The Understorey, Book One of The Leaving Series (30 page)

We finally got back onto the road and arrived
in Mauch Chunk in record time. When Jules dragged me through the
door I was overwhelmed by the amount of people despite the home
being one of the largest I’d ever ever stepped foot in.

    “No wonder everyone comes
here,” I whispered. “This isn’t your grandmother’s den.”

I finally got where Jules’ eccentricities
came from. We were at Jules’ aunt Isabel’s house. Isabel was her
mom’s sister. She was smart and cool and had a young heart.
 As we toured her home, I found so many interesting art pieces
hanging everywhere on her walls.

    “They’re all local,”
Isabel said, “except these.”

She pointed to an entire wall in her living
room and it was very apparent that it was Jules’ handiwork. Seeing
so many pieces together made me appreciate the incredible talent
that Jules possessed. I also noticed something else. Four of the
maybe fifteen paintings hanging on the walls were the ones we had
sold online to fund our trip to London. I pointed to them and Jules
just nodded.

    “I got these online,”
Isabel said smiling.
    “I should have guessed,” said Jules. “They were
sent to an office in downtown Philadelphia and I never put two and
two together.”
Jules’ aunt Isabel was an attorney and must have had them delivered
to her law office.
    “Thank you Isabel,” Jules said with
gratitude.
    “You’re mom told me what you two were doing and
I couldn’t resist, besides, I get the most generous compliments
from the guests who see them. So are you guys ready for London?”
She asked.
    “Uhhh,” Jules hesitated, “no, unfortunately we
didn’t make quite enough.”
    “What?” Isabel asked, shocked, “that’s
impossible!”
    “Well,” I interrupted, “something came up and we
had to use the money for a family emergency.”
Neither one of
our
families, but a family emergency all the
same.
    “Oh,” she said, not wanting to pry any further.
“Shall we head toward the kitchen? I can hear everyone buzzing
around in there.”

We started toward the kitchen and Jules
grabbed my hand. She apparently felt comfortable enough to do that
and I wasn’t going to pitch a fit so I wove my fingers with hers
and brought the top of her hand to my lips and kissed it. I didn’t
let go of her hand once while being introduced to the cousins I had
been so fairly warned about. Jules was right, Lizzy was the
thoroughly cool one. Then Jules led me to a spunky, elderly lady
with the whitest hair.

    “You must be memaw Joan
E.?” I asked.
    “No, fool, I’m Julia’s aunt. How old do you
think I am?” She asked, her eyes wide.
I turned bright red and my eyes nearly popped from my head.
    “I...I....I,” I stuttered.
    “I’m just pullin’ your chain son!” She laughed a
hearty laugh. “Come here!”
She planted a large kiss on my face and tapped my cheek lightly
with her palm. I laughed along with her and Jules.
    “You pass boy.”
Then she walked off.
    “And
that
was memaw Joan E.,” Jules said.
“Great isn’t she?” She beamed.
    “Very Jules.”
    “Are you going to see Caroline, Julia?” Isabel
asked us from the sink.
    “Is she in town?” Jules asked excitedly.
    “She is and I believe they’re playing tonight at
Antone’s.”

Jules walked the length of the kitchen and we
sat in the corner window seat together. The entire kitchen was full
to the brim of her chattering family. Yes, quite an impossible size
of such incredibly interesting people. Why Jules’ mother decided to
live in Bramwell with Jules’ dad I’m not sure, being that she was
from Philadelphia and all, maybe she preferred a quieter life. I’m
sort of glad she did though, whatever the reason. Jules’
grandfather, Benjamin, was a physician. I picked his brain for
quite some time and he actually said to me,

    “You want to become a
physician? You must be insane.”

He was joking but I couldn’t help but feel a
small sting of truth in his words. Although, he did reveal that it
was a profession made for him and that made me feel whole lot
better since I’d felt that same way for years. Ben was one of the
smartest men I’d ever met. Her aunt as I mentioned before was an
attorney. Her grandmother was an author of a children’s series
about a little bird named Charlie.

Her cousin Richard was a pilot of drones for
the Army and his wife devoted her life to helping children with
Autism. Another cousin of hers, Sylvia, currently lived in D.C.
helping homeless and destitute families. Her cousin Caroline
traveled the country with her tribal dance group.

