Ivy Leaves Journal of Literature & Art – Vol. 89

“Okay, sure,” Nellie said, and followed him up to the house. Half way up the driveway, Jason took the handle bars from her and pushed the bike up the steep hill.

They left it leaning against a rain gutter.

The inside of the house was warm and Nellie pushed her hood back. Jason had already started towards the kitchen and was fiddling with the coffee maker when she walked into the room. The kitchen was a soft cream and dimly lit. It made her feel safe and tired. She remembered making cookies with Hazel and her mom once, and the room had gotten so warm with the heat of the stove they’d fallen asleep at the table. The cookies were burnt when they woke up, and they’d fed them to Russell, their golden retriever. Nellie wanted to see Russell, but felt strange asking for him.

“Cream and sugar?”

Nellie said yes and sat down in the chair closest to the door. They were so silent that Nellie felt she was disappearing in plain sight. Jason would forget she was there and wonder why he held two coffee cups in his hands. He didn’t though, and he sat the mug in front of her and sat across from her at the table. They stared into their cups and let the steam rise. Nellie felt her body tighten and she picked up the mug and, tipping it back, took a giant swig of coffee. It burned and she was glad to feel some other kind of pain. She swallowed and coughed as it went down. Jason looked up and he glanced at the cup, then her reddening face. He frowned and ran his thumb down the handle of his own.

His silence was beginning to make her angry. Nellie crossed her arms and leaned back, waiting for him to say something. When he didn’t move or speak, she sighed and held the coffee cup tight in her hand, letting the heat warm her hand.

“Why did you call me?” she asked. Her voice felt small and she cleared her throat.

Jason looked up at her through his eyelashes and then back into his coffee. Nellie wanted to smack the table and make him look.

“I don’t know.” He let go of his mug and leaned back. Nellie looked down at the long table at him.

“Me neither. That’s why I asked,” Nellie said. The coffee maker clicked and she focused on the blinking, green light. “You make terrible coffee, by the way.”

Jason almost laughed, but Nellie only twitched. “I know, I don’t normally drink coffee,” he said. He got up and dumped his coffee down the sink and motioned to take hers, but she didn’t want to let go of the warmth it gave her. “Suit yourself.”

Nellie wanted to ask if Hazel taught him, because she’d made terrible coffee too.

“I saw that you got your book published, that’s great,” Nellie said. She’d almost forgotten he was a writer. “I bought a copy.”

“Thanks,” he said.

“I saw that you dedicated it to Hazel.” Nellie’s mouth felt strange as she formed her name, and realized she hadn’t said it in a long time. She regretted mentioning it when Jason’s jaw went rigid with the mention of her name. “Sorry,” she said.

He shook his head and leaned against the counter. “No, it’s fine. Yeah, I had it changed after everything. My publisher didn’t mind. I guess that’s why I called you.

I just, I thought you might know...” His eyes began to water and he squeezed them shut.

Nellie didn’t look away, because she couldn’t. “Sorry. I just wondered if she ever, you know, said anything to you,” he said.

“About why?” Nellie looked at the scar on her knuckle, the one she’d gotten punching Johnny Ackley in the fourth grade for making fun of Hazel for spilling milk on her pants and shouting that Hazel had wet herself. When Johnny had seen the blood and the tooth she’d knocked out, he’d fled from the playground and they’d hidden from their teacher in the plastic tunnel that led to the slide. She blinked away the memory and shook her head. “No, she didn’t. I mean, she acted weird sometimes, but then she seemed fine. Then, all of a sudden she was gone.”