After encountering a rough patch, Jackson returns to Shelby for comfort. He is reminded of lessons learned from his Granddad and childhood.
1. Homecoming by beanjean
2. Remedies by beanjean
3. TROUBLE by beanjean
4. Morning After by beanjean
5. Homecooked by beanjean
The young blonde ran nervous hands over the back of his neck. It had been much too long since he’d been home. It was almost as if all the problems, all the stresses, everything went away as soon as that car crossed the state line. With the windows of his car down and the sweet Tennessee air blowing through the ends of his hair he knew he needed this. He needed to be around family who didn’t care what he had done. He needed to see the places where he grew up. But most of all, he needed to clear his mind of anything and everything that reminded him of her.
Her. The one that got away. The girl that he had given heart, mind, body, soul, every ounce of everything he had. The girl that had taken his heart and nearly torn it from his chest, danced upon it, and then tried to shove down his throat. He caught a sob in his throat and quickly pushed the image of her out of his mind.
He reached across the cabin for one of his bags and shut the car door. With his characteristically long strides he made it to the front door sooner than he wanted. Unable to bring himself to ring the bell without any idea what to say, he sat himself down in the wicker rocking chair that had always been there on that front porch.
“Granddad,” the little boy asked looking up at the older man with big blue eyes.
He looked down at the boy with such love. “Yes?”
“Why are you always sittin’ in that chair?” He pointed at the chair, matchbox car in hand.
Taking a deep breath and considering the boys’ question he simply replied, “I think a lot better in this chair. It relaxes me. You know how my knees flare up.”
And the little boy was laughing and running the car over Granddad’s toes before his Momma told them it was time for supper.
A smile came to his claret lips, a sure sign that he’d been biting on them way to much on the drive down. If only life was just as simple as it was back then. He began to rock himself in the chair, leaning back and closing his eyes. The neighborhood was always a quiet one and he relished in the escape. Living in the big city wasn’t all it was cracked up to be when you’re really a country boy at heart. The drive must have caught up with him because before he knew it, he felt warm hands on his forearms shaking him awake.
With weary eyes he looked at the woman crouched before him. Her mess of blonde curls about the most perfect thing he had seen in the last forty eight hours. “Momma!”
“Baby,” she cooed pulling him into a tight embrace, “What are you doing home?”
It was only then that he noticed they weren’t alone. In the driveway, beside his car sat an older modeled Ford. And walking from that car was a man dressed in a suit. A man that he didn’t know and he got the sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach that he didn’t want to.
“David,” his momma smiled at the man in the suit. She placed a soft kiss on his lips before turning to look at her son. He noticed David’s hand resting comfortably on his mother’s hip. He wanted to vomit. “This is my son, Jackson. Jack, this is David. My boyfriend.”
His mom had a boyfriend? He most certainly wasn’t a boy. Oh, he really was going to vomit. Unfortunately for him it didn’t land on David, but his own shoes.
“Jack,” his mom cried her voice split between surprise and concern. “Baby, what’s the matter?” If he wasn’t too busy wiping the spittle from his lips he would have noticed the apologetic look sent David’s way.
“I’m-I don’t know,” he admitted finally kicking his shoes off and staring at his socked feet.
Momma rubbed soothing circles over his back and directed most of her attention to David. “I’m really sorry.”
David just shrugged, “It’s alright. You should have just told me Jackson was in town. I’ll let you two have some alone time. But hey, we should all go out to dinner before you leave, ok? I’d love to get to see if the stories your Momma tells are true.”
He nearly looses the rest of his stomach, but replies, “Sure.”
Momma gives David another kiss and pushes Jackson into the house sending him directly to the bathroom with a fluffy white towel. Running himself the hot water he lets off a large sigh. They don’t take baths in the city, he thinks to himself.
“Granddad,” the little boy asked flopping a soap covered leg into the water and watching it splash up and hit the faucet.
“Yes?” He himself is perched on the cover of the toilet seat, a damp washcloth in hand.
“Do you still take baths?”Using the washcloth to clean behind the young boys ears he chuckled, “Of course! If I didn’t I’d smell like Uncle Junior.”
“Granddad,” he shrieks in laugher. “Uncle Junior doesn’t smell.”
“If he doesn’t take a bath he will.”
Jackson hasn’t felt this relaxed in ages. He’s on the back porch of his childhood home, wrapped in a warm blanket, cup of tea in his lap, and the silence that could only be a small town Tennessee night.
“I know you’re not going to tell me what’s going on,” his Momma says standing in the doorway. Her hands brush against the sliding door as she walks to sit beside him. He feels her arm wrap around him and her hand press his head to her shoulder.
“I still wish I knew what was going on Momma,” he admits, his voice thick with emotion. “One minute everything’s fine, and then.” He trails off, swallowing. “And then I’m puking my guts out on your front steps.”
She lets out a small chuckle. “If it got you home again, I’ll take it. Baby, you’ve been gone too long.”
He nods against her shoulder. “I missed it.”
“We missed you too.”
_____
Everything is supposed to be better in the morning. That’s what they say. But it’s not. Jackson allowed himself to eat a bowl of oatmeal before planting himself again in the rocking chair on the front steps. All he could think about, however, was that he wasn’t supposed to come home empty handed. For all the fuss and heartache he caused when he left he knew he had better have a good reason to come back around here.
“Granddad,” the teenaged boy questioned, his knees bouncing more nervously than they had ever done in his life.
“Yes?”
“I’m, uh, I’m gunna leave Shelby Forest.” His voice was barely over a whisper.
Clamping a heavy hand on the smaller set of shoulders Granddad replied, “Good for you Son. I love this place, but of anyone else I know what else is out there.”
“You’re not mad, are you,” his eyes sought out a response.
“Of course not. I’m going to miss you around though.”
“I’ll miss you too Granddad. But I’ll make you proud. You can count on that.” His young voice was full of confidence.
He patted his grandson’s shoulder. “I know you will. And I know you’ll be back. You love this place just as much as me. Me and you Jackson, we’re meant to live here and die here. Where we go in the meantime isn’t what is important.”
He heard the blaring of a car horn and turned his eyes from the ant hill at the foot of the steps to the car sitting in the street. He would have known that other set of curly hair if it had been sitting on a shelf by itself.
“I’ll be motherfucking-Goddammed,” a full out southern drawl yelled across the road. Jackson was glad his mother wasn’t around to hear the words coming out of the other man’s mouth. “Jackson!”
“Hey,” he waved, the beginnings of a smile on the corners of his lips. When he decided to come back home he was just thinking about being at home. Safe. Comfortable. Not seeing everyone he grew up with.
“What are you doing back in town? Getting married or some shit?”
Uh-oh, there was that feeling again. Glad he didn’t put any fruit in his oatmeal Jackson leaned over the porch railing this time, keeping his shoes tidy.
“Shit. You always said I made you sick. I didn’t know physically.”
“Juan, shut up,” Jackson answered wiping his hand on a nearby leaf. Juan Ayala. Best friend by birth. Jackson and Juan would never have been friends if they hadn’t been raised in the same playpen.
He shrugged his shoulders, “I only assumed. You’re sitting up here fine and dandy and then you see me and bleck!”
“I’m fine.”
Juan didn’t care. “So, are you coming with me and the guys tonight or what? When did you get home?”
With a heavy sigh Jackson answered. “Last night. And I’m here to relax. I know exactly what is going to happen if I spend any time with you and ‘the guys’.”
“You always were a worry wart Jack.”
“My worrying kept your ass out of a lot of trouble Ayala.”