The rest of her family was in finance,
basically, a family of abnormally large brains. Interesting people,
very interesting. Seeing Jules with her family, in her element, was
fascinating. She was brighter, even more energetic and
inspired.

Caroline’s in town?” I asked.

Caroline was her older cousin. She’s the one
who got Jules into tribal belly dancing.
    “Yeah,” she said, “my mom told me she was
thinking of booking a gig here in Mauch Chunk so she could be with
the fam for the holiday.”
    Then to everyone she said, “Should we all go?
Make it a huge family affair? Caroline would love that!”

Everyone agreed and all consented to leave
for her show at nine that night. Jules’ mom and dad volunteered to
watch everyone’s children because they felt drained from the car
ride. I think it was further proof that they preferred a quieter
life.

We had several hours to kill so Jules’ aunt
Isabel showed me to the room I’d be sharing with the other boys of
the house. It was a game room they just added a bunch of cots to.
She gave me the cot between the pool table and the wall. It was
slightly secluded and I appreciated the privacy it provided me. She
showed me the massive bathroom where I could shower and ready
myself in the morning. The house was so big that if Jules hadn’t
been with me almost the entire time I would have gotten lost for
sure. Isabel instructed Jules to show me the rest of the house and
headed back downstairs to see to dinner.

    “I’m in desperate need of
a shower,” I pleaded.
    “Me too,” she said. “Meet you back here in an
hour? I want to wash my hair again and curl it.”
    “No prob Bob.”

I grabbed my bag and closed the bathroom door
behind me. I tossed it onto the marble tile and turned the shower
on. I sat at the edge of the sink while the water warmed. It was an
incredible room. Cream marble from floor to ceiling cut into large
subway tiles. The toilet actually had an electronic keypad next to
it and I wasn’t about to mess with it for fear it’d set the whole
house on fire, as that was my luck. I kicked off my heavy, large
boots.

Jules always kidded me that their weight is
what kept me grounded. I undressed and tossed my jeans, boxers and
weathered thermal to the ground.  I could tell the water was
plenty warm now because the steam billowed out from the top of the
massive glass doors and touched the immense mirror above the double
sinks. I suddenly realized that the faucets actually came from out
of the mirror. I glanced around me and there were, previously
beyond my notice, Jack and Jill doors and they hadn’t been locked.
That would have majorly sucked
, I thought, locking both the
doors before someone came screaming in, embarrassing us both.

I slid open the wide glass door to the shower
and stepped in. The water was the perfect temperature. I let it wet
my hair and face and stood underneath its warmth. It cascaded over
my head and shoulders and down my back, I could feel it splash at
my feet, and it quelled my screaming muscles. Nine hours in a car
will do that to you, especially when you’ve been hit pretty hard
just a few days before at a football game.

I’m a tall guy and stout enough to take a few
hits but I’m a quarterback, not a lineman and sometimes being hit
by a three hundred pound boy just wouldn’t sit well in my bones or
muscles.

The water heated me through and I realized
I’d probably been in there for quite some time. I washed quickly,
shampooed, and rinsed. I opened the door and the steam had made the
room almost invisible. I stepped on the marble expecting it to be
freezing but it was quite the opposite. The floor was heated.
What kind of place is this?
I asked myself. I had forgotten
to set a towel on the railing of the shower and the bath mat was
too far away. I had to walk across the floor to the mat and then
try to reach for a towel without dripping all over her nice floor
or worse, slipping and hitting my head on something.

Egad!
I can just imagine some
random relative having to come in here and find me sprawled over
the tile.
I jumped and hit my target but my legs were sore from
all the extra running around at Friday’s game and I winced in pain.
What I wouldn’t have given to be married to Jules. I’d have her
massage all the kinks out. I could just as well have her do it now
over my jeans but that would have been an invitation for disaster,
stupid teenage hormones. I couldn’t wait for those to subside.

Though, there was one sensation I hoped would
never diminish. Every time I would see her, even after only a five
minute absence, my heart would beat an unhealthy rhythm and I loved
it. Oh, and of course our electricity, but I knew that wasn’t going
anywhere.

