What I Can't Recall

"Guess who," a low voice whispers in my ear, and hands cover my eyes surrounding me in darkness. I’m walking aimlessly on Miller Street, not really sure where I’m headed. I just spent the last three hours playing what seemed like fifty million games of Candy Land with Bryler and Sally- who was very glad to see us, as was her mom. While we played, her parents went out to diner. The whole point of today was to get away and think, but I didn’t have much time to do that. So I’m doing it now.

"Um..." I say, stalling as I try to figure it out. I can tell it’s a guy; that much is apparent. Part of me wants to say Jake, but if I say Jake and it‘s Byler, that would definitely not be good. "I don't know. Who?"

"You have to guess," he insists, and I can practically hear the smirk in his voice. That gives it away. It's Jake, for sure.

"Let me see..." I say, pretending to have to think about it now that I actually know who it is and can relax. "Is it... Jake?"

"We have a winner!" Jake says, removing his hands and falling into pace with me, so that we‘re walking side-by-side. "So are you ready to go?"

"Go?" I question, raised an eyebrow. "Go where? We didn't have plans.” Unless, of course, I’m going insane and forget ever making them. But I doubt that. When would we have had time to even make plans?

"Yeah we did," Jake insists, slinging his arm over my shoulder coyly as we walked. "You just weren't aware of them."

"Well," I say with small laugh, grinning. "Where is it we’re going?" I thought I should be able to at least know that much.

"My house," he said.

"Your house?" I look at him skeptically. "No offense or anything, but, well, you know. Your step sister lives there. And last time I saw her she sort of pushed me into a pool... I kind of hate her." I could definitely go the rest of my life without seeing her again, and do it happily.

"She won‘t be a problem," Jake assures me with a shrug. "She went over to Kaylie's house to do something or another she wouldn‘t shut up about."

"Well... I guess," I say reluctantly, still not completely sure about it.

"Don't worry," he says to me. "I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. You‘ll be fine."

"I‘ll need to ask Sarah," I tell him, my heart pounding for some reason. “To, you know, ask permission.”

“Aren’t you out walking anyways?” He points out. “She won’t ever know you even came over. We‘ll be back soon enough. I got my car with me, up the road. So it‘ll be quick for the most part.”

Jake and I walk to his car in silence for the most part, as I quiz him about why we‘re going to his house. He won‘t give me a straight answer, he just says he wants to hang out. I get a feeling that isn‘t it, though.

It really takes no time to get to the car. We’re both fast walkers and it wasn’t far off. I get in the passenger seat, noting it‘s burning up in the car. I reached forward and turn on the air conditioning, not even bothering to ask if it’s okay to do so. He didn’t seem to mind, though, as he jumped into the driver’s seat. He started up the car and took off. It only takes a few minutes to get there, and we don’t really talk about anything on the way. It isn’t an awkward silence; mostly just a comfortable one. The only sound is the wind and the tires against the gravel.

Jake's house is pretty much in the middle of the woods. There’s a back road you can take to get there, but a lot of people don’t know about it. In short, his house is very private and very nice. His dad has loads of money, and I suppose he didn't want people all in his business. People can be pretty brutal about those kinds of things these days, when it comes to the “famous“ people of society. And Damien Spencer is pretty famous here in Ludlow.

"Here we are," he says- though it’s obvious, seeing as we’ve pulled up to a house- turning off the ignition. He sits in the driver's seat for a moment longer, looking at his house in silence.

It’s a big house, to say the least. It looks to be about three or four stories, and the square footage must be ridiculously high. It’s painted an off-white color, the roof is made of bricks that are this pretty-brown color. There’s a huge porch, looking intimidating compared to the double-doors that must be the entrance to the house. There’s two balcony’s.

The whole house is seemingly surrounded by huge hedges and fences; it seems like they wanted to make absolute sure no one could ever see in on what they were doing. I notice there’s a pool out in the back, and an obviously ancient trampoline, considering neither Jake or May seem like the type to have used one in years.

