I didn’t want to let this woman scare me away simply on principle, but I also knew she wouldn’t stop. Her vitriol would just get worse and worse, and neither Jesse nor I needed that in our lives.
Standing, I packed up my books. “I’ll leave, Mrs. Forbes, but not for the reasons you think.” Explain to her what she didn’t want to hear was getting me nowhere.
Jesse walked back into the room, his face red, his fists clenched. When he saw me packing up my things, and his mother standing over me like a watchdog, I knew my intuition about the conversation with his father was correct. They had warned him off. Stay away from the bad influence of Lyrical Mewes, seducer of men, destroyer of futures.
Before he could say anything, I told him, “I’m not feeling well, Jesse. Could I bother you for a ride home?”
He glanced at his mother, then back at me. Defeated, he agreed. “I’ll go get my coat.”
Chapter Three.
Lyrical - December
Wisconsin needed a therapist. It couldn’t decide what the weather should be like from year-to-year. Last winter, we didn’t have snow until February, and even then, it barely covered the ground. Apparently, this winter made up for it because we experienced three decent snowfalls in ten days, and I lamented that my three-year-old boots chose today to develop a tear.
Walking down the sidewalk, my head down against the harsh whipping wind, I watched my steps carefully, working to avoid the wettest areas and to keep from slipping on the patches of ice. Not a day you wanted to walk anywhere, but with nothing in the cupboards I needed to get some groceries.
It took me a minute to hear someone calling my name. When I finally heard it and looked up to see who it was, I wished I hadn’t.
Jesse.
Since we finished the project for English last month, I worked hard to avoid him.
“Lyrical! What are you doing out here in the snowstorm?”
I didn’t exactly have a choice. If I didn’t go to the food bank now, we wouldn’t have anything to eat for two or three days except for instant coffee and a few toaster pastries.
My teeth chattered. “I need to run an errand, and then I’ll head home.”
“What errand could be so important you’re out in this shit?” He frowned. “And where’s your hat? And your gloves?”
“I forgot them this morning.” A lie. Dad took them since he shoveled sidewalks for the lakefront families for cash.
Within seconds, he unwound the scarf from around his neck and wrapped it around mine, looping it tightly to lie over the gap at the front of my coat. Before I knew it, he’d pulled my hands from my pockets to put his gloves on me, followed by the knit hat from his head over my head, my hair wet from the snow.
“Let me give you a ride home.”
“Thank you, Jesse, but I really have to get to the store before it closes.”
“Store?” He glanced around us, the frown on his face deepening. “The grocery store is the other way.”
“I’m not going to the grocery store,” I mumbled.
His head recoiled slightly and tilted to the side. “The only other stores out here are a shipping station, a printer, and an insurance agent.”
Going around him, I ducked my head down as I walked around him. “Thanks for the hat and stuff. I’ll get them back to you tomorrow at school.”
My skin flushed, not because of the cold, but because of the embarrassment. It wasn’t his fault that he didn’t understand. I could have been clearer. But my feelings for Jesse weren’t as platonic as I’d tried to convince his mother they were, and I found myself vain enough that I didn’t enjoy drawing attention to the chasm between our social status.
My parents weren’t lazy and living off welfare, nor were they addicts. They worked hard. Both worked factory jobs, but they paid minimum wage. To supplement, Dad did odd jobs for the beautiful people who lived on Lake Drive for extra cash, andmom worked a second job cleaning offices at night. There was also my part-time job, but my boss rarely let me work over twenty hours a week. There wasn’t ever anything extra, and we needed to stretch the money we made.
When I entered the food bank, I got the impression there was someone behind me, so I held the door for them without looking backward. When I heard the murmured “Thanks,” I whipped around to find Jesse hunched into his jacket behind me, snowflakes dusting his hair.
“Are you following me?” My words came out sharper than they should have, but I was tired, cold, and I had to walk home yet, not to mention my feet were wet and going numb. Plus, now he was here, witnessing my life in its ugliness.
His eyes found mine, then looked around the spartan room. Metal, no-nonsense shelving stretched down ten separate rows holding nonperishable foodstuffs, necessary household products, as well as personal products. Along the back wall stood a cooler with cold items, which some days was nearly empty. Like today, when families would have rushed in early to get milk and things like that for their kids.
The faster I got this done, the faster I got out of here and home, where I’d be safe to wallow in my frustration and a few tears. Nothing reflected the divide between Jesse’s world and mine better than this right here.
