She remembered that day, Nan insisting on the picture. The stickiness of sweat trickling down Janelle’s back because she’d been stupid and dressed as if it were fifty degrees outside, not in the Indian Summer seventies. She’d spent an hour on her hair and makeup, all for a silly snapshot.
“You were playing football.” Janelle took the picture and studied it. There in the corner, another blur, just the tiniest sliver. “With Gabe.”
“Did I... Did we know you then?”
She smiled. “Yes. A little. You got to know me better later.”
Much better.
Much later.
“I wish I remembered.”
“Me, too, honey.” She patted his arm and tucked the picture back among the others, gathering them into a pile. There was no box to put them in, so she grabbed an empty laundry basket from the closet and dumped them inside. The other boxes went on top.
“I could get more down,” Andy offered. “There’s room in the basket.”
“I don’t think we’ll even get through these tonight. This is enough. Thanks.”
He was still staring at her. Awkwardly, she hefted the laundry basket and waited for him to move out of the way. He didn’t at first, not until she made a shooing motion with the basket. She felt his gaze on her the entire way down the hall toward the family room.
Bennett had already put away his math homework by the time they got there, and set out a bowl of cookies and glasses for milk. Nan looked up from the recliner, blinking sleepily. She settled the remote into the knitted holder attached to the chair’s arm and started to her feet.
“Hold on, hold on, Mrs. Decker.” Andy pushed past Janelle to help Nan up. He did it easily, despite his own disability. He steadied her gently with his good hand and helped her to the table, where he pulled out her chair. “There you go.”
“Thanks, honey,” Nan said. “Ooh, cookies. Bennett, did you do this?”
“I like cookies,” Bennett said with a grin. “With milk.”
“Pour me a glass, honey, and let’s get started. Janelle, grab my glasses.” Nan tapped the table as Andy moved toward the back door. “Where are you going, Andy?”
“Oh...I thought I’d better go home.”
Nan shook her head. “You can stay, help us sort these pictures. I wouldn’t be surprised if we found a few more of you and your brothers in here. I’d like you to have them, if we do.”
Janelle already knew there was at least one, of course, but was a little surprised to think there could be more. Andy looked surprised, too. He put a hesitant hand on the back of a chair.
“Really?”
“Of course. Absolutely.” Nan nodded. “Sit down.”
People didn’t argue with Nan when she spoke in that voice, and Andy was no exception. He sat. Janelle got out the archival safe marker she’d ordered online, and brought in a bunch of sandwich bags and rubber bands from the kitchen. They all helped themselves to cookies and milk and got started.
It went far slower than Janelle had thought it would. She could easily and quickly sort the pictures into piles if she knew for sure who was in them—piles for uncles, cousins, family friends. Photos of landscapes and buildings, and any that were out of focus, she set aside. But there were many pictures of people Janelle didn’t know, and those she gave to Nan, who studied each one for several minutes apiece.
Most of them had a story. This person had said this or done that, just before the camera clicked. Nan remembered most of their names and the places, and Janelle wrote the information carefully on the backs of the pictures with the pen that wouldn’t ruin them, and put them into their piles according to how Nan categorized them.
“Mom, you look hilarious,” Bennett said over and over, having a laughing fit each time he pulled another picture of her out of the pile. It didn’t matter if it was one of her in the height of eighties fashion as a kid, or in her goth phase. He laughed and laughed.
The more he laughed, the more she laughed. Andy laughed, and Nan laughed, too. Janelle lifted a photo of herself decked out in full fashion.
“Look at this one.”
“Mom, you look like a rooster was sitting on your head!”
“I think she looks beautiful,” Andy said suddenly. “She always did. Look beautiful, I mean.”
Nan’s giggles faded and she gave Janelle a knowing glance. Bennett wrinkled his nose in distaste. Heat rose in Janelle’s face, not quite a blush.
“Thanks, Andy.”
“I mean...I don’t remember, exactly. I look at the pictures. I look at you now.” He smiled at her. “I’m sure I’d have thought you were beautiful back then.”
