Joshua Road

Joshua Road

Diane Vetter Squires

iUniverse, Inc.

New York Bloomington

Joshua Road

Copyright © 2008 by Diane Vetter Squires

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, names, incidents, organizations, and dialogue in this novel are either the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

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ISBN: 978-1-4401-0524-1 (pbk)

ISBN: 978-1-4401-0525-8 (ebk)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2008939916

Printed in the United States of America

iUniverse Rev. 11/24/2008

Contents

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-two

Twenty-three

Twenty-four

Twenty-five

Twenty-six

Twenty-seven

Twenty-eight

Twenty-nine

Thirty

Thirty-one

Thirty-two

Thirty-three

Thirty-four

Thirty-five

Thirty-six

Thirty-seven

Thirty-eight

Thirty-nine

Forty

Forty-one

Forty-two

Forty-three

Forty-four

Forty-five

Forty-six

Forty-seven

Forty-eight

Forty-nine

Fifty

Fifty-one

Fifty-two

Fifty-three

Fifty-four

Fifty-five

Fifty-six

Fifty-seven

A Beautiful Day

Fifty-eight

Today

About the Author

For Dave, Steph and Ty

Preface

Welcome to Joshua Road!

Allow me to preface my Preface with a shot of honesty: I have never written a book in my life, and I very well may not have it in me to write another, but that won’t stop me from trying.

I have never taken a writing course, I do not know anyone in the industry, and not a single person with any of those assets was at my disposal to help me write this book.

I never wrote a draft, did character research, or planned the plotlines. This book just kind of evolved over time - the characters came into being on their own, their lives unfolded before me, just as they will before you.

When I was in early grade school, Mr. G assigned us our first real creative writing assignment. When I say real, I mean "long". Matter of fact, it had to be a few pages long, three I believe. This was in the fourth grade, and writing three pages about anything can be a daunting task for fourth graders.

I was fortunate, though, because writing was my thing; math was not. As long as the assignment had to do with words and thoughts on paper, and not numbers, I was good to go.

So I wrote my assignment, and it wound up being about six pages long. I simply could not make it any shorter without compromising my creative flair. I am pretty sure I received a good grade on that paper, but more importantly it made me realize that I not only could write rather effortlessly, but I also enjoyed it. Imagine that!

So I decided then, at about ten years old, that I would write a book some day. Thirty-two years later, here it is.

The title of my book refers to a street in the town where Dave and I lived after we got married. There was a house on Joshua Road that was quite beautiful and possessed a great deal of charm. I admired it whenever I drove by.

The family in this book lives in a fictional version of that house, and it becomes the central point of this family’s story. I am hoping that my readers can feel what this house brings to the story, as this will clarify where the title of the book came from.

I kept Joshua Road a secret for over three years. I only told my husband and my daughter that I was writing it; although neither has been allowed to read it. Even today, I have not told the rest of my family, so I am not sure how they will react when I make this announcement!

It was a huge undertaking, and one that became all-encompassing at times. I needed to be alone with this project, without questions or expectations, in order to get it done the way I needed to get it done. Many hours were spent in a corner of the Panera Bread café in East Norriton, Pennsylvania, churning out this story.

I would love to do it again some day, but right now, I am just thrilled that I not only finished Joshua Road, but finished it to my satisfaction. This is why I waited until the end to write the Preface; because I wanted to reserve the first few pages of the book to reflect upon how I felt upon writing the last page.

I cannot promise a perfect literary work in these pages, but if you enjoy my book, please keep a lookout for my name on the shelves in the future. Maybe Joshua Road will not be alone on there some day.

Diane Vetter Squires

Acknowledgments

My boundless love and gratitude go to my awesome husband, Dave Squires, and my beautiful children, Stephanie Sara Thompson and Tyler Joseph Squires, for their tolerance of this very long project. The three of you are my inspirations; without you, Joshua Road would not exist.

To my family, who have never viewed my writing as just a hobby: my parents Barbara and Joe Vetter; my sister, Barbara Pacciani; my in-laws, Mel and Deena Squires; my aunt, Mary Vetter Oestreicher; and the beautiful, incomparable Nana Lil Stein of Wynnewood, Pennsylvania - she ‘gave me the business’ on many occasions about sharing my writing with the world – I finally listened to her.

To my friends for sticking around when this book erased me from the face of the earth for long stretches of time: Barbara Levy, Lisa Roth, Laura Rubin, Tara Tamboowalla, Caroline Dougherty, Michelle Weidinger & Wendy Alleborn. A special note to Dr. Varsha Gogate-Bhuyan, DDS - the best dentist on The Hill: I am so grateful to have met you. The faith you have shown in me reaches farther than you know.

To Mr. Henry Gass, thank you for assigning challenging writing assignments. They paid off for this for this student in a big way. You’ll always be the best of the best.