Juan scoffed, “Ha. Yeah right. All your worrying did was freak us out even more. Do you remember that time we decided we all needed to try smoking.”
“Granddad?” The stink of cigarettes reeked from the small body standing at the doorway.
“Yes?” This was his agitated tone. He rarely used it, especially to Jackson. But today it was called for.
“Are you mad at me?” His small hand crept to scratch behind his ear, a habit he had actually picked up from his grandfather.
“What do you think Jackson?”
He frowned. “Yes. I know I shouldn’t have. I-I know it’s not good and-”
“Jackson, do you know what killed your Grandmother?”
The little boy’s eyes, already full of unshed tears, widened. With a shaky voice he answered, “No.”
“Cancer Jackson. Cancer. She didn’t smoke a day in her life. Not one. She never even held one of those damn things to her mouth. And it killed her. Do you want that to happen to you, huh?”
Tears were flowing down his face now. “No Granddad.”
“Then I suggest you, and all of your friends, steer clear of anything that smokes. You got that?”
“Yes Granddad.” His head hung low and he turned to walk to his room. He rarely needed to be punished and knew when he should be.
“Jackson,” his voiced called out, obviously emotional too, “come here.” He walked back towards his grandfather who pulled in onto his lap even though he was getting too big for it. “You know I love you right?”
“Yes.”
“And I want to protect you from everything, right?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want you to be afraid to tell me anything, ok? I know I‘ll get mad at you sometimes, and you might think you hate me too. But we’re a team Jackson. We look out for each other.”
He nodded. The little boy knew what Granddad wanted to know. “I stole them. From Mrs. Clarview down the road. She dropped them.”
“Jackson.”
“I wanted to give them back. But we were curious Granddad. I’ll never do it again. I promise. And I’ll give Mrs. Clarview money from my paper route and-”
Granddad held up a hand to stop the young rambling. “You’ll clean Mrs. Clarview’s front yard for the next month. She doesn’t need any more cigarettes than you do.”
Jackson let out a loud laugh, “I told you all that you would die if you smoked another one.”
“Sad truth for Willy,” Juan spouted without thinking. His brown eyes shot up to meet the blue ones of his age old pal and he felt guilty. “Sorry.”
“It’s Willy’s fault,” Jackson answered back with anger. “But I’m not going to talk about that right now.”
Juan nodded, seating himself on the top step of the stairs and placing his hands behind him. “So, why are you really here?”
Jackson scratched at his sideburn. “I had to get away.”
This did not please Juan. “Home isn’t where you are supposed to get away Jackson. Home is where you should be.”
The porch let out a soft creak as Jackson continued to rock. Neither spoke, but rather let Juan’s words sink in. Crickets chirped and the leaves rustled as a chipmunk scurried across the steps just inches from Juan’s sneaker clad feet. It was a warm afternoon, but there wasn’t much going on. A few cars passed along the street, two or three letting out a friendly honk as they made their way past the house.
It was Jackson who broke the silence between the two. “Do you remember the time I beat you up by the river after school?”
“Ha,” Juan laughed rolling his eyes, “You mean the time I beat you up by the river after school?”
“Granddad and Abb’s were pissed!”
“Shit,” Juan answered in remembrance, “you’d’ a thunk we’d beaten them up.”
It was late afternoon when Jackson and Juan finally strolled up to Jackson’s house. Jackson was dragging his backpack by the one strap still intact, a giant hole adorned his t-shirt and the purple coloring matched the bruise starting to form around his eye. Juan was in no better condition. He wore no shirt but was instead using it to sop up the blood from his lip. His hair was a mess and the knees of his jeans were torn.
Jackson’s momma was the first out of the door. She ran, putting a comforting arm around each boy. “What happened to you boys? Let’s get you inside and cleaned up. Jackson, were you sick hunny? You look a little green.”
“Sadie,” a chorus of voiced boomed from the front steps. Three set of eyes looked up sharply. It was the kind of call that told you one of two things. Either you were in trouble or you needed to leave immediately. Each of the three knew their part. Jackson and Juan walked slowly up to the steps while Sadie ventured back into the house. Granddad and his best friend Trace, who both boys called Abb, were sitting on the porch. A small card table sat between them. Instead of cards, however, there were piles of photographs. The boys exchanged fearful glances before walking up the two steps that put them halfway between a quick getaway and their grandfathers.
“Who do I need to sick my cane on,” Abb joked, poking Juan with the afore mentioned cane.
“Would you put that damn cane away,” Granddad laughed despite his anger. “You just use it to make people get you food lazyass.”
“Granddad!” Jackson cried in shock. Granddad didn’t use foul language in front of him. He used words like sugar and cranberry and fudge.Granddad smirked at the boys. “If you can handle the kind of beating it looks like the two of you took, you can know the truth. I imagine the other boys look worse?” He wiggled his eyebrows at them. Both boys looked down at their mud covered shoes.
“I see,” Abb said a moment later. Juan managed a small look at his own grandfather. The disappointment nearly made him tear up. But if Jackson could handle it, he could too.
Granddad’s chair stopped. “I will tell you both this once and only once. You are family. You’re blood. And you never, EVER, and I hope I’m making myself clear here, fight with family. Do you understand me?”
Both boys nodded solemnly. Quietly they answered, “Yes, sir.”
“I know Jack, that Juan’s gunna press your buttons just like his Abuelo does mine. But you’ll handle it. Because down the line, you’re gunna need Juan. He’s gunna be the guy that brings you back up when you’re feeling down.”
Abb nodded along with Granddad, “Juan, you might think Jackson is a bit uptight and obsessive, but it’s gunna pay off. He will keep you motivated.”
“You boys have something that no one can touch,” Granddad continued, “you have roots. No matter what happens, where you go, what you do, you can’t escape each other.”
“And if you think you can,” Abb added, “we will come back and haunt you forever.”“Trace, man,” Granddad laughed smacking the older man in the back of the head. “You just gone and ruined my inspirational moment. Now you two go wash up before dinner while I explain to Abb here how teaching you boys lessons works.”
Juan's shoulders shuddered and he looked up at the empty space where his abuelo’s chair used to sit on the porch. He noticed the far off look in Jackson’s eyes and knew he too was remembering that day.
“You need me to bring you back up, pal,” Juan asked getting to his feet.
Jackson’s eyes flitted from the steps, out to the middle of the yard, and finally back up to Juan. He licked his lips before replying, “Only if you need some motivation.”
It was only a matter of time before Juan was called away on some random errand from his mom. Try as both boys might, they were momma’s boys through and through and would do anything that their momma’s asked them. Juan more than Jackson. So rather than sit around the house some more and wallow in the pityfullness that was his life as Juan so eloquently put it, Jackson wandered into the garage. It was as neat and tidy as a garage could be. His childhood 10-speed hung from the rafters, the walls lined with shelves, plastic boxes along the floor were full of an assortment of dust covered balls of every size.
“Granddad,” the tiny boy cried with a voice much bigger than his size. The cry demanded full attention.
“Yes,” the elder man replied placing a guitar on the floor and turning his attention to the four year old he was supposed to be babysitting.
“I did it! I got it in,” the boy cried jumping up and down. “Watch me.” With a pair of stubby legs under mesh shorts the boy grabbed the orange ball and walked to the edge of the room. Tossing the ball effortlessly it bounced off the red and white plastic rim of the basketball hoop set up in the living room. Disappointed, he ran to grab the ball and try again.
“Jackson,” Granddad interrupted grabbing the boy around the waist, “let’s try it this way, ok?” Granddad took the ball which was small to begin with but looked insignificant in his hands, bounced it twice on the hardwood floor, then shot it through the air.
