21. Jeb
Chapter twenty-one
Jeb
“If a fish doesn’t bite in the next twenty seconds, I’m gonna go grab us another drink,” I tell Fallon. Thirty minutes is too long to wait for another fish to bite.
“Oh, thank gosh. I wanted one twenty minutes ago. And get me some water, too. Oh, and the sunscreen you brought.”
“Watch my line. Just yell if something bites.”
“Okay.” She takes my rod and wedges the handle between two slats on the dock.
In her kitchen I make a pile on the counter of everything we want, all while being rubbed by a gray cat.
I squat to pet it, hit the bathroom, and then grab the assorted pile of snacks, drinks, and sunscreen. On the way out, a picture of Fallon and Rhett on the wall catches my eye. It’s one I haven’t seen before, not one of the ones she took down from the hallway in the old house. Fallon’s blond hair is blowing in the breeze, and Rhett’s hand is leisurely thrown over her hip.
“I’m so sorry, man,” I tell him, touching the edge of the frame. “I’m sorry for the accident. You know that already, I’m sure.” I start to walk away, but I turn back, looking at Rhett again like he’s here. “I told her she’s beautiful. I’m sorry about that, too. I can’t help it, though. You know how beautiful she is, so you can’t hold it against me. I wish you were still here with her. I’m so glad I met her, but I’d do that day over again in a heartbeat, and you could have her ’til you were old and gray. Life doesn’t work that way, though. I can’t bring you back no matter how much I want to.”
I surprisingly don’t feel like throwing up or crying. It’s just a man-to-man conversation with a picture.
“What’s your gray cat’s name?” I ask when I get to the river, handing Fallon her drink while I use a tree trunk for balance to open mine.
“The gray one or the black-and-white one?”
“The gray one.”
“Tuck? He’s nocturnal; he normally hides all day. I’m surprised you saw him.”
“He was walking all around my legs, meowing. I had to crouch down to pet him.”
“He’s so funny. I swear he didn’t even like Rhett!”
“Maybe he needs food or something, because he and I were buddies inside.”
“No, I fed him this morning. Hey, are you going to share those jelly beans?” Fallon holds her hand out, almost dropping her rod as I shake the bag over her palm.
She pops half in her mouth.
“Woah, sugar-hog.” I laugh when she can’t even open her mouth to tell me to shut up.
“Don’t knock it shtill you shtry it,” she says, her mouth full of jelly beans.
“You want sunscreen? I can spray you.”
“No, I’m going back to the shade to paint for a while. Want me to spray you?”
“Nah, my pale ass needs all the sun it can get right now.”
“Why’d you buy sunscreen then?” She laughs.
“For you. You can keep it here. I figured you might need it if you hang out by the river a lot.”
“Thanks, Jeb.” Her tone becomes more serious, and the crinkles around her eyes smooth.
“I’m going to pull the rods and move to the shade, too. I might sit in this chair and take a little nap if that’s okay. I don’t think the fish are biting right now. Probably too hot. They must be taking their afternoon nap.”
“There’s a hammock in the tree back there if you want a more comfortable napping spot.” She points toward the side of the yard. “Corbin put it up for me, but I haven’t used it yet.”
“I’d love a little afternoon siesta in a hammock. Wake me if I snore,” I tell her as I walk past her easel.
I cozy into the hammock and close my eyes. The birds chirp, the breeze feels like heaven, and I listen as Fallon’s brush strokes her canvas. A warm feeling spreads through my veins as I fall asleep.
The sun is significantly lower in the sky than when I first climbed in the hammock. I check my watch. Almost four o’clock. Damn. Have I been sleeping for two hours?
I turn my head and see that Fallon is still in the same spot, still painting. She turns around to face me, probably hearing the hammock rustle.
“Hey, sleepyhead. Have a good snooze?” Her face lights up, a smile stretching across her lips. Her hair looks like sex, only it’s been tousled by the wind, not tumbling in bedsheets. As if she can read my mind, she lifts her hand to tuck a rogue lock behind her ear.
“I guess I did,” I say through a yawn. “Damn, I can’t believe I slept so long. Did I snore?”
“Only for a bit.”
I roll out of the hammock with the grace of a hippo, falling to the ground with a thwack . Fallon throws her head back, laughing, not waiting to check on the status of my fall. The piece of hair falls from her ear once more.
“I’d fall either way, so might as well roll out.”
She stretches her arms up high, exposing a sliver of her lower back. “Sure, you did that on purpose.” She stretches her arms to the left and the right, rotating her shoulders back and forward. “It’s a good time for me to take a break.”
“Holy shit, Fallon. You did that while I was napping?” Her painting is beyond my wildest expectations. The colors are vibrant. The trees look so luscious they could be edible. The river has me craving to jump in it. The only part of the painting not near completion is the dock.
“My eyes are going crazy on me right now. I can’t even tell if it looks good or not.” She stands and walks toward me, turning around to admire her work from afar.
“It’s so good. You didn’t tell me how talented you are!” I look at Fallon as she puts her hand on her hip and cocks her head to the side.
