Jannie cracked open the beers for us, passing them out individually before sitting down beside Freddy in her camping chair. I wasn't thrilled about drinking again, but figured that it wasn't going to hurt me if I had a few tonight. I didn't want to get anywhere near drunk and instead wanted to learn to enjoy the taste of beer, but after one sip I immediately regretted accepting it. John chuckled at the expression I made as soon as I swallowed the large mouthful of beer, smacking my lips a few times before placing the bottle in the cup holder in my chair.
"It's perfectly okay for you to not like beer," John whispered, his eyes trailing over to Jannie and Freddy who were in a debate about a certain model of computers, both using anecdotal opinions. I liked that John was very perceptive to how I was feeling, and appreciated more so that he respected that I wasn't as used to the things that most other people my age are. I wasn't sheltered by any means, but I chose to do other things with my time instead of drinking and the like. "I'm still on the fence about it myself, but I think I'm starting to warm up to it," He laughed.
"Isn't it mandatory that men like beer? Maybe that's my dad talking, but I've never met a guy who hasn't worshiped the very ground beer is created on," I said, staring at the transparent brown bottle beside me.
"I think it reminds me too much of my dad, so there's some memories attached to it for me," John said, sniffing his beer before taking a small sip. "He used to let me have a sip of his beer when I was a kid, I just remember it was always lukewarm and there were too many suds. He'd be out working on the yard or something, and I was like his shadow, you know, so I'd follow him around everywhere and copy everything he did. I guess it was his way of teaching me how to drink responsibly."
"Do you still follow him around?" I asked, grabbing my beer to pick away at the label.
John jiggled his legs a few times, almost as if he wasn't wanting to talk about something but he quickly settled. "He died in the accident, actually," He said, looking over to me only to see the look of embarrassment on my face. I was embarrassed because I didn't think he had passed on and now I felt insensitive for the question. He shook his head at me, immediately trying to smooth things out. "No, no, don't look like that – you didn't know, and that's fine," John reassured, leaning back in his chair. "Sometimes I forget when I talk about him that he's gone, and it just brings me back to this realization that he's not around anymore. It's like having a bucket of ice cold water thrown at me from time to time, something that continuously grounds me to the here and now."
"I can't imagine what it must have been like to lose him, I'm really sorry to hear that," I consoled, trying my best to be empathetic to his situation.
He turned slightly in his chair so that he was facing me, balancing his knee on the arm so that he was more comfortable. "Would it be insensitive of me to ask about your mom?" He questioned.
"Not at all," I said, shaking my head as I subconsciously turned in my chair as well so that we were facing each other completely now instead of side-by-side. "She's not in the picture anymore – not dead, as far as I know. She left when I was barely two years old, so I don't really remember much about her. I have a few pictures of her, so I know what she looks like, but nothing from memory. I used to pretend when I was little that I could remember her, like the times she would tuck me into bed and kiss me goodnight, and I would tell all my friends about her like she was some sort of god. I suppose all mothers are god in the eyes of a child though, aren't they?"
"I think so," He nodded, clasping his bottle between his hands and resting it on his lap. The shadows from the flames of the fire flickered on his face as he thought something through, returning his gaze to mine. "Do you know why she left?"
From what my dad had told me, my mother had left us because she started getting involved in the wrong crowds and eventually picked up a pretty serious drug habit. She chose drugs over her family and took off to California, at least that's what my dad said. She never sent any postcards, she never called on my birthdays, and there were no promises of seeing her through the holidays either – she just disappeared one day and never looked back at her life in Harrow Hall. Her friends and family were left without a single trace of her, just an idea of a woman who once played a role in their lives but moved on to something she considered more important. As much as I wished she had stuck around for my dad's sake, I was also glad that she didn't. I figured that if she was selfish enough to put her own life at risk by using drugs, what was stopping her from doing something worse to my dad and I? I know that my dad mentioned that he tried locating her for the first few years that she was gone, but eventually he gave up. There was no sense in trying to figure out why she left, and she clearly didn't have any desire to be found. I still wonder if the reason that dad hasn't moved on to another relationship is because deep down he's still waiting for mom to come back, as silly as that sounds. He's never had any desire to see someone else, and I've never caught wind of him trying to date again – all because of her. Twenty-one years of loyalty to a woman who hasn't once tried to get in contact with him, what a foolish thought that was. I hoped that wasn't actually the reason.
I explained this all to John, each and every detail of how her disappearance probably left us in a better state than if she had stayed, but I felt like I was talking about myself too much and asked him about how it was coping with his mom losing her ability to function when he was barely eighteen years old.
"Well, it was definitely a struggle financially because I was of age and she had put me in as her power of attorney, so that meant I had to take on all of the responsibility of her care and her finances. It wasn't what typical eighteen year old guys do, so it forced me to grow up really fast. I didn't have a clue what I was doing, and no one really wanted to help me out," John said, sipping his beer once more as he glanced over to Jannie and Freddy who were retreating to their tent for the night, waving to us before they disappeared. He waited a moment before continuing. "It didn't help that I also had to plan my dad's funeral, which is something I didn't ever expect to do. I mean, if I had been older it would have made sense, but I had barely graduated high school and I was already learning about burial sites and different rates for all-inclusive funeral services."
"Nobody offered to help?" I questioned.
"My grandparents don't live here in Colorado, they moved to Florida a long time ago because my grandfather has a heart condition so they wanted to take it easy. They were involved as much as they could be, but they also weren't at the same time – if that makes any sense at all. I think they didn't know how to deal with burying their son, it wasn't by any means a selfish reason, but I think it was easier for them to attend the funeral rather than plan it."
