Four
Four
JUNE 1996
He cleared his throat, a deep rumble reverberating in the room. As he walked toward his mother, his eyes never left mine. I smiled, then felt a blush creep across my cheeks. I averted my eyes and stared at the floor to preserve some dignity. I’d always been one of those girls who blushed immediately, making it impossible to ever play it cool around any boy who was even slightly attractive. And this boy, with his shaggy blond hair and green eyes that examined me with intensity while twinkling with mischief, made my cheeks burn hotter than ever before.
Grant bent down and kissed his mother’s cheek as he said, “Good morning.”
Kay slammed the fridge. “Grant, it’s nearly lunchtime. No one would consider this morning. I’ll give you a pass today, but you’re not going to spend the summer—”
He cut her off and said, “Mom, aren’t you going to introduce us?” I looked up to find his eyes still focused in my direction.
“Tess, this is my son, Grant.” Kay placed turkey and cheese on the counter. “Tess is helping me with my gardens this summer.”
“Cool,” he said.
“Yeah, it’s cool,” I said, flipping my hair over my shoulder. I tried to make the gesture natural, but it wasn’t. My fingers got tangled in my hair. As I extracted my fingers, I turned toward the window to see my reflection. I was a disaster. I’d spent the morning in the gardens and my hair was full of dirt and mulch. My face was streaked with mud.
The phone rang and Grant’s mother said, “That’s Madeline. She always needs to chat after her party. You two fix your sandwiches while I take this upstairs.”
She left the room and my stomach did somersaults. I was alone, in a very fancy kitchen, with a very cute boy, and had no idea how to function. I folded my hands on the counter and then immediately removed them. No amount of scrubbing would have removed the dirt under my fingernails. I tried to occupy myself with making a sandwich, but my eyes kept darting around the room while Grant continued to stare at me.
“Hi,” Grant said, grabbing a plate and reaching for slices of bread.
“Hi,” I said, disappointed with my inability to find a more creative response. I swallowed. “Did you know sandwiches were traditionally viewed as meals for ladies’ lunches? It wasn’t until the club sandwich was invented in the late 1800s that it became an acceptable lunch for men.” My nervous recitation of sandwich trivia spewed out so quickly that I wanted to bury myself in a deep pit of embarrassment.
“I did not know that,” Grant said, assembling his own sandwich. He moved close enough that I could smell the scent of soap on his skin.
“Well, now you too possess that useless piece of knowledge.” I closed my eyes briefly before saying, “I’m sorry, I recite stupid facts when I’m nervous.”
“That’s not a stupid fact. I’m going to use that the next time I’m eating a sandwich with a stranger,” Grant said, sitting at the kitchen table.
I pulled out a chair, joining him.
Grant lifted his sandwich, about to take a bite, when he asked, “Why are you nervous?”
I nibbled slightly on my lip. Grant’s eyes darted briefly down to my mouth before he quickly looked away. He shifted in his seat, setting down his sandwich and rubbing his palms on his thighs, his eyes focused on the table. It seemed impossible, but maybe Grant was nervous too.
I took a small bite of my sandwich, chewing carefully before I started talking. “I’m nervous for about a million reasons. I’m in a new place, my mother started a job that she cares a whole lot about, and, to be perfectly honest, I have a habit of saying things that get me in trouble. And now I’m starving and covered in dirt in the fanciest kitchen I have ever seen, trying to talk to you without food in my mouth. Nervous is an understatement.”
Grant smiled. “Do you always say whatever is on your mind?”
“Yes,” I replied, sighing. “Unfortunately.”
“Well, I almost got expelled from boarding school on my last day of classes for sneaking a couple of goats into the gymnasium. I couldn’t even walk in graduation. My father banished me to the country for the summer so I don’t get in any more trouble. There is no reason why you should be nervous around me. I am a ‘walking disaster,’ as my father would say.”
“Wait, how did you get the goats?” I asked. “Did you put them in your car? Did you carry them? Sorry, I have a million questions.”