“You do basketball too Granddad,” he shrieked in surprise.
“Jackson, Jackson, Jackson,” Granddad chuckled, “we Timberlakes can do anything we set our minds to.”
Jackson turned suddenly when he heard the beep of a car horn incredibly closer than the others he’d been hearing all day. Although sweat dripped down the side of his neck, he hurriedly ran to the car. He finally noticed the sun churning shades of orange and pink from the horizon.
“Momma! You left without saying goodbye this morning,” Jackson declared placing a kiss on the smiling cheek of his mother. His eyes narrowed when David popped out of the passenger seat.
“Basketball, huh,” David asked. It was the kind of question that didn’t expect an answer, but rather filled up what would otherwise be an uncomfortable silence. “You’re Momma told me you were more of a golfer.”
Jackson bounced the ball a couple times, mostly for effect, before he replied, “I am a man of many talents.”
Momma disregarded the tension between the two and patted her son’s back. “Well, I’m glad you are feeling better. David and I were going to pop in a couple videos tonight and have you join us if you were up to it.”
“Act-” Jackson started. Momma, however, didn’t hear him as she made her way towards the house, talking with her back to the two men behind her.
“I’ll make some crunch cake for you Baby since you look like you can hold some food down and, oh! David, you can make those ribs on the grill that make me melt. We can call up-”
“Momma,” Jackson cried from the driveway. “I’m going out with Juan and the guys tonight.”
A small ‘o’ of surprise fell on Momma’s lips. “Already? How’d he even know you were back?”
Jackson shrugged, “Must have radar. Don’t worry. We are just catching up. Juan gossips as much as Mrs. Clarview used to.”
Momma nodded but seemed unconvinced, “Jack, Juan’s been having a rough time since Abb died. He isn’t exactly the same kid you grew up with. I don’t want you getting into any trouble at his expense and I certainly don’t want-”
“Momma,” Jackson interrupted placing a hand on each of her shoulders, “What can it hurt? Worst comes to worst David here has a chance to bail me out.”
Momma furrowed her eyebrows at Jackson’s joke. “Your Granddad is turning over in his grave for that remark young man.”
David, who hadn’t found the joke very funny since he was very fond of his money and had no intention of bailing out a 25 year old man perfectly capable of avoiding any trouble he could get into, now felt even more uncomfortable with the mention of Sadie’s father. The man’s legend seeped its way into everything.
Jackson just smiled. Slightly at first, and then with gradual strength, he began to nod. “Yeah, yeah, he would.”
The teenage boy struggled the keep up with the older man dragging him by the ear across the empty field. A cluster of teenagers huddled around the outskirts of the general store’s porch lights. Granddad sure could move when he wanted to.
“Granddad,” he pleaded, “I’m gunna fall.”
When he judged he was a safe distance away, Granddad let go of the ear and turned the boy to face him. He didn’t need to ask for an explanation. He crossed his arms and waited to hear the story.
“Well, I…we…Juan was too…and” He couldn’t even look up at him, and they were nearly eye to eye now.
“I can’t lecture you about this. It wouldn’t be fair. I know why and what made you and all of that. But I’ll tell you this. I didn’t get caught. Let that be your lesson. You are old enough now to make your decisions. Just be sure that if it’s something that can get you in trouble, and I know you will do something that will get you in trouble because you are my grandson, don’t get caught.” He nodded to show he understood. When Granddad didn’t say anything else, he looked up. Even in the darkness that fell around them, he could see a small glean in Granddad’s eyes. With a nod of approval, Granddad turned and continued on walking to wherever it was that he had come from.
Jackson slid the ball back into the plastic box, careful not to let the other smaller balls bounce back up at him. He followed David’s retreating form through the screen door and into the house. Momma was already pulling pots and pans out from the cabinets and under the stove. Again, Jackson’s stomach rumbled when he saw David carelessly opening a drawer and pulling out a few seasoning packets. He didn’t even know where Momma kept the meat tenderizer and he lived in the house for seventeen years. But David knows where it is.“Excuse me,” Jackson mumbled pushing both out of the way and pulling out the garbage can from under the sink just in time.
“Geeze,” David yelped. Jackson was standing on his foot.
Momma dropped the spatula into the sink and began to rub Jackson’s back. “Jack, baby, maybe we need to go see Doctor Brown. Are you sure you weren’t coming down with something before you headed down here?”
He took a few deep breaths and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “No, Momma. I’m fine. Just not used to the fresh air I guess. I’ll go take a bath. Maybe that’ll make me feel better.”
“That’s a great idea babe,” Momma comforted him. “David, can you take that bag out to the garbage for me?” She followed Jackson towards the stairs concerned. Left behind in the kitchen David cringed as he tied up the plastic bag and held it at a good arms distance away. Things would not look up if Jackson planned on going out with Juan “and the guys.”
“Granddad?” The usual chipper voice of the young boy was bogged down and heavy. He was huddled up in a thick robe that was usually reserved for Christmas morning but was still shaking.
“Yes,” Granddad asked holding out a large hand for the small boy. With one tug, the boy was seated atop Granddad’s lap at the kitchen table. “Are you hungry yet kiddo?”
“I’ma tired,” he replied rubbing his watery eyes.
Granddad used his hand that wasn’t around the boy’s waist to pat down the mass of curls on the little one’s head. “I bet you are.” He let out a loud, unexpected yawn that was matched by a smaller one. “Granddad’s tired too. But I’ll tell you a secret, ok? Then we can take a nap.”
The blue eyes of the small child shot up at the mention of secret. Leaning his head against the warm cotton of Granddad’s shirt he questioned, “What secret?”
Granddad smiled and continued running his hands over the boy’s hair. “If you feel sick. And I mean really, really sick. If you want to feel better, you have to drink some soup very quickly and go right to sleep.”
“Really?”
Granddad nodded. His lips twitched with a hint of smile before he continued, “The trick is you have to go right away. If you don’t go to sleep quick enough you won’t feel better. Sometimes people are so bad at it that they even forget the secret. Can you imagine that? Your Momma, she’s horrible. You can ask her about it tomorrow. She won’t know. She always took too long to fall asleep. Do you think you can handle it? Can you drink and sleep so quick you remember the secret?”
Eyes closed, Jackson nodded. “Soup Granddad. Quick!”
Jackson took in a deep breath. Soup and naps no longer solved his problems. So what if he was a 25 year old single man living at home with his Momma taking a bubble bath. Things could be worse. He could be taking a bubble bath alone at his apartment back home. Using her bubbles. All day long he had worked and worked at suppressing it. But with his wave of nauseous and desire to keep away from Momma and David for as long as possible she kept popping up. Idle minds. He hadn’t fallen for her at first sight nor did they have some fiery sexual tension that just exploded one day. They sat next to each other in an intro to economics class. Their professor paired them up for a presentation. They just kinda hung out every day since then.
“Fuck,” he breathed blowing a wad of bubbles across the soapy water, “I can’t even think about getting paid without thinking about her.”
“Yo, dude, let’s go. You’re hair ain’t ever gunna look as good as mi-Whoa,” Juan sputtered turning and shutting the door behind him. “I see I was needed even more than I thought.”
“Shut up Juan,” Jackson prattled while pulling himself out of the water. He grabbed a towel and quickly dried off his legs before putting his boxers on. Yanking open the door to allow Juan access back into the bathroom Jackson turned to pull the plug out of the tub.
“Seriously Jack. Bubbles?”
Face to the mirror Jackson grabbed a bottle of mouse and examined the expiration date. He squirted a little on his hand and smelled it. Satisfied, he squirted a little more and set to texturizing the short curls on his head. “Don’t be jealous that I’m comfortable enough with myself to take a bubble bath.”
