Practically flying along the
road, I stretch my stamina like it wants to be pushed. Not repetitive,
agonizing labor, but the thrill of adrenaline-pumping athletics. I love being
on a team and I played football all through high school, but something about
running really helps me relax.
“Holy shit!” I shout as a
rabbit darts out in front of me, zigzagging away when it sees how close I am.
It disappears into the brush, but I stop anyway, leaning over to catch my
breath. I’m pretty sure my heart rate would have doubled just now if it weren’t
already near max.
I start back toward the
house, going more slowly now that I’m against the wind. The minutes slip away
into the sound of my feet striking the ground, until finally I turn back into
the driveway.
After my run, a shower, then
dinner with Jeff and my brother, I’m exhausted. Staring at the half deflated
air mattress, I hear Jackson start brushing his teeth down the hall. I would
complain about going to bed this early again if I weren’t so tired. Dropping to
my knees, I hook the pump up to the air mattress and flip the switch. It sounds
like a storm of angry bees, but the bed gradually fills.
On the way to the bathroom,
I venture a look into the darkened guest bedroom. I can’t imagine how much work
it’s going to take to get it back to where I can use it, which is frustrating,
because after just one night, I’m already dreading sleeping on the air mattress
again.
After we brush our teeth and
get undressed, Jackson clicks off the bedside light and I climb onto my airbed.
“Did Dad talk to you about getting ready on time?” he asks.
“He said we need to be ready
exactly at seven.”
“You got the easier talk,
then. I got an earful.”
Maybe that’s why Jackson was
acting so pissy about his shoes. “Really?”
“Yeah, which is stupid,
because it was your fault,” he says. “But he took it out on me, because I
should have
let you know the expectation
,” he imitates Jeff’s voice. I
can practically hear Jackson’s scowl.
“Whatever, so you set the
alarm earlier?”
“Fifteen minutes will be
fine I think, as long as you shower faster tomorrow morning. Unless you want to
shower together, then we don’t have to get up any earlier.” When I don’t
respond, he says, “Damn, Ben, learn to take a joke.”
I let out a long breath and
roll onto my side, the mattress adjusting underneath me. Jackson is such a
cocky little shit sometimes.
Ben
The next morning, I wake up
to Jackson’s alarm with a stiff neck and my butt pressed into the floor. I’m
starting to hate the air mattress. Yet despite the subpar sleeping
arrangements, Jackson and I are washed, dressed, and ready to go by two minutes
to seven. The cab on Jeff’s truck is pretty big, but it’s still a squeeze as
the three of us pile in.
I spend the first part of
the morning watering again, but before ten o’clock rolls around, Jeff kicks
Jackson out of the store and comes to get me. “Ben, ready to learn how to run
the till?”
I shrug and follow him back
up front. There aren’t a lot of customers this morning, but he stays up front
with me the whole time, stepping in whenever I need help. He seems to know more
than half the people who come through. Must be a popular guy.
After lunch, the same girl
from yesterday shows up, working at the opposite end of the greenhouse from me.
When it becomes too difficult to keep my eyes away from the tight jean shorts
and tank top she’s wearing, I walk back to the storefront.
Jeff stops me as I slip
behind the counter. “I need you to help out Katie today,” he says.
My heart thumps and a thin
layer of moisture erupts on my palms. “Is that the, uh, girl who works here?
Are you sure? Shouldn’t I be–”
“I’ve got everything covered
up here.”
“What’s she working on?”
He looks at me like I’ve
asked a silly question. “I’m not quite sure, honestly. Go and find out.”
Feeling like an idiot and
not entirely sure what Jeff is playing at, I walk all the way to the end of the
greenhouse. She’s bending over, scooping a trowel of dirt into another pot.
It’s really hard to avoid looking at those shorts right now.
“Hey,” I venture.
“Hey, Jackson,” she says
with a light Midwest accent. Straightening and turning to face me, she freezes.
Tilting her head to the side, she gives me an examining look. “Wait a second.”
She takes a step forward, looking me right in the face. “Holy shit. You’re his
brother, aren’t you? I totally didn’t know he had a twin.” Crossing her arms,
she goes on, speaking more to herself than to me. “That totally makes sense. I
could have sworn I saw Jackson everywhere yesterday. It was creeping me out.”
“I’m Ben,” I say. “And no
worries, sometimes I don’t even know if I have a twin.”
“What do you mean?”
“Never mind. How did you
know I wasn’t Jackson?”
With a sly grin, she says,
“I must be more observant than most people.”
I smile back. “I guess so.”
