Lupa (Second Edition) Read online

The week passes and none of the Denton children come out of the house. All the windows and doors are closed. It must be damn near unbearable in there. It’s been topping a hundred degrees all week. The other neighbors avoid eye contact with me as if they’ve picked sides and Mrs. Denton won. I don’t have time to care because Max and I are inseparable.

  He spends the night with me and while I feel safe, I still close and lock the bedroom door behind us. I’m only a little less jumpy. My mom informs us at dinner that Pops has posted bail and has skipped town. No one knows where he is. He left right after being released from county lock-up. Having someone with me while she works nights outweighs her concern of teenage sex.

  Saturday morning greets us with a hundred and ten degree weather. The front door of my house that has been closed since Wednesday is now open. It’s just too hot to keep it close. I even open the front windows. My mom left for work earlier and I’m in the bathroom getting ready for the day. I’ve decided that I’m done hogging Max and we will spend the day over his house. I feel only slightly bad about keeping him from his grandmother.

  In the bathroom I have on a pair of bright yellow shorts and a bra. Standing looking at my reflection in the mirror I stare at the spot where the bruise should be. I touch the spot expecting it to be tender but it isn’t. Wednesday night when I discovered the bruise it was already dark and on its way to becoming black and purple, something that should have taken longer than a day to fade away. But there was no mark whatsoever. Max knocks on the door.

  “You okay in there?” Max calls through the door.

  “Yeah, be out in a minute,” I say and grab my shirt. I open the door and Max is standing there looking concern. I turn and pick up my toothbrush while he stands in the doorway and watch. Max expression doesn’t change as he watches me. I peek at him in the mirror.

  “Ready,” I announce. Max holds out his hand.

  What’s going on between Max and I is unexplainable. To the outside world I’m sure we look like two ordinary kids caught up in first love. And that’s true. But there’s something between us that’s on a deeper level. Sure, I’m like any other teenage girl, all giddy with happiness, but our relationship found its footing on rocky ground. I’m not talking about when Max asked me to be his girlfriend, but the thing that happened after. He’s become so much more in the last couple of days. He’s my protector, my rock; he makes me feel like nothing or no one can ever hurt me again and I’m beginning to think it would have happened anyway, even without what happened with Pops.

  He’s possessive and dominant. Two things I would have sworn wouldn’t have mixed with my personality and it adds to my feeling that, whatever happens, Max and I were meant to be together. He watches me. When he thinks I’m not looking and sometimes when I am. The look in his eyes ride the fine line of, your mine, and one so heated that it makes my skin flush. The look makes him look older and bigger; even dangerous.

  I take his hand without hesitation. His palm is warm. The heat travels up my arm and throughout the rest of my body. A blanket of protection and possession, I’m his in all ways.

  “Good morning Josette,” Mrs. Anderson greets us from the porch.

  “Hi, Mrs. Anderson,” I say, now embarrassed for taking up so much of her grandson’s attention.

  “Good to see you out.”

  In this heat even Mrs. Anderson is reduced to wearing the old lady’s uniform of a flowered house dress. She has a tall glass of iced tea next to her and is fanning herself with a big lace fan. No newspaper for her I think to myself and smile.

  “Good to be out. Thanks for letting Max stay with us,” I say. Mrs. Anderson waves her arm in the air dismissing the statement. I’m prepared to go over the events of that night but she doesn’t ask. Max and I sit down on the swing next to her chair.

  “Max go get Josette a glass of tea, get one for yourself too. Need to stay hydrated in heat this bad,” she instructs her grandson. Maybe she’s trying to get me alone before asking.

  “Yes, Ma’am.” Max squeezes my hand before getting up and going into the house.

  “This humidity is murder on my hair,” Mrs. Anderson says making polite conversation. I wonder if she’s talking about her wig or her real hair underneath. I’m smart enough not to comment.

  Mrs. Anderson sits up in her chair and looks at me, my body tenses. “You and my boy getting serious?” she asks.

  I’d almost rather talk about Pops.

  “Yes ma’am.” I say looking down at my hands, looking guilty of things that haven’t happened. No wait...there are things happening between the two of us, but it has nothing to do with sex. Things I’ve not spoken to Max about because they don’t make any sense.

  “No reason to be ashamed of it?” She laughs sitting back in her chair.

  I look at her wishing Max would hurry back with that tea. What’s taking him so long? “No ma’am I guess not,” I mutter.

  “Nothing sweeter than two young people in love,” She goes on.

  Love? Did Max love me? Did I love Max? I hadn’t thought of it really. I like him a lot. Love as a strong word to be using so early in our relationship.

