Page 46 of Barefoot Lake

He could have lied at least a little bit.

“It’s…” I huff. I don’t want to admit I’m this bothered by a boy. I look over at Grateful Bob, but he’s just munching on his pumpkin bread, patiently waiting for me to come around. I don’t want to seem petty, and I certainly don’t want to get into details. I think I’d die of embarrassment and briefly wonder if this is what it would feel like to talk to a father.

“It’s Jake. I thought we were… getting somewhere… but the next time I saw him, it was the most awkward encounter of my life, and I really don’t think that’s an exaggeration.”

“Ah.” That’s all Grateful Bob says for a bit, and I wonder if that’s the end of the conversation, but he eventually takes a deep breath and continues. “Jake got dealt a tough hand early in life — both he and Scott did. What those two boys became as a result is real special, but let’s not pretend that losing their parents so young and Jake becoming a guardian when he was still just a kid himself didn’t change them.”

I sit back in my chair. I already know about how Jake stepped up for Scott. Of course it changed him. It would have changed anybody.

Grateful Bob continues.

“It’s almost like they went in opposite directions. Scott gives love freely, never wanting to miss out on a single minute of happiness because he knows how quickly it can end. Jake hardly gives love at all.

“After their parents died, Jake came straight home from college. I heard the lawyers kept offering to send Scott to some other distant relative they dug up, but Jake wouldn’t hear of it. He kept in touch with his friends for a while and tried to take classes nearby, but it was hard, and he ended up working at that nursery instead. He was suddenly in a completely different stage of his life from everybody he knew. He was a parent at twenty to a twelve-year-old. One by one, except for Eli, his friends just kind of drifted away. Relationships are also hard when you’re putting somebody else first, second, and third, but that’s what Jake did for Scott.”

I twist my hands around my mug, the warmth from the steaming cup suddenly feeling muted. I think my heart is breaking in my chest.

“Jake just kept going. He became ok because he had to be ok for Scott. I’m not sure Jake let anybody really in until your mom moved up here, and she had to fight for it. I think she saw him as the boy he never got to be, and, eventually, he trusted her. When she left, unfair as it is, I think he felt like another person abandoned him. He’s guarded and might always be.”

My eyes burn with unshed tears. I hadn’t really thought about how incredibly lonely it must have been for Jake after he moved back home for Scott. My chest hurts at the thought of him having to figure out how to parent his brother while letting everything he was familiar with slip away. I look up and blink rapidly to keep from crying.

“Well, I feel like the biggest asshole ever,” I admit.

“Hey.” Grateful Bob’s voice is firm, and his hand falls on top of mine on the chair’s armrest. I look over at him and see his serious expression. “None of that. There might be a reason for Jake’s issues, but that doesn’t mean that you need to put up with a lack of communication or less respect than you deserve. He’s a grown man now, and if he wants a special girl, he needs to figure out how to earn her regardless of life’s challenges. I told you his story to help you both, not to give him an excuse to keep you at arm’s length. Never forget your worth.”

I flip my hand over and squeeze Grateful Bob’s. I think his kids were very lucky to have him. And now I am, too.

Grateful Bob and I gab about lighter topics and have lunch together before I head back home. When he tries to bring up my job in Boston, I clumsily change the subject. I’ve been hiding from Boston and my impending return in the spring. The realization of how much time has passed since I left sends a pang of guilt through me. I need to plan a visit down soon.

For now, I want to continue that escapism by carving a few of the pumpkins into jack-o-lanterns so I can fill them with tea lights after dark. Sadly, those will have to get trashed, recycled, or mulched — wherever pumpkins go to die — tomorrow to avoid attracting animals, but I think the effect tonight will be worth it.

Once I’m home, I line up some of my favorite pumpkins on a newspaper-covered table and dive in.

Scooping pumpkin guts — and cutting out different expressions — takes a few hours, but I have so much fun creating different faces. I have minimal artistic talent, so they’re all a bit wonky, but I think it gives them character. Plus, now I’ve got a few pounds of fresh pumpkin seeds roasting in my oven.

I spend most of the afternoon eagerly awaiting the first knock on the back door, but I still jump when it finally comes, leaping from the couch and clumsily sliding on the floor in my tights. After carving my pumpkins, I finally changed into my costume. To match the coven of witch decorations surrounding my house, I’m in sheer black glitter tights, a bodysuit with puffy sleeves, a black mini skirt with a jagged bottom edge, a long velvet cloak, and a pointed witch’s hat. I slip on black pumps to complete the look at the last minute.

I open the back door to a chorus of “TRICK-OR-TREAT” and just about melt at the adorable children before me. I load them up and watch as they scurry down my steps and back to their parents waiting on the shoreline path.

I’m about to close the door when I notice another group of kids coming across my yard from Jake’s house. I look over and see Jake poking out of his back door. In a red flannel shirt with the sleeves rolled up and dark jeans, I think he’s seriously dressed up as the Brawny man. He catches me looking and leans out further. He even has a roll of paper towels in his hand. I can’t help but chuckle — it’s a great costume for him with his dark hair and natural scruff.

Stiffly, Jake raises the hand holding the paper towels and jerkily waves at me. I wave back, hopefully less awkwardly, but I doubt it.

So glad to see things aren’t weird between us anymore! I cringe at the interaction.

The next several hours repeat the process dozens of times, and I mean the whole process. Kids arrive, I nearly burst with how cute it all is, I hand out fists full of candy or toys, and every single time I catch Jake’s eye, we repeat the same painful wave. By the time the trick-or-treaters stop trickling by, I’m basically jumping out of my skin with how uncomfortable those waves have been.

Like, seriously?!

Finally, I flick off my string lights and step outside to collect my carved pumpkins so I can store them indoors before I get rid of them tomorrow. After I blow out the last candle from the jack-o-lanterns, I look over and see Jake, shutting down his yard. So help me god if he⁠—

He waves.

I can’t take it anymore. I pile my armful of pumpkins on a patio chair and stomp across the gap between our houses with a flashback to our first meeting playing in my mind. He stops working when he sees me coming and stands to await my arrival.

“Look, I get it. You’ve got commitment issues, or maybe you’re just not that interested. It’s fine, really. I’m a big girl, and I can handle the rejection. But this?” I gesture between us and do an over-animated wave with my face screwed up. “This, I cannot handle. But I like you. You’re good, even when you’re surly, and I can’t stand the awkwardness. So please, please, I beg you, just make it stop.”

I’m breathing hard when I finish my plea. He can accept my friendship, or he can cut me off completely. Either would be better than perpetual weirdness. He blinks at me a few times.