To Gina Ventrano Mielko: my dear friend of 26 years - thank you from the bottom of my heart for creating Diane’s Tree House which so perfectly captured the essence of Joshua Road.

To Joyce Crandley: your patience, honesty and proofreading skills saved my sanity. Despite a full plate, including a business to run and a pregnancy (welcome to the world, Miss Heidi Crandley!), you voluntarily made time for my book, and our friendship, and for that I am eternally grateful.

DVS

Joshua Road – A First Novel

I am an old woman.

Now, now, I know what you are thinking.: I bought this book thinking it was about someone I could relate to, and here she tells me right off the bat that she is an old woman! I was not always an old woman. I was young like you once, and had very real experiences, just like you.

Although I have written about many characters in my long life, one character I never wrote about was Brianna Amatore Abrams.

Me.

Many times my friends have bugged me to write my autobiography (and I am sure you can relate to friends bugging you about things), but I just never wanted to do it, for a lot of reasons.

Now, as I sit here contemplating the last book of my career, I decided it was time. So, I am going to dust off my old typewriter, and begin my story.

One

I grew up in a beautiful stone colonial shaded by majestic pines in a suburb of Philadelphia called Lafayette Hill that was built by my Grand-pop Costa and his five brothers in 1920. When he and my Grand-mom retired to Florida in 1966, it was given to my parents as a wedding gift. This was apparently the thing to do back in the day, once retirement years rolled around. No one over sixty-five wanted to stay in the Northeast when balmy Florida beckoned with its 365 days of temperate climate.

So, off they went in mass exodus with all their friends, many leaving their family homes to their children and grandchildren, to begin filling with their own memories.

This is where the story of my life begins, parts of which I am about to share with you.

My parents, Angela Costa and Vincent Amatore, began dating in 1960. Their families had known each other since they were in Kindergarten, and they attended the same schools and church as they grew up.

Fresh out of college, they were married on June 23, 1966. Following a week-long honeymoon in the Pocono Mountains, they moved into the Amatore family colonial on Joshua Road.

Although they had frequently spent time at the house when Angie lived there with her parents, that first day it felt different. It felt like their home. Not her parent’s home, or his in-laws’ home, or her childhood home. Angie sensed their life before her filled with promise and new beginnings.

While they were on their honeymoon, Vince had hired several groups of contractors to come and work on the house. My paternal grandparents, who were still working full time and lived in the next town, checked in on the workers daily to make sure everything was running smoothly and on time.

Angie stood admiring the smooth stone, with its former signs of age now washed away, feeling the love of an old friend slowly creeping back.

She and Vince knew by the time they entered high school that they would be married some day. After living for four years in an apartment near the campus of The University of Pennsylvania in Center City, Philadelphia, Angie longed once again for the comfort of suburbia almost as much as she longed to be Vince’s wife and start a family with him.

Now here she was – newly married – in front of her home. She made her way up the walk, taking in the scent of the lily of the valley patches and the sound of some creature plopping in the little pond. When she reached the top of the flagstone path, the front door was standing open as if the house were greeting her. In the entry hall, she admired the newly-polycoated pine floors and curled banister leading up to the second floor.

On the small table, she spotted a dozen long-stemmed red roses with a card. She did not have to open the card to know who it was from, but she ran to it anyway and slid the card out, smiling broadly at the beautiful words from her new husband: our turn to make memories was written in his handwriting, followed by I’ll be HOME soon.  With love, your Vince. She tucked the card back in its envelope, kissed it, and slid it into her smock pocket.

To her left was the living room with its magnificent stone fireplace, just waiting for the first cold winter day to come so it could bring warmth to the house. To her right was the formal dining room, and beyond that, the kitchen, now newly re-done with all modern Caloric appliances. On the table she found a large basket from her in-laws, over-filled with an assortment of fruits, cheeses and crackers, with a note that read "Blessings and good health in your new home. With love, Mom and Dad." She replaced the card for Vince to read later; they must have left it the last time they came to check on the workers. She was so fortunate to have them, especially with her own parents now so far away in Florida.

All her new furniture had been delivered in the preceding days, and she marveled at how well everything fit, as if it had always belonged there.

In the master bedroom she found the new cherry wood four-poster bed with matching cheval mirror in the corner by the window seat, which now bore crisp, new brocade slipcovers. She giggled at the thought of Vince hiring an upholsterer. She never would have guessed that he knew such a person existed!

She could tell that her mother-in-law had a hand in choosing the fabric; there was no way her Vince would know the first thing about how to choose patterns, or think to order matching draperies; but there they were, hanging from the windows, beautiful draperies in the same fabric as the cushions.

The master bathroom was done in mahogany and antiqued pewter fixtures. It reminded her of a page from House and Garden magazine.

