“And did you?”
“Yeah, eventually I stayed on him at the World Finals. He broke four of my ribs in the first round but I acted like he didn’t get me and got back on him that final night.”
“Are you saying I should get back on?” I give Callan this look that I’m totally lost as to what he’s talking about.
He laughs. “Fuck no! That wasn’t the point of the story.”
“Okay, what was then?”
“Staying on f
or eight seconds isn’t always the thrill.”
His words give my heart a tug, a hope.
Chapter Nine
Why?
There’s comfort around me as we sit in the barn Wednesday night, slow drinking, clear liquor as the sun fades into a scattered bright pink sunset. It’s dancing over the field, a last sliver hanging on, giving every last piece of light it has to give until it’s swallowed by the flat barren land.
“When did he die?” Callan asks, handing me a beer and dipping the white rag in his hand in a bucket of warm water.
“What are you talking about?” I’m lying on a hay bale, my shirt off leaving me in my jean shorts and bra. The sight isn’t fazing Callan one bit, he’s only helping me out so my dad doesn’t know. At least that’s what I’m telling myself.
“Jackson. Your boyfriend. When did he die?”
There’s that pain. It’s like a blinding hot dagger to my heart hearing his name. No one ever mentions it anymore and hasn’t in years. They’ve forgotten, or pretend to have forgotten, but I haven’t. I never can.
“Four years ago.” I say, barely able to speak the words.
Callan nods squinting into the sun as he presses the cool rag to my bare ribs wiping the mud away to reveal the blood that’s buried there and the bruises forming.
“He died in a car accident?” His voice is soft. He’s not pushing, he’s just asking.
My eyes burn as I look out to the corn field, beyond that, a dry dusty land with nothing to offer me but pastures and hay fields. It’s one color, just like my mind. I didn’t see that sun, I saw the way it blinded me, not shined down on me.
It’s off my chest, Callan knows a little more than most, even Jessie, but it will never leave my heart.
It’s taken me four years to even think about that day. I never thought I would when I saw him buried that day, right next to my heart. There’s a missing piece of me in that grave today. A piece that should stay there forever, where it belongs.
“You don’t owe anything to Kasey, Alanna. You think you do but you didn’t get in that car with him. You didn’t take that corner at a hundred. Jackson did.”
Callan’s way more perceptive than I’ve been giving him credit for. He was still around when Jackson died. At least I think he was, he had to be to remember that.
“Did you know Jackson?”
Callan nods, ringing out the rag again and running it over my legs as he wipes away dirt to reveal more bruises forming. “I did. He was a good kid.”
It hurts to hear him say that. Jackson was a good kid. He’s better than me and he’s better than Kasey. I think that’s why Kasey is the way he is. He’s not even trying to be the younger brother living in the shadows of the great man Jackson would have been.
“How did you know him?”
Callan gives me a soft smile, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Just knew of him. His dad knew Red.”
“Red’s your dad, right?” I know this but I don’t want to lead on to how much I know about him.
“Yeah.”