Page 20 of Faking Forever 1
Driving in Josh’s Jeep was always different than my Dad’s.
Josh drives fast, but not scary fast. Only fast on the open roads.
Sometimes—if he isn’t paranoid—he lets me sit in the sunroof like a roller coaster. Until he gets freaked out and yells at me that I’m doing too much, then he apologizes repeatedly for freaking out. Only this time, I didn’t want to hang out of the sunroof. I didn’t want to feel more wind than I could with all the windows down. This time, I just wanted to take in the atmosphere of what I had been missing.
Every now and again, Josh took his eyes off of the road, watching me daydream in silence. I could feel he wanted to say something, but unlike in the past, he remained quiet this time, allowing me to do what I wanted. I recall the way he would’ve made somekind of sarcastic comment by now at my childish tenancies. Two years ago he would’ve told me to stop being so quiet, or to get out of my head. Anything to be annoying or have something to say to me at all. He even played a few Wallows songs, that I knew he hand picked just for me. No way this man would willingly listen to that band.
I must’ve been way tired, because before I knew it the car wasn’t moving, and neither were my eyes.
“Pea, we’re here,” Josh says, the car engine’s sounds coming to a silence.
I lift my head, opening my eyes and I see the beach ahead of us. We were at Stillman’s. Taking my seat belt off, I look at Josh, to see him already halfway out of the car.
“It’s in the back, in the greenhouse.” he says.
“I thought the greenhouse wasn’t finished?” I ask, following his actions to get out of the car.
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“Well, that was like two years ago. I had a lot of galvanized pipe frame, and nothing but time on my hands, alright?” he admits, glancing at me in between his words as he grabs some times out of the back of the vehicle.
Duh. It’s been way longer than It seems, yet I can’t grasp that idea, still.
“Look, just, trust me. When you see it, you’re gonna be pretty impressed.” he gloats.
“Yeah, well, show me already.” I close the car door, beginning to walk down the sandy hill that lead to the store.
Josh follows after me, us both heading into the store where his dad sat at the counter, building one of those boats in a bottle.
“I brought those tools you wanted,” Josh says to his dad, the minute we enter.
“Oh, good. Just in time.” he says, examining us, “Paisley.
Look at you, you’re your mother.” he scoffs out a chuckle.
I force out a half smile, “Hi Rich. Good to see you too.” I link my hands behind my back, listening his his comment repeat in my head.
“Okay, we’re going back to the greenhouse.” Josh grabs my shoulders, walking me in that direction, now, “I’m sorry.” he mumbles, “Ignore him.”
I was never fond of the comparisons between my mother and I. I never liked the way people use her as an example of promiscuity either, or the fact that she lets them. There’s been times where I wonder if she resents me because I didn’t follow in her footsteps. For me, the girly-pop syndrome halts at certain point. Sure, I like makeup and other stereotypical things meant for me, but I’d rather do all the dirty things because that’s where the fun is. That’s also why my mom 49
FAKING FOREVER
says, “I gave birth to another son. Your name should be Peter.”
I’m not fond of that either, I guess.
“Okay, eyes have to be closed.” Josh covers my eyes with one of his hands, gently grasping the small of my back with the other.
“Josh, I don’t like the eyes closed.”
“Relax. It’s okay, you’refine, I promise. Just a couple more steps.”
I grab his wrist, squeezing it as I wanted to rip it away from my face. I can hear the door opening, feeling my atmosphere suddenly change. The smell as well. A sweet aroma of various flowers immediately fills my nose, making me loosen my grip on him.
“Alright. Open.” his hands leave my body, and I slowly peek out of my eyelids, fluttering them open.