Across the hall the two smaller bedrooms stood empty. Angie put a hand on her abdomen, letting the sleeping baby inside know that this would be its room in eight short months. She had not told anyone she suspected she was pregnant, not even Vince, since she had not yet been to a doctor. She knew that this baby had been conceived on their wedding night, God’s way of cementing their love.

That baby, by the way, was me.

Two

I was born on April 2, 1967, christened Brianna Lee Amatore. My parents, as well as others, wasted no time in shortening my name to Bree. I, of course, had no qualms about this, as it made learning to spell my name quite easy in kindergarten.

As for Amatore? Well, that was another story; I tended to go with Bree A. when identifying myself in those early years.

I grew up loving the park-like setting of my family home; two acres rimmed with majestic pines spilling off a terraced patio. My father built me a tree house in a lower-growing maple, and I spent many hours of my childhood dreaming in this little retreat: from owning my own pony at six years old, to becoming the first woman in space at eleven years old, and what it would be like to kiss boys at fourteen years old. It was a place to keep the love notes passed in class, diaries out the reach of parents, and later on, that pack of cigarettes Angie was always trying to find.

The tree house was also where I spent some of my most treasured hours with Andy, but I will get to that soon enough.

In 1980, when I was thirteen, Joseph Anthony Amatore came bounding into our lives, all ten pounds of him. Angie had been trying for years to conceive, and one day surprised us by telling us she was pregnant. Before we knew it, nine months had come and gone, and there he was.

It was a tense, anxiety-ridden night at General Hospital when Joe was born. Angie suffered multiple complications and required an emergency cesarean section and hysterectomy. The monitors were showing that Joe was in distress, so the decision was made on the spot without any hesitation. Although I knew they had planned to have more than two children at the time they were married, all that my parents cared about that night was getting their son safe in their arms where he belonged.

I sat with her the next night in her hospital room alone, except for the peacefully nursing Joe, and told her how sorry I was that things had gone the way they did. She took my hand and, looking directly into my eyes, said, Some day, Bree, you will look into your baby’s eyes and not care about a single thing outside of that moment. That is exactly how I have felt since the second I met your brother. My family is beautiful and complete, and I am the happiest, luckiest woman in the world. Just before my tears began to well up, she added, rousingly, Plus I don’t have to deal with getting my period anymore! Woo-Hoo!

I laughed along with her and put my arms around her neck. I loved the way my mother smelled, like summer.

Angie and I had a perfect relationship; the kind that my friends envied and others made fun of. Still, I thanked God for my Mom every chance I got, even when she pissed me off. I trusted her implicitly with all my thoughts, fears, desires and dreams. I told her things that I wouldn’t even feel comfortable telling my girlfriends, for fear they would laugh or disagree with me. Even when we disagreed, which was often, she always respected my opinions, and we would agree to disagree, as she put it.

When Joe came, my love for him was so intense that sometimes it hurt. She created this beautiful child with my Dad, and gave so much of herself to bring him into the world. I knew that we would always share a special bond, even though we were so far apart in age.

Joe quickly metamorphosed into a veritable clone of my father, with his exuberant Italian energy that never seemed to wane and lush, curly brown hair on this head.

Our huge backyard, the one that always seemed unconquerable to me as a child unless approached in a piecemeal sort of way, was no match for this boy. He covered every square foot, every dandelion, every pine cone, every day, since the first day he walked on his own. I had outgrown my tree house by the time he was old enough to master the ladder himself, and my once-female nook was now dominated by GI Joe action figures and little green soldiers with parachutes which, tragically, never seemed to open in time.

This is a painting of my family, of my home. The foundation upon which my life was built.

Three

St. Theodosius Roman Catholic High School was the local parochial school in our area and well-known among the female population between the ages of fourteen and seventeen in our section of Montgomery County for its crop of handsome, smart boys and really annoying girls.

On this particular night in 1983, my friends were high-tailing it to a St. Theo’s Varsity basketball game, each fully intending to snag themselves one of said boys, while simultaneously avoiding said girls.

The Varsity team was comprised of seniors, the boys of choice for junior girls like me and my friends from Plymouth Valley High School, the local public school.

I found myself wishing I had not agreed to go. I possessed a deep, true loathing of sporting events [as well as boy-chasing]; besides, I already had a boyfriend, Jimmy Leary. Since he was AWOL tonight, I had reluctantly agreed to join them and fake it as best I could, rather than spend Friday night home alone.

Even Jeannie Grant was going, my best friend and most like me personality-wise, and I chided her for selling out to the testosterone crowd.

Hey, I am not above meeting a cool St. Theo guy, Bree she defended. I’ve been single long enough, referring to the boy named Chris she had split up with the previous month.

The only one missing was Terri Marshall, and for a split-second I wished I had called her to see what she was doing. She would not have wanted to come either, and I would have had a better time hanging with her at the mall or seeing a movie.

