Just Friends (14 page)

“Yes, indeedy. Said she’s never seen you move so fast. Like a speeding bullet.” Superheroes don’t hesitate, they just rip off their straight clothes and jump right in. “And Ramona told Sal.”

Oh, for God’s sake
.

“
Mo
told Sal? Since when are they bezzies?”

“I guess since you became the satellite to Planet Jena. And he told me how you dumped him because the Capistranos’ toilet backed up.” Carver leans forward on his arms. “I thought you were just going to be friends with her.”

“We are just friends.”

“And yet, here you are, reaching for your jacket. About to run into the dark and stormy night because … what happened? Did a light bulb blow?”

“She thinks somebody’s trying to get in.”

“And?”

“And I have to go make sure she’s OK. She hates being alone. She’s scared. She heard something.”

“Of course she heard something.” Carver’s reasonableness can be really irritating. “I can hear it, too. It’s called wind and rain.”

“I told you, she thinks there’s someone trying to get in. She heard someone at the door.”

“Then why doesn’t she call the cops? What are you going to do? Frighten them away with a recitation of the winning game between Fischer and Spassky in 1972?”

“She just needs some moral support.”

“Why can’t someone else support her morally? Like Ramona. Doesn’t she live near by? Jesus, the girl’s built like a warrior princess. Nobody’s going to mess with her.” He waves a hand at Josh. Dismissively. “You wouldn’t intimidate a moth.”

“I’m sorry, Carver. I’ll come back as soon as the General gets home.”

Carver is giving him a but-if-we-level-the-forest-to-plant-oil-palms-what-happens-to-the-orang-utans? look. “Maybe you should’ve said something to her after all. Get it settled.”

“I was going to,” admits Josh. “But I lost my nerve.”

“Well, maybe you should find it,” says Carver. “I’ve been thinking. Maybe I was mistaken about her. Why does she always call you every time something goes wrong? It’s not like there aren’t any guys at school who’d be happy to rush over to help her when she gets locked out of the house. She can take her pick of saviours. But she picks you. Why is that?”

“Because I’m her friend.”

Carver’s face is a question. “Or…”

Is this what Ramona meant by signs? Are Jena’s cries for help her way of letting him know that she
likes him
likes him?

“You really think maybe I have a chance?”

“Not really. Logic’s against it,” says Carver. “But stranger things have happened.”

The
night is dark despite Thomas Edison’s best efforts, the wind is trying to knock down everything that stands and it’s raining so hard it does feel like he’s swimming. Nonetheless, even Batman wouldn’t have reached the Capistranos’ much faster, not if he’d had to walk. Every light is on in the house. Josh stands at the foot of the front pathway for a few seconds, trying to figure out what seems odd. And then he realizes: the house is bright as a perigee moon, but it’s also just as silent. When Jena’s home alone she always has at least one TV blaring, the sound system playing and the radio on in the kitchen. Minimum. You can always hear the racket from the sidewalk – as if there’s a party going on or at least a full house. But not tonight. Tonight she’s probably holding her breath.

The door opens even before he reaches it.

“Oh, I’m so glad to see you!” Jena darts onto the porch, grabs his hand and yanks him inside. “I’ve been so scared I was going to hide in the attic, but then I figured I wouldn’t hear the door.” The hand that isn’t gripping his like a vice has a tight hold on a golf club.

“It’s okay. I’m here now.” Defending Truth, Justice and the American Way.

“I knew you’d come.” She goes to hug him and whacks him in the calf with the club.

He takes a precautionary step away from her. “Maybe you should put that thing down.”

“You don’t think we should take it with us? Just in case?”

With them? In case of what?

“Are we going somewhere?”

They’re going to investigate. Now that he’s here, she’s apparently over the worst of her fear and ready to play policeman. The kind that carries irons, not automatics.

“Before we go to see if Freddy Krueger’s in the yard, I think you should tell me exactly what happened.”

“You’re right. I’m just so shook up.” She takes a deep breath. “Well, I was in the kitchen, nuking a burrito, when I heard footsteps on the deck. At first I didn’t really pay any attention, but then I heard them again. Really clear.”

Carver’s words come back to him. “You know, it has been raining pretty hard,” says Josh. “And the wind’s strong. Are you sure you heard footsteps?”

She nods. “Positive. I told you, I heard shoes. And the deck creaks. The only way you could cross it without making any noise would be if you could fly.” She finally lets go of him, but only to hand him the club. “Here. I’m not sure I could really bash somebody over the head.”

