Mean Season (24 page)

To Those Who Wait

I
put in a call to Max's parents on Wednesday when I got home from work, and I left word that I'd be around our house all evening. I couldn't wait to see him, but of course, I'd have to. I didn't know when he was supposed to arrive back from New York.

Wednesday had been one of those unseasonably cool days, but bright, almost like the beginning of fall, and we'd kept the curtains open and shades wrenched up to burn the place full of light without heat. I'd been home from work a while, had eaten dinner and watched a little television, and the sun was finally sinking. I considered drawing the curtains again, but didn't make a move to.

Whoever the man in the window had been, he hadn't returned. I restored the ladder in our shed and tried to forget everything new—my brief hope and the thought of Vince dead in Kansas. I just didn't have the energy.

A little past eight, Momma left to pick up Beau Ray from the bus from Elkins. Joshua and I were sitting on the long couch, watching television. I asked him if he'd rather read a script, but he said he was bored with scripts. I asked him if he'd prefer a book, but he said he was bored with books, too.

“But I was thinking, Leanne,” he said.

“Yeah? What? Cards?”

“I was thinking that I'd like to try kissing you,” Joshua Reed said.

Had I heard him right? But I knew I'd heard him right. And part of me started smiling all over, even as I tried my best to hold it in.

“What?” I asked.

So he said it again, only slower, like a grammar lesson on the parts of speech. “I'd. Like. To kiss. You.”

I looked at him as hard as I could. I tried to see him as though I hadn't seen him a thousand times before. “I can't tell if you're acting,” I said.

“Oh, come on. I'm not that good an actor,” he said. He looked at me. Oh, how he had gorgeous eyes.

“Yeah, you are,” I told him.

He smiled. “Now I want to kiss you even more,” he said.

“Why?” I asked. I wanted to hear him explain it.

“I don't know why,” he said. “I'm an experiential guy. I just want to. I like you. You've got such sweet brown eyes.”

“You're bored,” I said.

“Maybe,” he agreed.

“And a little lonely,” I said.

He nodded. “Could be.”

“And first your supermodel girlfriend went and dumped you,” I pointed out. “And then I ruined your chances with Christy and Marsha—”

“Who?” he asked.

“Exactly.” I waited for him to remember.

“Oh. Them. Yeah, you did,” he said.

“And now Charlene's off and left you in the dust,” I said.

“Leanne, are you trying to flatter me?”

“I'm only saying that when you met me, you thought I was a hick. You called me a fucking hick.” I froze. I hadn't planned to say it, but my voice had rushed ahead of my mind. “I heard you,” I said, more quietly.

Joshua nodded. He looked down at the couch and his hands.

“And ditzy,” I added.

“No,” he said, cutting me off. “I only expected you to be ditzy. I told you I thought you were smart. And I'm sorry about the rest. Really. I was an ass.”

I wasn't ready to let go yet. “But you're stuck in my house, and you want something to do and Sandy won't touch you so why not Leanne, right? Plus, you'd be getting back at Judy for sending Charlene away.” I felt myself getting pissed at him, for all those reasons, and even for his pretty green eyes.

“You're the one who'd be getting back at Judy,” he said, and I was a little embarrassed. He was right on that score. Part of me did want to kiss Joshua for that reason alone. “But I can see your point. A lot of that is probably right. I like the way Sandy looks, sure. But I like who you
are.
And how you look. It's different. I know you. But I don't see us traipsing off together—you know, in part because I can't leave your house, but also—for all sorts of reasons. I'm not a good traipser, I guess. I don't want to fuck with you, Leanne. You've been good to me. I don't want to ruin that.”

“Then don't,” I said.

He nodded. I nodded, too.

“I guess that settles it,” I said. I got up off the couch and stretched my legs. Part of me knew that this had been my chance. There was a high road, and I had taken it and as much as I knew it was right, I also knew that I was sorely tempted. Besides, it was just one kiss, and Max still hadn't called. And right doesn't always feel right, in the middle of any single
moment. Even an internal compass needs calibration now and again.