I reached for the towel and dried myself off,
then the floor where I’d dripped and then threw the towel in the
laundry chute.
Are laundry chutes something people actually
use?
I wondered if I had just sent my used towel into some
random open alcove in the kitchen in front of everyone. I paused
and waited for the impending uproarious laughter but there came
none.
Huh. They must actually use the laundry chute here. Why do
I keep questioning myself? And imagining the worst? Why am I being
such an idiot? Am I nervous?
I rarely got nervous, so the
feeling was strange to me. I chucked it up to meeting so many of
her relatives in one sitting. I wanted so badly for them to love me
the way my family loved Jules.

It was easy to love Jules. She was
delightful, kind, perfectly social and funny as hell, not to
mention drop dead gorgeous. I sighed at the very thought of her. I
dressed. I pulled on a pair of torn jeans I had brought on a whim
and an old grey jersey knit shirt with long sleeves. I pushed the
sleeves so they met midway up my forearm. I wore a black vest over
the knit and threw my boots back on. I stood at the mirror and
shrugged my shoulders. I looked like a hobo but I never much cared
for what I looked like so it was of no concern to me. Jules seemed
to like me and that was all I cared about. I tossed on my wool cap
and tucked my hair behind my ears.

My hair was starting to get a little too
long. I usually kept it at my chin but it had grown an inch or two
below it now and I looked like a mess. The very sight of myself
made me laugh almost uncontrollably.

Just then, I heard a knock at the door. I
tossed all of my stuff into my bag and answered it. There was still
a little steam left in the room and it emptied itself around a
desperately striking Jules, as if she were in one of my dreams.
When the steam dissipated, I caught my lost breath and choked.

    “Jules, you’re killing
me.”
She spun around so I could get a better look.
    “Uh, I’m gonna’ die trying to fend off the Mauch
Chunkites.”
    “Thanks, but don’t. I’d rather you live. I like
you alive, it suits you.”
    “Feeling’s mutual,” I joked.
    She grabbed my hand and that familiar jolt
coursed through my body soothing every aching muscle I had
previously complained about.
    “Wait,” I said, “I’ve gotta’ put my bag on my
cot.”
I tossed my bag onto the cot and she grabbed my hand once
more.
    “Okay, for the rest of the tour. I’ll start down
the hall, in their home theater.”
    “Seriously?” My mouth fell open widely.
    “Yeah,” she laughed.
    “Any chance we could live here while attending
Penn? Just askin’.”
    “Not a chance,” she winked. “We need to
experience dorm life. Apparently, ‘it’s awesome’. Although I doubt
that seriously, seeming as my source is an unreliable one.”
She motioned toward the open room below us and I realized she meant
her older teasing cousins.
    She led me into the theater and paraded me
around the seats and up to the screen. It reminded me of a
miniature version of the theater in Charleston.
    “Wow,” I said, practically speechless.
    “Tomorrow we’re all going to watch The Princess
Bride after lunch. Isabel’s breaking out the popcorn machine.” She
pointed at the little red machine in the far corner next to a
brightly painted faux box office.
    “I’m seriously reconsidering the physician
route. Maybe I’d do well as a lawyer.” I teased.
    “I don’t think so Elliott. This would be a
little too much for us. I imagine us in a needy country somewhere,
living in squalor conditions but we’ll be the happiest and most in
love people in the world.” She paused, and inched closer to me,
fiddling with the hem of my knit with her fingers. “You’d have two
jobs there, you know. Are you okay with that?” She teased.
    “Two jobs?” I asked.
    “Yeah, fixing the beautiful children by day and
making love to your wife by night.” She eyed me at the last
bit.
I smacked my palm to my forehead and shook my head.
    “I’m not going to become a physician
Jules.”
    “Why?” She asked, confused.
    “Because I’m never going to make it out of here
alive if you keep talking like that.”
    “No, you can’t. I like you alive, remember?” She
paused, “I’m sorry, but you look like an irresistible hobo. I can’t
help myself.”
    “That’s what I thought! Not the irresistible
part, of course, but the hobo part.”
    She dismissed me with her hand, “You’re so
handsome Elliott and you don’t even have to try! That’s kind of
annoying actually.”
    “Oh whatever Jules!” I turned and looked at the
door. “Guess what?”
    “What?”
    “I’ve gotta’ get out of here.”
    “Why?”
    “It should be obvious. Me with you alone equals
bad things.”
    “Oh,” she blushed.