Remember My Name (11 page)

“I’ve waited nine months.” I
give him a look that rivals all the others I’ve already sent his direction.

“Don’t do that,” he says,
forcing down a smile.

“Do what?” I ask innocently.

He shakes his head,
pretending to be upset. “You know exactly what I mean.”

Reaching forward, my fingers
close around his t-shirt and pull him toward me. He resists for only a fraction
of a second before giving in. His lips are warm and soft, hesitant at first but
quickly falling into a rhythm with mine. My tongue edges forward, fighting to
break through the last of his barriers.

Yet my eagerness for this
contact is offset by his underlying restraint. Like a hidden counterpoint, his
reticence is subdued but undoubtedly present.

My hands traveling over his
chest and up to his neck, I cup his jaw from each side, letting him feel my
strength, to show that it matches his own. His reservation thaws as I continue
to kiss him, and finally he relaxes into me, allowing his hands to touch me
back.

Hammering footsteps on the
stairs separates us to opposite sides of the bed faster than a bolt of
lightning could have knocked us apart. I’m just wiping the rogue saliva off my
lips when Ben throws open the door and crosses the room to get his basketball
shorts. He glances at us but doesn’t seem to notice anything odd about our
forced casual positions several feet apart on the bed.

“It’s nice to knock, you
know,” Matt says, shooting Ben a nasty look.

Ben whips around, his eyes
bulging. “It’s my room too, you ass.”

“Wow guys, chill out,” I
snap, panicked. The last thing I want is an ongoing pissing contest between
Matt and my brother. If this is the way the rest of the summer is headed, it’s
going to suck. “Going running?” I ask Ben.

“Yeah,” he says simply,
giving each of us a last look before stalking out, leaving us alone once more.

“Your brother is a dick,”
Matt states.

“Give him a break, okay? And
you could be a little nicer yourself.”

“Sure, whatever.” He’s quiet
for a minute while he gradually prods a pillow with his foot until it falls off
the bed. “I’m going to go. See you later this week?”

Disappointment fills me, but
I refuse to let him see it. “Oh… okay. See you then.”

*     *     *    
*

The following days speed by,
if for no other reason than that we’re all so busy at the greenhouse. Dad keeps
saying he’s going to hire someone else, but other than Katie, he’s not having
much luck finding anyone. On the bright side, Ben seems to be getting the hang
of everything. If the idea weren’t completely crazy, I’d almost say that he
likes the work. Every day he insists on being outside, which is fine by me.
It’s the harder work, and it’s dirty. If he likes it though, more power to him.

The longer he stays here
though, grumbling at every opportunity about the summer that got stolen from
him, the less I feel like anything is going to change between us. It’s
frustrating and disheartening. Every time I see him, I want to grab him by the
shoulders and shake him. He’s here, he’s finally here, and not a damn thing is
different. I don’t think he even cares anymore, and I’m too afraid to ask.

Ben

It’s becoming harder to get
up in the morning. The discomfort from sleeping on the air mattress is actually
starting to keep me up at night. No matter if I lie on my back or my stomach,
I’m always waking up. And once the bed loses so much air that my butt touches
the floor, it’s game over. Why did Jeff have to decide to tear apart their
guest bedroom this summer? I don’t know if I can make it until he gets it fixed
up.

By Thursday morning, Jackson
has to get me up, because the alarm doesn’t cut it. “God Ben, wake up. If we’re
late, Dad’s going to be pissed.”

I groan and roll onto my
side, transferring the point of contact with the floor from my tailbone to my
hip. “Leave me alone.”

“Sorry, can’t do that. My
ass is on the line too,” he says, stepping in quick succession on the corner of
the air mattress. The resulting shift in the air lifts me up before whacking me
back down onto the floor. Repeatedly.

“Ow, ow, ow,” I cry out.
“Goddamn it, Jackson, stop.”

“You going to get up?”

I’m definitely awake now.
And angry. “Yes, but for Christ’s sake, stop.”

He removes his foot from the
corner of the mattress. “I’ll shower first.”

I don’t care what he does as
long as he gets the hell away. My neck is the worst it’s been so far this week,
and while my lower back wasn’t too bad before, it is now that it’s been
pummeled by the floor.

While Jackson showers, I dig
through his dresser and find a pair of old jeans. I packed several pairs when I
left L.A., but they’re all good brands and practically new. No way would I ever
wear them in the dirt. Jackson, on the other hand, appears to have plenty of
ugly clothes. I briefly consider taking a pair of clean underwear from his
dresser instead of rifling through my bag, but that’s kind of gross, even if
they do fit.

A minute after hearing the
water stop, I tap on the door and let myself into the steamy room. Jackson is
just wrapping the towel around his waist when it slips down a few inches, his
backside showing for a second before he can rewrap the towel.

