Schooled (20 page)

“Miss Garrity,” he nodded at me, apparently too good or too cocky to actually use a real greeting. “What up Briggs? You’re here early. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you spent the night here.” He laughed and put his hand in the air, expecting a high-five from Briggs. Ignoring his hand, Briggs got up and handed him his keys.

“The clubs are in the back.” He walked with Vince to the car.

Vince yelled over his shoulder loud enough so I could hear, “And I do know better, cuz I stopped at your apartment last night dude, and you weren’t there.” He turned around, faced me, and made a crass humping gesture.

Briggs grabbed him by the back of his shirt, shoved him toward the car, and said, “Just get the clubs and go, man. Fucking grow up.”

After Vince got the golf clubs and left, Briggs came back toward me, and said, “I’m sorry; he really is a good guy, harmless really.”

He sat down on the bottom step of the porch, leaning back against me. I rubbed his shoulders, kissed his ear, and said, “Not so much, he really is a fucking schmuck.” Briggs laughed, took hold of one my hands, and kissed the back of my hand.

“Yeah maybe you’re right,” he agreed.

Briggs and I piecemealed together something remotely resembling a brunch; we ate out by the pool. He begged to go skinny-dipping with me. I was not about to get naked in my brother’s pool in broad daylight at 12:00 noon. Reluctantly, he digressed and admitted that it probably wasn’t the best idea.

After cleaning up our dishes and glasses, I told Briggs that I had things to do and errands to run. I had to get to the grocery store, or I was going to starve to death. He offered to tag along, but with Vince’s reaction to our newfound friendship, I was fairly certain that a platonic trip the local grocery store wasn’t a great idea either. Briggs wouldn’t leave without my vow that I’d see him later that night. I even promised that I would have an extra-special, sexy-surprise for him, better than the teacher’s bra and panty set. That did it. He left eagerly, actually counted the eight hours and forty minutes until he saw me again.

Once I cleaned the pool house, went to the grocery story, and tried to write my Madonna musical for a while, I decided I needed a break. Lying on a raft in the middle of the pool reading a book, I was oblivious to the world around me. I was certain that I had died and gone to Heaven. It was the first time all summer that I was experiencing the euphoria and relaxation of summer vacation. Maybe four orgasms in twelve hours did that to a woman. I didn’t know, but I did know that I was peaceful and complacent.

Beginning to doze off, a book resting on my stomach, I heard, “I hope you have sunscreen on.” Startling me, causing me to jump up, I fell off the raft, splashing entirely in the water.

Resurfacing, I yelled, “Leo Cling, you son of a…” Soaking wet, I exited the pool with my book dripping wet. “Are you some kind of sunblock bounty hunter?” I grumbled.

“Oh shit, I didn’t mean to ruin your book. My bad.” He grabbed the book from me and began drying it off.

“Really? Really? You’re more concerned with my chick-lit novel than if I’m alright,” I questioned him, feigning annoyance and anger. “Oh wait, that’s right, you’re a chick-lit closet case.”

Smile fading, dimples disappearing, he said, “Closet case? That’s real nice, make fun of the virgin, he has to be gay if he isn’t screwing everything with legs.” He turned to walk away.

Shit. I was only kidding. “Leo! Wait,” I yelled after him. “I was just playing, no seriously, wait.” I felt horribly, by no means did I want to offend him or hurt him.

Turning around laughing, he said, “Gotcha, we’re even.”

“Not even close,” I argued, “you ruined my book. It was just getting good too.” Pouting, I sat down on the chaise and tried to salvage my book. Useless.

“Yeah, looks like a riveting one,” he joked. It was good. Granted, it was the third time I’d read it, but it was still good. I couldn’t argue that Chelsea Handler books were all that literary, but they cracked me up. I enjoyed every one of them.

“Oh, I’m sure. Ya teaching that author in your class these days?” He asked sarcastically.

“Yes Leo, I’m now teaching Chelsea Handler’s art of sarcasm and satire. Turns out, this fall, you’re my first guest speaker.” He laughed, sitting down next to me. “Shouldn’t you be at work?” I asked, faking annoyance.

“Our offices are closed today and tomorrow for some company golf tournament,” he explained.

“Why didn’t you go?” I asked. He should be embracing this just-out-of-college bachelorhood.

