Feeling This (23 page)

The lake spans a good quarter mile. Nestled
next to it with a branch out over a cove is a tall white ash. Mr. Bruin
fastened a swing to the branch years ago. Jenna and I used to come out while we
were still in high school and swim on days like this laying lazily in the grass
to soak up the sun’s rays and swimming in the lake. The boys are already
climbing the makeshift ladder leading up to the swing.

I call out to deaf ears, “Careful boys.”

Michael makes it up first, grasps the
knotted rope and flies through the air yelling. He lets go and splashes into
the murky water below. Martin follows and I wince as he falls nearly on top of
his brother. They swim to the bank and hurry up to me. Martin pleads, “Come
swing with us Kimber.”

I shake my head looking across the lake.
Suddenly I’m self- conscious, afraid Jordan is near-by. I don’t spot anyone but
I’m still leery. I tell him as his brother runs back to the tree, “In a little
while, maybe I’ll swing with you.”

This seems to satisfy him because he runs
to the tree calling, “No fair Michael. I was tryin’ ta get Kimber ta come. You
promised ta wait.”

Michael is soaring through the air before
his brother is half way up. I lean back further and watch across the lake as a
figure comes into focus. He’s walking this way and I already know just from the
broad shape and beautifully sculpted bare chest who it is. I was up close and
personal with that chest last night. He comes closer to the other side of the
lake but he’s looking down. Beautiful is the first word that comes to mind when
I look across the lake at him. The sweat glistens off his chest when the sun
hits it just right. I want to touch that chest and taste the saltiness. He
glances up as if he can hear my thoughts. A pink blush spreads across my cheeks
and I look away embarrassed that he saw me gawking. What is Jordan Rhodes doing
to me? Sadness spreads through my middle, it seemed I was a conquest that he
conquered, now he wants nothing to do with me. He stops and stares at me as if
in contemplation. When he starts walking again, he angles as if he’s going to
walk around the lake instead of pass it by. My heart speeds up that he might be
headed this way. I brace myself and conjure up a speech that will make my point
to him.

Suddenly he stops and looks down. He starts
talking on his phone. He looks ahead and the expression on his face turns from
bothered to concerned. When he hangs up he glances over at me looking ashamed.
He starts walking again, right past us to the barn.

What the hell? I was convinced he was on
his way over here. Now he’s done it again. For the third time his actions speak
volumes louder than his words. I’m done with Jordan Rhodes. You can only burn
me so many times before I’m finished with you. An involuntary ache finds a
place in my chest. I get up and start to climb the ladder up the tree. Both
boys are just climbing up the bank. They stand up cheering, “Yay, Kimber’s
gonna jump!”

The rest of the day I turn my emotions off.
Jordan Rhodes isn’t getting another thought from me.

When I got home Momma was the usual,
complaining and whining about how horrible her life is. I couldn’t care though.
I was too deep wallowing in my own pain as much as I tried to push it away all
day. Rejection comes in many forms and I’ve endured it three times from the
same man.
When are you going to learn Kimber?

Later, I finally made it to the Duck. My
stomach was twisting in knots afraid he would be here. I was relieved when I
looked out over the parking lot and found that his car was missing. Later in
the night though, I felt no relief, more like frustration that he didn’t show.

Jordan

When I get to the motel my mom calls again
to make sure I’m actually coming home. As much as I don’t want to go back, I
have to. I’ve hurt Kimber too many times now. I have to get my head on straight
and tell her everything and see if she’ll take me back.

My drive back is quick. I have a plan now
so the sooner I can get whatever this is with Mr. Weller over with, the sooner
I can get back and apologize to Kimber.

When I pull into the circular drive in the
shadow of my parents’ two story house, I marvel at the sheer size of the place.
What a waste. They are gluttonous sometimes. I know they donate to charities
and such because it’s expected but why two people need a 7,000 square foot home
with six bedrooms is beyond me. I climb the stone steps leading up to an
expansive porch laden with rocking chairs, a hammock and a wicker couch on one
end. My mom steps out of the front door fully dressed and made up as if she is
on her way out to a party or something.

I lean down kissing her cheek mumbling, “Hi
Mom.”

She kisses my cheek and grabs my arms
embracing them in a semi-hug. She pulls back still clenching my arms and
exclaims, “You look well.”

I nod, not in the mood to talk, but she
doesn’t get the hint and gestures to the chairs across the porch calling back
into the house, “Maria, can you bring us some lemonade?”

I hear Maria call back, “Yes ma’am, be
right out.”

I fall into a rocking chair as she perches
on the edge of the couch across from me.

I’m still pissed that I had to drive back
for this.

 “What is it that Mr. Weller needs to tell
me that requires me to drive back here?”

She shifts uncomfortably and her voice
takes on a whiny tone, “Jordan, where have you been? I’ve been so worried about
you.”

She completely ignored my question which
annoys me further. I stand up just as Maria is coming out the door with a tray
laden full of cookies, glasses and a pitcher of lemonade. I start for the door
holding it open for her and mumble, “If you’ll excuse me.” 

I walk into the house toward my dad’s
study. Once in there I spot the mini-bar and pour myself a whiskey downing it
in one gulp. As I’m pouring my second glass, I eye my dad standing in the
doorway. He smiles warmly telling me, “Your mother said you just got here. How
are you?”

I grab the bottle and settle in a brown
leather chair nestled in the corner of the room.

“I’m good Dad. I guess as good as can be
expected.”

