Must teach Jules not to assume anything ever again. Assumptions are dangerous things.
“Is there any way we can fix it?” She asked, genuinely wondering if she could help him.
For now, I had decided to let her assume whatever she wanted though, for her sake, not his, of course.
“I don’t think so Jules. The last thing a guy wants when he’s trying to get over somebody is that somebody helping him try to get over them. It’s sweet of you to want it, but I’m thinking it would just be cruel.” Not to mention incredibly dangerous. No, Julia Jacobs, I will never allow you near him again.
She nodded in agreement.
“No wonder he gave me such a horrible time. He was lashing out,” she said.
“Uh, yeah. Lashing out. That makes sense.” I cleared my throat, “On your date, did he do or say anything else that was strange?”
“Uh, kind of, but I just assumed he was being his usual kooky self.”
There she went assuming again.
“What happened?” I held my breath.
“He kept asking me all these extremely personal questions. Like, what time do you go to bed? Do you wear pajamas or sleep in your underwear? How far have you gone with Elliott? I think we can safely assume he knows that now after yesterday’s blow up. He asked me if I thought I was going to marry you and I started to think maybe his line of questioning wasn’t all that strange, like maybe I was overreacting or something, but then he asked me something that made my hair stand on end.” She shivered, but not because she was cold.
“What?” I gulped.
“He asked me if I knew what scarification was.”
“What? Oh my God!”
“Yeah, I know. I said, ‘that was out of left field!’ I asked him why he wanted to know but he evaded it. I thought about ringing you on my cell at that point but he did this complete one-eighty on me and started acting like the perfect gentleman again, holding doors, you know, things like that.
“The theater was full so we were forced to sit in the only two seats available toward the side. My seat had a piece of gum stuck to it and he laid down his leather jacket so I wouldn’t ruin my jeans. So, after that, I figured he was just kooky or socially inept. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it to you. I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Jules! That’s not kooky! It’s creepy!”
“I’m starting to think you’re right.”
“Starting? Jeez Jules! You’re gonna’ be the death of me.” I thought I was going to have a heart attack.
Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me, I thought. This new piece of information made me more afraid than I’d ever felt before.
“Calm down. Sheesh. I think you’re overreacting,” she said.
No, I’m not.
“Maybe this whole thing will blow over,” she hoped.
“Maybe,” I said, knowing full well it was not going to blow over. Better start figuring out where we’re going to live when we have to flee. How do you legally change your name anyway without others finding out who and where you are? Could we even get our diplomas and make it to university without anyone’s help?
For then, that was the end of that conversation, with her and myself.
That night, we sat on our rock bridge with a fleece blanket underneath us as well as one to cover us. We sat cozily side by side and stared into the stars.
“Wow,” I said.
“I know,” she concurred.
She stole my eyes away from the starry night and I gazed upon her radiant face.
“I love you Jules.”
“I love you too Elliott,” she said turning to face me. “So, what’s up?”
“I actually want to talk seriously about our future.” About something so dear to me that not even what happened with Jesse Thomas today could keep me from talking to you about it.
“What’s to talk about? You’re my future and I feel confident in saying that I’m yours.”
“I mean the technicalities babe.” God, she was cute.
“I know,” she shrugged her shoulders.
“Well, I want to know how long you’d like to wait before we’re married.”
I just came right out and said it because it felt natural and after the day I had with Jesse I was at my wit’s end. It had taken me practically the whole day to calm down. I know it was sort of anti-climactic and all that but we felt it in our guts that we would someday be married to one another anyway. She knew it. I knew it.
“Elliott!” She laughed. “I thought you were going to say something like ‘Are you okay with never seeing me for the next seven years since I’ll be knee deep in cadavers’.”
“Jules, you’re a punk. I’m being serious. I know it’s premature, but I was thinking about it the other day. Then there is the night we almost lost it and.......” and today’s insaneness. Mostly today’s insaneness.
“You mean the night that I almost lost it.”
“No, we both almost lost it. Anyway, while I was in bed that night, I was thinking that I might want to get married as soon as we graduate.”
“College?” She asked.
“No, high school Jules.”
“No way Elliott!”
“Why not?”
“Because that would be too Bramwell-like of us, that’s why.”
“Oh who cares if it is! Are we or are we not from Bramwell anyway? Besides, I wanted to go to Philadelphia and actually be there with you.” If we can even go to Philadelphia now.
“Oh my gosh Elliott. Listen,” she laid on her back and turned onto her side. She patted the spot next to her and I followed suit, laying with my hands behind my head. I always tried to restrain my hands one way or another when I was near her.