“Since I’ m new, I missed the sign up; all the teams were formed already,” he shrugged, not seeming to care. “I didn’t wanna sit around all day in a golf cart, drinking when they don’t really know me yet.” He had a point; it was good for new employees to be a little reserved at first. But soon, he’d need to loosen up and start making some work friends. “I don’t know; I may stop by tomorrow.”

“I think you should go for sure; make some friends,” I said, smiling at him. He was so good looking. I couldn’t wrap my brain around the fact that he was single.

“Miss Garrity, can I ask you something?” He suddenly seemed very serious. “What do you think sounds more me, a big lake and lots of land, or a wooded area with a lot of wildlife and privacy?”

What a strange question! Certainly not a question I’d predict. “Before I answer that,” I said, “Can you please start calling me ‘Janelle;’ you’re not in my class anymore.”

He blushed, dimples bigger than ever, and said, “I could never call you ‘Janelle.”

After some coaxing and convincing, he agreed to give “Janelle” a shot, but I wasn’t all that confident he’d actually be able to use it. “Well Leo, I guess I can see you in both. You’re pretty reserved and quiet, like a man who’d live out in the woods, outdoorsy,” I explained. “But, I can also see you married with kids, playing in the lake, ice skating in the winter, big picnics with baseball teams out on the land.”

“That’s the problem,” he whined. “I want both, but can only afford one.” Ahhh, he was deciding between two houses; he’d told me the first day he stopped over that he was looking for a house to buy. I couldn’t believe he was so young and ready to purchase a home. He really had his shit together. When I was his age, five years ago, I was drowning in credit card debt and student loans. I wouldn’t have survived if Jasper hadn’t taken over.

“When you’re in each house, which one feels like home, which one can you visualize yourself in more?” I asked, trying to help him solve his dilemma.

“Both, seriously both. I can’t decide.” He seemed truly torn. Deciding between two equally perfect things, so different, but still perfect in every way, was a tortuous and grueling task. “Well thanks anyway Miss Garrity, I’d better get back to work; your brother is going to think I am a total slacker.”

He stood up to leave. I shielded the sun from my eyes to look at him; he seemed to always be standing in the sunlight, with a halo of rays surrounding him. Angelic. How was this guy single? I never wondered why Briggs was single; he just never appeared to be a one-woman man. Briggs’ bachelorhood was by choice, I was certain. Leo, well Leo needed to find the right woman, the forever woman.

“Hey Leo, it’s ‘Janelle,’ remember?” I laughed, putting in my earbuds and lying back on the chaise. I waved and closed my eyes, smiling.

“Hey Janelle,” he called, emphasizing my name. I looked up again, and took out one earbud, waiting. “Sunscreen, remember?” He admonished and tossed the tube to me. I laughed, grabbed it, and used a little on my face and chest before reclining back down.

I stayed out in the sun for a little over an hour; then decided to go inside for a bite to eat. I still had plenty of time before Briggs was due back over; there was time to kill. As I started up the walk to the front of the house, Leo stopped me and asked if I’d want to go check out the two houses with him once he finished up.

Leo hit my soft spot; I loved touring houses. I told him that I’d love to and would be back out after I showered the lotion off and changed clothes. I showered quickly, not wanting to make him wait, happy that I’d already enjoyed quite a lengthy shower that morning. Braiding two fishtails braids down my back and slipping into my favorite one-piece teal romper, I was ready to go. The sun had pinked my cheeks, the best thing about summer, not wearing makeup other than a little mascara.

Walking out the door, Leo was waiting on the porch for me. Leo’d never been the ladies’ man, but the way he looked at me at that moment, I questioned his overall degree of innocence. Suddenly, I felt self-conscious, nervous, and very flushed. Places were twitching; I looked at my cell phone. I had three hours until Briggs arrived.

“Miss Garrity, uhh, Janelle,” he stood staring at me with a look of appraisal. “You may never wanna wear that, that thing either in front of your students.” He blushed, shaking his head.

“Leo, first of all, I’d never wear shorts and a tank top romper to school,” I explained. “Secondly, why? What’s wrong with it; it covers everything. Not short, not revealing, what?” I asked.