  “I remember when I first met Leon. I didn’t like him...thought he was too old,” Mrs. Anderson looks at me and I smile.

  I love to hear stories from old people. I sit back and push the swing gently with one foot. If she’s telling a story, I’m ready to hear it. For a matter of fact, I couldn’t think of anything better to do on a Saturday afternoon.

  “I was fourteen and he was twenty. I know people today would think that bad, but back then it was okay.” She picks up her tea she takes a sip and holds the glass in her hand instead of placing it back on the small round table next to her chair. It’s wrapped in a piece of paper towel.

  “He came into town and got a job at the steel mill. Lots of people thought he was odd because he kept to himself. He was kind of old not to be married and people were suspicious of him, me and my family included. He joined my church shortly after moving to town and he was there every Sunday for Sunday school and service and came every Wednesday for bible study.

  “One Sunday the church was having a picnic and he showed up with a pie.” Mrs. Anderson laughs at the memory, “A single man showing up with a pie. He’d cooked it himself and it was good too,” she says, looking at me as if I didn’t believe such a thing.

  “He made his rounds, saying hello to all the neighbors, speaking even to the ones that had obviously avoided or ignored him since he’d moved to town. Finally he came to my family’s picnic area. I’m an only child and my parents were like everyone else’s; set on my getting an education and keeping busy making sure that my reputation stayed good.” Ms. Anderson looks at me.

  “Times have changed,” she says.

  I don’t know if it’s question, or if she’s scolding me, but I answer, “Yes Ma’am.”

  “Well, he walked right up to my father, said good afternoon and asked if it was okay if he came to visit with me sometimes. I thought daddy was going to have a heart attack.” I smile as Mrs. Anderson throws her head back with laughter. For a moment I can see the girl behind the old woman’s face and Mrs. Anderson was beautiful. She takes the napkin that’s around her glass and wipes her eyes at the corners.

  “My mother got all flushed and her hand went to the collar of her dress. She did that anytime she was nervous. My father, always a calm man, shot up like something had stuck him in the behind and told Leon he most certainly could not. Leon apologized for disturbing our picnic, but he looked at me instead of my father and that’s when I fell in love with him.”

  I know Max is standing in the doorway and wonder why he doesn’t come outside. Mrs. Anderson face is lit up in the memory of her husband. Maybe he doesn’t want to interfere with this memory.

  I can see her, how she looked then. Her straightened black hair with a big round bang lying across her forehead, a light cotton dress with small flowers and ankle socks and black lace up shoes.
r />   “He didn’t come around for a week or so but showed up one Sunday after service after we’d eaten our early supper. We were sitting on the porch and as soon as my mom saw him coming up the road she got up and announced she was going in and invited me to come with her, which of course I did. Leon didn’t hesitate, he walked right up to my daddy and asked permission again to come and visit with me. This went on for months, two or three, Leon coming on Sundays and my dad sending him away.

  “One Monday Daddy came home and announced that Leon would be coming by on Saturday afternoon to visit with me. I could barely contain my excitement. Momma looked at my daddy like he’d lost his mind. It was one of the few times Daddy looked afraid of Momma. He’d made the announcement in between bites of his food while we ate supper. She didn’t say anything, but I felt sorry for him because he was going to get an earful that night. I’d never seen my parents disagree on anything. They were a united front, especially where I was concerned. I don’t know what Leon said to my daddy to get him to change his mind and I don’t know what Daddy said to Momma to change hers, but on Saturday afternoon I was sitting on the front porch, waiting on him. My heart in my throat beating so hard I thought I was going to choke before he made it up the walk. He had on a pair of khaki pants and a starched white shirt. It was as hot as it is today but he looked cool as a cucumber. We sat on the porch an hour and then he said his goodbyes. The next week he asked for my hand in marriage.”

  “What!” I say sitting up and stopping the swing.

  Ms. Anderson laughs at my outburst. “Oh yes, one week. It was one of the things that I would grow to love about my husband. Once he’d made up his mind, it was full steam ahead. Of course, my parents said no, and they didn’t budge on this one. They meant for me to go to college and Leon respected their wishes. So for the next two years he’d come by every Saturday afternoon and we’d sit on the porch until I went off to college. I got my teaching certificate on a Saturday and we were married that Sunday after church.” Ms. Anderson looks at me still smiling at the memory.

  “Do you have pictures, “I ask, “From your wedding?”