He looks toward the couch facing me as if
to ask if he can sit down. I dip my head giving him the go ahead. He sinks into
the new leather and looks up seriously as he clasps his hands. He explains,
“Your mom wanted me to come and talk to you. She invited the Wellers to dinner
tonight.”

I wait, taking another sip of the mind
numbing liquid. At this rate I’ll be drunk by the time the Wellers get here.
It’ll make anything he has to tell me more bearable, I’m sure.

My dad continues, “You need to understand
that this is hard for them. It’s difficult for them to come over here and talk
about Susan.”

I frown, staring down at the red Persian
carpet under my feet. Do they think this is easy for me? That it’s a fucking
walk in the park? Instead of voicing my thoughts, I look up at his waiting expression
and tell him, “Okay Dad.”

I pour more from the bottle and look away
pissed that I have to even be here. The expression on Kimber’s face when I
walked to the barn keeps replaying through my head. This shit is messed up. I’m
here to talk to my dead fiancé’s parents and the woman I want to be with is two
hours away, pissed at me.

My dad calls over his shoulder on his way
out the door, “Mom said dinner is at six. I suggest you stay sober.”

This makes my anger surface even more. I
set the glass down and take a long swig from the bottle, enjoying the numb as
it spreads. I’m such a screw up. I failed Susan, causing her to take her own
life and now I’ve been given a second chance and I dragged my feet, probably
losing it.

***

My mom’s distant voice sounds through my
head. I raise my hand to calm the spinning. The sound comes closer with
incessant nagging, “Jordan, wake up. The Wellers will be here within the hour.”

I squint in the dim light casting from the
setting sun through the blinds. My mom comes into focus, standing in the
doorway across the room. Her hands are on her hips and a disappointed
expression crosses her face. I close my eyes again, trying to ward off the
spin. Then I hear shuffling. My eyes open again to her face a few feet away and
an almost empty bottle is fitted between her fingers, “Did you drink this whole
thing? Jordan I think you might have a problem.”

I sit up straighter holding my head still
and disagree, “No, Mom, I’m fine. There’s still some left.”

She turns disgusted and calls back, “Go
clean yourself up, you smell like a bar.”

An hour later, I make my way back down the
stairs, clean from a shower with a fresh pair of jeans and a black t-shirt. I
follow the sound of voices to the living room. My head is killing me. Mr. and
Mrs. Weller are sitting on a cream couch in the middle of the room. My parents
are settled across from them on its twin. Mr. Weller and my dad both stand when
I enter the room. I head to the counter laden with bottles and a mini fridge
and stoop down to grasp a bottle of water from the fridge. I unscrew the cap
and drink almost the whole bottle. When I top it back with the cap I walk over and
shake Mr. Weller’s hand. The feelings in me that are surfacing at the sight of
her parents are making me uncomfortable. I wasn’t expecting my body’s reaction.
It’s as though a piece of me is suddenly missing.

I sink into a chair placed to the side of
the couches and listen as my parents make small talk with the Wellers. Finally,
after a little while their attention turns to me as my mother states, “Jordan
has been MIA these past weeks. We don’t know where he’s disappeared to but he
seems good.”

I hadn’t thought about it but I suddenly
don’t want to tell them where I’ve been. It’s as if Mount Vernon is a new life,
one not mixed with this one. I don’t want it to be tainted in any way by my
life here. I remain silent, hoping no one will probe about where I’ve been. I
know this is childish, I can’t hide forever.

Before anyone can ask anything more, Maria
comes in announcing dinner is ready. I follow both couples into the dining room
set with my mom’s fine china and crystal. I’m not comfortable being here in
these surroundings, I long to go back to Mount Vernon. Dinner stretches on but
I’m not going to be the one to bring up why I’m here. I have a feeling whatever
they need to tell me isn’t going to be something I want to hear.

Finally, my dad suggests we go back to the
living room for after dinner drinks. My headache has subsided by now so I pour
a small glass of whiskey. My mother’s disapproving look doesn’t go unnoticed
but I don’t care at this point. Once everyone else is settled in the central
area Mr. Weller speaks up,  “Jordan, why don’t you come and sit down?”

I settle on the edge of the chair and watch
as he pulls a folded envelope from his pocket. His fingers linger on it before
he holds it out to me. I hesitate a minute because I’m pretty sure I know what
it is. I turn it over in my hands, staring down at the unmistakable
handwriting, Susan’s. My heart stops as I turn the envelope in my hands, noting
it hasn’t been opened. I look up to Mr. Weller and he answers the question
before I have a chance to ask it.

“We found it on her desk the next morning.
I wanted to give it to you the day of the funeral but you weren’t ready. We
weren’t ready.”

He takes a deep breath as Mrs. Weller
reaches out to squeeze my hand momentarily.

“Jordan we knew about Susan. We’ve known
for a long time.”

I frown not understanding what he’s talking
about.

“We took her to see a doctor when she was
in high school. They diagnosed her as bi-polar. But we were assured as long as
she stayed on her medicine, that she would be able to handle it.”

My chest involuntarily heaves at his revelation.
They knew, they knew. I glare at him suddenly hating him as the night she did
it comes back to me, emphasizing his denial.

I argue, “But you told me that night there
was nothing wrong with her.”

“I know Jordan. She wanted to tell you. She
made us promise to let her tell you in her own time. This is why we wouldn’t
allow her to move in with you yet. We wanted to make sure she was taking her
medicine. We had a deal with her; when she told you, she would be free to go as
long as you agreed to help monitor her meds.”