“Thank you. Finally, someone that appreciates the effort that went into this prank.”
We settled in over our lunch as Grant explained the details of his goat adventure. He was a good storyteller. I found myself hanging on to the details of how Grant and his friend Stuart carried the goats into the gymnasium, laughing at the part when they discovered that a goat had chewed the upholstery of a borrowed car.
“So why didn’t they kick you out?” I asked. “You did destroy the gym floor.”
Grant’s face fell. “My dad. I guess he worked that out. He’s used to getting what he wants. My best guess, he wrote a giant check.”
“Oh,” I said, wondering what it would be like to live in a world where you were allowed to make mistakes, knowing you had the money to fix them.
“Why are you spending the summer here?” I asked. I looked around the room. “This place doesn’t seem like much of a punishment to me.”
“Yeah, well, things aren’t always what they seem,” Grant said. “My friends are in D.C. for the summer. This house is my dad’s version of solitary confinement.”
As we finished our lunch, I leaned in closer and asked, “Did your dad really say you are a ‘walking disaster’?”
Grant nodded. “That’s definitely not the worst thing he’s called me.” Grant shrugged like it didn’t matter, but the way his eye twitched suggested different.
“I’m really sorry,” I said. “My mom can be hard on me too, but she’s never said anything like that.”
“She’s never called you the ‘greatest disappointment of my life’?” Grant acted like it was a joke, but I saw through that.
“Your dad said that to you?” I asked softly.
“I overheard him saying it to my mother last night. It was not a good night in the Alexander house. They fight a lot.”
“About you?”
He shook his head. “I’m probably the lowest item on their battle list. They can’t seem to agree on anything these days.”
“I don’t really see how one prank equates to life’s greatest disappointment.”
“That’s because you haven’t met Richard Alexander.” Grant sat taller as he said his father’s name, his face pulling into a stoic expression as he mimicked his father’s voice. “ It is an honor to carry on the Alexander family name . Represent it with dignity, not disgrace, son … What a load of shit.”
“Well, I guess I’m lucky there are no expectations associated with the Murphy family name,” I said.
“You have no idea how lucky. Even though he thinks he’s punishing me by sending me out here this summer, I’m secretly relieved. His world is always intense. I get why my mother escapes it so often.”
“Are your parents divorced?” I asked, and then quickly added, “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.”
“If they were divorced, our life would make some sense. I don’t know why they’re still married, but they seem to have come up with some type of arrangement. My mother comes into D.C. for certain parties, mostly to make an appearance, and they act like they tolerate each other. Then she comes back here as fast as she can.”
“Don’t you miss her?”
“Sometimes. But she’s …” Grant seemed to search for a word to describe his mother. “She’s in her own world a lot of the time. If I lived with her, I’m not sure I’d miss her any less.” Grant shrugged as he said, “My family is weird.”
I placed a hand over my heart as I said, “I am in no place to judge anyone as weird.”
“Most people judge.”
“Well, that sucks.”
“Yeah, it kind of does.”
I finished my lunch and walked to the sink. As I washed the plate, I felt Grant walk toward my side. He reached over my hands, squirting out too much soap and scrubbing with clumsy motions that made it pretty clear dish-washing was not part of his usual routine.
His arm brushed mine as he reached for a dish towel, my entire body pulsing at the near connection. I took a sharp breath inward as our bodies pressed closer together.
“Are you going to the bonfire tonight?” he asked. “The staff at the Milton farm always do a big summer kickoff the first Friday of June.”
I had heard rumbles about the bonfire at breakfast, but the idea of standing in the woods with a bunch of strangers seemed miserable. I looked over to Grant. There was a shaky pitch to his voice as he asked me about the bonfire and it made me react reversely, oddly calmed by the fact that he seemed just as affected by me as I was by him. Suddenly, the idea of standing in the woods with Grant sounded like the only thing I wanted to do.
“I was thinking about going,” I said, pretending it was totally normal for a boy to ask me out. “So, I’ll see you there?”