  “Sure I do.” She gets up from the chair grabbing onto the arms of her chair and rocking herself up. At the same time Max opens the screen door and comes out. He holds the door open for his grandmother. He smiles at me when he hands me my glass and then sits down in the chair his grandmother has just left. She comes back a minute or two later holding a large black photo album and sits next to me on the swing.

  The album documents Mr. and Mrs. Anderson’s life; their courtship and married life. Pictures of them sitting on a porch in two chairs separated by a small table with the only difference in each photo being the dresses that she wore. Mr. Anderson seemed to favor khaki pants and white shirts. There are photos of the day she graduated from college. Mr. Anderson looks as proud of her as her parents and finally photos of their wedding day.

  “Is that my grandmother?” I ask pointing at a young woman standing next to Mrs. Anderson.

  “Sure is. Leigh was my best friend.”

  Ms. Anderson had on a long high neck gown. The train had been brought around and formed a circle in front of her. It fit like a second skin and Mrs. Anderson’s old self had the body to pull it off. She didn’t wear a veil; instead she wore a gardenia in her hair.

  My grandmother wore a tea length gown that had long lace sleeves. The photo is black and white but the dress had to have been a light color. “What color were your bridesmaid dresses,” I ask.

  “They were peach,” Ms. Anderson answer giving me the book so I could closer inspect the picture.

  The bride was beautiful, but my grandmother was gorgeous. She was so young and obviously happy in the photo. It was something about the women of that era. Both of the women would go on to live hard lives, but you wouldn’t know it looking at this picture. Mr. Anderson looked happier than a pig in slop and the grin on his face was still infectious as I smile looking at it decades later. “Mr. Anderson sure does look happy.”

  “He was, we both were,” Mrs. Anderson says.

  I share the album again and we file through it looking at their early life together. Their honeymoon, they’d gone to the beach; a photo of the small apartment they lived in before buying their first house, one of them standing on the porch of their first house. Mr. Anderson was carrying her across the threshold.

  “Your grandmother took that picture. She and Richard lived next door,” Mrs. Anderson says pointing to the pictured.

  “Thanks for the story and showing me the pictures,” I say closing the album and handing it to Mrs. Anderson.

  “I was married to Leon sixty years. I loved him for sixty eight, counting the first time he asked my daddy to visit with me until today. He teased me that he loved me longer, I guess I won in the end.” Mrs. Anderson says rubbing the front of her album.

  I lean over and hug her. “I’m sure wherever Mr. Anderson is, he still loves you.” I say choking back tears.

  “Thank you sweetheart,” Mrs. Anderson says before kissing me on the cheek, “That’s a sweet thing for you to say.” She takes in a long deep breath and looks out across the yard, loss in the memory of the life she’d had with the man she’d loved since she was fourteen and still did in death.

  I watch her remember and remember my own grandmother’s stories of when she’d met my grandfather. It was the same type of love story. Fast and everlasting. Did that type of love still exist? Or had the world outgrown it?

  There is tightness in my chest and fluttering in my stomach when my thoughts go to Max. I can feel his gaze on me. It’s pressed against my skin like an invisible layer of clothing. I don’t look at him. I can’t. I’m too afraid. Too afraid of what I might see in that gaze, too afraid of the look that’s on my own face.

  “I guess I’ll go in for a while.”

  Max stands, coming to help his grandmother up and opens the door for her before coming and sitting next to me taking my hand.

  “Had you heard that story?” I ask him. I look at our joined hands.

  “No, it’s a great story though.”

  “Yeah it is.” I lean my head on his shoulder and we look across the yard at nothing in particular.

  “Let’s leave this place,” Max says so low I could hardly hear him.

  “What,” I say, sure that I had heard wrong. I look up. He doesn’t say anything or look at me. “Max, what did you say?” I repeat.

  “Nothing,” he answers, he looks down at my upturned face and smile.

  Just then a cab passes the front of his house and stops in front of the Denton’s place. My mouth becomes dry and I feel sick to my stomach I’m so sure that Pops will get out of the car. There have been no leads into where he’d disappeared. We can’t make out who gets out of the cab right away; a large tree is blocking the view. We hear the door open and then the sound of the trunk being popped. A second door opens and shortly after that a woman walks up to the front door.

  The woman is dressed in a black dress and matching stiletto heels, on her head is a big black floppy hat. She looks like she just stepped out of the pages of a high fashion magazine. She rings the doorbell and we know T answers the door. Even from where we’re sitting I can hear the little girl scream with excitement. It’s her mother.