Too late for that now, though – I was here, and determined to make the best of it.

The atmosphere of the gym sent my normally rational friends into a frenzy of lusty hormones that made me ill. I sat there wondering how long basketball games lasted, and prayed there was no such thing as overtime or half-time in this particular sport.

Right before the game started, I felt someone fill the space on the bleachers next to me, and when I turned I saw it was a very tall boy with a handsome face. It was the kind of face that just asked to be touched. He looked me square in the eye as if he had known me forever, and said Hey, I’m Andy, while reaching across his body and thrusting his left hand out toward me.

I took it without hesitation, marveling at how my own hand was swallowed up in his.

Bree, I said, not knowing what else to say to this strangely familiar stranger who had come out of nowhere.

There was no way for me to know at that moment the impact this boy would have on my young life, but we sat there in silence for about a half hour, very much aware of each others’ presence but not quite knowing what to do about it.

I watched the game, reacting minimally but in sync with everyone else when something good or bad happened, trying to make it seem like I knew what was going on. Something told me this boy could see right through my charade.

Half time came, and I had no idea what the score was. The girls I had come with had already found their potential prince charmings, and I began to wonder if I should just find my way home.

The boy named Andy had gotten up when the half time bell rang without even saying goodbye to me, so I chalked this up as just another awkward moment to add to my list. Looking around and seeing my friends engrossed in their new conquests, I gestured to let them know I was leaving and made my way down the bleachers.

On my way out I ran squarely into Andy, who was coming around the bend with a soda. On a second glance, I saw he had two. I guessed you were a Pepsi girl….was I right? he asked.

God, he was awfully cute, I thought.

"Yes, matter of fact I am, but the REAL question is, am I a leaded or unleaded Pepsi girl?" He jokingly looked me up and down. Suddenly I felt very naked; but, oddly, comfortably so.

I’ll guess you’re the leaded type, he said, holding his chin between his thumb and index finger with one eye squinted. And if you’re not, here is a treat for you, full strength.

Well you guessed right, thank you, I said as I took one of the cups from his hand. I had not admitted to him that I was leaving, and hoped he would not ask where I was going. I turned to go back into the gym, as if leaving were the last thing on my mind, but before I could get to the door, he said Hey, Bree, how about we skip the second half, it’s a definite loss for us at this rate anyway.

Think quick think quick think quick think quick.

Not quick enough.

Nothing came out.

Sensing my awkward moment, he suggested, Want to go sit outside? It’s a little cold but its nice out, better than a gym that’s starting to smell pretty bad.

That sounds really good to me, I answered in a relieved tone, and we headed out the double doors into the crisp night. He was right, it was nice out. The air was still and thin, and we left a trail of hot, white vapors hanging in the air behind us as we walked.

I had no idea where we were going, so I instinctively followed him, admiring his broad shoulders from my vantage point behind him. My friends got it all wrong, I thought. They spend all their time looking at guys’ butts and the shoulders are really where it’s at. And damn, he had some good ones. Butt wasn’t too bad, either.

I shook myself back into reality when I found us in the ball field climbing the stone bleachers toward the top. Normally, this is where kids came to make out, and I felt a hot flash up my back. But was I scared – or excited?

Andy propped himself in a corner with his legs stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. No sooner did I find a spot for myself than he turned and said, So tell me about Bree.

For a second I didn’t know who he was talking about. Where was this night going!?!? I came here as a tag-along to my friends so I was not pathetically alone on a Friday night, and now this boy was asking me to tell my life story?

What a daunting question this was. Not that I had so much to hide - quite the opposite, I wasn’t exciting enough to have something to hide! I thought if I answered him truthfully he would get up and walk away out of sheer boredom.

Do you mind if I smoke? I asked, since I was starting to feel nervous and that was the usual progression of things for me at such times.

No, not at all, I smoke too, doesn’t bother me he said.

So I lit up a Marlboro Light, and proceeded to tell him where I lived, about Joe and my parents. I stopped to consider whether I should include Jimmy, but chose not to.

Yeah, and what about Jimmy anyway? Why was I here soaking up the company of this boy when I had Jimmy Leary in my life and presumably wanted him to remain there? I knew all too well that he would not appreciate me hanging out on the bleachers in the dark with another boy, but suddenly that didn’t matter much to me at all.

We talked easily and laughed together at my Joe stories. Before I knew it, we heard voices and turned to see the gym emptying out into the parking lot. The game was over, we had no idea what the score was, and I was hooked. I did not know exactly what I was hooked on, though. True, I had thoroughly enjoyed this boy’s company for a few hours, but that did not mean I was falling in love with him.

Did it?

I mean, how could I be in love with someone I didn’t even know? All I knew was that he was a senior, he was turning seventeen in May, and he lived relatively close to the school. I didn’t even know what town he lived in.