“So you here to help me?”
“I was sent, yeah.”
“Your dad?” When I nod, she
says, “Great. You can help me transplant. I’m working on the peppers right
now.”
An anxious flutter tickles
the inside of my stomach, because I know I’m going to make a fool of myself in
front of her. “I’ve never done this type of stuff before,” I admit.
“It’s easy,” she says,
flashing me a flirty look. “Just don’t be afraid to get your hands dirty.”
An hour later, streaks of
dirt cover my arms up to my elbows, and it’s even caked under my fingernails.
But we’ve repotted forty pepper plants, and it was actually kind of fun. That
might just be because Katie is kind of fun. On the first one we did, she even
guided my hands with hers as I moved the plant by the bundle of roots and
lightly pressed it into the pot.
“Good job,” she says,
holding her hand up for a high five. Our hands clap together and a shower of
dirt particles falls around us.
It’s hot in the sun, but I
don’t want to report back to Jeff or Jackson for more work yet. “How long have
you worked here?” I ask.
“I was here last summer and
I loved it. When I asked your dad for a job again this year, he hired me back
on right away. And in a week or so, I can start coming in full time.”
My eyes shift away to the
lot where Jeff’s truck is parked. “He’s short on help right now, so I’m sure
he’s happy to give you more hours.”
“Is that how you got
drafted?”
“Pretty much.” I bite my
lip, wanting to say more.
After a pause, she adds,
“He’s a good guy, your dad.”
“So I hear. I haven’t seen
him in years.”
Katie nods. “I figured
something like that. I’m surprised Jackson never mentioned you.”
“I’m not.” I absently tap my
foot against the base of one of the pepper pots, avoiding her gaze. Something
has been bothering me. “How did you know I wasn’t him? Especially if you didn’t
know he even had a twin?”
“Won’t let that one go, will
you?” she smiles disarmingly.
It’s because of that smile
that my thoughts actually come out of my mouth. “Did you two date or
something?” Of all the things I don’t want to share with my brother, a crush on
the same girl is pretty high up there.
Hands on her hips, she gives
me a defiant look. “I believe it’s a little early in our friendship to be
asking something like that.”
My cheeks smolder. “Sorry.”
She sighs, her eyes drifting
toward the store, then over to the greenhouse. It’s just us out here. “If you
must know, we never dated. You could have just asked him that though.”
“He’s not your type?”
“You’re a nosy one, Ben.”
I shrug. “Just a question.”
“I don’t think he’s
interested in someone like me. I’m not really his type.”
It feels like there’s more
to her statement than what she’s said, but I can’t guess what it might be.
Maybe Jackson doesn’t like girls that enjoy working in the dirt. “But if he
were interested, would you think he’s cute?”
She laughs and shoves my
shoulder. “Come on, hot shot. Let’s go find out what still needs to get done
today.”
Apparently it wasn’t lost on
her that asking if she thinks Jackson is cute was essentially the same as
asking if she thinks I am. Grinning, I follow her back to the store.
After work, Jeff and Jackson
and I pack into the truck and head home. Just like the day before, I’m covered
in dirt and sweat, but I still want to get my run in before showering.
Slivers of guilt prick my
skin as I slip on Jackson’s shoes once again, but the pair of Nike’s I brought
with are flat soled. I should buy my own pair of running shoes, so I don’t have
to keep wearing Jackson’s reeking ones, but I don’t even know if Northfield has
a shoe store, much less where it is.
I’ve just finished tying the
laces when Jeff’s voice grabs my attention. “Going out again tonight?” He’s in
the kitchen, just starting to work on dinner.
Back home, Mom never has
time to cook, but it’s because her job is so demanding. I’m either home by
myself and get take out, or she comes home and we get take out. It probably
sounds like Mom and I are counted in one of those statistics on dysfunctional
families that never have home-cooked meals around the dinner table, but we’re
not. Well, we’re part of the statistic, but we’re not dysfunctional. Mom just
doesn’t have the time at home like Jeff does.
“Ben?” Jeff prompts.
“Uh, running, yeah. It helps
me unwind.” I hope he doesn’t encourage me to invite Jackson. Running is my own
thing.
Setting a tall container of
uncooked spaghetti noodles on the counter, he says, “It’s good to have
something like that. Have fun.”
I find my stride faster than
yesterday. The soreness in my shoulders is better, but a dull ache in my neck
and lower back is making the run uncomfortable. Unlike my sore muscles, which
are from the day’s work, the new pain is from sleeping on that stupid airbed.