“But—” Joshua said. He looked up at me.

“But what?” I asked him.

He took hold of my hand. “I still want to. Sorry.” He smiled. “Oh, come on. Don't you want to, at least a little bit? Just once? Just for kicks?”

“Maybe. Part of me might,” I admitted. “Only I don't think I want to be any closer to your life. I don't think I really like your life.”

“I don't like a lot of it either,” he said. “And I don't mean the part about being stuck in Pinecob. Maybe if I'd grown up around here, I'd be more like you. I'd be content.”

“Content or resigned?” I asked. “Or complacent?”

“Don't say that. You don't mean that, do you?” He actually sounded worried.

“Of course not,” I said, but it rang false to me. I wasn't the actor that he was. I wasn't content with what I had. Not anymore at least.

He nodded. I thought I heard a car door and turned toward the window. But it was light inside and dark out and I couldn't see a thing. It could have been Momma. It could have been a neighbor or a television van. It could have been some mad fan or Vince or a stranger or no one at all.

“You hear that?” I asked. “I think someone's outside.”

“Nothing,” he said. “My heart, maybe. Don't change the subject.”

“I'm not. I thought I heard something. Maybe Momma's back.”

“Come on. Just one kiss? I won't be able to sleep.” He was still holding my hand, and I let him pull me beside him on the couch. “You can pretend it's acting if you want. Pretend you're on a stage. Or I'm Colin Ashcroft and you're Miranda.”

“Why would I do that?”

“You liked Colin Ashcroft, didn't you?”

“Of course. But that was years ago. And you're not Colin Ashcroft,” I said. “I mean, you know what I mean.”

He kept looking at me. “One. Kiss,” he said. He put a finger on my lips and traced around them. I'll admit it felt good.

“You don't get turned down much, do you?” I asked.

He shook his head.

“I don't know,” I said. “This is weird.”

He smiled and stared at my mouth.

“I'm too self-conscious,” I said.

He didn't say anything, but put a hand on the back of my neck and moved me closer.

“This is crazy,” I said. I realized that I was the only one talking, and thought I'd better shut up before I said something really stupid or bit him by mistake. I looked at him in the eyes, then looked at his lips, then swallowed.

“Shh,” he said, and he kissed me.

Joshua Reed kissed me. Joshua Reed, movie star. I barely remembered to close my eyes. It was sweet and light and lasted for just a few seconds. Then he pulled away and smiled at me again.

“Nice,” he said. “Thanks. Now I know.”

He got up, went into the kitchen, and brought me a mug of ice cream. We sat on the couch and watched the end of
Cool Hand Luke.
That was it.

 

Max hadn't called by the time Momma got home with Beau Ray. And he didn't call after that, either. Or on Thursday, even though he had said he would before heading to L.A. There was no sign of him around the house, and no messages on the answering machine. I figured Joshua might know if Max had left or not, but I didn't want to ask him.

The upside is the kiss. The downside comes afterward, when you realize you can't launch into the same conversa
tions as before. After a kiss, you can find yourself in that deserted place—where even if it's not leading to anything, you and the other person have both admitted something that tugs at the friendship, pulling it out of shape. Either you plunge forward and start to date and through that, keep talking, or you sneak backward and pretend like it never happened. But backward takes a little time, and while you're waiting, it feels weird to ask questions like, “Do you know where Max is?”

What I'm trying to say is that, having kissed Joshua—or been kissed by Joshua—I suddenly felt naked or obvious on the subject of Max. It's stupid, I know, because it's not as if I thought that one kiss meant that Joshua Reed and I were an item. The opposite, maybe. I knew we weren't.

Still, one kiss from Max and that's exactly what I'd thought. But there was so much more history there. Max had been so long coming. Joshua's kiss was because I could and because he asked. Max's kiss was for everything that had gone before—and that was a lot. And so it stung something sharp to think that Max had not stopped by or at least called. It stung and ached at the same time.