“It looks a bit sloppy. Maybe once I’m done the dock, everything will tie in.”
“If you think this looks sloppy, I’m anxious to see the final result.” I shake my head, in awe of her. “Did you take painting classes?”
“I took art in high school, but I’m mainly self-taught, I guess. I’ve always been artistic.”
“Graphic design major.”
“It’s a bit more than graphic design, but yes. I’m a creative at heart.”
“I should probably get going,” I say, approaching the pier where all the rods and fishing paraphernalia are, and I swear I see the smile on her face fall. “But maybe I’ll stick a line in quickly, just to see if anything is biting this time of day.”
Her steps fall in line with mine, and we walk together. “Okay, throw one in for me, too.”
“I can do that,” I say, stifling a smile. I make quick work of it, throwing the red one in and handing it to Fallon, then setting mine up.
It only takes a minute for Fallon’s line to pull.
“I’ve got a fish!” she cries. “I think I have a fish!”
She looks to me for validation, and I nod my head when I see the bobber dip into the water.
“Take your time.” I lay my rod on the wood and stand beside her, talking her through it. “Reel a little bit, then stop. Reel again and again. Good. You’re doing great.”
“Oh, there he is! Jeb, look.” She points with the rod toward the river, turning her head my way. The excitement on her face warms me, and it sends a tingling sensation coursing through my body. I like Happy Fallon.
“Yup, you got one! Pull him up, and I’ll grab him.”
She does, and the fish dangles off the rod as she swings it in my direction. Her face lights up like a sloth, a slow, wide smile fixed in place.
I grab the fish, taking him off the hook as Fallon drops her rod.
“Wait, let me grab my phone.” She runs toward her easel and returns with it in her hand. “Take our picture.”
“Our picture? Like, you and the fish?”
“Yes!”
I laugh, then trade the fish for the phone. Fallon puts her thumb in its mouth like I did. I take a video and hit the little button on the side to take pictures, too.
“I’m going to name you… Fred,” she says. “Or Betty. Depending on your private parts.”
Fallon turns, and our eyes lock when she lifts Fred or Betty to her face for a kiss. “Your turn!” She smiles with absolute glee, reveling in her supposed payback.
She raises the fish and I lean in, kissing the side of it. “Thanks, Betty or Fred. Have a good one. Feel free to tell this story to all your little fish friends. I’m Fallon, by the way. This is my friend Jeb. He made me kiss you.” She leans over the water, dropping the fish back in. I accidentally check out her ass when she does it, and the inch of tanned skin showing right above her waistband.
“Oh, that was so much fun. Thanks for bringing an extra rod for me.”
“Not a problem. Is it okay if I leave them here? Then, the next time we want to go fishing, I’ll be able to jog over or ride my bike.”
“Yeah, we can put them in the garage. And I won’t even tell you if I use them when you’re not here.”
“You don’t have to tell me, but you do have to promise to send a picture if you catch anything.”
“I can do that.” She holds out her pinky to make a promise, and we shake on it. Immediately, it feels too intimate. Memories from the fundraiser flood my mind. It must remind Fallon of that night, too. Her eyes flick from our hands to my eyes, just like mine do to hers.
I swallow and release her finger.
“Let’s get this stuff to the garage, and I’ll head out.”
“Okay.” Her voice catches. “I’ll grab the tackle box.”
We tuck it away in a corner of her detached garage and lean the rods next to it. “Need help with the easel and paints?” I ask, stalling.
“Sure,” she says. “Well, actually, I might paint later, so just leave it for now. Want to come in, though? We can make the pizza? I’m really hungry.”
“Could’ve had the fish, too, if I knew you were hungry.”
“You would’ve fried Betty or Fred for me?”
“I would’ve preferred you didn’t name the fish I was about to fry, but yes.”
“Let’s just stick with the pizza and the pepperoni you brought. I have brownies, too.”
“You had me at brownies.”
Fallon slides the pizza into the oven and I sit at the kitchen table, staring at her refrigerator instead of sneaking another peek at her figure. When she sits across from me, we talk about her cats, the problems she had with the door knob at the front entrance, and my boring-ass work while we wait for the cheese to melt. Fallon shows me some of her recent designs—jelly and jam labels for a local farm, a logo design for a college in New York, and a mock-up license plate for the state of Kansas.
Her next project is a T-shirt design for Thatcher Hardware, a state-wide hardware company. I wonder if she’d design a shirt for the firehouse. Some stations in the county have their own patches and designs, but at Station 17, we use the standard patch for the county.
Fallon burns her mouth on the pizza, too impatient to let it cool off. She blows on her next bite, and for some fucking reason, the puckering of her lips has my dick perking up.
I’m fucked. I know.
I won’t let her know, though. I have no plans to make a move or tell her how attracted I am to her, that’s for sure. My thoughts will stay locked away inside my head.
I squeeze the warm pizza between my teeth and pull the slice away from my mouth, the melted cheese acting as a bridge between the two. I tear it from the pizza, twirl it around my finger, and pop it in my mouth.