“Granddad?” A tiny mop of curly hair poked its way into the doorway of Granddad’s bedroom.
Granddad looked over the covers at the bouncing boy, then over at the clock. “Bed Jack.”
“No tired.”
A groan. “Jackson, you can’t grow up and be as tall as me if you don’t get enough sleep. Or milk.”
“I wanna be big like you,” he protested pulling on the edges of the comforter in an attempt to pull his small body up onto the bed. Giggling in triumph he planted himself right next to Granddad. His footsie covered feet pressed against Granddad’s legs.
“You will be. But not for a while Jacks. Granddad wants you to stay small for awhile, ok?”
“Why?”
“Because,” he explained, “the bigger you get the older Granddad gets. And when Granddad gets older he can’t play with you like he used to.”
“Oh.” Granddad, pleased with himself, placed a casual hand on the child’s head and fell back asleep easily. Then, out of nowhere Jackson ahahs; “I know! I’ll get bigger, but not older. Then we can always play forever.”
Seated on the edge of the bathtub Juan can’t help but notice. “You’re like his twin, you know that right?”
Jackson pretended he didn’t hear him and grabs a semi-wrinkled white t-shirt from his duffle bag on the floor. A pair of jeans with a signature “w” on the back slide on soon after and he finally turns to face his friend.
“It’s creepy. It also makes me call your Uncle’s paternity into question. He looks nothing like either of you.”
“Can we not?”
“Oh get of it J,” Juan pleads following Jackson into his bedroom. The two sink into respective chairs as if the past ten years had never happened and they were still 17 year old kids. “I mean I’m glad I don’t look like Abb but-”
“You do,” Jackson interrupted, one shoe on. “You’ve got his big mouth for one.”
Juan chuckled deep in his chest, “Yeah. I guess you got me there. I swear though man, you start stealing my chicks tonight and I’m gunna have to send you back up to city-ville. I been working these girls since you left man.”
Now it was Jackson’s turn to laugh. “Dude, ‘chicks’ are the last thing on my mind tonight, ok?” Juan nodded and swiped an old hat off a peg by the door. Dusting it off with his hand he pulled the camouflage brim over his hair. Together they clomp down the stairs. Jackson ignored the motionless lumps of his mom and David under the blanket in front of the television and yanks open the front door. Juan follows.
“Granddad,” the nervous teen calls out as he crosses the street and into his own yard on his way home.
“Yes,” Granddad calls from the porch like always. He has a letter in his hand and two bowls of cobbler on the table beside him.
“Who is the letter from,” Jackson asks quickly swiping one of the bowls. He leans against the porch beam, his right leg swinging off the porch and hitting the ground. Granddad folds it up and puts it into the pocket of his polo. The letter pokes out, continuing to entice the curious boy. “Come on Granddad!”
He taps the letter with one hand in contemplation. Then, he replies. “Tell me what you wanted to first, and then I’ll decide if it’s good enough to share my news.”
Jackson rolled his eyes. Granddad always did this and Jackson knew that it meant the letter was none of his business and unless he told Granddad he met fire breathing dragons on the way home and stole their talons, he’d be s.o.l. “Fine.”
“Boy,” Granddad warned with a smile.
“Alright, alright,” Jackson relented. He scooped a chunk of peach into his mouth. “I asked someone to the carnival next week.”
“Juan was going with us anyways,” Granddad answered, “but I’m sure there’s room for one more. Ya’ll might have to sit in the bed of the truck but-”
“A girl, Granddad.”
Jackson jumped in surprise when Granddad smacked his knee. “Jackson, boy! A date!”
“It’s not a date Granddad. She just said her Momma couldn’t take her because she had to work and I knew we were going already so I-”
Granddad shook his head no. “Oh, it’s a date Jackson. You don’t offer to take girls to carnivals. Even if their Momma’s have to work. Jackson’s got a daaate.” Granddad began dancing in his seat.
Jackson slumped against the beam and shoved another spoonful of peach into his mouth, “I’m gunna have to get all cleaned up for it aren’t I?”
Beale Street. Lights. People. Jackson should have felt at home. Memphis was a city to be sure. But it wasn’t as big nor as busy as he remembered when he was younger. Over the years he’d been to so many cities. None, however, were as grand as the first city he’d ever been to: Memphis. He could still remember the smell of the spring air and the feel of Granddad’s hand around his as they walked down the street. So it surprised him when his heart and body weren’t filled with their usual air of excitement as he ambled down the familiar street. He straggled behind the group of friends as they made their way from the parking garage to their destination. One of the guys held open the door for him. Jackson didn’t remember his name, but his face was familiar. He suddenly felt really old.“Welcome to the land of dreams,” Juan proclaimed opening his hands before him, then draping one arm around Jackson’s neck. The other guys chuckled and made a beeline for a set of booths in the back corner of the building. “Anything you want tonight is on me Jack.”
Soft lips revealed a pair of nearly perfect teeth. “Yeah, thanks Juan. I’ll remember that.” Juan laughed and left Jackson’s side to join the others.
“Granddad,” he asked popping a finger out of his mouth and wiping it on a napkin. It joined an ever increasing pile of similar napkins in the middle of the table.
“Yes,” Granddad asked placing his bottle on the table and looking at the boy for a second, then turning back towards the stage.
“I like it here.” His cheeks bunched up as he smiled around the fried poultry.
Granddad nodded in agreement. “I know. I liked it when I was your age too.”
Wide eyed in surprise Jackson replied, “You did!?”
A French fry flew across the table hitting the young boy in the shoulder. “Of course Jack. What’s not to like? Food, music, pretty ladies.” Granddad wiggled his eyebrows.
“Ew, Granddad!”
“Believe it or not Jack, one day you will like girls. A lot. And you’ll be wishing you had listened to all the advice your great ole Granddad gave you.”
Jackson bit into his remaining chicken leg and turned towards the stage with a new sense of interest. “I guess I will one day. But can we just talk about music instead?”
Not really ready to meet up with Juan and the rest of his revelry, Jackson walked through the general dining area to the crowded bar. He easily hoisted himself up onto one of the bar stools. Leaning against the dark wood, he scratched his forehead in thought. From the corner of his eye he thought he saw the bartender making his way towards him so he sat up a little straighter, prepared to make his order.
But before him stood a girl, no-a woman, with familiar eyes. Her outfit mirrored his own, except hers had a large green apron across the waist. “Libby?”
“What’ll it be Jack?”
“Libby!” He repeated still stunned. A smile he hadn’t felt in a long time graced his face.
She crunched the longnecks in her hands into the ice cooler in front of her. “Aware, thank you. Are you going to ask for something or just take up space for paying customers?”
“Last time I saw you-”
“Look Jack,” she interrupted rubbing her own forehead with the back of her arm. A bottle opener flashed in her hand as lights from somewhere deeper in the building began flashing. Jackson noticed she looked even more tired than he felt. “If you wanna reminisce and shit, call me. It’s busy in here, ok? I have to work.”
“Coors,” he offered.
Libby nodded and reached around for a chilled glass. “Like father, like son, huh,” she asked pulling on the tap. An overwhelming sense of homesickness hit him suddenly. He was in Tennessee drinking a Coors with Libby. Jackson took the glass she offered and put down a twenty. “Keep it Jack.”
“No,” he said pushing it further along the counter towards her, “it’s busy. You’re working.”
“Granddad.” The high pitched voice of a child’s whine sang through the entire house.