“And I could?” He takes the club from her. Gingerly.

“What about a gun? You want one of my dad’s guns?”

Naturally, the General has multiple guns. He probably has an arsenal in the basement.

“You do understand that I’m a lover, not a fighter, right?” How he wishes. In reality, of course, he is neither.

“Tilda’s boyfriend does kung fu.”

Then maybe she should have called him.

“I don’t. I do yoga.” Not quite the same thing. “I can do a warrior pose, but it’s a non-violent warrior.”

“Oh.” She frowns. “So you don’t want to check outside? I think you’re supposed to check.”

Why would she think that? It’s like firing a gun at your foot to see if it’s loaded.

“People only do that in movies.” And as soon as they step out into the pitch-black night some psycho with scythes instead of hands jumps out at them and then all there is are blood and screaming and popcorn all over the floor. “Look, the doors and windows are all locked, right? So nobody’s going to get in without our knowing. And as long as they’re out there and we’re in here it’s all cool. My vote says you put the alarm on and we wait to see if anything else happens.” And, if it does, then they call the cops.

“I suppose that makes sense.” But probably not as much as he thinks. “If you’re really sure…”

“I’m really sure.” He certainly hopes he is.

They sit side by side on the sofa in the living room, looking serious and not unworried, “American Gothic” revisited – without the overalls or apron, and Josh holding the golf club instead of a pitchfork.

She’s nervous as a chicken at the fox’s birthday party, jumping at every noise – imagined or real.
What was that? What was that? What was that?

He is calm and reassuring. “It’s just a branch hitting the house.” Or a garbage can being blown down the road. Or someone slamming a door. Or a garden shed having its roof ripped off.

He puts an arm over the back of the couch – not quite over her and not quite not – and she takes his free hand. Their phones are beside them, just in case they do need the police.

Slowly, she starts to relax.

“Maybe you were right,” she whispers as something else falls in the storm. “Maybe all l heard was the wind throwing something around. I do get kind of skittery.”

“It doesn’t matter.” He squeezes her hand. “It’s better to be safe than sorry.” Christ, now he’s sounding like his mother.

“I didn’t use to be like this,” says Jena. Nor did he. “I used to be normal. You know, I usually felt pretty safe. I didn’t really think about it. But after my mom – after her accident, I started always expecting something bad to happen. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to drive. Just the thought of it terrifies me.” She almost laughs. “But I guess everything does. That’s why I really hate to be alone.”

“Where do you hide a tree?”

She doesn’t know what he means.

“Where do you hide a tree?” repeats Josh. “In a forest. You know, because there are so many trees you’ll never find it.”

“Oh, yeah. Like that.” She almost laughs again. “Sometimes I’m afraid to even walk down the street in case something falls out of a window or a plane or something and kills me.” She leans her head against him. “But I am glad you came over, Josh. I feel safe with you.”

Safe because he has superpowers and sumo wrestlers quake at the sight of him? Or safe because she knows he won’t hit on her? She can trust him. He’s one of the girls. But he doesn’t want to be one of the girls. His bones are melting; his bones and his heart.
Now!
he urges himself.
Make a move now!

Because he can’t trust himself to speak, he squeezes her hand again. This time she squeezes back.

“Tilda and I are really tight and I love her and everything. She’s great.” Jena’s voice is low and slow. “But I couldn’t tell her stuff like this. Or anybody else really. They’re totally normal, you know? They don’t ever have weird thoughts like I do. They’d think I was nuts.”

He’s the one who’s nuts. For God’s sake, what’s wrong with him? Here she is, baring her soul, and all he can think of is kissing her.

She suddenly sits up straight and looks at him. “You’re not mad at me, are you?”

“Mad? Why would I be mad at you?” He’d walk through a blizzard for this moment. Maybe not barefoot, that’s a little harsh, but in just his regular shoes and a light jacket.

“Why?” She must be feeling safe; she finally manages the first laugh since he arrived. “For dragging you out in the rain just to hold my hand because I’m such a baby. The General says I have to snap out of it.” She lowers her voice as if the ears of the walls were all turned towards her. “Don’t tell anybody, but he even sent me to a shrink.”

“You’re not a baby.” She isn’t. She’s lovely. Lovely, and sad, and scared, and lonely. “And you don’t need a shrink. You’re still grieving.” She’s an angel. An angel whose eye make-up is a little smudged, but an angel who is glad he’s here.

Maybe Carver’s right. Stranger things have happened.