Every footfall aggravates the pain, but I need this run, if for no other reason
than that being around Jackson can be a real struggle. Not that he’s
unpleasant, because in general he isn’t, but… it’s just tough seeing him so
much after years of
not
. After all this time, I’m completely lost when
it comes to navigating our relationship.
Things have changed a lot
between us since we were kids. I understand that, at least in theory. But it’s
like a bunch of cells in the back of my brain are hardwired to expect a
connection with Jackson that just isn’t there anymore. The feeling is annoying,
like I need to yawn but can’t, no matter how hard I strain.
I don’t know if I’ll ever
get used to seeing my brother as nothing more than an unwilling roommate. Maybe
it doesn’t have to stay that way, but he was the one to break off
communication, so he has to be the one to make the first move.
When I get back to the
house, Jeff is still working on dinner, so I head upstairs. Jackson is
stretched out on his bed, reading a book. I take a seat at his desk stacked
with dirty clothes. My heart is still beating fast from the run, and my chest
heaves up and down with my breaths.
Jackson’s gaze rises from
his book and sweeps over me, his blue eyes penetrating but altogether
unreachable.
“What are you reading?” I
ask. The cover of the old paperback is purple with green text.
“Nothing,” he says,
flushing. Without any explanation, he shoves the book under his pillow and
scoots off the edge of the bed.
“Where are you going?” I
call after him.
Pausing in the hallway, he
looks at me for only a moment before he speaks. “Going to see if Dad needs help
in the kitchen.”
My throat tightens as he
disappears down the stairs. He’s had his life here all along just as I’ve had
mine in California. So why does it hurt so damn much to see him living his
without me? Traitorous wetness appears in my eyes.
I wish I could forget about
him, as he seems to have done with me years ago. This summer was supposed to be
the best of high school. Friends, parties, even a road trip. I had the time and
I’d saved the money. Instead I got… this. This bullshit. A full time job in the
middle of fucking nowhere, stuck with a brother who can barely be called that.
Gritting my teeth, I curl up
on his bed. Tears escape from my eyes, even as I hate them. The bed I’m crying
on isn’t even my own, and the release from all of this – the beginning of
the fall semester at Stanford – feels so far away I can hardly bear it.
Jackson
Ben has always been
sensitive. I guess it was a lot to expect that to change at all, because
nothing else has. He’s here, but he didn’t have a choice, so even though my
brooding brother is now sleeping on the floor in my room every night, it
doesn’t mean a damn thing. Certainly not that he’s sorry for leaving in the first
place.
He was quiet all through
dinner, probably because he thought I was avoiding him. Which isn’t exactly
true. Thankfully I have better things to think about than Ben.
I asked Dad if I could take
the bike to town and he didn’t seem to care, so here I am. Excitement crackles
through me, lending a lightness to my steps as I push open the door to the
hardware store. My senior year flew by, but whenever study hall was completely
silent or I was alone at night in my bed or pushing myself in the school weight
room, my mind would wander. And it always seemed to find jet-black hair and
broad shoulders.
I never trusted myself to
text him or anything, fearing a stilted conversation that would ruin my chances
for this summer. Instead I fell back on the hope that he’d be back. Since the
beginning of the summer, I’ve kept an eye out around town, particularly on the
hardware store.
It paid off, and even now
the reason for my good mood is parked just outside. The first time I saw it was
last week. I could have sworn the ailing red truck driving through town was
his, but I couldn’t tell for sure, not until seeing it up close today.
He’s helping a customer when
I step through the door, a little bell tinkling above my head. I’m grateful
that he doesn’t look my way, because it gives me a moment just to watch him.
His hair is cut short on the sides but still long enough on top that it has a
bit of a sweep, giving him a distinctly collegiate appearance. Otherwise, he
looks exactly the same. The muscled curves of his arms and the width of his
shoulders haven’t changed a bit.
The woman he’s been helping
thanks him and walks out, giving me an up and down glance on her way to the
door. Finally Matt notices me.
“Hey,” I say, looking for
even the slightest sign that he’s excited to see me.
Recognition and surprise
jumble up his features, but not in a good way. “Jackson. Wow.”
“That wasn’t exactly the
response I was expecting.”
He looks away momentarily.
“Sorry, I just…”
“What?” I press, not giving
him even an extra second to finish his sentence. Why is he acting like this?
“Sheesh, Jackson. Take it
easy, okay?” His voice drops in volume when he continues, making me wonder if
other customers are hidden away in the aisles. “I was going to say I just
wasn’t expecting you. I mean, we haven’t talked or texted or anything in almost
a year.”
