Page 50 of Something that Could Last

“You better hope she didn't see that,” I warn playfully, pointing toward the house. He tosses his head back and laughs before throwing his arm around my shoulders and kissing the top of my head. Those are quickly becoming my favorite kind of kisses.

Jacob

CRACKING OPEN ONEeyelid to a sliver of blinding light, I’m momentarily struck with a sense of confusion. Where am I, and what time is it? I slowly peel both eyes open and take in my surroundings. The late afternoon sun blazes through a two-inch gap in the curtains of my bedroom. I groan and roll over, burying my head in the crook of my arm. I must have passed out after my shower, exhausted from my morning with Abby. How she does that on a regular basis is beyond me.

After we finished raking all the grass clippings and pulling weeds in her flower beds, we ate a delicious lunch of homemade potato salad, fried okra, and ham sandwiches that her grandmother prepared for us. A guy could get used to that kind of cooking. After lunch, we treated ourselves to ice cream from the dairy bar down the road.

The rest of the afternoon was spent on Abby’s front porch swing talking to her grandmother, or enisi, as she uses the Cherokee word to address her, and watching her weave a dream catcher. I was entranced by the beautiful art form and contemplated asking her to make one for me. She could take her time and I could use it as an excuse to come back.

I didn’t leave until it was time for Abby to get ready for work. When I got back to the cabin, it was all I could do to wash the sweat and grass from my body before collapsing face-down on my bed.

I must have slept at least a couple hours judging by the feeling of cotton in my mouth and the pounding in my head. As I’m drifting back to sleep, my phone begins to chirp with my mother’s ringtone. I’m not really in the mood to talk to her right now, but I’ve been avoiding her lately. If I don’t answer, she’ll just continue to call until I do. Might as well get this over with now.

“Hello?” My words come out as a croak through my sticky, dry throat.

“Jacob, honey, can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I can hear you.”

“Well, I was just calling to check on you. Haven’t heard from you in a few days.” The subtle accusation doesn’t go unnoticed. Though I’ve texted her every day, she hasn’t technicallyheardmy voice. My mother is a master of the guilt trip. “Are you having a good time?”

I smile to myself, thinking of Abby. She’s made this trip more fun than I could have imagined. “Yeah, it’s been alright,” I offer, downplaying how much I’ve enjoyed it here. I don’t want to sound too excited or she’ll catch on and start asking questions. I don’t want her knowing about Abby. At least not yet.

“You don’t sound very enthusiastic about it. Does that mean I can convince you to come home early?” Her voice is hopeful, but there’s no way I’m cutting this trip short. If anything, I’d like to extend it.

“Nah, Luke and I still have a lot we want to do. We may even stay a few extra days. There’s more to this place than I thought.”

“Oh, no!” my mother gasps dramatically.Here we go.“You promised you’d be home in time for our Memorial Day party,” she reminds me.

That was before I met Abby; now I can’t even think about anything else. The thought of leaving her kills me, but if I’m not home for this party, I’ll never hear the end of it.

Our annual Memorial Day party is a big deal to my mother. She rents a huge, white tent and has the pool opened, even though nobody would dare risk getting their hair wet or ruining their stick-up-the-ass reputation by getting in and actually enjoying themselves. She even has the event catered. Most people just grill hot dogs and hamburgers or roast a hog. Not my mother. No, we have hors-d’oeuvres and champagne. It’s just a pretentious display of wealth disguised as a fundraiser. Don’t get me wrong, she raises a shit load of money for multiple veterans’ charities. Still, it’s a bit over the top. Abby would hate it.

I pinch the bridge of my nose and squeeze my eyes shut. The building pressure in my skull is becoming too much, and if I don’t say something to placate her now, she won’t give me a moment's peace until I give in. “Of course, I’ll be there. You know I wouldn’t miss it.” There’s no use arguing with her, so I tell her exactly what she wants to hear.

“Yes, well, don’t forget the Greysons are coming. They’ve made considerable contributions to your father’s last two campaigns and are willing to go the distance with us should he set his sights on the White House.”

She says this as if there was ever any doubt. She’s been dreaming of the presidency since Dad’s first term in the Senate.

“Be sure to pay special attention to their daughter, Maggie,” she continues, undeterred by my lack of response. “I hear she was quite taken with you at last year’s party.”

I can just see the wheels turning and hear the hope in her voice. She has this grand idea in her head that I’ll one day marry the Greyson’s daughter and join our two families in wedded, politically advantageous bliss. Maggie Greyson may be a beautiful, intelligent young woman, but she’s shallow and boring like the rest of the socialites that garner my parents’ approval. A week ago, I wouldn’t have cared. I would have entertained her, maybe even snuck her into the pool house after everybody left for some late-night fun, but that was before. Before Abby.

“Hey, Mom, I gotta go. Luke and I are heading out to dinner soon. I’ll talk to you later.” It’s not exactly a lie. I’m sure we’ll go to Rosie’s in a little while. I need to end this call before she gets any more ideas in her head about me and Maggie.

“Okay, sweetie. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Love you,” she coos.

“Love you too, Mom.” And I do. I love my mom. She hasn’t always been the best parent, but I’ve tried to look past her flaws and forgive her for what she put me and my brother through as children. Deep down, I know she loves us and would do anything for us. Not everybody has that. I know Abby doesn’t. Her mother chose a life of drugs and a scumbag boyfriend over her family. I guess I’m lucky to have the overbearing, protective mother that I do.

After I dress and brush my teeth, I go looking for Luke. I find him sitting on the couch in the den playing Xbox.

“It’s about damn time you rolled out of bed. Abby must’ve worn your ass out,” he smirks, not moving his eyes from the screen.

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t as much fun as you'd think. We went for an hour-long run, then did yard work. I thought I was going to pass out from heat exhaustion.”

“That sucks. I thought you meant something different when you said you were gonna mow her lawn.” He raises his eyebrows suggestively, quite amused with himself. He grunts when I blast him in the back of the head with a throw pillow.

“Easy man,” he chuckles. “I’m just kidding.”

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