simply no point in acting as if you liked someone you despised.

Dylan sat down on the floor beside Brandon. Ben watched as she stretched out in front of him. He wanted to punch Michael in the face when he realized that, like him, he too was admiring her long, tan legs.

The group sat and chatted for hours, drinking until the beer was just about gone. They had a lot to catch up on and they knew that for certain. The fond feeling of history repeating seemed to hang over them all as they all understood that these times didn’t come as often as they should.

This was their club in a way. Once a group of boys that would build pipe bombs and ramps in the garage, they were now a camaraderie of men that had history like no other and a bond that could never be broken.

Despite the lack of blood, Ben was just as much a part of this brotherhood as Jonah or the rest. This was his family as well, but Ben looked at Dylan in such a different light. Could he go that far and get away with it? No. He knew the answer; he could not.

The more that Ben drank, the more irritated he seemed to be at Michael’s presence. Every so often he would glare over to where Michael and Dylan sat, exiled from the reminiscent conversations and forced to come up with their own topics of discussion.

The night came and consumed the desert sky with black. Michael looked out the window and Ben knew without a doubt his brain was in motion. This would be the moment the asshole would turn to Dylan and suggest a walk or something romantic like that, Ben thought.