  The driver of the cab is carrying suitcases to the front door as the woman steps into the house. Once the cases are all on the front porch the woman comes back outside and pay the fare. She’s taken off her hat in the short time she’s been in the house. Her hair is in a tight, neat bun that is low on her head. She is very beautiful. She must have given the driver a nice tip because he looks at the money handed to him and then back at the woman. He says something we can’t hear. She goes back in the house and I wonder if she knows what Pop has done. Surely she must.

  “I wonder why she’s staying with Mrs. Denton.”

  “Why’d you say that,” Max asks.

  “I don’t know. She doesn’t loo
k like she belongs I guess.”

  “No she doesn’t,” Max says. He shrugs but there something in how he says it that makes me look at him. It’s like that with us. He says tons of things with hidden meaning. I don’t know how I know this, I just do. “Ready to go inside,” he ask.

  “Do you love me?” I hadn’t expected to say these words and they shock me even though they’d just fallen from my lips. I guess Mrs. Anderson story of meeting her husband is still fresh in my mind.

  “Do I love you?” Max repeats looking sideways at me and smiling his sly sexy smile. “Where’d that come from?”

  “I’m sorry,” I say quickly. Wasn’t I just thinking that it was too soon for love to be a factor in our relationship?

  “Hey,” he says lifting my chin so I was looking into his eyes, “I knew the first time I saw you I wanted to get to know you better. By the time we made it home on the first day I knew that I wanted to be a part of your life and you a part of mine. I’ve never been in love before but I’m drawn to you in a way that I can’t explain. I care about you a lot.

  “Don’t look that way,” he says. His voice is little louder than a whisper. Each word lands on my skin in a warm puff of air. I close my eyes and breathe deep. He smells like fresh cut grass, honeysuckle and roses.

  “What way is that,” I ask, the words coming out a sigh.

  “Like your best friend just killed your puppy.”

  “I do not,” I say, opening my eyes.

  I’ve looked at his face every day since we’ve met. But in this moment he takes my breath away. Something deep inside me pulls tight and weighs my limbs, making my body heavy. It starts just below my sternum and spreads out until it reaches the tips of my fingers and down to my feet and toes.

  “You mean a lot to me Josette and I don’t want to lose you.”

  Max lips are dangerously close to mine. My mouth is moist from his words. His hand on my chin is hot and I’m drowning in the look he’s giving me. I can see that maybe he does love me...and that’s good enough for me.

  “Me either,” I tell him.

  “Okay then.”

  He licks his lips before pressing our mouths together. It’s a soft and sweet kiss, over too quick. Max has been very careful since what happened with Pops. Waiting on me to give him cues for if it’s okay for him to touch me. My heart is beating a mile a minute in my chest, butterflies are in my stomach and a heat is building inside that had nothing to do with the hundred and ten degree temperature of our surroundings.

  “Let’s go to my house.”

  It’s boiling inside but we don’t care. Max closes the door behind us. He doesn’t stop in the front room but walks straight back to my bedroom, which is what I was thinking when I asked him to come over. He turns when we’re at my bed and pulls me into his arms and kiss me again but this time it’s different. I’m owned with this kiss. It weakens my knees and steals my breath.

  “Are you sure about this,” he asks. His lips are against my neck. He takes a deep breath.

  “Yes,” I whisper.

  I can feel his heart beating as fast as mine. A moan escapes him from somewhere deep inside and I feel it all the way through my core. I hold him tight to my body as he kisses me down my neck and moved his hands under my shirt so his hands can touch my bare skin. I put my hand under the back of his shirt. His skin was smooth and a little sticky from sweat. His whole body starts to vibrate; it sends chills down my spine. I lean my head further to the side to give him better access to my neck. I feel his tongue run the length of it, from collarbone to just behind my ear and then his teeth at the base of my throat. His mouth opened wide, his teeth pressed firmly against my skin. I hold my breath.

  “No,” he says so low I think I imagined it.

  “What?”

  “We can’t do this.”

  “Why not? I want to.” I’m confused. I can’t think of anything I’ve wanted as much.

  “Don’t get me wrong, I really want to too,” Max looks at me and I know he’s telling the truth on this. “I don’t want to rush this.”

  Rush-smush.

  “You’re not rushing me. It was my idea, remember?”

  “I know, but it’s not the right time.” He takes a long deep breath. I know how he feels. My own breathing is a little shaky. “Come on. Let’s get something to drink and go sit outside.” He says pulling me from the room.

  After getting our glasses of ice water we go outside and were headed to the rusty lawn furniture when the front door of Mrs. Denton’s house opens. T comes outside holding the hand of the woman that had arrived earlier.