“Can’t you change
before
I get in here?” I bark at him. “The last thing I want to see in the morning is
your buck naked ass.”

“Um, sorry?” He locks eyes
with me in the mirror before going on to put stuff in his hair.

Averting my eyes, I drop my
boxers and step wordlessly into the shower. The water cascading down feels
good, but even its heat can’t wash away how tired I am. The one bright point is
that I don’t have to use Jackson’s stupid herbal body wash anymore, since I
finally had a chance to buy an array of Axe products.

It’s a couple minutes past
seven when I trundle across the lawn and jump into the truck, taking a seat
beside Jackson. Jeff hasn’t even turned out of the driveway when Jackson asks,
“What’s that smell?” He looks at me and wrinkles his nose.

“Uh, I definitely showered.”

He raises an eyebrow and
continues to look at me like I just strangled a few kittens. “What did you wash
up with? It smells like maple syrup and horse piss.”

Jeff’s burst of laughter
fills the cab. When I glare at him, he gives me an apologetic look and shrugs.

After we pull into the
parking lot of Roanoke Gardens, Jackson immediately volunteers to do the
watering. He’s trying to be nice and let me take the easier job of manning the
store, but if I stay inside doing nothing, I’m going to pass out on the
counter. And although it makes me cringe to even think this, I’m actually
starting to enjoy working here.

The morning passes with me
in a daze, but row after row gets watered, more or less. Just before lunch, I
notice Jeff watching me from the far end of the greenhouse.

Crossing the space between
us, he stops in front of me. “How’s it going, Ben?”

I bite down a yawn,
straining the muscles in my neck. “Going all right. This is the last section
that needs watering,” I say, gesturing with the hose wand.

His voice quiets as he
studies my face. “So the work is taken care of. But how are you doing?”

Flipping the off lever on
the hose, I shrug and lean against one of the tables covered in pots. “I
haven’t been sleeping very well.”

He nods. “I thought maybe
that was it. We’ll work on the extra bedroom soon, I promise. And I’m still
searching for another employee so you don’t have to volunteer here all summer.
Katie has agreed to start coming in for full days, too.”

I appreciate what he’s
trying to do, but having to spend my days here isn’t what’s really bothering
me. I shouldn’t say any more, but with Mom overseas and no friends here,
everything is just getting bottled up inside. “It’s hard being around Jackson
again,” I whisper, looking away. I feel like such a kid again when I’m around
Jeff. Maybe that’s because that was the last time I felt like he was actually
my dad.

“It’s understandable. You
two have been apart for a long time.”

“I didn’t really notice as
we grew apart, but now that I’m here…” I take a deep breath and my lower lip
quivers. “I didn’t know how much I would miss feeling close to him.” I can’t
believe I’m almost crying in front of Jeff.

“I’m sure he feels the same
way, Ben.”

I want to put my arms around
him, to feel like I really have a dad again after all these years. But I can’t
bring myself to do it. Shaking my head, I admit to Jeff what I’ve been thinking
all this week. “That’s the thing though, I don’t think he does.” Turning my
head away from him, a silent tear slips down my cheek.

“Hey,” he whispers, turning
my chin with a calloused hand so he’s looking me straight in the eye. “It’s
going to be okay. You two just have to give each other a chance.” He smiles
tentatively.

I swallow and sniff to clear
my sinuses. Holding my voice steady, I can only manage to get a single word
out. “Thanks.”

Clearing his throat, he
says, “Lunch should be arriving in a few minutes. I ordered pizza for us
today.”

Realizing what I’ve just
shared with him, fear jets through my chest. “You’re not going to tell Jackson
what I said, are you?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it. You
can talk to me about anything, Ben, and it will stay just between us.”

His expression is sincere,
and I believe him. “I need to finish watering the rest of this before lunch,” I
say, my voice coming out husky.

He nods. “See you in
fifteen.”

I stare after him as he leaves.
For the first time since arriving, a small part of me is glad I got exiled here
for the summer. Wiping away the wetness from my cheek, I flip the lever on the
end of the hose and continue down the row.

*     *     *    
*

Jackson is counting the till
and I’m sweeping the floor as we wrap up for the day. Exhaustion is sending
dark splotches across my vision as I work, but I know that once I finish we can
head home.

After staring at his phone
for a moment, Jackson says, “Hey Ben, if Dad comes out of the office tell him
I’ll be right back.” He’s got a stupid grin on his face like he just won a
raffle. Before I can respond, he sneaks out the front door.

My curiosity winning out, I
walk to the door and peer out through the square panes of glass. Across the
parking lot, an aging red truck is idling while Jackson talks to the driver
through the open window, his elbows perched on the ledge. It looks kind of like
Matt’s truck, but I wasn’t really paying attention when he came over last week.
After a minute, I get bored and finish sweeping.