Fallon’s chewing halts abruptly. She raises one eyebrow but lowers it just as quickly. She chews on her bottom lip and swallows, suddenly looking away from my finger in my mouth.
Without warning, the temperature around my skin rises at least twenty degrees.
I take a sip of my water. Fallon takes a sip of hers. We make brisk eye contact a few times over the next couple of minutes, but mostly, we keep our eyes averted while we talk about Fallon’s friend Shay and the wild weekend she’s having on a bachelorette trip to Greece.
“I think I’m going to try to paint a little bit more before the sun goes down,” Fallon says after we finish cleaning the kitchen. “Do you want to…”
She pauses.
“I might throw a rod in and see if anything’s biting before I go home,” I offer before she can ask.
“Want a beer?” She stands in the doorway, asking. “Or a water?”
“I’ll take a water,” I reply, heading to the garage to get the rod we just put away.
Fallon and I meet back in the driveway, her with the drinks and a container of chocolate-covered caramels and me with the tackle box and rod.
She brings the bottle of water for me and then she heads back to the oak, still cloaked in the shade. At this time of night, most of the yard is shaded.
I fish with a few false alarms when the fish steal my bait. Fallon paints. When I finally catch a fish, she runs down to the dock to kiss it before I toss it back in.
When it’s dark enough that I can’t see the other side of the river, and I’m sure Fallon can’t see to paint, I decide to call it a day and pack my things up, yet again. I drag the Adirondack chair closer to the water and sit there peacefully, listening to the cicadas in the trees.
The breeze is blowing, crickets are chirping, and toads are croaking. I can hear the whoops from kids to my right, where there’s a row of houses down a little way.
It’s crazy to compare where I was mentally a few months ago to where I am today. My thoughts feel less muddied. I can’t believe that not too long ago, I was convincing myself to keep living because it would be more punishment than not. And today, I’m sitting on a dock at dusk while a beautiful girl paints beneath an old oak tree.
Rhett—I know. I suck. You can punch me all you want in the afterlife. But I think she enjoys having a friend who knows the heartbreak of losing you, so I’m going to try my best to keep making her happy. I send my thoughts up to the heavens.
I’m enjoying everything he enjoyed, and I shouldn’t be. The thought hits me like a freight train. I let the day get the best of me. It’s almost seven, and I’ve been here since noon. I should go, but I can’t will myself to get up right now. Not with the calm that’s surrounding me.
I’ll let the shame and the depression catch up with me later. For now, I’m just going to enjoy this.
I think Fallon is enjoying herself, too. And I owe her that.
I take a long, refreshing chug of cold water to finish it, then I stand, wiping the condensation on my shorts.
“I think I’m going to take off,” I say, rolling my neck to the side. “For real this time.”
“Stay,” she says, and my breathing stops. My eyes widen, and I thank God she can’t see them from this far away. “Just a few more minutes, if you can. I’m almost done the painting, and I want you to see it.”
My breath takes a few minutes to regain normalcy after she tells me to stay like she did—in a breathy but commanding way that made my stomach drop and heart race.
“Don’t have to tell me twice.” I drop back down in the chair. “I could live here and never get enough of this view.”
“Tell me about it. I never want to leave the deck.”
“The deck or the dock?” I ask. “Because the view from the deck has nothing on this view.”
“Both, I guess. Don’t laugh, but I’m kind of afraid to go down to the water when I’m here alone.”
“Fallon. Why?”
She laughs. “I know. I told you not to laugh, but I can’t help it. I have this fear that I’ll be standing on the dock, and someone will sneak up and push me in. Like a bad guy. Or maybe someone will kill me and throw me in, or I’ll fall in and hit my head, and no one will find me for ten years.”
I pause before answering. I wish she wouldn’t downplay her thoughts on my account.
“Call me if you ever want to go to the dock, and I’ll stay on the phone with you or come over. At least until you feel more comfortable here. I’m sure once it becomes more familiar to you, you won’t be as worried.”
“Oh, no. I wouldn’t want to bother you like that.” She makes small strokes on the canvas.
“It wouldn’t be a bother. I’m perfectly content to talk on the phone or even being on the phone in silence. And I’m literally a few streets that way.” I point south. “I can be here quickly if anything goes wrong.”
“Thanks. I think the phone call would work. At least you’d hear me scream and be able to call the cops.”
“If I heard you scream, I’d run over. Forget the cops.”
“Just for the record, you don’t like screaming, or you do?” She lowers her sunglasses on her nose to flash me a smirk, and it takes me a minute to get her innuendo.
“Fallon. You know what I mean.” This conversation is taking a turn, and for the record, I’m not the one who turned it.
“I’m just teasing.”
Being with each other gets easier by the minute… at least on my end. I think Fallon notices it, too. We have a weird but easy friendship. Like a rock in a tumbler, we started out bumpy and have slowly smoothed.
“Well, don’t tease me like that,” I say playfully, even though I’m totally serious. I can’t have Fallon insinuating sexual things to me. Between the thin band of skin showing around her stomach, the way her eyes twinkle when she smiles, and how she cools her pizza down… yeah, I’m already in enough trouble.