I fully meant to stick to my intentions to help Jesse find a girlfriend. If it wasn’t for a massive distraction I received early at the beginning of our summer, I would have done it immediately. As it was, Jesse would have to wait for a little while. It was the first weeks of summer when gossip of what my boyfriend was doing in his spare time came to my ears. Recall that gossip took about four or five days to reach me. The reason for this time lag was that I met with my ‘sources’ only about once every four or five days. There were about two girls I associated with who had the unique ability of knowing absolutely everything about everybody else. If you were dating a boyfriend, without ever having talked to them, they would be able to tell you, how you met, when and give you the exact time you two had been seeing each other. In the pinnacle of their gossiping careers they were even able to give you an itemized list of all the places you had gone. These girls were so dedicated to their task simply because they had a lot of time on their hands. They weren’t very intelligent and they certainly didn’t date much, mainly because they suffered aesthetically. Come to think of it, who would date them? Every last detail of everything the poor boy tried would be known to all as it occurred. As I thought of that again, perhaps, conversely, the safest thing a boy could do was date the root of the gossip grape vine. These girls were likely not to gossip about themselves to others. It was only fun to find things out about other people and spread them. Either way, these girls and I had sort of a symbiosis. They liked hanging around me because I was popular and they gained vicarious popularity simply by association. I, in turn, gained all sorts of privileged information which they fed to me in carefully guarded quantities, making sure that I would always come back for more.
I had received word that they desired a meeting. I met them in town one afternoon, on Main st. As soon as I saw them without even so much as a ‘hello’, they jumped at me excitedly,
“Bram is seeing someone else.” It was almost as if they were salivating at the lips. They watched me carefully as I reacted, obviously so that they could talk about how I reacted to this news with other people. I suppose that if you have no relationships of your own, the only satisfaction some people can find, is in watching the demise of other people’s relationships. I wasn’t as upset as they had hoped. I had learn that it is necessary to filter a lot of the gossip these two sent my way. I would need some more details for verification.
“Hang on,” I said calmly “tell me what you saw.” The two of them shot details at me excitedly, one finishing the other’s sentences.
“Bram…” one started
“and Betty were at the drive in together on Tuesday night” the other finished. Disappointed at my lack of a tragic response on my part, this same one sought to drive the final nail in the coffin,
“and we saw them making out together for a half and hour.” She was effective. I finally let out a facial reaction of shock the details of which they absorbed like a sponge, for future recounting. I still had my wits about me though. Gossip was not a reliable method of newsgathering. I wanted more verification before I flew off at the handle.
“Was there anyone else there?” I asked patiently. They thought a long while before they produced a list of names. Evidently this was a difficult task for them because they had been so fixated on watching the two making out, that they hadn’t expected I would ask who else was nearby. They produced a list of names, but only one stood out at me. Jesse had been there with his friends. “Those misfits” I thought, why hadn’t any of them told me? Jesse hung out with a group of friends whom I termed ‘the misfits’. They were an odd bunch of strange looking people but all with unique talents. At that exact moment I could have cared less about their redeeming qualities; I was just furious. Then trying to add validity to their story, one of the girls added a necessary detail.
“You know, they were going at it so hard, the windows were fogged up we could barely see.” She sounded so disappointed. I was pleased, at least my shame had not been available for public viewing. I was still a little suspicious,
“So how did you know it was Betty then?” I patted myself on the back for coming up with such a pertinent question. Unfortunately, they weren’t put off by it in the slightest.
“Because they got out to go for popcorn together” they answered in unison.
“I’ll get to the bottom of this” I announced loudly as a I stormed of angrily. They weren’t upset by my lack of a proper ‘good-bye’. On the contrary they were content to watch me storm off, knowing that they had now had another detail to discuss with others when talking about my reaction to their news.
On my way home I passed Jesse’s house. I had never been over, but I knew where he lived because he was dropped off before me on the bus. I stopped and looked at his house deciding if I should dare knock on the door. I was a little shy to just visit without an invitation but this was a special situation. I walked slowly to the door and knocked quietly, trying to be as minimally disturbing as possible. I waited a minute or so, but there was no response. I didn’t dare knock again, so I made my way down the porch. Just then I heard the door open behind me. A woman stood in the door who I assumed, must have been his mother. Although, she didn’t look much like him. She was tanned and clear skin. Jesse was much more pale and his freckles gave him a Nordic look. Her face was warm and inviting as was her voice.
“I’m sorry dear, I barely heard you knock, I wasn’t sure if there was anyone at the door.” She motioned me in with her hand.
“Won’t you please come in?” I crossed the threshold silently still a little uneasy. I looked around the house, gathering every detail trying to make out what type of people they were. The house was very small. Still is was so cozy. The warm smell of soup met kindly with my nose. The house was plastered with art work. It was almost like a miniature art gallery. In our house, we used paintings to cover up holes in the plaster. I imagined that if this was the case here, most of their walls would be holes in the plaster if the paintings were removed, for there were just so many of them. In preoccupation with my surroundings, I neglected to introduce myself.
“And you are?” his mother said softly, seeing I needed a little push to get started.
“Oh … sorry. I am Charlotte, a friend of Jesse’s” Her face revealed a look of recognition.
“Ah yes, Charlotte” she paused for a second indicating that the name had meaning to her.
“We’ve heard so much about you.” She must have meant her family by the ‘we’. “They had?” I thought. Had he been talking about me? I certainly never mentioned him to my parents, he was just a friend afterall. She motioned me into the kitchen a girl, I would estimate as being around twenty was helping peel potatoes. A young boy of about twelve waited eagerly for the potato scraps. The ‘potato gun’ he held in his hand which used potatoes as ammunition explained why he was so interested in the scraps. Jesse’s mother ushered me in. Motioning towards the girl peeling potatoes she introduced me.