His face erupted into a smile before he caught himself. He shrugged and said, “I guess. Not much else to do around here.”
Kay walked into the kitchen, grabbing an apple as she said, “Back to work, Tess. I want to finish up the pruning before the sun gets too high.”
Grant and I jumped apart, the space between us widening immediately.
“You got it, Mrs. Alexander—I mean, Kay,” I quickly said.
I followed her toward the door before turning back and saying, “See you around, Grant. Try to stay away from the goats.”
“Listen to this smart girl,” Kay said, shouting over her shoulder.
Standing at the door, Grant watched us walk toward his mother’s garden. I waved, thinking that this summer job just got so much better.
I expected some heavy negotiation, but my mother dismissively agreed when I asked if I could go out that night. I suspected that exhaustion was her primary motivator. My mother had just finished a sixteen-hour day and she had to be up again at four in the morning to prepare the breads Ms. Milton wanted to serve at dinner. She had two instructions: “Be home by midnight and do not get in trouble.”
When I got to the bonfire, there was a group of kids milling around the field. The fire was roaring, a big pile of debris off to the side that someone kept feeding into the flames. Kids were reaching into a cooler of beers, and cans were being passed around. I didn’t know anyone there, but no one seemed to mind an extra body around the fire.
I scanned the crowd, trying to find Grant without looking like I was trying to find Grant. Someone brought out a boombox, hooking it up to giant speakers in the back of a truck. Music filled the air, the sounds of Pearl Jam quickly replaced by Brooks & Dunn as a group of boys started chanting song lyrics in between commands to chug.
Three boys grabbed a long tree limb, hoisting it over their heads and throwing it into the fire. Sparks flew, a broken log bouncing outside the stone circle. A group of girls shrieked, jumping backward.
I paused, feeling uncomfortable and unsure. It was clear this party was only getting started and it already seemed to be teetering out of control. I decided to head toward the edge of the group, but as I turned, I ran into a solid chest. I looked up and found Grant’s bright smile.
“Quite the party, huh?” Grant commented.
I looked over my shoulder at the growing bonfire. “Someone is going to get burned.”
“Agreed,” Grant said. “Let’s head over there,” he said, pointing toward a circle of pickup trucks at the edge of the woods.
“This is the type of situation that Darwin would find essential to the survival of society,” I said, my eyes narrowing at the group of kids around the bonfire. “Tonight, some stupid boys are going to find out that they aren’t quite as fit as they think.”
“So, we’re here for scientific observation, then?” Grant said, hopping onto a tailgate and moving to the side to make room for me.
“I’m certainly not here to join that,” I said, pointing to the group taking swigs of some brown liquid before tossing the bottle into the fire. “But please, go ahead and show me how strong you are by throwing around heavy objects and tossing flammable liquids into a poorly controlled fire.” I stopped myself from saying more, my nervous, judgmental rambling making it abundantly clear why I was never the most popular girl in school.
My eyes darted toward Grant, hoping he wanted to stay with me but realizing that most kids wanted to be a part of the party instead of sitting on the sidelines.
“Nope, I’m good here,” he said, to my relief. He gestured to a cooler that was in the back of the truck and asked, “Want a beer?”
“No,” I quickly replied. “Bad prom-night memories,” I added.
Grant reached for a beer and took a sip. I looked up at the night sky and then turned back toward him. He was discreetly pouring out most of his beer off the side of the truck.
“What’s that about?” I asked.
“Oh, nothing,” he said.
I sat quietly, waiting for him to answer.
Grant finally said, “I don’t drink. But it’s easier at these parties if you have one in your hand. That way you aren’t getting questions all night about why you aren’t drinking.”
“Why aren’t you drinking?” I asked.
He held up his beer. “Oh, but I am.”
I shook my head. “You already showed me your secret party trick. I want the truth. Not the fake answer you tell everybody else.”
“How do you know I give everyone else a fake answer?”
“Because you are fake drinking. There’s a cover-up.”