She scooted closer to me and continued, “I am actually hyperventilating at the very idea of it because it sounds so tempting, but I think that it would be the death of our careers. I can just imagine getting pregnant while we’re in school and then I’d have to quit to take care of our baby and then you’d never see us for years because you’d be becoming a physician Elliott! You won’t have time for anything else. No. We’re just going to have to wait.”
I almost jumped out of my skin from excitement at the prospect of having children with her. I surprised myself with that one.
“You want to wait? I can handle that, but I don’t want to wait another ten years Jules. Can we compromise?” I offered.
“Like what?” She asked, turning onto her back and tucking her hands behind her head as well. It made me wonder if that was her own restraint device as well.
“Like, can we at least get married after we’ve earned our bachelors? I don’t think I can wait any longer than that.”
She thought for a really long time. Like, ‘sweat started to line my forehead’ kind of time.
“I think I can deal with that,” she said with a smile.
My hands escaped. I grabbed her and began to tickle her knee.
“Oh yes! You will deal with that! I am Elliott! King of compromises! And you, Julia Jacobs! You may be my court jester! Now dance for me!”
I continued to tickle her until she could barely breathe let alone speak she was laughing so hard. I caught a ‘please’ every now and then but ignored it. When I was done teasing her I laid beside her once more and bound my hands again. I knew she wanted to retaliate but could see her rethinking her strategy. She knew I’d go into torturing her for awhile until I was tired and we’d start the whole process over again. I guess she deciphered that the risk outweighed the reward and couldn’t help herself.
“Why do you keep doing this to yourself Jules?”
Again, not able to speak.
“Stop!” She finally shouted.
I let up and she caught her breath.
“You’re such a jerk!” She shouted, still laughing.
“Aww, I’m sorry love.”
I grabbed her little frame and squished her body with mine. She grabbed the blanket and wrapped the both of us with it and we stared at the stars again.
“You know something?” She asked.
“What?”
“Thanksgiving is coming up and as you know my family is going to my aunt’s house in Mauch Chunk.”
“I know. It sucks.”
“What if it didn’t have to suck?” She asked, her right eyebrow raised.
“That’s a sneaky look if I do say so myself.”
“Seriously. Maybe you could convince your parents it would be a good idea, with my parents and our whole extended family crammed into the house they’d have to know we’d respect the proper boundaries. What do you think?”
“I think it would be awesome, but I very seriously doubt my mom would say yes,” I said with certainty, “and I am pretty secure in the knowledge that your parents would also object. So, two major hurdles are a little out of our league.”
“Shows how much you know. I already cleared it with the parentals. You’re good to go baby. It never hurts to ask Elliott. The worst they could say is no.”
She was right. I was a pretty well behaved kid and although I had very serious doubts I decided it wouldn't hurt.
“I’m kind of getting my hopes up now,” I said.
I kissed Jules goodbye at her door and ran back to my truck. I decided I’d ask my mom that night if it’d be okay so I could surprise Jules with the good news, hopefully, the next morning.
When I strolled into our living room both my mom and dad were sitting on the couch together, wrapped in each other’s arms, watching television. Told you they were in love. Maddy sprawled on the floor doing homework.
“Elliott,” Maddy said, “will you help me with this math problem?”
“Sure.”
I plopped myself on the plaid chair next to her and grabbed her book.
“Which one is it?”
“Number thirty-four.”
“Okay.”
I figured it out quickly, she is almost seven years younger than I am. When I was done re-teaching her the lesson her teacher should have taught her in the first place, she discovered she had done almost every problem incorrectly and I could tell she had wished she had never asked me for my help. She threw herself in a huff back onto the floor and vigorously erased her entire worksheet. It got really quiet and I decided Thanksgiving with Jules was the perfect topic to break the silence.
“Mom? Dad?” I reluctantly said.
“Yeah son?” My dad said.
“Jules’ family is going to her aunt’s house in Mauch Chunk for Thanksgiving and they’ve invited me along. What do y’all think? Can I go?”
I made eye contact with my mom so she knew I wasn’t planning anything devious.
“I don’t think so Elliott,” my mom said.
“Well, if you say so,” I said, disappointed, “but if it makes you feel any better, her entire family will be there, including her extended family. We’d be chaperoned well and her parents are comfortable with it.” Please say yes.
“Oh let him go Shelby,” my dad said hoping we’d shut up so he could catch the end of his program.