With the three of them staring at her, all Janelle could do was clear her throat awkwardly. “Well...thank you, Andy. That’s really nice of you to say.”
They spent the next hour or so sorting through pictures before Nan began to get tired. She didn’t say anything, but Janelle could tell. Nan protested a little when she suggested it was time for bed, though.
“I believe I’ll stay up a bit,” her grandmother said. “I’d like to finish with this box. You help Bennett get ready for bed.”
Bennett didn’t need any help, but when he opened his mouth to say so, Janelle stopped him with a look. To Nan, she said gently, “It’s getting late. Let me help you with your pills and stuff, okay?”
“I don’t need any help!” Nan shouted, and struck a trembling hand against the final box of photos they hadn’t yet sorted.
Pictures scattered, fluttering to the floor. Andy reacted with a startled cry, backing up in his chair until it hit the wall behind him, and Bennett looked as if he might cry. Janelle carefully kept herself from reacting.
“Nan. It’s late, and you’re tired.”
“Don’t talk to me like I’m a child,” Nan cried. “I want to finish this, and I’m not tired! You go to bed if you want to, Janelle, but don’t you tell me what to do. I want to finish this.”
“Bennett, go on upstairs. Andy,” Janelle said, “thanks for your help. You should probably head home.”
He nodded. “Should I come tomorrow?”
“Call me,” Janelle told him, and stood to walk him to the back door as Bennett eased past her toward the kitchen. On the back porch, she said, “Thanks for your help.”
“You want me to stay? I could. If she needs something, if you need something, I mean.” Andy looked so sincere it made Janelle’s throat close.
She put her hand on his shoulder. “No, it’s fine. She’s old and sick.... I’d be cranky, too. Wouldn’t you?”
Andy nodded after a second, brow furrowed. “Yeah. I guess so. But if you’re sure you don’t need any help...”
“I’m okay. We’ll be fine. Thanks, Andy.” Impulsively, Janelle hugged him. She meant for it to be a simple embrace, a quick hug, but the moment his arms went around her, it felt so damned good to have someone holding her that she melted into the touch like a cat beneath a stroking hand.
He put both arms around her, the good hand flat against her back and the other resting lightly at her hip. She fit just beneath his chin, her cheek against his chest, on his soft T-shirt. She didn’t mean to cry. It just happened. A few tears, nothing major, most of which she sniffled back because she didn’t want to totally break down. Andy stroked his hand over her back, his fingers tugging on her hair just enough to return her back to reality.
“Sorry,” she said as she stepped away. “God. Sorry, Andy. I just...”
He shook his head. “No, it’s okay. I’m sorry this is hard for you.”
Janelle glanced over her shoulder, but though the back porch door was open, she couldn’t see Nan from this angle. Which meant Nan hadn’t seen them. “I’m fine.”
Andy’s brow furrowed again. He rubbed at the white line of his hair as his mouth worked, before he said finally, “I feel like there should be something I can say, but it’s not coming out right. I can taste the words, but they’re stuck.”
“It must be frustrating.” Janelle wiped d
iscreetly at her eyes.
“I hate it,” Andy told her. “I hate being stupid.”
She took both his hands in hers. “You are not stupid. You never were.”
“You remember me from before.”
“Yes.” Janelle paused, but didn’t want to lie to him. “Of course I do, Andy. And you weren’t stupid back then, I promise you.”
He took his hand from hers to touch the white stripe in his hair again. “I must’ve been a little stupid.”
“Careless, maybe. All of you. But it was an accident.”
Andy didn’t say anything for a few seconds before he nodded. “Yeah. I know.”
Janelle hugged him again, this time not for herself but for him. “Thanks for coming over tonight. We’ll see you, okay?”
He looked as if he might say something else, but didn’t, just nodded and let himself out the back door. Janelle took a deep breath and squared her shoulders before going inside, to find Nan still sitting at the table, looking through the pictures. Her grandma looked up when she came in.
“I just want to finish this,” she said stubbornly. “All these pictures need to be sorted, Janelle. I don’t want to leave it undone.”
