Home is a Four Letter Word

chapter eleven

Mid-April

The sun shone brighter than anything he had ever seen before on this particular drive to Connor's. Every puddle on the dark blacktop acted as mirrors that blinded Jake in unavoidable reflections. He had offered out a pair of his mowing sunglasses for Connor to wear when they got in the truck, but they looked so out of place on him that now all Jake wanted to do was laugh at how ridiculous he looked. They didn't match his aesthetic at all, but Connor remained unbothered as he stuck his hand out the window, letting the breeze of the first nice day of April catch his sleeves and carry him away.

"Still no OSU letter?" He looked over to Jake unexpectedly.

Jake had to shake his head away to avoid getting caught staring.

"No. And decision day is coming up."

"It's literally two weeks away. I would call someone about it. There's no way they would wait this long."

"What if this whole time my application didn't go through?" Jake worried an insignificant thought out loud.

"I doubt that. You may have just put your address down wrong or whatever. I wouldn't stress about it, it's probably something stupid."

Jake didn't really believe him, but he nodded back like he did as he turned the wheel. The trees on County Road lined both sides of the street, offering a momentary break from the sunlight struggle as they drove down to the tracks. As Jake felt the wind push his hair back in disarray, he enjoyed the blissful cool zip it left behind on his skin. Soon enough, cool air would be a commodity and afternoon drives in the truck would be grasping for a relief from the heat—the windows serving a necessity instead of a relaxing luxury.

Connor's fingers played the air like a piano. He balanced a new chord with every mailbox they passed and tilted his head over in fascination with the breeze as if he could hear its melody. Something about him was carelessly beautiful, and there was nothing more that Jake liked to see on his face than serenity.

I would do this every day if you would let me.

As they approached the tracks, Connor pulled his hand back in quickly, looking for a moment as if something might have hit him to make him regret his carelessness. It startled Jake as they clattered over the tracks, demanding his attention as if inspecting for fresh bruises. All that was left was a wince from Connor that looked more mentally pained than physically.

"I've always hated these tracks." He noted with a bit of bitterness.

"Why?" Jake looked over to him to explain.

"You can't tell anyone..." Connor looked at him with a deadly dose of intimidation that Jake had absolutely no choice but to laugh at.

"Okay."

Connor leaned his head back against the rear window as he contemplated. His eyebrows raised in his own self-persuasion as he looked over to Jake, and with it came a humbled version of a truth Jake wasn't expecting.

"I'm scared of trains."

Jake broke out in a smile he tried desperately to contain for Connor's sake. "You literally have tracks in your backyard, and you're scared of trains?"

"Yep." Connor nodded. "When I was younger, I always thought they were going to veer off and crush the house while I was sleeping. They're so big... I can't... I hate them."

"I can't believe you live so close to them..."

"Well I didn't really have a choice. We live in my grandparents' old house." He said as they pulled into the driveway, tilting his head over as if weighing an option that didn't exist.

Everything went quiet as Jake shifted the truck into park. Tapping his fingers out on the steering wheel, he noticed Connor staring off past where his car was parked before them in the driveway to the yard that stretched back another acre to the tracks. Jake followed his gaze out to look at the slight hill that the tracks sat on, wondering briefly if Connor had ever walked them like he and Aaron used to as kids on the ones barely a mile from his own house. Likely not.

Connor unbuckled his seat belt somewhere in the midst of it all. He was turning to thank Jake for the ride like he did every time, when Jake reached out and turned off the engine. The visible confusion on Connor's face wasn't enough for Jake to put the key back into the ignition and drive away. He sat there quietly, staring at the tracks before he finally let his gaze wander over to Connor.

"What are you doing?"

"I think we should go walk the tracks." Jake nodded out to the back of the yard.

"What? No." Connor laughed in ridicule.

"Best way to get over a fear is to face it head on."

"Yeah, no. I don't–"

"It's how I got over horses." He interrupted with an essential bit of honesty.

"You were scared of horses?" Connor tried not to laugh, but his face was a different story.

"Oh, hell yeah." Jake smiled back. "One kicked me when I was a kid and I never forgot."

"Let me guess, you got over your fear of horses by having your own Flicka moment."

"Damn right." Jake nodded certainly, flicking the keys between his fingers as he settled on his decision.

"No you did not."

"No," He frowned at Connor's ridicule. "I didn't. But we do have a horse."

Connor remained hesitant, but somehow found the courage to swallow and nod. He looked out to the backyard, and for a moment the look on Connor's face made Jake regret suggesting it at all. The uncertain eyes that Connor scanned the yard with calculated his risks and came back with an answer. Jake stayed silent until he said it. In the end, he wouldn't care either way. It wouldn't hurt him any if Connor said no. He had thought suggesting conquering the fear with him was thoughtful, but something so terrifying required trust and Jake wasn't sure he had earned that much of it yet. Connor's face moved in thought.

"Okay." He looked to Jake with an eyebrow raised that dared to question him.

"Yeah?" Jake smiled, surprised by his quick resolution.

Maybe I do have enough of it.

"Yeah." Connor sighed, defeated. "But if you kill me, I'm haunting you for the rest of your life and then tormenting your soul in the afterlife."

Jake ran his tongue along his teeth as he stared out at the tracks with an odd sense of satisfaction.

"I accept the terms and conditions."