Not taking his eyes off my legs, “Uh, that’s easy; you look, um, great, hot, in it.” He said, his voice raspy. Well, well, well, looks like Leo was noticing. I hadn’t even planned to make him notice. Hmmm, very interesting, very very interesting.

******

Driving back from looking at the houses, I said, “You got big problems, big problems.”

“I know; this sucks. How can I decide?” He asked, more to himself than to me.

“I don’t know, Leo, just keep stopping back, weigh the pros and cons.” I answered. The houses were both perfect, a perfect fit for him.

“I don’t see the cons,” he whined, banging his head on the headrest. He was adorable. He was so mature, so manly, but he had childish tendencies that were charming and sweet. However, he was 100% right; I didn’t see the cons either. Choosing one would be very difficult, impossible really. But he had to make a choice; he couldn’t have two houses. People didn’t really have two houses.

The first house, a cabin in the woods, looked like a modern-day Thoreau hideaway. It was simple, but serene and quiet. Everything was rustic, raw, with untouched wood. The whole house had secret cubbies and hidden little rooms. The stairway was small, hidden off the kitchen; one had to go through an unassuming doorway to find it. One bedroom was small, loft-like with low ceilings, mysterious; the only way to it was a ladder up the hallway wall. I pictured two little boys sharing it, telling ghost stories at night, hidden under blankets with flashlights. Another bedroom, close to the master bedroom, was narrow, and long, with vaulted ceilings and small cubbies and cutouts. Immediately, I wanted to put a pink canopy bed in the corner, build a window seat and fill it with stuffed animals and baby dolls. It could be a little girl’s make-believe castle, a pretend world of fairies and princesses. The master bedroom was simple, efficient, nothing to ooh and ahh over. But the master bath had a double-sized old-fashioned footed bathtub, sitting in the middle of the bathroom, begging to be filled with water and bubbles and soaked in for hours.

The outside was heavily wooded, with trails leading every which way, waiting to be explored. There were two decks off the back and side of the cabin, at two separate levels. A small staircase, curved, joining the two decks. The decks weren’t enormous, but big enough for a family to eat their dinner overlooking the woods, hoping to see wildlife run by. I could picture hammocks set up between the wooden pillars, and rocking chairs haphazardly placed about the decks. The previous family must have had children, because off the highest point of the deck was a zipline, for kids, maybe even adults, to soar from the top deck to one of the trails in the woods. Leo and I were both dying to do it, but we questioned its overall safety. He promised that if he purchased the cabin, he’d safely secure the zipline, and I could be the second person to zip through his woods.

“Why, can’t I go first, selfish?” I asked him, pouting, hoping to get my way.

“I’m not selfish; if you think I’d send you down that thing without testing its durability first, then you’re nuts,” he explained, looking at me with concern. “I could never sit back and watch you get hurt.”

Leo said things like that without weighing the magnitude of what he was saying. He was so serious about caring for people, but fun-loving and witty at the same time. I’d never met anyone like him before. He intrigued me. With Briggs, what you saw was what you got, but he could surprise you at times too. With Leo, everything was a mystery, but he was so secure and stable too. They were paradoxes that I couldn’t quite understand.

The second house, the lake house, was on acres of land with a lake in the far back corner of the property. This house screamed friends, families, get-togethers. Pulling down the long drive back toward the house and lake, I could picture large picnics with entire soccer team families playing all throughout the land. The previous family wasn’t taking any of their outdoor recreational equipment with them, leaving paddle boats, a canoe, a playset, a trampoline, and four picnic tables for the new owners to enjoy. Walking back along the lake, it felt like vacation, an escape from reality.

The inside of the house was new, open, airy, spacious, floor to ceiling windows throughout. It was a home to be proud of, to invite friends over, proving your financial status in life. The countertops were granite, white crown molding topped the edge of each wall, and the ceramic tiled floors were immaculate and flawless. The bedrooms and closets were large and open, but the master bedroom was breath-taking. The entire back wall of the bedroom was glass, revealing a magnificent view of the lake and property. French doors led out to a small deck, overlooking the lake. The bedroom would act as an oasis, a getaway from kids and guests when a couple wanted an out.

I didn’t know how Leo would ever choose between the two houses, seemed like a daunting, grueling chore. How could he choose, when each one was entirely perfect on its own, but so dissimilar from the other? What one house lacked, the other possessed, and vice versa.