Slow Twitch - Реинхардт Лиз - Страница 18

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  It all felt so surreal. We were back home. I could see my parents again. Soon I might be able to see Jake!

  I was anxious to talk to him without the time difference. I wanted to tell him the details about my time with Evan that I couldn’t get into when she was folding all my notebook paper into origami chickens or trying on my shoes, hoping one of the nines would magically turn eight, in the tiny dorm rooms. I’d been so completely happy with her and Devon that I’d been able to blanket some of my homesickness for Jake, but now that we were back in the states, it came back with a delicious, anticipatory edge.

  Plus, even though Jake and I had talked when we could, I had a feeling there was a lot about his stay with his family that he wasn’t being open about. I knew he was probably going through a ton of new feelings and experiences all at once, exactly the way I had, so I tried to be patient with him, but I was beyond ready to be close again.

  I was ready to see him, but I also forced myself to acknowledge that it might be a while before we were together again.

  So, it was a complete, wonderful shock when I came off the plane and there he was! He was standing near my mother, who looked particularly glowing, and, though a piece of me was happy about the little portrait, something about it also raised a red flag of suspicion. I gave Devon a quick hug and kiss, and we promised to call soon, then he rushed to his parents and brother, and I ran to Jake and Mom.

“Mom! Jake!” I called.

Mom was the one who rushed to meet me, and I got crushed in her hug and breathed in her good, flowery-sweet, mom smell. While we were hugging and squealing, I looked over her shoulder at Jake. He was definitely smiling, but it was kind of a subdued smile, like he was happy to see me, but weighed down by something else, something that was heavy on his mind.

“Jake and I thought we’d surprise you!” Mom gushed. “And we have one bigger for you. Why don’t you tell her Jake?”

Whoa. This was super weird, beyond any explainable general weirdness. Mom looked so happy, Jake looked so contested, and Mom was giving him the chance to explain.

“My grandmother,” Jake said carefully, as if he were reciting a speech, “really wants to meet your mother. Her house is huge. And she sent me to pick you two up so you could visit. At her house. Now.” Jake’s eyes were so bright they looked like newly minted nickels, but I couldn’t read what was making them that intense. Was he happy about this whole thing? Did he like the idea?

I kind of hoped he did. It sounded great to me. A few weeks at his grandmother’s famous mansion on the lake? My mother flushed and happy? Jake and I able to relax, no Zinga’s, no Saxon, no Atlantic Ocean between us. It sounded a lot like heaven. So why did Jake look like he was about to be sucked into the fiery pits of his own personal hell?

Mom released her iron hold on me, said something about grabbing bottled waters for the ride, and left me and Jake alone.

I bit my lip and held my breath as he stepped closer, then crushed me hard in his arms. I rubbed my face against his chest, wrapped my arms tight around him and took long, deep breaths, filling up on his smell. I felt like I couldn’t smell him and hold him and be near him enough.

Then we were kissing, frantic and hungry, one eye opened to check for my mother’s return. It was only after I had temporarily satiated myself physically -- as much as I could with respect to the crowds and my overbearing parent -- that I ventured to ask Jake what was bothering him.

“It’s just been…weird. At my grandmother’s house. With my, um, family.” Jake shrugged. “It’s like, you know those pathetic shows about rich teenagers being crazy?”

“Yeah.” I threaded my fingers through his and wrapped our hands together, thrilling at the rough brush of his palm like it was the first time I’d felt his hand in mine all over again.

“It’s like they all feel like they’re on one of those shows. Lots and lots of drama. At first I kept wishing you could be there.” He took his cap off and pulled it back on, extra low over his eyes.

Some of the good, new, happy shine of seeing him again washed away. “At first? Like now you wish I wasn’t coming?” I bristled a little.

“That’s pretty much it.” Jake clenched his jaw, and the muscles went tight right down to his neck. “Remember how I told you that I wouldn’t change?”

“Yes.” The word came out on a breath, because I was still reeling from the fact that one of the first things he’d uttered to my face in weeks was the fact that he didn’t really want me around.

“Well, I don’t really think I kept that promise, and I hate that. I really hate it, Bren.” He pulled his hand away from mine, crossed his arms over his chest, and scowled.

“Can you talk to me about it?” I clenched my hands together, trying hard to keep my cool. Trying really hard.

He opened his mouth, then twisted it into a wry smile. “Hey Mrs. Blixen. All ready?”

“Brenna, do you need to use the bathroom or anything?” Mom put a hand on my shoulder.

“No. I mean, it’s only an hour and a half to home, right?”

“Oh, baby, I thought we’d go straight to Mama D’s!” my mother said. In response to my blank look she explained. “Mama D is what Jake’s grandmother likes to be called. And I thought that since you were already all packed, we could just go right there. That will cut an entire hour off the drive.”

“My clothes are dirty,” I said lamely. And my boyfriend doesn’t want me around.

Mom rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll have a chance to do your laundry there, Brenna! Now come on! This is exciting, isn’t it?”

“Yes.” Jake’s voice was sober, and his grey eyes went completely flat.

I smiled wide for Mom’s sake. “Yes! It is, Mom.” I grinned at her, then I raised my eyebrows slightly at Jake in an attempt to encourage him to fake more happiness than he felt.

It didn’t seem to work. Jake just looked kind of defeated. It was hard to see him look so upset but not be able to really ask him about it. Mom chatted happily the entire way to ‘Mama D’s’ house, and Jake and I sat few inches from each other on the bench seat of a truck; not his truck, but one I assumed he had borrowed from a relative at his grandmother’s place. We were so close to each other I was almost sitting right on his lap, but we couldn’t say a single word that meant anything.

Finally we pulled onto a long, twisting driveway. Jake had rolled the windows down, and there was the thick, spicy smell of pine trees on either side of us. The air was cool and pleasant. We drove through this tree tunnel for a long time, then finally popped out in a clearer place. There was a huge, shimmering lake, and, dotting the surrounding sand, four of the biggest houses I had ever seen.

“Wow.” I craned my neck to try to look at everything as we passed. “Your dad’s family is seriously rich!”

He nodded, eyes on the windshield, hands fisted around the steering wheel. “Yeah.”

I tried to ignore Jake’s dour mood. Mom and I squeezed each other’s hands and giggled. If I managed to ignore Jakes’s crappy attitude, this was like a dream vacation! The lake, the forest, the massive, old houses…it all reminded me of Evan’s stories about long weeks at her family’s colossal beach house, nestled on a private stretch of beach in Georgia. This was a kind of luxury I’d only heard about, but had never seen firsthand.

“Look at all of the character in this architecture. And no one in the country has a private early American folk collection that can hold a candle to Mama D’s.” My mom sighed. I should have realized that her happiness had something to do with paintings. It usually did.

We got out of the truck, and Jake gently tugged my mother’s bags from her hands. He led us to the door of the huge brick mansion sullenly, like he was an executioner leading us to the gallows.

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