“We can do more tomorrow, Nan. It’s really late, and honestly, I’m tired, too.”
Nan frowned and waved a dismissive hand. “So go to bed.”
“You know I can’t until you’re all settled.” Janelle eased herself into the seat across from her. She’d need to check on Bennett in a minute or so, too. Her head was starting to hurt, her eyes itchy with sleep.
Nan said nothing, a photo held tight in her fingers. She stared at it in silence while Janelle waited, until at last she looked up with a frown. “I don’t need you!”
“Fine.” Janelle tossed up her hands and pushed her chair back. “I’m going to bed. You stay here all night, Nan, if you want to. I’m not going to argue with you.”
With that, she left her grandmother sitting at the table, and went upstairs to make sure Bennett had brushed his teeth and put on clean pajamas. Of course he hadn’t, but Janelle didn’t feel like arguing with him, either. Instead, she went into her room and dropped down onto the bed, where she lay unmoving until her phone vibrated from the nightstand. She rolled to check the number, which was unfamiliar, though the name underneath it wasn’t.
“Shit,” she muttered, and didn’t answer.
After a minute, her phone chimed to alert her to the new voice mail. The cherry on top of the shit sundae the evening had become. She thumbed the screen to look at it, but didn’t listen.
A message from her dad.
THIRTY-SIX
Then
“WHERE ARE WE going? It’s a secret? Why are you taking me someplace secret?” Janelle dances back and forth in front of him instead of getting into his truck, dances so much he almost has to wrestle with her just to get her to the passenger-side door.
“It’s not... I just don’t want to say anything to you ahead of time.” In fact, Gabe’s not sure why he’s even taking her, except that he doesn’t want to go by himself.
Janelle stops dancing, but bounces lightly on her toes, up and down. “Give me a hint. Just a little hint.”
He knows she thinks that maybe he’s taking her someplace...not romantic, because that’s not what they do. Private, though. Special. The cabin, maybe. He’s taken her there a few times already, the only girl he ever has. Both of them act as if it’s not a big deal, but he thinks she knows it is. He should tell her up front that’s not where they’re going, but he says nothing as they drive out of town in the opposite direction.
Janelle pushes a CD into the slot and turns up the volume. The familiar guitar riff starts, then the drums. She claps her hands in time. When the lyrics begin, she sings along without self-consciousness about walking, strutting her stuff, blister in the sun. It’s not his favorite song on the CD—that would be “Gone Daddy Gone”—but he likes hearing her sing along.
They drive while the music plays, three or four songs, until she turns down the volume. “When will you tell me where we’re going?”
“When we get there.”
Other girls would wheedle and beg, but Janelle only shrugs and looks out the window again. Gabe could never be sure if he likes that about her or not. Sometimes it’s good to have someone force something out of you, he thinks as he takes the last few turns toward their destination. He pulls into the driveway of the small house with overgrown grass, and turns off the engine.
In the silence left behind, without the Violent Femmes begging someone to please, please not go, the sound of Janelle’s surprised half laugh is very loud. “Where are we?”
“My mother’s house.”
Her mouth opens. Then shuts. She looks again out the window at the house. He figures she’d say something, but instead she turns toward him and reaches for his hand. She links their fingers tight, squeezing.
Janelle’s never asked him about his mother, and he’s never talked about her. He’s not sure if Janelle heard she was dead—that’s what everyone thinks, so if she ever did ask someone what was up, that’s what they’d have told her. Even his brothers still think their mother’s dead.
Sometimes, Gabe wishes he thought so, too.
“She’s expecting me,” he says. “I didn’t tell her you were coming with me, though. I didn’t tell her anything about you.”
Janelle’s fingers squeeze again, and then she lets him go. “So...what’s the plan?”
He hadn’t thought about a plan when he asked her, and the thought makes him laugh, just a little. It makes this better, and he finally figures out that’s why he asked her to come with him. Because she makes things better.
“You want me to be your girlfriend?” she asks, and for a moment Gabe feels his heart thump too fast, thinking she means for real. “Like, you want to impress your mom or something? ’Cuz maybe you picked the wrong girl for that.”