“Yes,” Granddad gritted out. The boy flung himself at the knees of the older man and latched on.
“I found you.” He laughed and looked up past the olden man’s knees.
“I told you I was working today Jack. You promised you would be quiet while Granddad worked. If you want to make noise and goof around I’ll call Abb and he can come and get you.”
Jackson pouted and refused to let go of Granddad’s leg. “I was good Granddad. You work all day.”
“I warned you,” Granddad said successfully pulling Jackson off his leg and placing the small body on the counter of the desk before him. “So? What is it going to be?”
Jackson fidgeted with his fingers and sighed, “Break time?”
“Oh my GOSH! Oh my GOSH.”
A scream from a single feminine voice rocked Jackson back from his memory. Jackson took a deeper sip of his drink and prepared for the worst. Plastering a fake smile like none other he turned on his stool in the direction of the screeching.
“Jackson?” Oh shit! Jackson swallowed hard. Seeing Juan and the guys from high school, even Libby, was one thing. But he hadn’t been expecting to see others too.
“Hey Karen,” he managed. It had been years since he’d seen her. Her face looked worn. She had the same deep brown eyes that he remembered and as far as he could tell she was wearing the same shade of lipstick. His ears started to warm and tinge pink when he began to remember.
“Granddad?” This was serious.
“Yes?”
“How-I mean, when, should-” He couldn’t believe he was asking this.
“You’ll know Jackson,” he answered without having to hear the question. He handed the teenager a piece of his Hershey bar and continued. “I’m not going to sit here and tell you that you’ll know for sure. You could be wrong. I’ve been wrong. But what I can tell you is that if everything is what you think it is, if you have that feeling deep in your gut that tells you that no matter what choice you make you’ll still feel that way, if all you can think about and dream about is her, then you have no choice. Be it wrong or right, you can’t help the way you feel.”
“But if I’m wrong-”
“Son,” he said clamping his hand on the curls of the younger person, “How can it be wrong, if it’s how you feel? Feelings can’t lie. You can misunderstand them from time to time, but whatever you feel, that’s real.”
“Thanks Granddad,” he replied, a small smile on his lips. He gave the elder man a hug and started to descend the stairs.
“Hey, Jackson,” Granddad called out. “Do not tell your mother about this.”
With a blush the younger man replied, “You don’t have to tell me twice.”
“Would you look at you? What have you been doing? Your Momma never said you were coming to town.”
Jackson rubbed the back of his neck uncomfortably. “Uh, it was a surprise. I’ve just been working, you know?”
She nodded and strands of slightly curled hair fell down from her ponytail. He tried to look anywhere but at her. He silently prayed for Juan to barge in. She however must have felt completely comfortable because she kept jabbering away asking Jackson questions he had no desire to answer. He kept them short and simple. He had to be polite at least. The more Karen talked, the more Jackson began to think. How is it that at one point in his life he would have given up anything to make Karen smile, and now he couldn’t wait to get away from her? He started thinking about the events that had sparked his return to Tennessee and if he would feel the same way in years to come. Feeling the muscles in his stomach clench he knew his answer: no. Never.
A gust of breath that Jackson didn’t know he’d been holding exploded when Juan threw an arm around Jackson’s neck. “What’s this? Rekindling old love flames Jack?”
Karen rolled her eyes and punched Juan’s arm. “You know I’m married Juan.”
Jackson’s eyes widened in shock. “Yeah? Congrats.”
She shook her head, “Oh yes. A little late Jack, but thanks.”
Juan pulled Jackson down to ruffle his hair then spoke. “Now, if you two are done, I need to get this city-boy country-wasted. I’m afraid his tolerance is below par.”
“It was good to see you Jack,” Karen offered patting a small hand on his bicep. “Come stop by while you’re in town. The kids love visitors.”
As Juan easily dragged Jackson away, Jackson whispered in shock, “Kids!?”
Slinging the taller man into a wooden chair against the wall, Juan answered while placing three shot glasses before him. “Apparently we are the only ones without a ball, chain, and dependents. Now drink up hearty my friend.”
“Granddad,” the toothy boy asked kicking a rock down the road in front of him.
“Yes,” Granddad asked hitting the same rock with his gym shoe as the pair approached it again.
“Why don’t I have a Daddy?”
Granddad’s steps faltered for a second in surprise. Jackson had never before asked him or his mother about their family situation. It was just the three of them and everyone was happy with it. “Why do you ask Jack?”
The green and red of Jackson’s windbreaker shrugged. “I dunno.”
“I think you should know why you want to know before I can explain. People will tell you a lot of things in your life, but until you know why it is important to know what you know, it won’t matter. And your Momma probably knows more about it than me pal.”
Blue eyes that matched the sky skimmed up the body of the taller man. “I guess. But you’ll tell me one day, right?”
Jackson’s heavy eyes roamed over the familiar pictures and other decorations. A heavy framed photograph of Granddad loomed high above a table three booth away. Beside him: Elvis.
His elbow was nudged by someone and without diverting his eyes Jackson took the newly filled glass and brought it to his lips. Only a second latter he was spitting it out all over the floor.
“What the hell is this?” He cried swinging around to address his friends. He realized the crowd was much bigger now. Several people that he recognized from high school but couldn’t quite remember their names were crowded around his booth. His heart rate picked up when he noticed several of them staring at him.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Juan teased. Jackson knocked him upside the head and swiped the silver and brown bottle from Juans’ hands.
“Granddad,” the characteristically calm voice asked from the backseat of the car.
“Yes,” Granddad answered pulling down the visor to block out the setting sun as he drove.
“How do you-I mean, what if-I.”
Granddad tried not to smile as he turned his head towards the young boy. “Nervous Jack?” The wide eyes of the boy revealed the answer to his question. “Don’t worry Jack. You’ll do just fine.”
“But if I don’t everyone will notice and then-”
Granddad had finally pulled the car into a parking space in the elementary school parking lot. He threw an arm around the passenger seat, nearly missing Sadie’s head in the processes. Now facing his grandson he continued. “The best performers are never perfect. They just make mistakes look good.”
“I don’t think that’s going to help,” Sadie mumbled under her breath at him.
“Sure it is,” Granddad smiled pushing his door open, “besides Jack has nothing to worry about. Sally Hanson is standing in front of him and no one will see him anyway.”
“Granddad,” Jackson cried stopping in his tracks in the middle of the sidewalk.
“What,” Granddad feigned innocence, “that’s what you said. You know, unless you’re too scared to tell Mrs. Clowd that you can’t see.”
Jackson puffed out his chest and pulled on the cuffs of his dress shirt like he’s seen Granddad do. “I’m not scared.”
“Good,” Granddad said swatting at his behind, “then let’s have a good show.” He held out his hand and Jackson bumped it with his own small one. Jackson’s blue eyes twinkled as he jogged down the sidewalk to catch up with his classmates
Jackson didn’t have a choice. Over three fourths of the people in the bar knew who he was, had watched him grow up, and were not going to let him get away with backing down from a dare. He was drunk enough to do it, but not drunk enough to not want to. Groaning, he stood. A chorus of cheers bustled out from behind the music playing.
“You’ll be fine,” Libby encouraged hooking up the microphone on the stage while Jackson waited off to the side. “They’re all plastered anyway.” Jackson looked out on the crowd nervously.
His large hands settled over Jackson’s smaller ones. With the ease of someone who had been playing for over half a century Granddad showed him where to put his fingers.
“This chord is called A.”
“A.” The tiny voice repeated.
He adjusted his fingers again. “This is D.”
“Granddad?”
“Yes?”
“What is this one called,” he asked shaking off the older man’s fingers and strumming the guitar with surprising ease.