Andy offered to drive me home but I politely refused, saying that I lived close by and would walk home. He asked me if he could walk with me, and I hesitated. He quickly recanted, saying that he did not mean to be forward with me; he just wanted to make sure I was safe.

I told him I would love for him to walk me home.

We crossed the playing fields and headed toward home on the longest back streets we could find. For a while we walked in silence, and then I felt it. I felt his strong hand in mine again, but this time he was holding it, not just shaking it as part of a polite introduction. My instinct was to ball my hand cozily up inside his, but I knew that would just come off as being way too weird, so I allowed my fingers to return his grip and held his back.

He was so tall that I had to bend my arm at the elbow in order to hold his hand. This would always be one of the qualities I found most endearing about Andy - that vastness- and always feeing surrounded by his presence.

When we came within a block of my house, I told Andy I was safe to go the rest of the way by myself. My Dad had a habit of sitting on the veranda waiting for me to come home, and if he saw us walk up the driveway together he would be down the stairs full of questions.

That’s no problem for me, Andy said. If my daughter looked like you, I would spend a lot of restless nights on the veranda too.

Andy’s obvious reference to my appearance sent a chill down my spine. We had spent this whole evening together talking about subjects ranging from the important to the absurd, and all that time I never really got the impression he looked at me. Apparently, I was wrong.

That was a really nice thing to say, I said. You are awfully sweet, you know that?

So I’ve been told, he replied. But not by anyone who mattered, not until now anyway.

I smiled at him, staring hard at his face, half-illuminated by the streetlight, committing it to memory so in some way I could bring him home with me.

Good night Andy, I said.

"Good night Miss Bree," he replied, half-bowing with his hand on his stomach.

I turned toward my house before the urge to kiss him goodnight set in. I had a boyfriend, and worst of all, I had not mentioned him once all night.

I could sense Andy watching me walking away. Was he wondering why I did not kiss him goodnight, or give him a chance to kiss me goodnight? It definitely felt like the possibility was in the air in those brief moments, but I turned away before they had any time to develop and get me into some serious trouble.

I was walking up the path in my front yard when I caught the scent of my father’s cigar in the air and spotted saw the small glowing dot on the veranda. He was facing the back yard, trying to appear as if he were not waiting up for me, but I knew better.

As I made my way past my brother’s room to the second set of stairs leading to my room, I could see the glow of a flashlight under his blankets. I went in and lifted them gently to find Joe fast asleep clutching a flashlight in one hand and G.I. Joe, in full combat gear, in the other hand.

Nightmares again. Poor little Joe.

I glided the flashlight out of his sleepy clutch and propped G.I. Joe on the table to keep night watch over my baby brother, tucking him under his blankets to shield him from the cool night air coming through his window.

He was so beautiful.

Four

I met my friends at our meeting tree on the front lawn of the PV campus like I always did, and they were all abuzz about the St. Theo’s basketball game. Apparently the home team had won. So much for the definite loss Andy predicted.

As my friends went on with their usual morning recap after an eventful evening, Jeannie turned to me and asked why I left so early. I told her that the game was not keeping my attention, and it just wasn’t my night to be in a noisy gym. She asked me if I was ok, because I seemed a little off, as she put it. I looked at her, and it just came out, even though I didn’t want it to.

I met someone, I said.

Her hazel eyes widened like big, round serving platters. What?!, she replied, but Jimmy... and as her voice trailed off, her eyes diverted to none other than Jimmy himself, approaching us from behind.

Hey gorgeous, he said, wrapping his arms around my middle and kissing the side of my face. Where were you Friday night, I called the house to see if you wanted to rent a movie.

I wondered briefly what time he could have possibly called me, since I left for the game at 7:00. Was I supposed to have waited home all night to hear from him before making other plans?

I was at the St. Theo game with the girls, I said. Jimmy laughed under his breath, knowing that basketball was really not my thing. Did you even understand what was going on? he asked.

Not really, I said. Just hung out with the girls and yelled when they told me to. I passed Jeannie a knowing look, mentally begging her to just go along with me for now until I could finish my story.

The bell mercifully rang for first period. Jeannie and I had study hall with Dr. Walsh, which was nothing short of a gift since he was too old to notice anyone passing notes, and that was exactly what we intended to do. Jimmy had Biology, so off he swaggered toward the main building while Jeannie and I headed in the opposite direction.

Well that sure sucked, Jeannie said with a twisted smile on her face.

I know, I replied. I don’t want to lie to him, but I don’t know what is going on just yet.

"What do you mean by ‘going on’?, Jeannie asked. What happened with this boy? Wait a minute, before any of that, WHO IS this boy?"

His name is Andy, I said. He came and sat down next to me at the game and we just started talking. When I decided to leave I was not intending to leave with him, he had gotten up and gone somewhere, but I bumped into him in the hallway, and we wound up on the bleachers out back.

