That One Time

It was close to midnight. The moon was in the middle of the sky with just the occasional wisps of clouds passing in front of it. Despite it being late, it was still hot and humid like the Deep South weather always is this time of year. It was the kind of heat that made the backs of your knees sweat and your skin feel sticky. I was sitting by the wooden fence that bordered our property. The grass was tickling my calves as I watched a spider creep along the creviced planks that made up the fence. It’s rare that I’m out here this late. My parents would bring me to the slaughter if they knew I snuck out. It wasn’t like I went far, and I could always make the excuse of not being able to sleep and visiting the horses. That was the great thing about living on this kind of vast expanse of property. You always have an excuse. However, I don’t like to be out late in the first place. There’s only one reason I’d rouse myself at such a late hour, and that was Russell Pilgrim.

I met Russell years and years ago. Back in the days when people still knew me as Coco because I couldn’t pronounce my own name properly. My mother was slightly embarrassed that I couldn’t pronounce Corrine Starkes, but she excused me because I was three and still learning my letter sounds. Russell and I met at the bus stop the day we both started pre-k. We were neighbors, but both had so many acres, we would have only met by chance. Mom is a free bird, so she sent me on my way down the driveway by myself. She claims to have been “pushing the fledgling out of the nest,” but we have a long driveway and both know she didn’t want to walk all the way down it. Mrs. Pilgrim, on the other hand, was experiencing separation anxiety. Russell was pressed firmly against her matronly thigh and not of his own accord. Mrs. Pilgrim’s hand was grasping the side of his head nervously. Her compassionate hazel eyes watched him as he replied to her checklist. “You have pencils…” she paused after each item for a response, “crayons…scissors…tissues…glue…snack…inhaler…?”

“Mommy!” little Russell cried.

“Russell Cornelius Pilgrim, you know how bad your asthma gets,” she scolded. I giggled at their banter, clutching the straps of my pink Barbie backpack tightly.

Russell frowned at his mother. “I have it all.”

“I’m just making sure,” she said. A low rumbling shook the ground as the big, yellow school bus turned onto Ivy Ridge Road. My stomach dropped a little when it made its stop at our house. The sun was just barely peeking over the horizon, and we were the first stop. Russell ran to the bus like it was the last one out of town. I was a little more cautious. I hesitantly looked back at the house, a fledgling looking back at her nest, but got on the bus with finality.

Russell was sitting at the back of the bus, watching his mom through the window. I walked to the back and sat in the seat adjacent to his, not saying anything until the bus was in motion. He didn’t realize I was there until his mother turned into a black dot on the cracked pavement. When he did notice me, he jumped a little. “Who are you?” he barked unwelcomingly.

“Coco Starkes,” I replied. “Who are you?”

“I’m Russell Pilgrim, and I’m three.” He held out three fingers proudly. Russell always found his age to be a badge of honor.

“Me, too! Wanna be friends?” I asked eagerly. I didn’t know many people going into school. Only one of my mom’s friends’ daughters, but she was strange and ate glitter. I wasn’t too keen on being friends with her even at three.

Russell watched me with a calculating stare. It was as if he was weighing his options. He surveyed the bus then the cracked road running beneath our vessel. Finally, he gave assent. “Okay.” He took his Spiderman backpack off the seat, and I replaced it with my butt. We were fast friends, and it endured besides the lull in third grade when girls had cooties. But, after I brought him cookies on his birthday and he punched Larry Hugh for making fun of him having a “girl friend,” things went back to normal.

Now, I sat in the field on the dividing line between our property and counted marks on the wooden fence, waiting for his arrival. He sent me a text not too long ago that he needed me in our spot. This was the spot. It was nothing lavish, like a secret forest hideaway or a cavern near a river. It was just the closest spot where the fence was low enough for me to jump over. I saw Russell wading through the tall grass quickly. Each step parted the long greenery further, moving for his passage. Slowly Russell approached, and when he got to me, he was out of breath. He wheezed out his late night intentions, though. “She kissed me.”

