13. Avery
13
AVERY
L ater that evening, I stand in front of Jake’s bookcase holding a cardboard box. It’s one of those box style shelves that reaches from floor to ceiling, and each box is filled with pieces of Jake. Not only books, but there are also photographs in frames, albums, a cactus plant, sports trophies, and other knick knacks that meant something to my brother.
I turn to find Ed watching me. He’s given me two boxes: one to fill with items I want to keep and one for the charity auction.
He scribbles something on his notepad and holds it up to me.
You okay?
I take a deep breath and let it out slowly.
Nothing about this is okay, but it needs to be done, and I’d rather go through Jake’s things then make Mom have to do it.
“Yeah,” I reply. “I will be.”
I start on the bottom left and work my way from bottom to top.
The books are easy. They’re military related with some hunting and travel books, and I pile them up for Ed to go through later and take the ones he wants.
I take the cactus. It’s the only plant in the house aside from the peace lily I gave Ed. I imagine Jake giving it a few drops of water whenever he was back. If he can keep it alive from halfway around the world, then I can.
The photographs are hard. I take them all down together and stack them up before looking through them.
There are a lot of military photos. Jake in his Navy uniform when he first signed up, a wide grin across his boyish face. Another show a group of guys in Navy uniforms who I don’t recognize. There’s a family photo taken when he graduated basic training and joined the Navy.
But there are none from when he joined the SEALs. Part of the deal is to not talk about being a SEAL, and Jake took that to heart. Him and Ed were at BUD/s together, and he once told me that if it hadn’t been for Ed beside him through hell week, he’s not sure he would have made it.
The other pictures are from different parts of the world. A few times when Jake was back on leave, he went traveling with Ed. He met Ed in Peru once and they hiked Machu Picchu. There’s a picture of the two of them standing amongst the ruins.
Jake has a wide grin on his face his face and his arms outstretched. Ed is looking at something off camera and smiling. He has tousled hair, and though only a few years have passed, he looks much younger without the facial scar and haunted look he now wears.
I put the photos aside, sure that Mom will want to keep them when she’s strong enough to look through them.
I grab a stool out of the kitchen to reach the top shelves. Here I find a statue that looks like it was from the Peru trip and a few other mementos from places that only Jake would know. There’s a blank postcard from Buenos Aires, a miniature painting of a dark landscape with thunder clouds rolling in, and a print of the Edvard Munch painting The Scream .
I take the items down and set them aside to ask Ed about them. It bothers me I didn’t know this side of my brother, the side that liked to travel and collect miniature artworks.
After clearing the shelves, I move to the cabinet under the mounted TV. There’s an ancient TV set stashed under here, the kind that has a VHS player attached to a square screen. On the floor next to the unit is a plastic storage box. It seems out of place in the orderly living area.
I open the box, and it’s full of VHS tapes. The edges of the covers are worn and peeling. I rummage through the box and find a collection of old movies. An Officer and a Gentleman, Some Kind of Wonderful, Footloose .
I glance up as Ed comes into the room. “I didn’t know Jake was into eighties movies.”
The next tape I pick up is Pretty Woman . I’ve heard of these movies but never seen half of them.
“Who still has VHS anyway?”
Ed snatches Pretty Woman out of my hands and pulls the box towards him. He looks mad, and I realize that these aren’t Jake’s.
“These are your tapes?”
He nods curtly and picks up the tapes I’ve strewn on the floor. I stare at him with my mouth open as he lays each tape carefully back in the box.
Why the heck does a big tough Navy SEAL keep a box of VHS tapes from the 80s? And most of them romcoms by the looks of it.
I wait for him to write me an explanation, but Ed doesn’t look at me. I’m dying to know what’s behind this story. I’m about to ask, but his expression as he sets Pretty Woman on the top of the pile and closes the lid makes me hesitate. I’m curious, but it’s none of my business, which is probably what his note would say.
Ed takes the box and heads upstairs, then comes back to get the old VHS player out of the cupboard.
He’s not going to tell me about the tapes. I just have to add it to the list of all the things I don’t know about Ed, which is a lot. Which is why it’s so darn annoying that my stomach flips every time he comes into the room.
I check my phone, and it’s almost ten. “I better get going.”
Ed walks me to the door, and when he opens it a cool breeze makes me shiver.
Ed peels off his sweater and offers it to me.
I smile at his kindness. “It’s just across the road. I’ll be fine.”
He gives me a stern look and holds out the sweater.
“All right. If you insist.” I take the sweater and pull it over my head. It carries the warmth from Ed’s body and his scent of pine and soap. It hangs down to my knees and is baggy around the arms. But it’s already my favorite sweater.
“Thank you.”
I head down the steps, and Ed follows. I spin around. “What are you doing?”
He takes my elbow in his hand and indicates my house across the street.
“You’re walking me home?”
Ed grunts, which I take to mean yes.
I’m only a few feet away from my front door, but I walk those steps in a warm glow. The stars are out tonight and insects chirp in the trees. A breeze rustles the large magnolia tree in our front yard.
There’s something nice about Ed’s silence. His presence takes up so much space he doesn’t need to talk.
We reach my front door, and I take out my key. Ed waits on the stoop as if he’s just dropped me off from a date.
“Goodnight.” I turn around to say goodnight and find Ed closer than I expected.
Ed grunts and brings a thumb up to my cheek. My hair’s gotten loose from its ponytail, and he takes a strand between his thumb and finger, then tucks it behind my ear. His thumb brushes my earlobe, and heat skitters across my skin.
I hold my breath, wondering if he’s going to kiss me.
He breathes in deep, then takes a step back, and the moment is gone. Of course he’s not going to kiss me. My teenage crush fantasies are getting in the way again.
I’m just the kid sister of his best friend who he’s seeing safely back into her house. No kiss required.
It’s only when I get upstairs and to my room that I realize I’m still wearing Ed’s sweater. I slip my bra off underneath and crawl into bed, letting the warmth and aroma of him send me off to sleep.