"So Fletcher isn't your dad's brother?"
"No, he's my mom's brother. For some reason she didn't want him to be her power of attorney, even though I really wish she had. I guess it's because Fletcher has never really been good with money, and she probably figured he would spend her savings inappropriately – she more than likely wasn't wrong."
My mind flickered for a moment, thoughts flying into my head left, right, and center. How much money had John's mom put into her savings? Had John used any of it – and if he hadn't, was that motivation enough for Fletcher to want John dead? If John couldn't pay the money back to Fletcher by the second week of June, was Fletcher going to find another way around it? I pondered this thought for awhile before John looked suspiciously at me.
"Sorry, I hope I'm not confusing you," John interrupted. "Fletcher is something else, that's for sure, and I'm sure he'd want me dead if he knew how much money I had on my life insurance policy."
The hair on my arms stood on end, feeling weird about him having said that. For a moment it was as though he had read my mind, but I knew he hadn't. It was just an odd thing for him to say, especially given what his future held. I could tell by the look on his face that he was joking, but it still scared me to know that he may actually be right. So if John not only had a life insurance policy but his mothers savings and Fletcher knew about it, then Fletcher had all the reason to want to kill John. I didn't want to jump to conclusions, but I had to start putting together the puzzle in order to see what I could do to save John.
I must have been too quiet because he cleared his throat, adjusting himself in his chair so that he was sitting on the edge. I realized after a few seconds that the tent Jannie and Freddy were in was starting to move around a fair bit with hushed moans trying not to escape. John cleared his throat again and we both giggled, standing up from our chairs. "Wanna go for a late night walk, then?" He said, his cheeks slightly rosy from the warmth of the fire.
"Sounds wonderful," I said, following behind him as he grabbed a flashlight from the picnic table nearby, trying to be as stealthy as possible as we tiptoed past their tent.
Once we were far enough away from the campsite, John flicked on the flashlight as we walked side by side, looping my arm around his for guidance. There were a few other sites that were also reserved by other people, some of them had already gone to bed while others sat up talking around their own campfires, laughing and talking to one another. I admired how peaceful our surroundings were and enjoyed the soft twinkling of stars in the heavy black sky above us. I tried not to think about Fletcher and John's premonition, instead staying in the moment that I was sharing with John.
"They sure are crazy about each other, huh?" John remarked, and we both broke out into giggles as if we were naive children.
"I'm sorry, that's incredibly embarrassing," I laughed, a warmth setting into my own cheeks that hadn't been caused by the fire. "I guess they think we have selective hearing."
"Ah, it's okay, they're in love – the whole world fades away when you're with the person who means the most to you," John said as he looked down to me. For a moment I wondered if he had meant to, but figured that was far too soon for him to make a statement like that to me.
We walked up a pathway and eventually came to the watchtower that overlooked the entirety of Burnswood Park with only the tops of the trees visible as well as a bit of illumination from a few of the bonfires. It was like looking out over a sea of trees, each one more beautiful than the last. John flicked his flashlight off and when he did we could faintly see the illumination of light pollution in the sky from a nearby town. I found myself cuddling up close to him, leaning my head against his arm that I held onto. We stood there in silence for a minute or two before he turned to me, but all I could see was the outline of his face.
"Is it too soon for me to ask what exactly we are?" John questioned. "If you don't want to talk about this right now, I can easily shut up with the snap of your fingers."
I laughed, shaking my head. "You don't ever have to shut up, John."
"So are we together, or are we dating – or am I completely missing the mark here?" A hearty laugh escaped his throat, running his fingers through his hair nervously. He didn't wait for me to respond, clearly because he was thinking too much and possibly didn't want to hear a certain answer that didn't meet his expectations. I found it cute how he suddenly seemed awkward. "Because I like you, Ellion, and I want to get to know you more as time goes on. I'd really like it if we could be together," He said, this time with more confidence as he placed his hand on the side of my face, stroking his thumb against my cheek.
I could have melted in his touch, feeling my stomach twirl and loop around like a ballerina making her big debut. "I would really like that, too, John," I replied, standing on the tips of my toes so that I could press my lips against his in a passionate kiss. I didn't know what it was about kissing John, but it felt like every other kiss I had before didn't even count. I couldn't remember what it felt like to kiss Atheson, and I didn't remember any kiss before that – it was just John and the way his lips fit mine so perfectly.
He broke the kiss slowly, placing his forehead against mine as he wrapped his arms around me. "Thanks for bringing me here with you," He said in an airy tone, sighing as he pulled his forehead from mine. "Also, I appreciate the way you listened to me talk about my parents. I don't talk about them as often as I should."
I nodded in agreement, dying to kiss him again. We spent a little bit more time at the watchtower before returning to our campsite, finding our way back to the tent. John allowed me to get changed into my pajamas in the tent before he entered, both of us finding our way under our separate sleeping bags. We laid side-by-side, nothing but a bit of tarp separating us from being together. I stared up at the canvas of the tent, wishing more than anything that I could see the stars. As if John had read my mind, he sat up from his sleeping bag and unzipped the top canvas, allowing us to look through the screen. He turned over onto his side so that he was facing me and I did the same, watching the shadows of the fire dance along the side of the tent and illuminate the inside. We stared at each other, cracking a smile from time to time. Finally he freed his arm from his sleeping bag, reaching over to put his hand between us. Instinctively I did the same, overlapping my hand on his. We stared at each other until both of our eyelids got too heavy, drifting off into sleep.