That caught me off guard a bit. I just stared at him for a moment with blank eyes. Russell was too busy catching his breath. His hands made a support system with his knees, his overgrown hair making a curtain over his face. It took a minute before I could muster a response. “Who kissed you?” I asked meagerly.

“Eleanor York!” he exclaimed.

“Isn’t she your cousin?” I questioned hesitantly.

“Second cousins, technically. But we’re not even slightly related. My cousin married her dad about a month ago, so we’re not even blood related. Just on paper.”

I roll my eyes. “I’ll remember to mention that at your wedding.” But something in my stomach stirred uneasily.

He climbed over the barrier, fully recovered now, and landed on the ground next to me. “Ha, ha, but seriously, like finally, I kissed a girl! It’s great.”

“Yeah, fantastic.” My smile was fake, and I wasn’t even trying. It bothered me. Not really because they’re cousins, but just that Russell might have another girl in his life aside from me. I mean fifteen years is a really long time to be friends. I’ve pretty much had him to myself up until Eleanor York had to come stay at their house for summer break.

“Why are you not more excited? Coco, I’m eighteen. It was about fucking time,” he argued.

“I’m not denying that,” I defended, “but, really, it had to be Eleanor?” He was the only one on the planet that still called me Coco. He was also the only one still with the undying privilege.

“Uh, are you blind?” he said disbelievingly. “She’s hot.” He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a package of sour gummy worms, shoving a few into his mouth.

“No, I’m straight.” I grabbed a couple out of the package and nibbled on them, savoring the rough sour crumbs against my tongue.

He swallowed. “Doesn’t matter. Beauty is beauty, Coco.”

“Fine, she’s hot. She also has the personality of an attention deficit hummingbird.” I finished off one of the worms and started on another. “Does that not count for anything?”

“Yeah, she’s a little…hyper,” he pondered this for a moment, “but…it’s kind of cute. In a way.” He shrugged.

I sighed. “So, why did you need me this late?”

“Well,” he paused. “I think I want to ask her out.”

I just stared at him for a couple beats. He was chewing the worms sheepishly. I didn’t really know what to say. I never really gave relationship advice to Russell. He never really wanted me to give him relationship advice, I guess. It was never required of me. Not that I was particularly qualified to give it. I wasn’t exactly a star at making relationships work. In general, I tended to repulse boys, but, regardless, why did Russell want my advice? Why was it so urgent that I wake up and help him ask Eleanor York out? I didn’t want to help him ask Eleanor out. I didn’t want him to ask Eleanor out.

As I stared, pondering this, I examined his face. We had traveled through the awkward phase together. I always think that’s why lifelong friends don’t like each other, but Russell had made it through rather well. He had a strong jaw, tanned skin, and soulful brown eyes. His overgrown hair was dark brunette, and the braces had done wonders for his smile. He had some decent arm muscles and his abs weren’t too shabby either. On top of that, he was my best friend. We knew each other too well. He knew how to make me smile when I just wanted to chop everyone’s head off. He brought me ice cream and let me ruin his good shirts with my mascara when I got my heart broken. He watched me while my mom ran to the store and I was high on pain killers when I got my wisdom teeth taken out. He was my best friend…and I was in love with him. I was in love with Russell Cornelius Pilgrim. Shit!

“Corrine? Hello?” he said. He was close to my face now. “Are you ok?”

I shook my head and shoved the rest of the sour gummy worms in my mouth. “I’m not feeling good. I think I need to go home.”

He observed me quietly for a moment. “Alright, well, I’ll come over and check on you tomorrow.”

“You really don’t have to do that, Russ. I’m fine. I just need sleep.” I was anxious now. I needed to go home and think through this epiphany. Was I just going crazy? I needed to be away from him.

