“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.”