If I was going to have to
bail out of here, I wanted to do it quickly, so I’ve been standing by the door.
With a shrug, I finally approach the counter. “You should have just said that
then.”
“Sorry,” he says quickly,
speaking even more quietly now that we’re closer. “Seeing you brought things
back. Really quickly. I wasn’t quite ready for that.”
I smirk, reveling in the
pinkness tinting his cheeks. “I didn’t forget about last summer,” I say,
putting extra emphasis on the I.
“I didn’t
forget
,” he
counters, holding his eyes on me. “You bulked up.”
The tank top I’m wearing
feels instantly tight across my chest, and for the first time since I walked
in, I get the feeling he’s checking me out. Likewise, I steal the opportunity
to let my gaze travel over him once more. My memories of him last summer don’t
do him justice. I hold my tongue for as long as I can manage, but it’s getting
hard. Leaning against the counter, I resolve to force the conversation onward.
“Want to grab lunch
tomorrow? You can swing by and meet my brother Ben too.”
“You have a brother?”
“Yeah…” my voice trails.
“We’re kind of, um, twins. So don’t be alarmed. And please,
please
don’t
mix us up.”
Matt raises an eyebrow. “You
seriously have an identical twin? Why didn’t you ever mention that?”
“You didn’t ask,” I reply,
defensiveness creeping into my words.
“Sorry, how could I have
forgotten that integral part of normal conversation?” he says, his voice
ringing with sarcasm. “No really, I ask everyone if they have a twin.”
I stare at him, refusing to
validate his remarks. “So tomorrow?”
* * *
*
Ben is up front with me,
working on untangling several new rakes that have gotten their tines tangled
together, when Matt shows up. Ben is in a foul mood today, probably because
he’s having to work inside. He won’t admit it, but for whatever reason, the kid
really seems to like being out in the sun and dirt.
First looking pointedly at
me, Matt approaches my brother. “You’re Ben right?”
Ben looks up with a
deer-in-the-headlights expression. “Yeah, who are you?”
“Matt.”
“Uh, okay,” Ben says, his
voice wavering with uncertainty. He nods in my direction. “Jackson is just over
there.” When Matt looks at me helplessly, I roll my eyes. Ben has always had a
talent for pointing out the obvious.
“Sure, thanks,” Matt says to
him, coming up to the counter where I’m leaning against the till. He holds up a
bag. “I got Jimmy John’s.”
“For me?”
“Three subs,” he says,
risking another look at Ben who’s making an awful racket trying to separate the
last two rakes by just shaking the shit out of them. Lowering his voice, Matt
asks, “Is he always like this?” The second rake finally dislodges and clatters
to the floor.
“Like what? Abrasive,
antisocial and with questionable mental capacity?” I ask as Matt suppresses a
laugh. “Yeah, pretty much.”
Ben glares at us, even
though I don’t think he could have actually heard what I said.
“Hungry?” Matt asks him.
Just inside a ring of shade
cast by a giant oak tree on the adjoining property, the three of us sit down at
the frail picnic table beside the parking area.
Across from Matt and me, Ben
runs a dirty hand through his hair. Matt is just staring at him. “Something
wrong?” Ben asks.
Blushing, Matt says, “It’s
just so weird how much you guys look alike.”
“Yeah, you know, the whole
identical thing.” Ben gives him a blank look.
“Sorry, I guess you must get
that a lot.”
“Something like that,” Ben
replies vaguely.
Matt seems confused by his
answer, but I get it. We haven’t been around each other in years, so having
people comment on our appearance is a novel experience.
Matt tosses the bags onto
the table. “Jimmy John’s. I wasn’t sure what you wanted, Ben, so I hope you
like roast beef.”
“I don’t, but thanks.”
Tearing into his own
sandwich, Matt shrugs. “Sorry, man.” He says it like he’s not sorry at all.
Ben shoots him a dirty look,
which he pretends to ignore. I frown at them both. Is it so hard to be civil?
“Jesus, Ben,” I interject.
“Just eat the stupid sandwich.”
Now that pissed off face
gets directed at me. Sighing, I sink my teeth into the sub.
After we finish, Ben skulks
off to the greenhouse, leaving Matt and me alone. “He’s kind of pissy,” Matt
points out.
“He can be,” I admit as my
stomach tightens. It’s one thing to make fun of my brother, but straight up
talking bad about him feels wrong. “Try to get along with him, would you?”
Matt tilts his head to the
side as if this doesn’t make sense to him. “Sure. If that’s what you want.”
