Page 7 of Possibly Texas

Jack looked exactly as I had remembered when I drew upon my oldest memories.

Even if it had been a long time.

Jack stood, his face framed by the screen in the wooden door, his eyes squinting out into the bright afternoon sun, taking me in as I waited on the steps. His raven black hair was still even darker than mine; that type of black that almost seemed to be tinted with blue or purple. Dark eyes peered out from his hooded brow as he looked me over. He knew who I was, so that wasn’t the problem. It’s not that I had known Jack enough, or been around him enough to read him, but I felt as though he couldn’t believe how much bigger I was since the last time he had seen me.

Slowly, Jack reached over and unlatched the screen, then he pushed it gently outwards, giving me a chance to turn my body in just the right way to avoid being hit by it. I grabbed the edge of the screen and held it open and stared up at the man. He was almost as tall as the doorframe; his hair nearly brushed against the top of the frame. Gruffly, he crossed his arms over his chest and moved to lean against the doorjamb as he looked down at me.

I thought Mom had called him?

The smell of something cooking on the stove inside wafted outside, around Jack’s lithe body—something like chili maybe? Always a great meal for summertime in Texas. Regardless of the heat and the meal Jack had chosen, my stomach grumbled at me. I would have been willing to eat anything Jack offered from his pantry or fridge. I’d had nothing to prepare me for the day and I was starving. And I was so thirsty.

“It’s me,” I said. “Jordan?”

Jack just stared down at me for a moment. Then he gave what looked like a salute.

“Hi,” I said. “Mom said she called you. Uh, she said she told you I was coming to stay? I mean, if that’s okay. Well, I mean, I really can’t walk back to the car. She left me out on the highway. I walked down Two-Mile Trail to get here?”

The corner of Jack’s mouth turned up slightly. He was amused. Did he find it funny that I had walked through town to get to his house—or was he amused thinking about what a jerk my mom was and always had been?

“She’s on her way to Vegas,” I explained, my finger digging into the screen door as I stood there. “I mean, I can call her on her cell if you don’t want me here or something. But it might take her a while to get back here.”

Jack stared.

“If she is even willing to come back.”

Jack was smirking again.

“So,” I said, “is it okay if I, uh, stay here or whatever? Mom said it was cool, but I can tell you might not have known I was coming. I can figure something out I guess if—”

Jack’s hands started to move. I watched for a moment.

“My sign language skills are pretty rusty, Jack.” I stopped him. “Can you…nod or something?

Jack rolled his eyes, then disappeared from the doorway. Since he hadn’t waved me in or indicated that I should follow him, I kept vigil on the steps, waiting for his return. As suspected, Jack appeared in the door moments later, a small notepad and pen in hand. I waited, holding onto the edge of the screen door as he clicked the pen and began to scribble. A few seconds later, he looked up at me and turned the notepad so I could see it.

In block letters, it said:

Margie just dumped you off on the highway?

I snorted. “Yeah. She goes by Marlena now. More exotic, I guess?”

Jack smirked and started scribbling again.

She didn’t even drive you into town to make sure you got here safe?

I sighed and looked up at him. There was no point in answering. I just shrugged.

Again, more writing. Then the notepad was turned for me to read again.

Margie didn’t call. You can stay.

I nodded. “Okay.”

Before I could turn around to grab my bags, Jack was writing once again.

Your room is the same. Upstairs. You’ve gotten bigger.

He gave me a tight smile when I looked up from the notepad.