Granddad was shocked, “Jackson! How’d you know how to do that?”
His childish shoulder shot up, then down, in a shrug. “I watched you.”
Jackson wasn’t sure if it was the memories, the overly greased food, the alcohol, or if maybe he was indeed getting sick, but the next thing he knew he was keeled over in the corner of the stage.
“Amature,” he heard a deep drunken voice boom from somewhere across the bar.
Even with his eyes closed he knew who the first form to approach him was. Peaking up he watched as she yelled orders across the room. Juan stumbled over to the stage and gripped the edge of it to pull himself up.
“I’m calling a cab.”
“Like hell, Libby,” Juan sputtered. He pulled on Jackson’s arm and helped the blonde up. “Jack’s fine. Don’t act like you’ve never had anyone throw up on your stage before.”
She rolled her eyes at him and nodded. “Yes, but not Jackson. He either goes home in a cab or stays in Memphis with me. Make your choice.” She started walking away, then paused and turned back to face the pair, “And Juan is not invited to stay.”
Jackson couldn’t open his eyes. Physically he was capable. Emotionally he wasn’t ready. Images of the previous night flashed across the back of his tired eyelids. He was more than shameful of the things he had done and that was only the things he remembered doing. He took several deep breaths before he allowed himself to crack one eye open. The windows were draped in a dark, heavy fabric and he was thankful. Cautiously he opened the other eye and pulled himself into a seated position on the bed. He tossed the floral/plaid combo patterned comforter to the side. It fell soundlessly to the hardwood floor. Standing and stretching his arms high above his head and letting out a loud groan when his shoulder popped, he scratched his chest and shook his head at the various stains now adorning his tshirt. In an instant he realized he didn’t know where his jeans were. Concentrating deeply on what he remembered, he thought he left the bar with them, but honestly even that was hazy. At best guess, he thought he'd thrown them off during the night. A quick survey of the room told him his pants were not there. He did, however, find a pair of grey sweatpants folded neatly on the white antique dresser.
In suitable dress he exited the room looking for it’s owner. He walked down the small hallway separating the living quarters from the single bedroom. The walls were mostly bare except for two large frames, one on each side of the wall. On Jackson’s right was an obsessively blown up black and white picture. An old man sat on a picnic bench beside a tiny girl with black pigtails. Both smiled back at him. Opposite this was an encased gold record. It didn’t have her name anywhere on it but Libby definitely deserved credit for inspiring it. A soft light from the kitchen window told him it was just past sun-up. It was way too early for him to be up, but his body could not handle laying on the bed any longer. He recognized the sound of James Taylor playing softly from a small radio suspended under the oak cabinets. Jackson took what he hoped was a clean glass from the drying rack in the sink and gulped down a glass of water.
Libby was nowhere to be seen. His drowsy eyes settled on a low window as a sweet breeze ruffled the curtains. He realized how much the smell of magnolia’s reminded him of home. Not sure why, he leaned out of the window and sighed in relief. Libby sat on a rusted folding chair. Her balcony, if he could call it that, was the cement overhang from the building below. Some city department should have told her to either not sit on the overhang or required her to put up a railing. Knowing Libby they probably had. She was swaddled in an oversized flannel rolled up to the elbows. Another similar folding chair sat beside hers and between the two was a small cast iron table. A dead looking potted plant sat on the table.
Libby turned when she heard him squeezing through the window and a soft laugh floated through the noiseless air. His right foot caught against the window frame and he cursed loudly before limping to the open chair. Jackson too a look around him while Libby sat soundlessly by. Memphis at seven in the morning was an eerie sight for Jackson. It was too quiet.
“Where are my pants?” This fact confused him and he desperately wanted to know the answer. His belongings had their place and when he couldn’t place them, he felt a sense of tightness settle across his shoulders.
She tisked, “It’s very irresponsible for you to have no idea where your pants are Jackson.” He could usually tell when Libby was being sarcastic, but right now he wasn’t so sure. Add that to the continually mounting pain in his head and Jackson could care less.
He groaned and shook his head very lightly, “Libby, I’m not in the mood for your games.”
She glared at him, “Did you ever think I wasn’t in the mood to drag your drunk ass home and clean you up after you puked and pissed on yourself? 25 year old child. I told Juan that last shot of Tequila wasn’t a good idea. You sure made an entrance back into town Jacks.”
Jackson’s eyes widen in shame. Leave it to Libby to lay out all your mistakes at the exact moment that you want to forget them. “Sorry Lib.”
Libby shrugged and pushed the sleeve of her shirt up as it slipped down. Bringing a faded white and green coffee cup to her lips, she paused. Jackson waited nervously. There was something she wanted to say or ask, but Jackson could tell she was trying to find the right way to do it.
“You’re not dying are you,” she finally asked curtly. One thin eyebrow raised.
Jackson turned a little quicker than he should have after last night and his cognition wobbled a second before he could reply, “What!? Why? No.”
Libby shrugged, “You puked up everything you’ve eaten since Thanksgiving. On my stage, thank you. And your Momma is concerned too.”
“You called my Mom,” Jackson cried. He immediately looked at his bare feet when his voice cracked.
She took another sip from her cup. Jackson swore she was smirking at this. “Of course Jack. Welcome back to Shelby: the town where everyone knows everyone else’s business.”
Jackson nodded in agreement. He should have known. He thought back to what was supposed to have been a relaxing bath just the other day. Jackson knew now that the second that door had closed his Momma had been hollarin’ at everyone from kingdom come. He wasn’t sure how Libby had gotten on that call list since she’d been one of the few people in Shelby happy to see him leave. Her willingness to take him in after last night surprised him somewhat. But Libby was always good for help when times were too rough to handle alone. “Thanks for taking care of me last night.”
She ‘uh-huh’-ed into her cup and pushed a similar one closer to Jackson. “It’s what I do.”
He smiled a reminiscent smile, “I know Lib. But you didn’t have to.”
“There’s a lot of things I did in my life that I didn’t have to for you. Why start now?”
He didn’t have an answer. Instead, he brought the cup to his own lips, savoring the deep aroma. As he tentatively sipped it he watched the city begin to come back alive. Durango’s and F 150’s pulled up to the curb and men outfitted in denim bibs and worn baseball caps stopped at the diners for a second cup of coffee before heading to work.
“You’re not going to make me ask you, are you,” Libby interrupted. Ah! There was the real question she wanted to ask. He turned slightly to look at her, expecting to see her watching him. Her eyes were straight ahead. Jackson got the feeling this was her daily routine and him being there wasn’t going to change what she’d been used to. Not that he had ever been able to change anything when it came to Libby.
“I’m not sure I can talk about it Libs,” he confessed. He knew that as soon as he explained why he was back to Libby, everyone would know. Not that Libby was a blabbermouth, but these kinds of things were never kept quiet. Jackson was still trying to get over it himself and he knew he wasn’t ready for the condolences that would undeniably make their way once the news was out.
Libby set her cup onto the table and it wobbled on one leg. “Something’s up Jack. I didn’t think I’d see you back here again so don’t tell me you’re just using your vacation time. You ain’t right. I heard you mumbling in your sleep. Don’t let it eat you up Jackson.”
Jackson sighed. She wasn’t going to let it go. Libby knew every trick in the book to get him to talk. “That’s not it Libs,” he spoke slowly. “Please don’t talk about things you don’t know anything about. Besides, she-”
“Ah ha,” Libby smirked turning in her seat and pointing a finger at Jackson. Her blue eyes sparkled both from the rising sun and in excitement. She pulled one foot up under her, “I knew it had to be about a girl. Dish.”
