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I sang a few lines from Separate Pieces and Avery joined in. We started shifting, dancing together in synchronized moves, to one of our favorite songs from Dividing Daylight-which was really saying something because every song on that first EP was top shelf.
Just then, a buzzer sounded from inside Mrs. Smith's kitchen. Avery grabbed my hand and pulled me with her, heading for the front door. "Well, I want to look over it when you're done."
I rolled my eyes. "So you can plagiarize it?"
Avery giggled. "Not all of us are as prolific as yourself."
The cookie sheet was hot. The oatmeal mounds were plump and round. They smelled a cinnamon-nutmeg type of wonderful.
I called out from the steaming kitchen door for our hostess to come and inspect her cookies. They looked done to me, but she usually performed a touch-test-the tops must spring back-to each and every one. Ave and I each held a tray to ensure they wouldn't over-bake.
Mrs. Smith shuffled through the hot kitchen with her big rubber gloves and round sunglasses. She set her gardening belt on a chair near the door before heading to the sink to wash up.
Avery rolled her eyes, impatiently. If the cookies cooled too much, they'd get all crusty if we had to shove them back in the oven.
I asked, and Mrs. Smith decided, "just this once, since I'm trying to teach you something," that it would be alright to let Avery and me check the cookies ourselves.
They were all good.
We spent the next twenty minutes stuffing our faces with warm cookies and milk, listening to Mrs. Smith's Beatles records. "Real music," she insisted.
13
-Angel
As I walked Avery home, we talked a little more about my essay. It was going to be easy. Our class was reading Romeo and Juliet and we had to write a comparison between the two families, the Capulet's and Montague's. I wasn't worried about it, but told her I'd call if I needed help. I had to go, Deanna would wake up soon and make dinner before she left for work and I had to be there. It was the rule. Plus, I was expecting Jake.
Avery rolled her eyes when I waved goodbye from the path in front of her house.
She yelled, "Go get your fine-ass man, then."
"I plan to." I winked before turning to make my way home.
+++
Jake was running late. He'd called and said that something had come up-he was still coming over, he just wouldn't be able to be there five seconds after Deanna left for work, like usual.
What should have been two hours turned into three.
I kicked the sheets off my bed, pondering and staring at the ceiling.
All I could do was wait for Jake to arrive. And in the meantime, I hoped the coming weeks would lumber along as well-with all the speed of a crippled snail. Somehow, time managed to stretch beyond its' natural limitations whenever I was looking forward to something. (Out of spite, I think.)
I was dreading that tour-the possibility of leaving without permission and probable separation from my treasured boyfriend. Jake was everything to me. And everything in life changes, I knew that. I was used to it. But not where Jake was concerned. He'd been my constant anchor through the storm of bullshit, and knowing that his life would be changing, meant mine was, too, and I was just beginning to realize how unprepared I was.
Outside my bedroom window, unseen cats screeched and tussled in the black night. Occasionally, a car would turn from the roadway into the trailer park, flashing their lights into my window as they passed. I watched the flicker of two beams run across the ceiling and spoke his name.
"Jake." I muttered and turned into my pillow.
I was all alone. Austen had already left for his girlfriends' house. It was the third time that week that he'd left me alone for the night. Things with his girl, Sheila, were getting serious.
A dull thud sounded from the front of the trailer. I sat up, looking out my window to find his dirty van on the driveway.
When I opened the front door, Jake was standing on the porch, leaning on his elbow that was propped against the doorframe. He wore a plain white t-shirt and jeans. His black acoustic guitar was slung across his back. The plain red strap slashed across his chest, adding definition to his delicious structure. The way he leaned put him so close that when I answered, he only had to shift an inch or two for his lips to meet mine.
I fought a smile. "Would you hate me if I said that I only want you for your body?"
He chuckled, "Hate you? I've come to count on these no-strings sexual encounters."