“Charlotte this is Jesse’s sister Ruth.” She paused her work and looked up. We exchanged greetings. The Jesse’s mother approached the young boy who instantly hid behind her knee. She introduced me cupping his head in her hands,
“And this shy one over here is my baby, John.” John wouldn’t look at me for a second, but I said “hello” quietly, to be friendly, while not trying to scare him off any further. His mother continued,
“Jesse is off walking Sherlock …” I remembered that Sherlock usually came barreling towards Jesse when he got home from school. I guess I was so wrapped up in my own anger that I didn’t notice Sherlock wasn’t around. Jesse’s tuned back into what Jesse’s mother was saying, having missed some of her words,
“You are welcome to stay and wait for him.” She looked hopeful. I didn’t want to intrude though.
“Are you sure that it’s no bother?” I asked just to make sure.
“Oh yes, no bother at all.” She was so kind. I probably would have refused the invitation had it been anyone else but her who asked. She was just so welcoming. I examined the art work in the kitchen. There were many landscapes depicted. I recognized them all. They were places I had been. They were all beautifully so beautifully painted. It occurred to me to look at the signature. It was a little hard to read, but I made it out to be Jesse’s. Impressed I asked,
“Are these all Jesse’s?”
“Yes dear they are. We are quite proud of him” and well they should be. I knew that he was talented but I didn’t know that he was this talented. I was still curious,
“When does he find the time to paint all of them.” She stewed for a moment, stirring her soup, and then answered.
“He’s up fairly late at night. It’s when he likes to work best. I guess the answer to your question is ‘persistence’. It takes him months to paint each painting but he just manages to find the time. He paints a little bit, each night for a large number of nights and when he is finished, he unveils his latest masterpiece. It’s really quite magical to watch. Although, he won’t let me look at what he is working on now. He says this one is private.” She continued to talk at length about Jesse and his paintings. I now knew where Jesse got his talkative nature from. While she was still talking about Jesse, painting, life and several other tangents she went off on, she served me some soup.
“Please I can’t. I just had lunch.” It was true I was quite full.
“Never you mind, you are far to skinny anyways …” I took her words as a compliment. “With eating comes appetite” she continued giving me incentive to try her soup. She watched me eat it carefully trying to discern my reaction. The soup was delicious. I smiled and said,
“Its terrific.” She was very pleased. I could tell she had put much effort into her soup.
“See!” she said emphasizing that she knew I would enjoy it. So there I was, as comfortable as a pea in a pod, it was pea soup incidentally, in Jesse’s kitchen, conversing with his family. There was a rustle at the door.
“Hi Bill” Jesse’s mother called to whoever was at the door. Bill walked into the kitchen and hugged her dearly. It was obviously Jesse’s father. A big man two but he had a very friendly quality about him. He looked at me and in two seconds he had grasped my hand shaking it, even before he had introduced himself. As he shook my hand great billows of dust came off of his shirt. He was quite dirty.
“And who have we here?” he asked, looking to his wife for an answer.
“It’s Jesse’s friend Charlotte” she answered.
“Ah yes, Charlotte.” He answered in the same way as his wife had. He was about to say something when I heard a furry scratching against the door. The whole family, save Jesse, who was now crowded into the kitchen, shouted in unison,
“Sherlock!” who jumped happily all over them, myself included. I was glad to see he remembered me, or was he did he do this with just anybody? Jesse was still at the door. I could hear the jingling of a leash which I gathered he was putting away. His mother looked to the doorway,
“Jesse, you have a visitor.” Jesse entered covered in mud. He and his father had a similarly soiled appearance. He was surprised to see me. It was understandable to, this being my first visit to his house. He managed a surprised
“Hi Charlotte” his faced brightened as he said my name. Having overcome his initial surprise, he was very happy to see me. His father started a barrage of questions before Jesse had time to say anything else.
“So tell me about yourself. Which grade are you in?” I didn’t know how to address Jesse’s parents. They had neglected to give me their names.
“I am in grade eleven, going into twelve, Mr. Redivorp.” That name was awful hard to get your tongue around but it was pronounced the way it was spelled.
“Oh dear, I forgot to introduce you properly.” Empathically, Jesse’s mother felt my difficulty in pronouncing their last name. She placed her hand on her chest,
“I’m Ellen, and this” she said motioning to her husband, “is Bill.” Bill extended his hand once again, completing the introduction. She looked at her husband’s appearance and said apologetically,
“I am sorry he is so dirty, he worked an extra shift at the quarry today.” Bill realizing that she was right tried to dust himself off but to no avail.
“Why don’t you two go upstairs and clean up. I’ll entertain Charlotte in the meantime.” Both Jesse and his father trumped upstairs and the sound of flowing water indicating that they were following her directive. Ellen kept me content with some cookies she had prepared a day earlier. About two cookies later, the two returned having changed their clothes and washed their faces as evidenced by the small droplets of water which glistened will evaporating. Bill launched right back into his questioning, but I really didn’t mind.
“So, tell me, do you have any hobbies?” I really didn’t have all that many hobbies. I wasn’t sure how to answer him but thankfully, I wouldn’t have to.
“Dad, if it’s all right, I think we’d like to take a walk” Jesse interrupted. His father stood puzzled for a moment. Jesse had just gone for a long walk. When it finally dawned on him that he wanted to be alone with me, he was most agreeable.
“Oh … sure, you two run along. I am sure we will have time to speak to each other again.” he said looking at me.
“I’m sure we will” I said. I wasn’t sure if we actually would, but I liked him. He was very caring. I felt that he genuinely was interested in what I had to say. I think Jesse was a little embarrassed of his family though. I didn’t understand why though, they all seemed to be so nice. I thanked them for their hospitality, and Jesse and I made our way outside.
