Contessa (40 page)

“
I was going to help you with the dishes.
”

“
I
’
ll get those later. I don
’
t want to waste our time doing mundane household chores.
”

“
Okay,
”
I say, stalling.
“
Then what are we going to do to kill the next four hours?
”

“
About that,
”
he starts, walking back to the kitchen table and taking his seat again. He pats my chair, signaling for me to sit back down.
“
I was just as surprised to hear that as you were. I swear.
”

“
I believe you. I
’
m not sure what that means, though.
”

“
It just means we
’
re left to entertain ourselves. Don
’
t let that frighten you. We have a ton of options, many of which don
’
t even involve hanging around here.
”

“
Like what?
”

“
Do you like to ice skate? We could get a cab to Rockefeller.
”

“
Have you looked out the window lately? The snow
’
s really picked up, and just in case you couldn
’
t tell, I
’
m not exactly dressed for outdoor activities.
”

He glances down at my bare legs and smiles.
“
No, you
’
re not. We could do our regular Saturday night date, and go to a movie. Or go to a café and talk?
”

“
Just tell me you have no expectations tonight, and I think I can relax and we can stay here. I don
’
t really want to go out in the weather.
”

“
Zero expectations, Liv. If I had planned this or had any expectations, I would have had my brothers pick up their side of the room. It
’
s a death trap, walking around in there. I will not risk your life tonight.
”

“
Okay then. Do you have any movies or anything?
”
I look around the living room and don
’
t even see a television.
“
Or maybe not.
”

“
There
’
s a little TV in our room. I have to be honest, this main room gets very little use. Mom
’
s normally in her room or at work, the boys are playing in our room, and I
’
m down the street at the library or out with you. Honestly, we haven
’
t had dinner at that table in months.
”

“
Oh. Can I ask why Santa skipped your house last year?
”

“
Mom didn
’
t have the money. She didn
’
t bother to tell me, either, so it was a pretty crappy thing to wake up to on Christmas day, with both of my brothers crying. I would have found a way to get something for them, or refrained from letting them unwrap the presents I gave them on Christmas Eve.
”

“
But this year?
”

“
I
’
ve got a few things for them–the mitt included. Mom says she
’
ll do something, but she
’
s not the most reliable.
”

“
I don
’
t mean to overstep my boundaries here, but my parents donate tons of presents to kids every year. I
’
m sure they–
”

“
Livvy, stop.
”
I look at him, biting my tongue.
“
We don
’
t need your charity, okay?
”

“
It
’
s not charity. You
’
re a part of my life, Jon. That makes them a part of my life, too.
”

“
Your parents don
’
t need to be involved at all, though. This is one of those things you don
’
t need to tell them about. Can you do that for me?
”

“
I guess so.
”

“
I
’
d really appreciate it. I know you
’
re just trying to help.
”

I nod at him.

“
I don
’
t ever want your family thinking I can
’
t handle things in my life. That shows weakness. I don
’
t want them to see that in me.
”

“
Jon, they don
’
t. But you don
’
t have to do everything on your own, you know? You should still be able to enjoy your childhood a little, too.
”

“
No. That luxury was taken away from me years ago. Hey, don
’
t feel sad for me. I don
’
t mind. I love my brothers, and I love the role I play in their lives. Better me than their dad.
”

“
You
’
re such a grown-up,
”
I tease him.

“
Yeah, yeah,
”
he brushes off my compliment.
“
Want a tour of the place?
”

“
Sure.
”

I follow him to his mother
’
s room. He opens the door, but stands in the way, blocking the entrance. Her room is cluttered and very unorganized. I was never allowed to let my room get that messy, and can
’
t even begin to imagine one of my parents living in a room like that.
“
Don
’
t tell her I showed you this.
”

“
My lips are sealed.
”

“
You
’
ve seen the living room,
”
he says on his way through it to the other bedroom. He opens the door and walks in, showing me the small room he shares with his brothers. He has a twin-sized bed on one side, and his brothers have bunk beds on the other side.

There are a bunch of cars on the lower bunk and a mound of old wooden blocks all over the left side of the room. Jon
’
s side is neat and organized.

“
Desk, bed, closet,
”
he says, pointing
out
everything in the small room.
“
Nothing fancy.
”
I walk past him and sit down on his bed, looking out the window that seems to shudder when the wind blows. I can feel cold air seeping through with every gust.

“
How do you stay warm in here at night?
”

“
Blankets,
”
he says nonchalantly.
“
Sometimes, we
’
ll sleep in the living room, though, when it
’
s too cold. There
’
s a furnace in there. That
’
s the only good thing about living on the top floor of this old building.
”

“
Wow.
”
I can remember a few nights when the electricity went out at my house when I was much younger. It was extremely cold, and until my dad finally got a back-up generator, my parents would let me sleep in the middle of their bed with a fire lit in the fireplace. Those were fun nights.

“
You cold?
”
he asks.

“
Yeah, a little.
”

“
Let
’
s go back in the living room. I
’
ll light the furnace and we can grab a blanket or two.
”

“
Will you continue to live here, when you go to Columbia?
”

“
If
I go...
”
he corrects me.

“
When
,
”
I state with a smile. He grins at me, setting a large quilt on the floor in front of the furnace and bringing in two pillows and two blankets from his bed. My stomach gets jittery, watching him set up a little
makeshift
lounge area.

“
All freshmen have to live on campus.
I
’
d have a roommate. Man,
I can
’
t wait to have my own room. I can
’
t even begin to imagine what that
’
s like. Privacy? What
’
s that?
”

We both look at one another from across the room.
“
This,
”
we say in unison.

“
Right.
”
He laughs as he turns on some music.
“
So this is how my brothers typically sleep on really cold nights.
”
He takes a seat on the quilt and holds his hand out for me to join him.

“
Oh, my dad would kill me.
”

“
Your dad won
’
t know, and we
’
re not doing anything wrong.
”

“
Nope,
”
I say as I sit down next to him, trying to be ladylike in my skirt. I bend my legs and sit with my feet to the side. Jon hands me my own blanket.

“
Better?
”

“
Yeah. It
’
s nice.
”

“
Can we talk about Christmas presents?
”
he asks.

“
Yeah, I was meaning to ask you, and don
’
t ask why, but what
’
s your middle name?
”

“
Augustus.
”

“
Wow. Sounds important. Family name?
”

“
My dad was fascinated by Roman culture,
”
he says.
“
Jonathan
’
s the family name. I
’
m named after my mother
’
s brother. He died when he was three of some rare birth defect.
”

“
How sad.
”

“
Yeah. But when he was born, they gave him three
months
to live. He proved a lot of doctors wrong. He was a strong-willed little kid, they said. I lived up to that expectation.
”

“
Yeah, you
’
re pretty strong-willed, Jonathan Augustus Scott.
”

“
Why
’
d you want to know?
”

“
I told you not to ask. It
’
s nothing. You
’
ll see when you come over on Wednesday.
”

“
So can I show you one of your presents?
”

“
I thought we
’
d wait until Wednesday to exchange gifts. I didn
’
t bring yours–except your ornament.
”

“
Ummm. I
’
d rather do it while we
’
re alone, and take advantage of this rare opportunity.
”

“
Oh. Well, what is it?
”
Again, I get butterflies in anticipation. He starts to unbutton his outer shirt.
“
Wait,
”
I tell him, putting my hand over his.

“
Just trust me,
”
he says.
“
Do you want to see your present or not?
”

“
I
’
m not sure, what is it?
”