Jackson rolled his eyes and turned away from her. He examined his big toe. “Not now Libby.”
“Oh, ok,” she sighed, “I’ll just wait another eight years for you to contact me to hear about it.”
“That’s not fair Libby.”
She held up her hands, “No, it’s fine. What Jackson wanted always came first. I’ll wait.”
Jackson and Granddad stood at the end of the driveway, each holding a fishing pole and can of corn in their hands. Jackson’s right arm hung unevenly at his side, rubbing against his leg as he attempted to carry Granddad’s tackle box. Running across the street, her dark, straight hair flopping around in pigtails Libby skidded to a stop in front of them.
“Can I come too Granddad? Daddy got me a pink pole from the dollar store!” Proudly she showed the two of them her dinky pink pole. Her smile lit up her blue eyes, the same eyes the males across from her had.
Jackson let out an immature groan. Being older he should have known better and been more accepting. But he wasn’t. He dropped the tackle box on the ground. “Granddad, we can’t take a girl. Take anyone else but her.”
“Libby-Lynn,” Granddad said crouching to look the disappointed girl in the face. Jackson heard him whispering something to her and saw her pink pole slowly start to droop until the tip was brushing the dirt on the side of the road. Granddad stood back up, patting her shoulders all the while. “Maybe next time darlin’. Ok?”
She brushed a stray piece of brunette hair back, “Ok.” Jackson tried not to notice her tears as she ran back across the street throwing her pole into a bush in her front yard.
Grandad turned his gaze back at Jackson. “One day Jackson, you’re gunna want Libby around. We all know she’s two handfuls and a side of headache, but she’s your cousin and you can’t treat her that way.”Jackson kicked his toe shamefully into the dirt, dust clouds puffing around his gym shoes. “But she’s so annoying.”
“She’s so annoying,” Granddad mocked flicking the bill of Jackson’s hat. He wrapped his arm around the smaller set of shoulders and together they set out on the familiar path to the creek.
“Libby.”
“Heaven knows I’m just trying to help.” Jackson could sense that what had started as teasing was slowly turning hostile. He squeezed his lips together willing himself not to say anything to Libby that could set her off even more than he apparently already had. His head pounded. “You’d think you might have learned that I don’t press if I don’t think it’s important or that I can help. But whatever. Mope around and puke your intestines out. Fine by me. I’ll call Juan and tell him to come and-”
“Don’t throw that shit at me Libby,” he countered, probably more angered than he should have been. “I don’t need to be picked up like some disobedient kid at a sleepover.”
Libby’s eyes narrowed. “Oh. Ok. I see. I don’t know what crap happened out in ‘the big city’” she used air quotes further illuminating her sarcastic attitude, “but you’re not the Jackson I grew up with. Your attitude is rotten. Maybe you think you’re better than me because I didn’t leave Podunk but you have no reason Jackson. I don’t care what some stupid hoe bag did to you.”
Jackson’s breath caught in his throat. She had done it. She had pulled the trigger. His hands clenched against his knees. Breathing became more and more difficult. His shoulders hunched over and his toes tapped the cement rhythmically as he attempted to get himself under control.
“Jack? Do you need a bucket?” Her joke didn’t work.
“Just shut the hell up Libby!” His command might have been followed if it wasn’t so weak that Libby had to lean closer to hear him.
“What the fuck did you do,” she asked with wide eyes, “shit Jack, what did she do?”
He had finally broken. Days and days spent burying everything up inside had taken it’s toll. Sharing his emotions had always been hard for Jackson and none had even been close to the way he’d felt for Mandy. He had continued to tell himself it wasn’t true, that it was all a big misunderstanding, and everything would be back to normal. Now, finally having to admit it, explain it to someone who didn’t share any relationship with Mandy made it more real than he was willing to admit. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. Jackson looked upwards willing himself to fight back the moisture in his eyes. A tense silence stretched between the two. Jackson rested his elbows on his knees, chin in hands, and trained his eyes on a crack in the cement.
“Jack? Come on. What is it? I can’t help if-”
His eyes were red with tears. Hoarsely he replied, “You can’t help Libby.”
“That’s what I do Jack. Just tell me.”
He swiped a bare arm over his nose leaving a light green streak across his skin. Jackson’s jaw was tense but he managed to grunt out, “You can’t bring her back.”
She reached across the table to ruffle his hair, “Gimmie your phone and I’ll call her. We can sort this-”
“You. Can’t. Call. Her. Libby. She won’t answer anymore. You don’t think I call every ten minutes just to hear her voice?” Jackson’s voiced wavered as he called to mind the countless times he’d picked up his phone.
“If she won’t answer Jack she isn’t worth it. You might be a jerk sometimes but-”
Jackson slowly shook his head. His response was thick, “She was supposed to marry me Libs. We were going to come back and get married and live here together but-” he stopped as a fresh and heavy stream of tears flowed unreserved.
Hesitantly Libby asked, “But?”
“She’s…she’s gone. Forever.” Jackson rubbed the palms of his hand over his eyes. When he pulled them down his eyes locked with Libby’s. In an instant she reached out and pulled him out of the chair and into a tight embrace.
“Oh Jack. God Jacks. I’m so sorry.” Libby consoled nearly in tears herself.
“Don’t even think about it.”
Feigning ignorance Jackson pulled his calloused finger back from the radio dial and slouched in his seat. God did Jackson love this car. Granddad had many more extravagant cars. But Jackson just loved this car. It was the kind of car mechanics had oil paintings of framed in their living rooms. From the white retractable top to the shiny silver rims to the smell of the worn leather, Jackson felt himself slipping back into happier times when a ride down a county road was all that it took to make him happy. Jackson’s Momma had called about an hour earlier checking up on Jackson, again. Libby had told him they’d better leave. She’d called nine times already.
“I still don’t understand how you ended up with the Bonneville,” he admitted rapping his knuckles against the red exterior. The wind felt fantastic as it whipped against his face. Jackson has slouched as low as he could in his seat, enjoying the warm feeling of the sun beating down on his face. His eyes watered unemotionally.
With one hand on the large wheel Libby shrugged, “What would you do with a 1965 in the middle of the city, huh?”
“Be one hell of a lucky guy,” Jackson answered without a beat. “At least you’re taking care of it.”
“What is that supposed to mean,” Libby asked agitated. Her hair flapped wildly in the breeze with only a bandana to keep it out of her face.
Jackson rolled his eyes behind his set of borrowed purple rhinestoned sunglasses. Now that Libby knew the basics of what had happened between him and Mandy he thought she might have been a little more considerate. “Nothing Lib. You’re taking care of the car is all. It looks good. Just like I remembered.”
“Whatever,” she mumbled under her breath and swung the large car around the bend in the road.
Jackson counted down the mailboxes again, past Uncle Junior and Libby’s old house, and was happier than ever to see his car alone in the driveway.
Before he could even let out a breath Libby slammed her door shut. He took his time crawling out, tempted to jump over the side of the door. If not for entertainment, then for tradition. He knew, however, he was much too old and much to tired to think he could land the jump. Jackson watched Libby inspect his car, suddenly realizing it was in need of a wash.
“Wanna trade,” she asked. She ran her fingers over the silver finish beneath the layer of dust leaving a trail behind.
Jackson crossed behind her and was up two of the porch steps before he realized what she’d asked. “For real?”
Libby brushed past him quickly jingling the car keys inches from his nose. “Ha, yeah right.” She pushed the front door open and Jackson followed behind. But not before taking another look.
"Hi Auntie," Libby smiled accepting the tight hug awaiting her from Jackson's mom who was busy in the kitchen. "Where's David?"