“It is. Especially since
you’ll be hanging out at my place a lot.”
“Oh
really
?” The way
he drags out the last word makes it sound like he doesn’t agree, but I can’t
tell if he’s kidding or not.
I nod, trying to sound
confident. “Starting after work tonight.”
Matt looks like he’s not
sure, and a hurt feeling tugs downward on the inside of my chest. Something in
my expression seems to be swaying him, though. “I’ll come over. Seven o’clock
okay?”
* * *
*
I’m helping Dad and Ben with
the dishes from dinner when a knock on the front door reminds me that I invited
Matt over. Ben’s arms are submerged in soapy water while Dad brandishes a
dishtowel. The two of them look up from the sink.
“I asked Matt to stop by,” I
explain, throwing in a “I hope that’s okay” for good measure. Dad would never turn
someone away, but I should have mentioned it to him before now.
The muscles above their
eyebrows pull together – Dad and Ben both. Dad because he’s struggling to
remember who that is, and Ben because he’s being an annoying twerp. Or because
he and Matt didn’t get along very well earlier. “The guy who helped us roof
last summer,” I remind Dad.
“Ah, right,” he says,
brightening. There’s another knock on the door, louder this time. “So are you
going to let him in?”
Without delaying any longer,
I skip out of the kitchen to open the door for him. Matt steps inside carried
on a wave of freshness. He smells clean, like soap, and his hair is still wet.
“You just get out of the shower or what?” I tease.
“Nah,” he says. “Just forgot
the window down while going through the car wash.”
“Ha-ha. Clearly a lie
because your truck is still dirty as ever.” I make an exaggerated look past him
at the dirty hunk of red metal in the driveway.
“Ouch. I clean it
sometimes.”
“Annually?”
He scowls dramatically.
“Stop ragging on my girl.”
Dad’s voice calls from the
kitchen. “You guys just going to hang out in the entry?” I’m thankful for the
disruption so I don’t have to think about Matt referring to anything as
his
girl
. Gross.
Matt follows me into the
kitchen, where Dad shakes his hand and peppers him with questions about
college. Yes, he’s still an undecided major. No, he doesn’t mind being back in
Northfield for the summer. And possibly he’d be interested in getting paid to
help us put up drywall in the extra bedroom.
“Okay, Dad,” I finally
interrupt. “Enough with the inquisition. We’re going upstairs.”
He waves us on, seeming not
to notice that Ben never even looked up from the dishes. Matt follows me up to
my room, peeking into the torn apart spare bedroom on the way. “Looks like hell
in there,” he says unnecessarily.
“I know. And until we put it
back together, Ben is sleeping on the floor in my room.”
He grimaces. “That’s
unfortunate.”
“It’s not that bad. He can
be a bit testy, but it wasn’t his fault that he got shipped out here for the
summer. Our mom had to go on a long work trip, and she didn’t want him to be
alone I guess.”
“Hmm,” Matt says, throwing
himself back on my bed. It shrinks under his weight before bouncing him back up
an inch or two.
Joining him on the bed in a
less haphazard fashion, I push a pillow up behind me so I can lean against the
wall. My eyes wander over him, taking in the tanned forearms and biceps and his
tight t-shirt, up to his lips parted just enough to make him irresistible.
“Jackson…” he says, a warning
carried in his tone.
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, but I just think
we should…”
My eyebrows furrow. “That we
should what?”
“Consider being just
friends? I mean, I know we’re attracted to each other, but what happens at the
end of the summer when we both have to move apart again? I don’t want to start
something that I know has to be long distance for
years
.”
“That’s the same reason you
gave me at the end of last summer,” I say, not bothering to conceal the
challenge in my words. “Except last time it actually made sense.”
“Look, what I’m saying is
that I just don’t know if this can be anything more than a summer thing.”
“I don’t care. If that’s all
it is, then so what. We’ll have an amazing time and then go our own ways.” It’s
out of my mouth before I can really consider what it even means.
Matt’s eyes finally make it
back to me. “You sure you don’t care if it can’t be more than that?” In
response, I let my knuckles touch his arm. He frowns. “I’m trying to be
serious, and you’re making it really hard.”
“Good.” I smirk, hoping
he’ll catch my double meaning. His expression is conflicted, but his lips are
still slightly parted. Abandoning subtlety, I let the words spring off my
tongue. “I don’t care about what happens next month, or next week, or even
tomorrow. I care about now, and right now I want to kiss you. Really fucking
bad.”
His eyes widen. “Here in
your room, with your brother and Dad home?”