Mean Season. Heather Cochran
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I’ve been an early riser since forever—or at least since my teens. Usually I’m up around six. I don’t know where it comes from, since no one else in my family gets up so early. Beau Ray had long been one of those guys who’d sleep until noon in a bright room. And Momma was more of an eight o’clock riser—earlyish, but not early. But me, I’ve never even had to set an alarm. I could always tell myself “get up at five forty-five” or “get up at six-fifteen” and my body would obey (although daylight saving time would have me off-kilter for a couple days). So even though I didn’t sleep well, I still woke up by six-thirty that first morning after Joshua moved in.
I got up, got dressed and took Momma’s station wagon to SpeedLube for an oil change, and then I drove into Charles Town and it was still but seven forty-five. I had a key that got me into the county clerk’s office, no matter what the time, and I went to my desk and organized my things like I’d meant to do the day before, except the arraignment had gone longer than I’d figured. For the next eighty-nine days, I was only going to be working half-time, since it turned out that we would be getting paid for taking care of Joshua.
I hadn’t been thinking anything about money, I’d swear on Susan’s fancy Bible, when I offered up Vince’s room. Heck, I hadn’t even known it the day Momma signed the guardianship papers, though I think Momma might have. Momma had told me that Judy and Lars were fixing to pay her $200 a day for the use of Vince’s room and meals and laundry and not killing him (that last part being a joke). Judy said that it was like paying for a hotel, which they would have been doing had there been such thing as hotel arrest. Judy even asked Judge Weintraub whether he thought that was fair, and he said he didn’t see anything wrong with it.
Two hundred dollars a day was a lot more than I was making at the county clerk’s office. It was probably more than what Momma and I together brought home. And Momma said that if we were getting paid like that to take care of Joshua, we sure as hell better take care of Joshua, which meant she wanted me to be around more.
This is the way Momma would talk: “Leanne, I’m wanting you to stick around the house more this summer.” It sounds polite and all, but if I’d ever said no, all of that niceness would be gone and she’d start in with how ungrateful I was and didn’t I see how hard it had been for her, and I’d end up doing what she wanted anyway. I knew it, and she knew I knew it. But it still irked me because I also knew that it was awful convenient that Beau Ray would be watched over at the same time. And that screwed me, since summer was when Momma usually did more watching so I could take my extension courses. It’s like she had forgotten that I was the one she’d pushed to think about college, well, me and Vince. I remember wondering whether Vince had found his way to college, wherever he was, as I straightened my desk in case Mr. Bellevue assigned someone else to sit there on Mondays, Thursdays and Friday afternoons.
I saw that Mr. Bellevue had left a note for me.
Leanne, it read, I’m terribly excited for you!!! Enjoy this experience—but of course you’ll have to tell me everything! I’m sure it will be unique and memorable!!
By his use of exclamation points, I had to assume that Mr. Bellevue meant memorable in a good way. But President Kennedy’s assassination was memorable, too. And the space shuttle coming down in flames. And my dad dying, even that was memorable on a smaller scale.
Of course, I hoped the summer would be memorable in a good way. For heaven’s sake, Joshua Reed was going to be living in my house! He was there even as I folded up the note. He was there even as I walked out of the county clerk’s office. I wondered if he’d sleep late. I wondered what he’d want to do on his first full day under our roof. I had no doubt that after a good night’s sleep, he’d have relaxed some and feel more himself. Maybe I’d suggest that we rent a few movies. Maybe he’d let me listen to him practice his Musket Fire lines.
With the first, awkward night behind us, I felt hopeful. Ninety days was ample time to get to know someone. Sandy and I hadn’t needed a month to become fast friends when we’d met in the third grade. At the end of ninety days, Joshua and I might well be inseparable. We might have private jokes. We might realize that we both hate runny eggs and love Mounds bars. Maybe he’d introduce me to some of his friends—on the phone or if ever a few of them decided to fly in and surprise him for a weekend.
I knew that Joshua and I already had things in common. Like the fact that we’d both excelled in English in high school. And that we were both allergic to cats. And like me, he’d grown up in a small town, even farther from a big city than we were in Pinecob. Although he’d sure made it clear that he preferred city living.
In the parking lot, my keys fit in the car lock the same as usual. The steering wheel felt in my hands like it always did, as I spun it away from the municipal building. The road beneath the tires was smooth where I expected smooth, and the stoplight by the post office shone red, then green, as always. But back at my house, Joshua Reed was sleeping between the same sheets I sometimes slept between. How crazy was that? It felt like remembering a dream, the sense of everything just a step beyond belief. My house, but not my house. The feel of life, but not quite. Joshua Reed, movie star, was sleeping between my sheets.
I knew that a lot of women would have killed—or at least scratched and bit—for the chance to take my place. Back when I was sixteen or seventeen, I might have done the same. But at twenty-five, I wasn’t holding on to the crazy fantasies I’d harbored in my teens. And besides, I knew that Joshua was dating Elise, the Belgian supermodel with aqua eyes.
I looked into the rearview mirror. My eyes were as brown as ever. And anyway, I’ve always been one to respect an existing relationship. I don’t know what the feminine equivalent of chivalry is, but maybe you’d call it that. Sandy, on the other hand, would probably call it me not having the gumption to hold my hand out for what I wanted. But I knew what it felt like, someone moving in on your boyfriend when you’re not around. The same thing had happened to me with Howard Malkin. I wasn’t going to be like that.
It was around eight-thirty in the morning when I got back home, and Momma was making blueberry cottage cheese pancakes, which sounds weird, but they’re the best pancakes ever. She almost never made them, so it must have been Joshua who brought out the act. She told me to get Beau Ray up and to offer Joshua more coffee.
“Judy said we shouldn’t be catering to him,” I told her.
“Judy’s not here,” Momma said. “And Judy don’t make the rules in this house, so git.”
I’d bought a Charles Town Register on my way home, and I dropped it on the dining room table as I passed. Joshua looked up at me.
“Hey sleepyhead,” I said, at the door of Beau Ray’s room. I was glad to see that Beau Ray, at least, had slept with his door wide open. His closet door was open, too, and a huge pile of clothes and books and sporting equipment spilled out onto his floor. “Momma’s making pancakes,” I said. “You don’t want to miss pancakes.”
Beau Ray turned over. “Pancakes?” he asked and started to sit up.
“Blueberry. Come soon,” I said.
Beau Ray followed me into the dining room. He took a seat across from Joshua and smiled at him. Joshua looked up from the paper.
“Morning, Beau Ray,” he said.
“Morning, cool man Joshua Reed,” Beau Ray said. “Fuck me.”
“Beau