He moves towards her. Gradually, millimetre by millimetre – pulled forward by her smile. She doesn’t move away, she just keeps smiling.
Kiss her … kiss her … kiss me…

He’s only inches from her lips when the front door slams and the alarm goes off like a bomb.

“Jenevieve! Jenevieve! Where in God’s name are you? What the hell is going on?”

Despite the fact that the sudden shock triggers freak heart palpitations, Josh automatically jumps to his feet, knocking his phone off the sofa, banging into the coffee table and sending what was a precise stack of
Army
magazines cascading to the floor.

“Jenevieve!” The General looms in the doorway. He doesn’t even glance at Josh. “Why the hell do you have all the lights on? You working for the electric company now?”

Jena
kicks at the leaves scattered across her path, while beside her Tilda talks about how she’s looking forward to the winter when Anton’s promised to take her snowboarding. “I said, ‘Isn’t it a little dangerous?’” says Tilda, “and he said I didn’t have to worry because he’ll be with me.”

Lucky Tilda.

“Sometimes I think I’m never going to get a boyfriend.” If Jena were a bird her sigh would be the call of a lonesome dove. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. What if I really do wind up forty and past it and roommates with Josh?”

“That’s not going to happen. No way.” Tilda speaks with the confidence of Jehovah. “I’d never let that happen.”

The confidence of Jehovah and the authority, too.

“I’m not dissing him or anything,” explains Jena, feeling she may have sounded a little harsh. “Josh is a really good friend.”

Even Tilda, if she knew about all the times Josh has come to Jena’s aid, would have to agree with this statement. You certainly wouldn’t catch Tilda unclogging the Capistranos’ toilet or braving a storm to protect Jena from intruders.

“That doesn’t make him boyfriend material.” Tilda’s laugh is light as bubbles. “I mean, Josh may be a five-star pal, but he is so totally wrong for you in so many ways that I wouldn’t know where to start if you asked me to list them.” She doesn’t have to add that if Jena started seeing Josh he’d be the only person Jena did see – he would never fit in with the rest of Tilda’s crowd.

“Oh God, no. Of course he isn’t. I know that,” says Jena. Not that she’d be able to explain why – especially not to herself. Jena is not a girl to overthink things. Her feelings for Josh are not so much ambiguous as unprocessed. “But who is boyfriend material? That’s the multi-million-dollar question. These guys I’ve gone out with…” At least she really likes Joshua Shine. “I feel like I’m a one-woman no-guy zone.”

“Don’t get all angsty,” says Tilda. “Help is on the way. Anton has this friend – I met him the other day after the game? He’s totally ace and super hot. Anyway, I think you and he would be perfect for each other.”

Jena’s smile is non-committal. She’s heard this before.

“This time, I know I’m right,” says Tilda. “Trust me.”

How dumb can you be? Dumb. Dumb. Dumb. He could win the Nobel Prize for stupidity. What a jerk. Over and over, like a video on a loop, he sees her looking at him. Waiting. And what did he do? Nothing. He really blew it this time. What’s that old saying?
He who hesitates is a champion loser
. Dumb and doomed. He should have grabbed her the second she yanked him through the door. He should have said he’d been so worried about her he couldn’t get to her fast enough.
Look at my shoes! Look at my clothes! I risked my life for you!
He should have told her how he feels. Failing that, when they were sitting on the couch and she leaned her head against him he shouldn’t have thought about kissing her, he should have just done it. Been an action man, not an inaction ditherer.

But he didn’t do the things he should have – or, possibly, shouldn’t have.

And so the autumn shuffles along in a normal, autumnal way. Leaves fall, temperatures dip, days get shorter, clothes get heavier – and Josh and Jena act as if nothing almost happened.

The thing is, he doesn’t know if Jena is acting or not. It could be that she’s still thinking of him as roommate not romance material; she may have no idea how close she came to being lunged at by a boy who’s like one of the girls. But Josh, of course, is acting his heart out. Is this being grown up? Hiding how you feel; pretending to be one thing when you really want to be something else? Every time he sees her he wonders what would have happened if the General hadn’t charged in worrying about his electricity bill. Would Josh really have done something? Or not? He thought he was going to, but he’s let himself down before. On the other hand, maybe it was better that he didn’t, that the dad police arrived just in time. Or maybe it isn’t. He rides up and down on the see-saw of doubt. If only she would give some sign that she did know that something almost happened: to let him know she thinks she had a close call,
whew
, or, alternatively, to indicate that she wishes the General had run out of gas two miles from home. Since she doesn’t, he just wonders and frets – and pretends.