"You wound up on the bleachers…" she said with a semi-shocked expression.

It wasn’t like that, I said. I know what goes on at the bleachers and that’s not the way it was. We just sat and talked, and laughed, and when the game let out I knew my Dad would be expecting me home within the 20 minutes it takes me to get there, so Andy walked me home.

Wait a minute, she said. "He walked you home? You mean with Vince on the veranda?"

No, I said, I said goodnight to him at Crabapple and walked the rest of the way alone to avoid the Italian Inquisition.

"So you said goodnight…" she prodded me further.

"Yes, I said goodnight, I emphasized, and I walked home, and that was that."

Jeannie looked horribly disappointed.

The fact remains that Jimmy is in my life, in whatever capacity, and I did not even know this boy other than for those few hours.

Did you want to kiss him? Jeannie asked. I stopped walking for a minute and she stopped a few paces up ahead of me and looked back.

I did, Jeannie, I wanted to kiss him, I replied with an honesty that suddenly felt brutal, considering my boyfriend had his arms around me less than ten minutes earlier.

"I know you, Bree, you don’t just go around kissing guys or even wanting to kiss guys, you’re weird like that, she said with affection. If you wanted to kiss this boy after just talking to him for a few hours, then I think you owe it to yourself to not only re-evaluate your relationship with Jimmy but to see Andy again and figure out what it is you are feeling."

"I am not sure I want to know what I am feeling, I replied. Things are easy now, just staying the way they are. How would I face Jimmy every day if we were to break up?"

"Who said anything about breaking up, Bree? I am just saying you should not discount your own feelings. I mean, there were feelings, right? Or do you think it’s just lust or something?"

No, its not lust, Jeannie, it was something else, I said. "He sat down next to me and just the way he looked at me, I don’t know, I just don’t know."

I raked my fingers through my hair and gripped it by the roots, attempting to silence the mental steam engine that was racing through my head.

So, what does he look like? Jeannie asked, trying to lighten the mood.

I can’t even get into that now, I answered. If I start describing him, he will haunt me all through study hall, and I have a major history test to cram for in between writing notes to you.

He will be haunting you whether you tell me what he looks like or not, Bree, she said. I can see it in your face. You’re a goner. I sure felt like a goner.

I’ll cover it all in the notes, I promised, as we walked into study hall leaning against each other.

Five

I had an exceptionally long day at school, with Andy dominating my thoughts in every class, every time I walked down the hall, every time I stopped at a water fountain. I had not asked him for his phone number, and probably did not give him a chance to ask for mine, so even if I had decided to contact him I had no means to do so. We just never quite got around to that.

After dinner, my parents and Joe were heading out to Baskin Robbins for ice cream, and asked me if I wanted to go along. As tempting as the offer was, I looked down at my hips and decided against it, and off they went without me. I went up to my room, turned on my little light, and cracked open my history book to study for Thursday’s test. Before I knew it, I had fallen deeply asleep.

I woke with a start to noises outside that, at first, I thought were from a skunk foraging his way through the remnants of dinner in the trashcan, but it was too persistent and consistent to be a run-of-the-mill rodent invasion. Once I became more coherent, I realized something was hitting my window. When I went to look, I saw him there in the yard.

Andy was pitching pebbles at my window.

Was I dreaming? This sure seemed like something that could not be real.

My thoughts went to my family, whom I quickly realized were still out; I looked at the clock and saw that only 10 minutes had elapsed since I fell asleep. Time for some quick math - Baskin Robbins was a twenty minute drive away, so they would be gone for a while, especially considering Joe liked to eat there rather than bring it home because of the spinning stools.

I opened my window and called down to the yard, What are you doing here? with what I imagined to be a pretty dumb looking smile on my face.

I didn’t have time to ask you for your phone number, he said. I saw that your Dad’s car was gone, so I thought I would not be taking my life into my hands by trying to get your attention.

Why didn’t you just ring the bell? I asked sarcastically, but he replied, "I did, but you’re all the way up there in that tower, Rapunzel, and didn’t hear it ring any of the five hundred times I pressed it."

I giggled at the image of him standing there at my door pressing over and over again while I was out cold asleep.

Well are you going to come down or do I have to climb up there and get you? he asked.

That thought was very appealing.

I’ll be right there, I said. I made a quick stop in front of the big oval mirror above my dresser to make sure I didn’t have nap marks on my face and my hair wasn’t reminiscent of a horror movie, and practically flew down the two sets of stairs, totally skipping the last three, then zipping through the first floor to the back yard door.

When I opened it and saw him standing there pushing dirt around with his foot in the yard, my heart began to pound. This can’t be good.

I thought of Jimmy as I walked to where Andy was, but not enough to make me send Andy home and go back in the house.