Jackson snapped to attention. Libby knew about him? And she was fine about it? His stomach rumbled.
“He took your daddy out to Graceland again," she replied tossing biscuit dough onto the counter and handing Libby a wooden roller.
Jackson laughed quietly when he saw Libby's face wrinkle in disgust. “That time already? I forgot about that. What with last night's festivities and all..."
“I didn’t know Uncle Junior was back too,” Jackson confessed. Momma plunked a bucked of peas in front of him. He reluctantly pulled out a chair.
Momma flipper her peeler expertly around her index finger before grabbing a potato with her free hand. “I forget Jack. You’re back and it feels like you didn’t leave. I’m gunna have to try to remember to tell you about what’s been going on. Oh! That reminds me Libby, have you seen Sarah-Jane and Kent out in that bar of yours? Mrs. Walker says that they-”
“Momma,” Jackson interrupted then popped a small pea in his mouth. The smooth texture distracted him for a second.
Momma leaned across the counter and gave Jackson’s shoulder a squeeze, “I’ll keep the gossip down. You just don’t realize I don’t have as much to keep me busy as you do. I guess I’m so used to David being around to talk to that when it’s not him I go a little overboard. Well, David’s been trying to get me out of the habit too. Y’all’re alike that way Jack.”
It took Jackson a second to process. Had his Momma just compared-he groaned and shoved the bucket of peas on the table. He heard Libby grumble behind him about playing sick and being a lazy-ass.
Jackson wouldn't say he was claustrophobic, but he sure had a fear of being trapped. And one would think moving to a big city like New York would be the last place for someone who felt the way he did, but Jackson felt so much more comfortable there. In the city there were so many people, yes, but none of them paid any attention to him. Occasionally he’d get a sidelong look as if someone recognized him, but he was nearly never approached. He was one in a crowd and that was how he liked it ever since he was little.
“Granddad,” he asked looking up over the brim of his Vols baseball hat. The sun blinded him for just a second before Granddad stepped in front of the sun.
“Jackson,” he answered pulling on his hand.
“Can we go?”
Granddad pursed his lips in confusion, “We just got here Jack. Don’t you want to play?”
Jackson looked around him. For most people when they think others are pointing and whispering it is all mental, but Jackson knew they really were pointing at him. At Granddad. At both of them. And he didn’t like it at all. “No.”Granddad must have heard the desperation in his voice because he ushered Jackson towards a bench and sat beside him. “Jackson, you can’t run away whenever people look at you.”
“No one looks at me funny in Shelby,” he answered matter of factly.
Granddad hid a small smile behind his hand, “I know sonny. I know. But listen Jack. People will look at you. You’re too special for them not to. And they ain‘t looking at you funny. They‘re just looking cuz they‘re nosey.”
“I don’t wanna be special,” Jackson claimed scooting closer trying to hide behind Granddad’s jacket sleeve.
Instead Granddad pulled him out at arm’s length and looked him directly in the eye, “Jackson. You never hide because you are different or special. You are given your gifts to share with others and if you weren’t supposed to share you wouldn’t have your talents. What woulda happened if I stopped doing what I like cuz people look at me?”
Jackson was used to Granddad’s stern warnings about not putting his face in front of the dog or swimming alone. But those were actions he could stop. Being afraid was something Jackson didn’t think he had control over. And he was certain he didn’t have any special talents are great as Granddad’s.
“When you put yourself down, that’s saying to everyone that you don’t respect me or your Momma. You are my grandson and my grandson will not hide who he is from anybody. I don’t expect any less from you, understood?”
“Yes, sir,” Jackson mumbled.
“Alright. Now go get those clubs and carry then for your cranky old Granddad.”
Jackson wondered if he could leave without them noticing. It was more than uncomfortable to have Momma and David there, but with Libby and Uncle Junior it was overwhelming. Then Juan and his Momma showed up for dessert and Jackson could feel the kitchen closing in on him.
He was sitting with his back to one of the porch doors. Sweeping the table he calculated his moves. Careful not to let the legs of his chair scrape along the hardwood floor, he stood up. So far, so good. Juan gave him a curious glance, but continued talking to David about Jackson's drunken serenade the night before. Had he really sang Barry Manilow in public? With a deep breath he took the few steps that led to the back door. No one noticed him open the door. Grateful for the blinds covering the glass and blocking out the light and sounds from the kitchen, he soundlessly shut the door. Once in the clear he let out a loud sigh.
The moon was bright enough to light the porch. Jackson slunk to the rocking chair and let himself relax into it. Besides the moon, there wasn’t much to look at so he started rocking. He’d loved every night of the month when Mandy had taken a science course that required her to keep a lunar log. It was March and he probably should have had more than his sweatshirt on, but he never did. Mandy would meet him in the quad bundled up with a scarf. She claimed it was because she wasn’t used to cold weather, but Jackson thought that excuse had run out junior year.
Her record keeping would only take ten minutes at the most, but they’d lay around outside. Mandy would lean against his chest and strum her fingers on his knees. He could tell the nights she’d showered first before coming out because her hair would smell like lavender. Breathing deeply he tried to will the smell again.
Instead heard the boards of the deck creak and looked up to see Libby closing the door behind her and Juan walking towards him. He held out a bottle for Jackson before leaning against the rail across from Jackson's chair. Libby followed suit, but sat atop the rail and several feet away from where Juan was leaning.
"Antisocial, much?" Juan asked. He chomped on some gum in his mouth. Or it could have been tobacco. Jackson wasn't sure.
"Leave him alone," Libby defended.
Juan turned and looked at her. "What the hell did we come out here for if I'm supposed to leave him alone? Damn. Make up your mind Libby."
Jackson drew back from the lip of the bottle, “Juan, easy.”
Even though it was dark and the small porch light was all the lit up the entire yard Jackson could tell Juan’s cheeks were flushing and he was probably balling up his fists right about now too. He could see Juan wanted to say something and it probably wasn’t very nice.
“She wanted to meet you two.” Jackson was shocked. That wasn’t what he’d meant to say at all.
“Mandy?” Libby asked quietly, her bare foot scraping against the white paint of the railing sending small flakes to the ground.
Juan swatted at a firefly as it flew in front of his face. He exchanged a confused glance between the two. “Who?”
“You’re an idiot,” Libby moaned. “Go on Jacks.”
Jackson picked at the label of his bottle as it rested onto of his knee trying not to focus on either person sitting before him. “She didn’t believe I could be as shy and I appeared to be. I’m a nice guy, but I don’t go out of my way to make friends.”
“No,” Juan interrupted, “you think you’re too good to be friends with some people.”
“Would you shut up,” Libby said tossing her empty glass at him. It clinked to the floor and rolled off the porch. “What did she say when you told her about us?”
Jackson let himself smile, “She said she wanted you to give her all the dirt on me so she could use it against me with our kids.”
“And me?”
Jackson laughed at Juan. “She wanted to ask you how you convinced me to do so many things I didn’t want to do. She insisted you be my best ma-” He stopped. Swallowing a large lump in his throat first, he took a swig of his beer.
“So what happened,” Juan pressed. Jackson saw Libby leering from her perch on the porch.
“She got sick.”
“I don’t know Gonorrhea was lethal.”
“Juan,” Libby yelled jumping off the rail and punching him deftly in the shoulder. He stumbled backwards and his right hand instinctively raised.
“What the fuck is your problem Lib,” Juan cried out.
“She died, asshole.”
“Yeah, I got that,” he answered. He settled against the siding of the house beside Jackson. “People die Libby.”