I noticed the foot or so of space between us, my mind debating whether there was a way to close that space without it seeming too obvious.
Grant must have read my mind because he slid closer as he said, “Things between my parents are messy. They get messier when they drink. Just the smell of it makes me anxious.”
“I get it,” I said.
“Is it the same with your parents?” he asked.
I shook my head. “No. I think I’ve seen my mother sip a Coors Light once or twice.” I started pulling on the threads of my cutoff shorts as I continued. “I understand wanting to be different from your parents. I don’t want to make the same mistakes as my mother.”
I didn’t say anything about my father and Grant didn’t ask. It’s a question I couldn’t answer anyway. All my mother ever said was that he was someone who passed through . She didn’t even know his name.
Grant looked at me and we smiled. Then we both nervously looked away, staring back at the crowd. There were small groups of kids swaying to the music, laughing easily at jokes we couldn’t hear. I knew the loneliness that came from watching other people enjoy themselves, yearning to be on that side of the viewfinder. I wondered if Grant ever felt that way.
“Can I be perfectly honest?” I asked.
“I’ve known you less than twenty-four hours, but I’d expect nothing less.”
“I’m not exactly a bonfire person. Or a high school party person. I don’t usually get invited to these things, which used to bother me, but now I’m realizing I wasn’t missing out on much.”
“Overrated for sure,” Grant agreed. “Although, I find it hard to believe that you don’t get invited to parties.”
“Well, I don’t. Or I didn’t.” I looked upward before quietly commenting, “You probably get invited to all the parties.”
Grant shrugged. “Boarding school is a weird place. I’m happy to have all this high school shit behind me.” He looked over in my direction, nudging my shoulder. “You only have one more year, right? It’s just about survival, at this point.”
“True,” I said.
“If you aren’t a party person, what’s your favorite way to spend a Friday night?” Grant asked.
I shook my head. “No way I’m answering that question. I just met you. I’m trying to keep my freak flag at half-mast.”
“Too late, sandwich girl.” Grant elbowed my side and I felt my cheeks flame.
“Fine. Since I already exposed my inner nerd,” I said. “Brace yourself.”
“Lots of buildup for a simple Friday-night description,” Grant teased.
“There’s a 7-Eleven in our town. My typical Friday night is spent with a jumbo-size Slurpee, mix of every flavor, obviously, that I sneak into the library and drink in the stacks. Our library stays open until ten p.m. on Fridays. It’s a wild place.”
“I had no idea I was sitting next to such a rule-breaker.”
“Well, my mom wants me to study and stay out of trouble. She never complains when I tell her I’m going to the library. How about you? What’s your wild Friday?” I asked shyly.
“Mostly stupid dorm parties. Sneaking off campus when we can.” Grant hesitated before he continued. “My favorite place to escape is the gym roof. The stairway is supposed to be locked, but it’s easy to force open.”
My eyes locked with Grant’s and his slow smile immediately put me at ease. “What can you see from up there?” I didn’t ask Grant what he needed to escape. I understood how messy life could feel, even when we’re supposed to be at its beginning.
“The monuments all lit up at night. Life makes more sense when I’m up there. Seeing those lights makes me realize there’s more than the people and paths my dad tells me to follow.”
“Your boarding school is in D.C.? But doesn’t your dad live in D.C.?” I couldn’t mask the confusion in my voice.
Grant swallowed, hesitating before answering. “He’s never around. And he said the structure of boarding was good for me. I stopped asking questions because it’s easier to go along with his commands.”
“Do you think everything will be better when you’re in college?” I asked.
“I hope so. It’s the best days of your life, right?” His tone was genuine, as if his life was sheltered enough to believe in this kind of possibility.
“That’s what they say.”
“Princeton is two hundred miles away from my father. It has to be better,” Grant said.
I nodded in agreement. “Definitely.”
Grant leaned back in the truck bed and I joined. We stared at the night sky, the endless stars making everything except the two of us feel far away. “What about you? Dream school?” he asked. “If you could get in anywhere, what college would you pick?”
