Every Other Weekend(31)
A girl? What’s her name?
Adam:
Why does that matter?
Jolene:
I’m just curious.
Adam:
Erica.
Jolene:
Do you always go to her house?
Adam:
So far. Why?
Jolene:
No reason. Are you almost done?
Adam:
Close. You haven’t told me what you’re doing tonight?
Jolene:
I guess I’m doing my own group project. I started filming a music video for my friend’s band.
Adam:
Cool.
Jolene:
It’s just footage of them playing the song for now, but I have ideas for the story element that I’ll shoot later on. G2G get my stuff together.
Adam:
I gotta go, too. TTYL.
Jolene:
I’d say have fun, but it’s you and school stuff, how could you not have fun?
Jolene:
What, no response?
Jolene:
Adam?
Jolene:
I guess I’ll catch you later.
ADAM
It wasn’t the first time she’d done it, but having Erica Porter wrap her arms around me wasn’t a sensation I’d ever get over.
“Adam, hi!” She squeezed me for a few seconds longer than she had the last time I’d come to her house, leaning into me in a way that forced all rational thought from my mind, like the fact that her dad was a few feet behind her and we were on her front porch. “Come in.” She pulled back, and I had to remind myself to let her go. “Dad, you remember Adam.”
I stepped inside and shook his hand. “Mr. Porter.”
He wasn’t a big man, but he had a presence, and he kept the pressure of his handshake strong and steady as he held my gaze, communicating very clearly that he was capable of protecting his daughter if need be and that there’d better not be a need.
“How are you, Adam? Ready to get to work?” Even though I’d been to Erica’s house half a dozen times since we’d become partners, I’d only met her dad last week, because he’d been away on a military assignment.
“Yes, sir.”
“You two have been working hard. Must be almost done.”
In truth, we didn’t need to meet as often as we were. Our PowerPoint presentation was close to finished, and our report was half-written already.
“It’s worth a quarter of our grade. We need it to be perfect.” Erica smiled at her dad, and after telling us to call out if we needed anything, he headed upstairs.
“Sorry about my dad,” she tossed over her shoulder as she led the way to her kitchen and the rustic oak table we usually worked on. “He thinks every guy I bring over is waiting to maul me the second he turns his back. He’ll lighten up once he gets to know you.”
I was betting he wouldn’t, but I kept that thought to myself as Erica grabbed us a couple Cherry Cokes from the fridge while I set my bag on the table. Wanting to agree with everything she said, I’d made the mistake of claiming it was my favorite flavor, too, when she’d offered me one the first time I came over, and now I had to choke down a can each time. I smiled when she handed it to me.
“What about your dad?”
I coughed, and the carbonation burned in my nose. “Uh, no. He’s not much of a tough guy.”
“Hmm,” she said. “But you don’t have any sisters, just brothers?”
“Brother,” I corrected, the burn spreading to my eyes.
Her can halted at her mouth. Slowly she lowered it to the table. “Right. It’s been a little while and I forgot for a second. I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “It’s fine. Like you said, it was a while ago.”
“I didn’t know him know him, but I do have this one memory of Greg helping my friend Missy when her cat fell through the ice in the middle of the pond by the elementary school a few winters ago. He jumped right in, didn’t even take his shoes off or anything. She still has the cat.” She let her gaze go unfocused from the memory before blinking and taking another drink, oblivious to the fact that my own can was denting in my hand. “He was really brave.”
“Yeah,” I said, my voice low and gruff. She kept talking about how amazing Greg had been that day but I didn’t even hear the words. I knew the cat story. Actually, there was probably more than one. Greg had done stuff like that all the time without ever thinking about his own safety. He could have died saving Missy’s cat, found himself trapped under the ice, too, or had the edges break under his fingertips when he tried to climb back out, one-handed because the other was wrapped around a panicked cat. He could have frozen solid while Erica and her friend watched from the bank.
“Oh,” Erica said, sliding closer to me and brushing her fingers over my face. I tried to shrug her off, but she only moved closer. “It’s okay,” she said. “I’m here.”
She was there and she smelled like cherries, and the skin of her fingers was so soft as she brushed my cheek. The kitchen was empty, and the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen in real life was touching me. I couldn’t think clearly. My chest hurt like I was somehow trapped underneath thick layers of ice, feeling my thrashing limbs grow sluggish and heavy as I fought to free myself from a memory that wasn’t even mine.