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“Where are we going?” Wyatt asks, following my lead.
“We’re going to do what we always do when one of us need cheering up. We’re going to remind each other why we stick together. Wyatt, get the rum.”
It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. No one was given the option. We were going to sit by the pond and drink until Jones felt better or felt numb. My guess was that the later would happen first. I don’t think anything will make him feel better.
Not today and maybe not ever when it comes to Sawyer.
Wyatt’s told me a little about her, but not much. He insists that Jones need to be the one to tell me the story. The first time he tried, he didn’t make it far before he was sloppy drunk and close to passing out.
All I really know is that she was Jones’s first love. They were inseparable since they were seven and kissed on the playground. It was never a question as to if they were dating or when they started dating. They were always dating. Neither wanted to be with anyone else.
They planned out their future when they were fourteen. They were going to get married after graduation, move to wherever they went to college, and start a family as soon as they were done with college. Both wanted to move back here and raise their kids in Fairview, around family.
When I asked what happened, Wyatt’s face paled and he shook his head. It was then that I realized how much the situation impacted him too. He didn’t live here then, but with as close to Jones as he is, I’m sure he’d met her before. As much as Jones loved her, I’m sure Wyatt did too.
Settling into our usual spots by the pond, I pass Jones a cup filled to the brim and he takes a sip before closing his eyes, resting his head back against the stump.
“She died.”
His words are barely above a whisper, but I hear him clearly from my seat a few feet away. The last time we had this conversation, it started almost the same way.
“It was sudden. No one knew anything was wrong with her until it was too late. The doctors said that she was suffering in silence, that she had to be in pain, but I don’t remember her ever complaining of anything other than an occasional ache in her back.
“She was tough, always one of the boys. Never afraid of a challenge. If I jumped off the tire swing, she was right behind me, trying to jump farther. So if she was in pain, she probably didn’t want to say anything. It would have made her appear weak in her mind.
“When she fainted in class, I was confused. One minute she was passing me notes and the next she was hitting her head on her desk and falling to the floor, her body lifeless. They said I screamed, but I don’t remember much after that. I picked her up and ran to the office, yelling for someone to call an ambulance.
“She had a blood clot that moved into her lungs. Pulmonary something. It could have killed her, but it didn’t. Hip pain, headaches, normal symptoms of being a rough and tumble teenager. She wasn’t a normal teenager, though. She had bone cancer and we didn’t even know it.”
Tears are streaming down Jones’s face as he talks about Sawyer. Taking a sip of his drink, he continues, bringing tears to my eyes as well.
“The plan was to start her on chemo right away. We even shaved her head that night knowing that she would start to lose her hair. She died two days later. There was another blood clot that went straight to her brain. I was on my way to see her when it happened. I walked into the hospital room, a chocolate shake in my hand, her favorite, my hair gone in support of her. One look at her mom and the shake slipped from my hands. She was gone. I didn’t get even get to say goodbye.”
So many things made sense in that moment. The fact that Jones shaved his head every few days, keeping it smooth as a baby’s bottom. He was holding on to Sawyer, to her memory. He was still supporting her, the only way he could now.
A single teartrails down my cheek as I remember the devastation on Jones’s face the night he told me about Sawyer. Looking at him now, I see the peace he’s made with his loss. His hair the most prominent sign.
“So, Jones, what are you doing sneaking up on a girl? You should know better than that,” I tease in an attempt to draw his attention away from Addy for even a moment.
“The boss sent me over to fetch the mayor,” he replies, never breaking eye contact with Addison as he answers my question. “Plus, I didn’t sneak up on you. If I had been trying to scare you, you would have jumped like you used to.”
Ignoring his remark about the past before another memory can sneak up on me, I focus on his answer. “The mayor? Why?”
“He’s… he just needs to talk to him about a few things. Festival related. For the bar, since it’s so close to the park and all.” When he turned his attention to me, I saw the moment he began lying. He’s always been terrible at it. “You’re still coming on Sunday, right?”
“Of course we are,” Addy answers for me. I wish she hadn’t. I can see that she is attracted to Jones, and the feeling is mutual, but now we're committed, and I hate breaking commitments. “We wouldn’t miss it. Are you coming to Bev’s party tomorrow night?”
Looking to me for an answer, I nod. I have a feeling that he would start begging if I didn’t give him permission. With Addison by my side, I can explain his presence to my parents. If they even notice. Without her, it would have been much harder.
Plus, this thing happening between them right now, it could be a good thing. For both of them. I want them to be happy, and if it means exploring that option together, who am I to stand in the way of that?
“I wouldn’t miss it,” Jones replies.
“You should bring your boss,” she suggests.
Whipping his head in her direction, I notice his eyes widen in surprise. He begins to stumble over his words before collecting himself. “Um, he’s probably busy with festival stuff. I doubt he’ll be able to make it. Plus, he’s not really the party type of guy.”
“He owns a bar,” Addy points out. “How is he not the party type of guy? Every night is a party for him.”