When I reached him, I felt this urge to kiss him hello, but again I didn’t let on. He was wearing a black leather bomber jacket with jeans and a t-shirt, and looked completely irresistible smiling at me the same way he did Friday night.

So I heard St. Theo won the other night, I said. What about that ‘definite loss’ you predicted?

I kind of lied, he replied. I probably looked surprised, because I did not really knowing where this was going just yet.

Lied about what? I asked.

I lied about the ‘definite loss’. I knew you had no idea what was going on in that game, they were only down by a couple of points when we left. It really could have gone anywhere in the second half, I just wanted to be alone with you, that’s all.

I stood frozen in my spot. Well I was about to apologize to you for making you miss the win, I heard it was an important game in the overall scheme of things, whatever that might be.

It wasn’t as important as getting to know the girl I was sitting with, he replied without hesitation.

We were standing in a half-patch of moonlight, and I could feel my knees going weak. I was glad I was in the shadowed part so that maybe he would not notice.

When are your parents coming back? he asked.

I don’t know, I replied. They took Joe for ice cream, they are usually gone an hour or so. Why?

Because I don’t want to leave yet, he answered. He never stopped looking into my eyes the whole time we were talking; it was incredibly sexy but unnerving at the same time because he was so honest and straightforward, something I was not used to.

You don’t have to, not yet anyway. It’s just that when they get home, my Dad, you know….

I know, he said. I remembered what you told me the other night about him. He sounds like one of the good guys to me.

He is, I said. He means well, but eventually he will have to let me grow up I suppose.

I suppose, Andy said, all the while staring so deeply at me that I felt my knees heading south again.

I also noticed that I was not doing my usual Italian thing, talking with my hands in motion and looking at things other than the person I was talking to. Instead, I was staring back just as intently at him as he was at me, and there was something extremely exciting about how I was feeling.

I motioned to Joe’s tree house to break the silence. Do you want to go sit up there a while? I asked.

Wow, he said enthusiastically, I haven’t seen one of those in a long time. Joe’s?

It used to be mine, I said, but its Joe’s turf now. He doesn’t usually like it if I go up there, but I just don’t let him know about it.

So do you take a lot of guys up here? he asked as we climbed the ladder. Nah, just the football team every now and then, I mocked. They line up at the base of the ladder and take turns.

Wait a minute, had I just said that?

I guess I did, because I heard Andy laughing behind me. He had a great, infectious laugh that in turn made me happy, especially when I was the cause of it.

Once we got up to tree house, I moved Joe’s things to one side to make room to sit, taking care not to disrupt the order of anything so they could all be put back in place after we left. Joe was a bit territorial when it came to his tree house and its contents.

When I finished arranging Joe’s things off in a corner I turned to see Andy sitting with his knees bent up and his forearms resting on them, taking a cigarette out of his pack. Want one? he asked.

Yeah, thanks, I said, taking the extended one from the pack. Gotta be careful up here, it’s my favorite place to smoke but unfortunately its highly flammable. I reached into a corner and pulled out a cup with sand in it that Joe used for his desert missions, and set it down between us.

Andy was looking out into the yard, blowing smoke rings out the small window.

Watcha thinkin’? I asked him.

Hmm, let’s see, I am thinking that I found someone really special Friday night, in a very unlikely place, he said, still looking out the window while casually dragging on his cigarette. His ability to verbalize what I had been trying to figure out for the last few days hit me like a ton of bricks. I had not been able to pinpoint what it was about this boy, even with Jeannie’s input, and he hit the nail right on the head. I also had to admit that the fact that this was coming from a guy made it even more unbelievable, since most guys I knew were about as deep as a Petri dish.

I think I did, too. I replied.

He was sitting there nodding his head, and suddenly, just like that changed the subject.

So assuming there have been no football players up here, what DO you do when you invade your brother’s tree house? he asked.

I used to come up here to think and just be alone, sometimes read, I answered. I guess some habits die hard, because it’s been a long time since this space was mine and yet I still come here when Joe isn’t paying attention. Now I come up here to smoke mostly, and think.

Have you been up here lately? he asked. "Say, in the last four days or so? You know, to think?"

Yes, matter of fact I was, Saturday night I sat up here for quite a while because Joe spent the night at my aunt’s house so my parents could go to a Knights of Columbus dinner.

Oooo, sounds like a hoppin’ good time, he said.

Yes, I imagine it was, I replied. I was quite jealous that they got to go and I was not invited.

Yes, I can see where you would have felt horribly slighted there, he said, then got back to the original subject before the sarcastic segue.

So what did you think about? he asked. I sensed he knew exactly what I had thought about, and just wanted to hear me admit it. I did not know if I should or not, but I also knew I did not have a lot of time to decide how I was going to answer this question.

I thought about you, I replied, taking what I thought was a necessary step in the forward progression of this encounter.

Can you be more specific? he asked. There was that smile again.