“Oh,” he said, a little taken aback, “sorry for waking you. I just…”

“Don’t worry about it. I’ll call you.” With that, I turned and ran away as fast as I could. I nearly stumbled over the rocks and clumps of overgrown weeds. I shimmied up the pipe and back through my open window. My bed accepted me happily, and I covered myself with the sheet and groaned into my pillow. What was I supposed to do? I ran through it again in my head. I had known Russell for fifteen years. I had never seen him this way. Why now? Was it because I felt threatened by Eleanor? Not really by her. By her presence in Russell’s life. Russell was mine….Russell was mine. There in lay the problem. I’d always been territorial over him, but up until now no one had threatened my territory. I had always loved Russell, but he had always been mine until now. I couldn’t tell him this, though. He’d freak out. He was in love with Eleanor, but how was I supposed to pretend like nothing was wrong? I’d never been good at lying. What I needed more than anything was sleep, so I closed my eyes and willed myself into sleep.

***

I’d told Russell I was going to call him, but I never did. The next day I played sick and held the thermometer to the light bulb. My mother was convinced I had a fever and put me on bed rest. When Russell dropped by, she told him I wasn’t allowed visitors. He said to have me call him, but I didn’t. I didn’t call him for a week. He left me numerous messages, begging for me to talk to him, asking what was wrong. I ignored him. The week went by agonizingly. Every day, I sat in my room bored and thought of calling Russell until I realized I couldn’t. It felt like I lost a part of myself when I cut off contact.

It was late at night when the clicking started. I figured it was just bugs hitting the glass as always, but it didn’t stop. Finally, my phone buzzed. A text from Russell, telling me to look outside. I did so hesitantly. He was standing at the base of my house with pebbles in his hand. I just stood agape while he grinned. Finally, I shook myself out of my reverie. “Russell, what the hell are you doing?” I whispered loudly.

“We need to talk,” he replied. He tossed another rock up, hitting me on the forehead.

“Would you stop with the pebbles already, Romeo? I get it!”

He laughed and threw the rest of the rocks on the ground. I stood back as he shimmied up the pipe and into my bedroom. He was silent and sober in front of me, watching me as I turned on a lamp. “You’ve been avoiding me.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked innocently, sitting cross legged on my bed. He was wearing a t-shirt and boxer shorts, meaning it must have been a last minute ambush. He was always impulsive.

He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know. The twenty texts and six voicemails you didn’t respond to. The fact that you ran away from me a week ago.”

“Oh,” I drawled. “That.”

“Yes, that.” He sat next to me on the bed. “Care to explain?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know.” It went silent. The cicadas buzzed, and I could hear one of our cats rustling around in the bushes. “Whatever happened with you and Eleanor?” Damn. That was what I was hoping wouldn’t come out.

He laughed. “What does it matter?” he asked curiously. I remained silent, tracing the pattern of my comforter. “What do you have a crush on me or something?” He laughed some more, but my face remained sober. Slowly, his laughter faded out. I peeked at his face to find it in shock. Fuck.

“Look, please don’t freak out.” I still wasn’t looking at him. Like hell I was going to look at him. “I’m a little weirded out by it, too.” It was quiet until he grabbed my face and forced his lips onto my own. I quickly responded, afraid if I didn’t take advantage of the opportunity it would disappear. When we separated, I was kind of glad I’d had my epiphany. He kissed like a god; that was for sure. I was still a little sketch on the idea of my best friend making out with me, but if it was going to be like that, I could get used to it.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked. He was smiling now, and his hand found mine.

“What was I supposed to say, Russ? ‘Don’t ask her out because I just realized I love you’? That would have gone over well.” I rolled my eyes at him.

“Yes. Yes, it would have.” He cupped my cheek. “We’re best friends, Coco. You can tell me anything. Even that you’re in love with me. I won’t judge you.”

I hit him on the head. “You’re a jerk,” I joked. He didn’t seem to take offense because we were quickly kissing after that.

Apparently, he’d been so worried about me that he didn’t ask Eleanor out. Much to her dismay, we got together. She still sent me death glares when I would go over to his house and watch movies. I don’t know what her problem is. Dating your best friend is way less weird than dating your almost cousin.