  “Momma, I want to you meet Josette and Max, they’re my friends.” T says to her mother.

  T and her mother walk across the yard and stop in front of us. I feel underdressed in front of her. She’s changed into a light sundress and has a pair of sandals, but even in this outfit she looks rich. “Momma this is Josette and her boyfriend Max.”

  I choke on the water I’m drinking hearing for the first time someone call him my boyfriend, even if it is a ten year old. Embarrassed, I recover as quickly as I can.

  “Hello,” the woman looks first at Max and then at me. Max’s ordinarily pleasant expression is now one of indifference and when he doesn’t say anything I extend my hand.

  “Hi.”

  For a moment I think she isn’t going to shake my hand. She’s looking at Max and when she finally breaks her gaze she looks at my hand like it’s covered in plague. I’m about to put my hand down when she finally takes it.

  “I’m Annemarie, Tabitha’s mother,” she says with the biggest, brightest, phoniest smile I’ve seen in a long time. “Tabitha has told me so much about you.” She turns to Max and put out her own hand, “Max, a pleasure to meet you.”

  Max only pauses for a moment before taking her hand but the look he gives her is cool and I wonder what the hell is going on. Max personality has been carefree and fun-loving since the first day I met him. He was always smiling and relaxed but now he looks tense and guarded.

  “Hello Annemarie, Nice to meet you too,” he finally says.

  “T has been very excited about your visit,” I say to break the uncomfortable silence. T picked up on it too, because she’s looking between her mother and Max with a puzzled look on her face. When she hears mention of her name it seems to snap her out of it and she smiles.

  “I told Josette and Max you were coming. They made mud pies with me.” She announces proudly as to prove to her mother we are indeed her friends. “It was before Pops went on vacation.”

  So they hadn’t told T, but Annemarie knows because all the color leaves her face at the mention of Pops’ name.

  “I bet he’s having a blast without you pestering him,” I say.

  T’s an innocent, and it’s right that no one has told her what her dad almost did. I wouldn’t hold it against T like I wouldn’t hold it against any of the Denton’s. Max put his arm around me and I can see him smile at me from the corner of my eye.

  “Yeah, I bet he’s somewhere in Hawaii having the time of his life, swimming with sharks and surfing with dolphins,” he adds.

  “Pops don’t know how to swim,” T says laughing at the thought. “Does he Momma?”

  Annemarie has not stopped looking at me since Pops name has been brought in the conversation, but now she smiles down at her little girl. “No, he doesn’t sweetheart.”

  “Where are you from Annemarie,” I ask.

  “California,” she answers looking at Max’s arm around my waist.

  “How long will you be here,” Max asks holding me tighter to him.

  “Not for very long. I may be taking Tabitha back with me when I leave.”

  “But not Rolanda,” I ask confused.

  “Tabitha is my only child,” Annemarie says.

  “Oh.” I’m little embarrassed. I’d always assumed all Pops’ children shared the same mother.

  “Well, it was very nice to meet you. Tabitha and I were j
ust walking to the store down the street. I didn’t realize they didn’t own a car,” she says and her brow creased.

  “Well, we’ll see you around T” Max says, ignoring Annemarie completely.

  “Nice to meet you. Bye T, see you later,” I say.

  “What was that about,” I ask after a final wave to T, who is looking just as confused as I am.

  “Nothing,” he says, smiling at me and trying to distract me by pulling me in his arms. But it’s not going to work. I pull myself away and put my hand on my hip.

  “It was definitely something, so spill it mister.” I look at him waiting on an answer.

  “I didn’t like T’s mother, no big deal,” he says looking at me, his expression guarded.

  “Duh, I got that much. The question is why you don’t like her?”

  “I just don’t,” he says, and go no further, as if that vague answer was enough. I open my mouth to protest but was cut off. “Look, I just know people, okay, and I didn’t like the vibe I was getting from that woman,” He blurts out in an unusually forceful voice. I stand looking at him for a moment longer and decided to let it go. Forceful Max is ruining our day.

  We sit down and Max moves at the last second so I end up sitting in his lap. That’s fine with me. The neighborhood is deserted, the heat holding people hostage in their homes. T and her mom come back to the store and I wave. Annemarie doesn’t even acknowledge our presence. I guess the feeling is mutual, or maybe she noticed Max reaction to her. He had been borderline rude to her. I have to move from Max’s lap. As much as I enjoy the closeness, the heat wins. It’s just too hot to be this close to anyone. Eventually we give up and go back to his house since he has A/C.

  Chapter Seven