Janelle laughs and tips her face up, runs a hand over her hair and along her brows, gesturing. “I mean, I’m not really any mother’s wet dream.”
No, but she’s his wet dream, which, of course, he doesn’t say.
“Oh...never mind.” Janelle laughs again before he can speak. “I get it. It’s the opposite, huh? You want to freak her out.”
He doesn’t realize that as truth until she says it, but once the words are out there’s no denying it. “Yeah. I guess I do.”
She laughs again and bounces on her toes. “So. Let’s go freak Mama out.”
The house is small and poorly kept, the grass in the yard too long. The door knocker looks like a face, but Gabe doesn’t use it. He just goes right in. The whole place smells of cigarettes, so much he expects to see a haze in the air.
His mother’s in the kitchen, hovering over the stove. She turns when they come in, her smile fading at the sight of Janelle before returning even brighter than before. She lifts the spatula in greeting.
“You brought a guest? You should’ve told me. I’d have gussied up a little more.”
She’s already painted up like a clown, her hair and mouth too bright. She lifts a cigarette from an ashtray on the countertop and watches the two of them through a veil of smoke.
“This is Janelle.”
“Hi,” Janelle says.
“Hello, Janelle. Why don’t you two have a seat?” His mother points to the table, set for two. “Let me get another plate. I’m making sausage. Gabe, honey, grab those rolls from the bread box. Janelle, you like hot sausage?”
“Oh, yeah,” Janelle says. “I love sausage. Can’t get enough of it.”
The way she says it, all wide eyes and innuendo, makes Gabe want to laugh even as a flush of heat creeps up his throat to his face. His mother pauses, as though thinking of an answer. Janelle takes her place at the table and folds her hands, staring at them both.
“So...how did you two meet?” his mother asks when she slides the frying pan full of hot sausage onto a trivet on the table, along with a bottle of ketchup and
a bowl of macaroni and cheese from a box.
“Key party.” Janelle helps herself to a nice portion of mac and cheese, then adds a swirl of ketchup onto the bright yellow noodles.
“Key party...?” Marlena stares at the mush Janelle’s making of the pasta. She doesn’t eat. She hardly ever does, which is why the food she serves when he visits is usually such shit. “I’m not sure I’ve ever been to one of those.”
Gabe’s never heard of a key party, either, so when Janelle starts to explain, he’s as surprised as his mother.
“Oh, it’s simple, really. It’s kind of like an orgy,” Janelle says as she loads a hoagie roll with a sausage and takes a huge bite. “Oh, God. Wow, this is awesome.”
Marlena coughs. “An orgy.”
“Yeah. You all throw your keys in a bowl, then everyone picks one out. Whoever’s key you pick, well, that’s who you end up with for the night. It’s tricky business,” Janelle says with a wink. “But I made sure to pick Gabe’s key.”
Gabe focuses on his plate, because if he doesn’t he’s sure he’ll burst into horrified laughter. It’s exactly the sort of thing he didn’t know he wanted Janelle to say. It’s terrible. It’s perfect.
“And so...how long have you been...umm, dating?” Marlena lights another cigarette.
“Oh, we’re not really dating. But I didn’t get knocked up yet or anything, so it’s all cool. Stellar sausage, by the way.” Janelle makes a show of taking another bite, giving Gabe a wink as she practically deep throats the sandwich.
He almost chokes on his food. Marlena stubs out her cigarette and gets up from the table. When her back’s turned, Janelle mouths, “Too much?”
Gabe shakes his head. He’s not sure why he wants his mother to be made uncomfortable, just that watching her squirm gives him some sort of sick satisfaction that should make him ashamed but doesn’t. Janelle plays it just right, too. Not too over the top. Believable. Enough to make Marlena’s eyes go wide and her face go white beneath the harsh bright circles of rouge.
At the end of the visit, she hugs her son, but doesn’t even offer Janelle her hand. “Gabriel, you come back soon, you hear me?”