Jake finally sighs and takes the keys out. He opens his door and reluctantly steps out. I open up my door and get out, too.
"Nice place you got here," I say observantly

"Yeah," Jake mutters in agreement, though he doesn‘t sound like he agrees at all. We walk up the long driveway- which occupies about five or six cars- and make our way up what seem like endless steps to get on the porch. The house looks even bigger up close. Once at the door, Jake sticks the key in and turns the lock, opening the door carelessly.

"Dad?" He calls hesitantly, looking a mixture of worried and anxious. The house is silent for what I can tell; silence overwhelms us. He looks a bit more relieved when after a few moment no one answers back

"Okay, good," he says, sticking his keys in his jean pocket. "Come on in."

I walk into the house, and it’s possibly the biggest, most beautiful house I’ve ever seen. Everything is hardwood or marble or silk or anything else you can think of that looks very expensive and nice. There’s plenty of windows, plenty of decor, plenty of fancy paintings, and the colors all coordinate. There’s so many pieces of furniture that I’m not even sure what some of them are used for.

"Wow," I say under my breath, trying not to looked too in awe. I didn’t want to come off as if I’d grown up in some trailer park or something. I tried to convince myself the house wasn’t that great. But I couldn’t. “You’re house is… pretty cool.” Incredibly, completely, amazingly cool.

"Yeah, it‘s okay," Jake says with a shrug, then pints vaguely up the grand staircase. "My room is this way…"

"Oh, okay," I say, following after him as he starts up the stairs; step after step after step. At some point I give up hope we’re ever going to get there, but then Jake takes a left and we’re going down a hallway. I notice a huge window, and look out it to notice we must been on the top story of the house, which doesn‘t really surprise me. From what I can tell by what I know about him so far, it’s very like Jake to want a room so far away from everyone else. We finally get to the last room; at the very end of the hallway. He pushes open the slightly ajar door, so I can get a full view.
"Well, this is it," he says flatly, shrugging again as he walks in.

It's a pretty average teenage boy's room. There are clothes and food strode everywhere; CDs out of there cases and random trash scattered about everywhere. His bed isn't made and all of his old school papers are at random places in the room. The only way I can tell we’re still in the same house is by the huge size of the room. That and the fact that there’s a super expensive-looking laptop resting carelessly on his bed; as if he flung it there, and he has possibly the biggest stereo system I‘ve ever seen.

"This is... nice," I say, choosing my words carefully, not exactly sure what other words I could use to describe his room.

"This is it," he repeats his sentence from earlier; plopping down onto his bed.
I sit down next to him, staring out the window right next to it. He’s got a pretty nice view. It’s his backyard, which was landscaped nicely. You can see the pool, and beyond that the woods. It’d be a view to look at it if you just wanted some time to think.

"This is a pretty view," I comment, not sure what else to say. I feel incredibly awkward about this whole thing, and find myself wishing I’d never come here in the first place.

"Yeah," he says, and I’m beginning to think it’s the only thing he can say tonight. But then he adds on more, "It's a nice thing to look up and see in the morning."

"Seems like it'd be. So... what'd you bring me here for?" I ask him sheepishly. I figure there’s a reason. I mean, him and Bryler are basically fighting to win me over, aren‘t they? And it‘s be Jake‘s turn to do something.

God. My thoughts sound so self-centered nowadays. But it’s not like I even want them to do this. Because I don’t. I don’t want either of them to like me, because as I’ve told myself numerous times, things aren’t going to be the same now that Mom’s gone.

"To tell you a secret," Jake says simply, laying back on his palms and staring up at his ceiling as if it’s more interesting than the view right in front of him. Which it isn’t.

"A secret? Why?" I question him, puzzled at him. He brought me all the way to his house in the middle of nowhere to just tell me a secret?

"Well," Jake starts, pulling himself back up so that he‘s sitting. "I am trying to prove I love you-”

“You don‘t love me,” I interrupt him immediately, turning red. “You hardly know me. Trust me. You don‘t love me.”

“-And trust is a big part of love. So I am going to show you I trust you by telling you something I've never told anyone before,” he goes on. I have a feeling there are a lot of things he hasn't told anyone before, considering he hardly ever talks to anyone. I'd like to point this out, but decide against it and just keep my mouth shut about it instead. Then he adds, “And fine. Really like, then. It’s the same concept.”