I was quiet for a moment because in Grant’s world, the biggest obstacle was getting accepted. Even if I got a full scholarship, there were still expenses that would be a stretch. My mother insisted we’d figure it out, but my part-time jobs didn’t earn much. I wasn’t even sure how we were going to afford the college application and testing fees. Being smart wasn’t enough. The more time I spent adding up costs, the clearer it became that college was unlikely.
“I don’t dream like that,” I said. “I can’t let myself.” I didn’t want to explain any of this to Grant, so I asked, “Is Princeton your dream school?”
He hesitated, the silence consuming the space around us. I expected him to answer immediately, but the way he seemed to think about my question made me wonder if it was something he had ever thought about. Eventually Grant said, “Yeah, definitely. I’ve always wanted to go to Princeton.”
I looked away, not believing his answer but knowing it wasn’t my place to ask more.
Grant inched closer as he said, “Tess, you should let yourself dream.”
“College is expensive,” I said, gnawing on the inside of my cheek as I repeated the phrase my mother had said countless times.
He nudged my side. “I think the whole point of dreams is that you forget about the practical stuff. What’s your dream school, Tess?”
A part of me was so jealous that Grant lived in a world where he could easily dismiss practicality. He asked a simple question and I think he expected a simple answer. He didn’t know about all the meetings I’d had with my guidance counselor where she explained that I needed more than a 4.0 average and a near perfect SAT to even be in contention for a full academic scholarship. Or my mother’s concerns about the price of textbooks and her constant nagging about my grades. When there wasn’t room for the tiniest mistake, dreams felt impossible. But in that moment, I wanted to imagine that I could approach life with Grant’s ease, so I answered his question.
“I want to go to University of Virginia,” I said. I didn’t tell him that my UVA brochure was frayed at the edges from how many times I read through it, imagining my face mixed in with the smiling photos of students lounging on the campus green. Or that I’d already studied the class offerings, highlighting the ones I wanted to take.
“Great school. I’m sure you’ll get in.” He nodded assuredly.
I wished it was as easy as Grant thought. I could have been annoyed by his lack of awareness, but instead I was comforted by his confidence. It was a mistake, letting myself believe, even for a moment, that the rules of Grant’s world could apply to me.
I watched as his hand slowly inched closer to mine, wondering what it would feel like when our fingers met. I could sense the warmth of his body next to mine and the anticipation was killing me. Just as his fingers reached out, a loud pop rang in the air.
Grant and I sat up quickly and both instinctively moved closer to each other. I looked over at the kids who were chugging beers. They had apparently decided that they needed more excitement than throwing large objects into the fire. They were firing shotguns into the sky.
I looked at Grant nervously. “Is this what usually happens at parties?”
“Discharge of firearms? Umm, no. At least, not any parties I’ve ever attended.”
Another round of shots rang in our ears. I flinched and Grant wrapped his arm around me. I wasn’t sure whether it was the guns or Grant’s body making me more nervous. But feeling him pressed up against my back felt like the best development of the night.
I heard a kid suggest stacking up a pyramid of beer cans for target practice. I looked at Grant and he said, “I think we should leave.”
“Yeah,” I said, nodding vigorously. “I’m definitely ready to go.”
Grant hopped down from the truck bed and turned to help me, placing his hands on either side of my waist and lowering me slowly.
His hands lingered on my hips longer than necessary and I leaned into his chest, my body sliding against his.
“I walked,” I whispered, our mouths inches apart. I gestured across the field, Ms. Milton’s massive home no longer visible due to the darkened sky.
“Then I’ll walk you home,” Grant said.
“It’s out of your way,” I murmured obligingly.
“That doesn’t matter. You could get lost in the dark.” Grant swept a strand of hair out of my eyes as he said, “I’ll keep you safe, Tess. I promise.”
I believed him.
“Let me grab my sweatshirt,” Grant said. “I left it by the bonfire.”