Taking a seat behind the
counter, I wait for Jackson. When he finally comes back in, he’s still
grinning. “Who was that?” I ask.

“What? Oh, just some
customer who had a question.” The poorly concealed inflection in his voice
tells me that’s not true at all.

“Can you just finish up so
we can go?”

On the ride home, the warmth
of the day and the rhythm of the road make me want to close my eyes. Leaning my
head back, I let the memory of my conversation with Jeff in the greenhouse roll
through me. Mom has always been there when I need to talk, and I thought I
never needed anything more than that. For the first time in years though, I
wonder if maybe I was wrong.

Jeff’s voice awakens me.
“We’re home.”

Inhaling deeply, I push open
my eyelids and raise my head off Jackson’s shoulder. The edge of my mouth feels
wet. Wiping a hand across my face, I lift a trail of drool from my cheek. My
eyes jump nervously to Jackson’s shoulder and the wet spot on his shirt, right
where my head just was. God, I actually drooled on him.

“Sorry,” I mumble.

He glances to his shoulder.
“Thought maybe I felt something.”

My face gets hot. “Sorry,
that’s really disgusting.”

“It’s fine.”

I give him a look. How could
that not bother him? “You’re serious?”

“You’re my brother,” he
says. “It’s fine. Can we head inside though?” He’s still wedged in the middle
seat.

Jeff catches my eye as we
get out of the truck. A warm feeling works its way up my throat, and I have to
fight the urge to smile. Maybe there’s hope for Jackson and me after all.

My phone vibrates in my
pocket as Jeff and Jackson disappear inside the house. It’s a blocked number.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Ben.” It’s Mom.

“About time you called. It’s
been like a month.”

“Barely more than a week,
don’t be so dramatic,” she says. Her voice sounds tired, almost weak.

“Are you okay, Mom?”

A pause comes from the other
end. “I’m fine, it’s just the travel is really taking it out of me.”

“Where are you calling
from?”

“Shanghai,” she says, her
voice tight with stress. “Anyway,” she continues, “how is it going with Jackson
and Jeff?”

Kicking off my shoes, I pass
through the living room where the two of them are already stretched out on the
couch and watching TV. “They’re good. Just a second, Mom.” I give them a little
wave with the pinky finger of my phone hand and keep walking. Once I’m out of
earshot, I add, “Jeff is keeping me busy working at his garden business while
he tries to hire some new people I guess.”

“I’m glad to hear you’re
staying out of trouble at least. And how are things with Jackson?”

“Eh,” I say, throwing myself
onto his bed. “It’s fine. It feels like we have nothing in common anymore.
We’re really different now.”

Mom’s sudden laugh comes
through the phone so loud that I have to hold it away from my ear. “You were
always different, Ben.”

“No, we weren’t.”

“Oh yes, you were.
Inseparable? Yes. Loyal to a fault? Definitely. But you were always so
different.”

“Okay, whatever,” I sigh in
irritation. “Then we’re still different, except that the other stuff you
mentioned is gone.”

 We talk for a few minutes
more about what I’ve learned during the week working for Jeff, but my heart
isn’t in the conversation anymore. Were Jackson and I always at odds like Mom
said? My memories from back then are spotty. A few things I remember as if they
happened last week, but for the most part, our first nine years together are a
bit foggy.

*     *     *    
*

It’s not even eight o’clock
when I start yawning. I can’t imagine how I’m going to make it through another
night on the air mattress. Jackson is reading again on his bed when I take my
usual seat at the desk.

He glances up, setting the
open book face down on his lap. “You didn’t go running tonight, did you?”

Too worn out to care about
showing weakness to him, I shake my head and confess, “I wanted to.”

“We can go to bed a little
early tonight.” A moment later, he adds, “If you want.”

Although I can’t detect even
a hint of sarcasm, I wait several moments to be absolutely sure. First his
comment in the truck, and now this? Regardless of his motives, his offer isn’t
going to solve anything. Whether it’s seven or ten hours on that stupid
mattress, I’m still going to get a shitty night’s sleep. “I don’t think that
will help.”

He looks apologetic. “Don’t
know what to tell you.”

A question is crawling
around the back of my mind. It was born out of pure necessity a couple days
ago, but his reaction to me falling asleep his shoulder is what really set it
loose. “I, um… was wondering if the offer to share your bed was still good?”

I hold my breath as his eyes
sweep over me. What thoughts are going on behind those brilliant blue eyes? The
seconds hover in the air like dandelion seeds, as though waiting for a
nonexistent wind to force them onward. If he rejects me now, in this instant,
in my moment of vulnerability, I’ll never forgive him.

Releasing only a portion of
the tense breath I’m holding in, I shift in my chair. The resulting creak
demands to be heard in the silence. My voice is low as I admit, “The airbed is
killing me.”