I was trying to figure it out…what it is about you tha... I trailed off, losing my thought or never really having a clear one to begin with.

"What it is about me that… what?" he asked, looking at me intently.

What it is about you that makes me want to be around you all the time, I spat out. See, normally I don’t develop an opinion of someone as quickly as I have with you, and I don’t understand it.

Do you have to understand it? he asked.

I wanted so much to say no, that I didn’t need to understand it; I just needed, wanted, to be with him all the time and to hell with the reason why. But I couldn’t say that – because there was Jimmy to consider.

Andy, I have to tell you something, I began.

Ok, shoot, he said, seeming very confident that whatever I had to say was not going to be catastrophic in proportion. After what I just said to him, I am sure the last thing he expected me to say was that I had a boyfriend. But I did it anyway. I had to; this boy did not deserve to be deceived by me or by anyone.

I have a boyfriend, Andy, I said. I felt the temperature of my face rise and drop three or four times as Andy sat there looking at me, not knowing what to say.

Oooo-k, came his reply. He sat there pondering my revelation for a few seconds, and then asked, And how does he factor into whatever is going on here right now?

I looked at him a little incredulously, as if this is not even a question worth asking. Before I could offer a reply (as if I actually had one), he continued, I mean, whatever is here is here, does that have to affect...

Jimmy, I filled in for him, since I had not yet disclosed this ghost boyfriend’s name.

Does this have to affect Jimmy and you, us just sitting here in the tree house? he asked.

Now I started to be more honest with myself in my mind, and in my heart. I did not want to just sit in the tree house with him, or hang out on the bleachers.

I wanted him.

I wanted to be with him, like I had never wanted anything before in my life.

Prior to this moment, I did not even know what it felt like to want another person. I cared for Jimmy; we had the typical boyfriend/girlfriend relationship that any other 16-year-old couple had. But I did not want that with Andy; I sensed something deeper in his eyes, but I could not yet put my finger on it.

I finally replied after being lost in thought for what seemed like an eternity.

Yes, it does, I said. Because I don’t know if that’s all I want, to just sit here in the tree house with you, or on the bleachers, or at a basketball game drinking Pepsi.

Oh… he said. So, is it a fair question to ask what it might be that you do want? he replied.

"I wish I could answer that, but no matter how much I’ve thought about it over the last few days, I still have not come up with an answer for myself, or now that you ask, for you." It was becoming hard to look at him.

Well maybe if we talk about it now, we will figure it out? he suggested.

I don’t know how comfortable I am with that, Andy. I was trying to be honest with him without leading him to think I was weaseling out of my own feelings. The truth here is that I barely know you, and I have some feelings that I have not had before, and do not know how to explain them.

So let’s try to talk it through, maybe we can both learn something from it, he suggested again.

Meanwhile, I began to wonder what HE was feeling through all this, but I could not very well turn it around on him just to let myself off the hook.

Well, I began, when I sit like this and talk to you, I don’t feel like I met you on Friday, I feel like I’ve known you for a really long time. I feel comfortable with you, like I can tell you anything and there won’t be any embarrassing moments or awkwardness. It doesn’t make sense to me, because there are things that I won’t talk to Jimmy about or my girlfriends, but I think I could talk to you about them. Does that make any sense at all?

Yeah, actually it does, he said, much to my relief. This gave me some indication that if we were not yet on the same page we were at least in the same library. Some of my friends saw me leave with you the other night, and when I went to school Monday morning they were all over me like flies on shit asking me where I went with the hot girl...

I heard nothing after that.

Hot!?!?!?! I thought incredulously. Me!??!??! His friends thought I was hot?

He had no idea I was drifting off into some other mental galaxy, so he continued on.

I didn’t want to tell them that we actually left together, ‘cause you know how that feeds into the whole ‘scoring thing’… I mean, it’s fun to get into that with them sometimes, but it just seemed really wrong this time, with someone like you being the girl. I told them that you were leaving, and I was just talking to you out in the hall.

What did they say to that? I asked him.

Oh you know, they gave me the shit about not scoring, that whole thing.

Did you want to? I asked him.

Wait a minute… did I really just ask that? NO!!!

Did I want to what? he asked.

Oh, I guess I really did ask that question. No turning back now.

Did you want to ‘score’? I asked him more specifically.

He looked really deeply at me again, and said No, but I really wanted to kiss you. Many times.

I suddenly felt my lips grow very warm and tingly. If I wasn’t drowning in romantic thoughts I would think a cold sore was coming on.

I didn’t reply, but some weird sound crawled out of my throat that I think was supposed to be a word that just never quite got formed.

Was I really going to do what I thought I was going to do?

Can I come and sit over there? he asked me.

I think that’s a good idea, I answered.

He scooted across the floor and found a spot next to mine, bending his legs back up at the knees and re-resting his arms on them. He turned and