We split up, Grant in search of his sweatshirt and me in search of a safe distance away from the fire and the increasingly large crowd of teenagers. I had a giant smile across my face, thinking that this night was going even better than I’d hoped. I thought this was going to be the most boring summer of my life and now it was looking like the opposite.
I scanned the crowd, finding Grant walking around to the other side of the fire. I waved subtly in his direction and he smiled. A big, bright smile, his eyes crinkling and my heart thumping. Then I heard the sirens.
All of a sudden it was chaos. Police lights tore through the field, a spotlight pointed at the gathering and officers shouting, “Everyone stop!”
No one followed those orders. Kids scattered in different directions, running toward the tree line for cover.
I turned to follow the mass of people but hesitated. I didn’t know where I was going and the woods all looked the same, especially at night. If I didn’t go in the direction of Grant’s house, I could get lost. Ms. Milton’s closest neighbor on the other side was over a mile away. My mother would lose her mind if I was a second late for curfew. I searched for Grant but couldn’t find him in the mass of people.
Then the spotlight blinded my eyes. I couldn’t see anything but heard the sounds of police officers shouting and arrests already starting. It seemed like anyone within reach of the police was being handcuffed.
“Tess!” I heard my name and turned to see Grant running up to my side.
A police officer was a few feet away and he looked in our direction, shouting, “You two. Do not move. Stay exactly where you are!”
Grant grabbed my hand, lacing his fingers between mine like it was something we had done a million times.
We locked eyes and he said, “Run.”
That’s exactly what we did, the officer chasing after us but giving up after a hundred yards. We made it to the tree line before I looked back. A dozen or so teenagers were standing in handcuffs. The music was being shut off, the shotguns in the hands of the police officers.
Everyone else dispersed. It was eerily quiet, save for an occasional laugh and then refrains of shushing echoing through the woods. Grant said he had a pretty good idea of where we were, but my heart pounded too loudly to concentrate.
He was at my side, his hand still woven together with mine. I looked up at him, his green eyes dancing. “What do we do now?” I asked.
“This,” he said, pulling me into his chest, bending his face down toward mine and lightly kissing my lips. He wrapped his arms around my waist, pulling me closer. I melted into his body, my lips slowly parting as a tiny moan escaped my mouth.
I knew we had just outrun a police raid. I knew there was a crew of local cops just beyond the tree line. But when Grant’s lips met mine, all logic went away. It was impossible for me to pull away from a place I wanted to spend my life exploring.
He kissed me gently, his lips firm against mine, and I reciprocated with an unfamiliar urgency. Up to this point, my life was full of plans and checklists. Grant erased all of that with a single meeting of our lips. Once I had a taste, I only wanted more, foreign feelings of reckless desire overtaking my body.
He lowered his forehead as our lips slowly inched apart and he said, “We have to keep moving.”
“I know,” I said, even though I didn’t. He made me forget everything.
His hands cupped my face and he whispered into my ear, “I am very, very glad I came here tonight.”
I laughed as I said, “You’re crazy. We almost got arrested and you’re glad you came to the world’s worst bonfire?”
He held my hand, leading me through the woods as he said, “Yes.”
We walked the long way around the property, both of us trying to be as quiet as possible. When we got to the back gate of Ms. Milton’s property, I kissed his cheek and said, “See you around.”
Grant grabbed my hand and said, “I will definitely see you around, Tess Murphy.”
I wanted to ask when and where and find out exactly how long I was going to have to wait before his lips would be on mine again, but instead I said, “Cool.”
When I got home, my mother was asleep. I tiptoed carefully up the loft stairs, but I must have woken her up.
“Good night?” she asked sleepily.
“Best night of my life,” I said.
It was true. That summer, Grant was all of my bests. Best night. Best kiss. Best person.
My mother rolled over, the shadow of her small body bouncing against the cottage wall. “And just think, your life is only getting started, baby. Everything is going to change this summer,” my mother said.
She was right. Although not all change was good.