"So what's the secret?" I ask, admittedly curious. I’ve always been too nosey for my own good. I suppose I inherited it from Mom, along with the few other things.

"It can be whatever,“ he says. “Just ask me something and I’ll tell you.”

"Okay," I say, drawing out the word slowly as I think over it. "Well... Oh, I don‘t know. I‘ve never been good at asking questions. Can‘t you just tell me something?"

“That’s not how it works,” he tells me, grinning a little bit. I don’t understand why he has to make things so difficult.

“Fine,” I say, thinking once again. Finally I blurt out the only thing that comes to mind, “What exactly is it that your family is trying to hide? What’s with all the secrecy?” I’m not sure if it’s his secret to tell, but oh well. It’s his fault; I told him I’m not good at coming up with questions.

"A good question," he mutters, running his hands though his hair. "Well, one, it’s my dad that’s trying to hide something. I've never really told anyone, though it's a bit obvious. My dad is having an affair."

“With who?” I ask- though it‘s not my business- a little taken aback. I’ve seen Damien before, and he really doesn’t seem like that type to me. To me he came off as a nice family man that was a little better off than the rest of us.

Jake snorts. “The real question is who he hasn’t he been with. You name an at least semi-attractive women, and I can guarantee you he’s been with her. Shelly- my step mom- hasn’t ever noticed. She’s away a lot, and a bit too stupid to understand the signs. Dad keeps this place as private as possible in case some snooper finds out and lets it leak to the town. Because then Shelly would know for sure.”

"That's horrible," I say, gaping a little bit. His dad’s far more of a jerk than I thought. Then after a moment I added, "How long have you known?"

"The past four years," he answers. “It’s been going on basically since they got married. Dad knows I know, but I guess he trusts me to keep quiet. May doesn’t notice. She’s even stupider than her mom. Plus she’s always gone off with Kaylie and Drew, doing God-knows-what.”

After a few moments of silence- of course I don’t know exactly what to say- I ask, “Do you hate him? Your dad, I mean. Not that you should. It just kind of comes off as you do. And no offense, but he sounds like a jerk.”

“I don’t hate him,” he starts off simply. “I mean, I just look at it like this. Everything ends anyways, right? They say nothing lasts forever. Which really is kind of a scary thing, if you think about it. But I mean, my parents were over by the time I was seven. It ended. Neither of them wanted it to; it was really nobody’s fault. And I’m pretty sure my dad might have cheated on my mom, too, but he really is a good person if you get to know him. Just hard to understand. I think a lot of other people are like that, too. They really are good people-everybody’s a good person down in there somewhere- but they screw up and mess their lives up. And they end up messing up everything that’s important to them. And then after they’ve messed up, things can’t go back to the way they were. And it sucks, but it’s life.”

That’s the most I’ve ever heard come out of his mouth. And the last thing I’d expect to hear from him as well. He honestly doesn’t seem like the type to think things like that. I like the way he puts it, but I don’t like the general idea of it all, even if it’s true.

“How come you don’t live with your mom, anyways?” I ask him bluntly, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear as I do so.

“It’d be kind of hard to,” he explains with a distant look on his face. “She’s dead.”

Of course she is.
“Sorry,” I say, biting my lower lip. “It sucks. Trust me, I know. I really do.”

“I know you know,” he replies, shrugging. “And no need to apologized. It’s not your fault it happened.”

“But it’s my fault I’ve brought it up and reminded you,” I point out. “Which always sucks. Because it’s like a reminder has a way of finding you right when you seem to have forgotten and feel okay for once, you know?”

He nodded. “She had breast cancer, if you’re wondering. Dad’s been torn up about it since it’s happened. The women who end up here with him the most usually slightly resemble her. One women, Teresa, she looks like a fucking clone, almost. She just doesn‘t have freckles and is a little bit taller. But anyways, she‘s here once or twice every week.”

“Wow,” I say. It’s all I can at this point. “Well… Life really does suck.”

“Not always,” he corrects me with a grin. “In general? Yes. Most of the time. But some moments are good. Some people make life suck a little less.”