On Thursday midmorning, I made Beau Ray call Max's parents' house, and they said what I had started to suspect, that Max had left for California a few hours before. I listened in on Momma's extension. “He got on a plane with that Judy woman,” Mrs. Campbell said. She didn't sound too happy about it.

I told myself that he was probably really busy. I told myself that Judy might be miffed at me and making it hard for him to get to a phone. Or maybe Charlene's appeal had suddenly grown stronger in the midst of all those California strangers. I didn't really know what to tell myself, though. Even Sandy didn't have any good suggestions. Of course I didn't have to decide anything right then. There was nothing
to
decide. I didn't have any choices left.

Max finally called about a week later. I say that like I don't know exactly how long it had been—but of course, I know—it was six days. Six days after he'd left without calling. Ten days after Beau Ray's birthday when he'd kissed me and I'd kissed him back in the trees at the edge of our yard. He called on a Wednesday. Right around ten in the morning.

I was surprised to hear his voice—I was just getting back on kilter, but that's what guys do. They use some sixth guy sense to know exactly when you've almost hauled yourself back to dry land, and then they show up and take you down with them, one more time. I don't mean to say that Max called when he did because he was a typical guy, but it was striking. That Wednesday was the first day I'd gotten out of bed without thinking of him first.

I heard Beau Ray telling a story about physical therapy, but I figured it was Susan or maybe even Tommy, apologizing for missing Beau Ray's birthday. I wandered into the kitchen, and Beau Ray said “yeah, she's here,” and handed me the phone. Max sounded so close, it made me well up and my stomach go all fluttery.

“It's you,” I said. “Are you still in California?”

“Yup,” he said. “You know, they really do have palm trees everywhere.”

“Are you still testing?”

“The testing is over. I guess you could say I'm being graded now. A lot of waiting. Maybe I have a couple meetings. But it's still early in the morning here. I haven't talked to Judy yet today.”

“You seeing her a lot?” I asked him.

“Some,” he said. “She explains things better than Sasha. He just tells me to show up places, but doesn't say why or what I should expect. It's kind of annoying.”

“You don't sound like you're suffering,” I said. I meant it as a joke.

“Neither do you, Leanne.” The words came out of him sharper than I expected. He didn't sound like he was joking.

“Oh, you know,” I said, not sure how to respond. He sounded different. “It's all the same stuff out here.”

“I'll bet.”

“So have you seen Charlene?”

“Sure,” he said.

“She still out there?” I asked. I hated hearing my voice get all pleady.

“Yeah. I don't think she'll ever go back. She thinks she was made for California,” he said. “Listen, I just called because, well, I said I would and I don't know when I'll be back in Pinecob.”

“You don't?” I asked him. “I mean, is that like a week or a month…”

“I don't know. I didn't want to, you know, mislead you.”

“What about your job?” I asked him, my words rushing all together.

“I quit.”

I felt hollow, hearing him say that. Half his life at the Winn-Dixie and he'd up and quit, no notice. I didn't know what else to say after that, so I told him that I had to be going. I lied and said that a pot on the stove was boiling over. Of course, when I hung up, I sat there. The pot and I, we were both empty.

 

I started to get over it, him. You do that. You have to. Vince was dead in Kansas and Max was gone to California, so what could I do but get up and go to work like I was supposed to? I registered for the fall semester of extension classes. I invited the guys over for a movie with Joshua. I took Beau Ray to get his hair cut, and got my own trimmed as well. I even brought Beau Ray to the Buccaneer one night, when Lionel and Scooter were there. I was glad that none of them knew about me and Max and the kiss in the trees behind our backyard. It made things easier when his name came up.

Not that Lionel would have noticed. He was all over Max's cousin Lisa, who had visited from Roanoke a few times in the previous weeks, and not to see Joshua it seemed. And Scooter wouldn't have noticed—he had set his sights on Loreen, having heard a rumor that Sandy was seriously involved with someone in Hagerstown. But hanging out with that crowd felt different than it had before. It didn't feel like home any longer, and set me to brooding something awful.