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Jessa drops me off at JJ’s house. He opens the door before I can knock. He has on a gray sleeveless shirt that draws my eyes directly to his well-sculpted arms. On his shoulder, his little sister sleeps with her little lips slightly parted. So cute!
He steps back and I walk inside. His younger brother Caleb comes running up to me.
“Clove, are you still sad? Mommy’s been sad too. Wanna play with me?”
“Shhhh,” JJ whispers to Caleb and shuts the door behind me.
Caleb murmurs an apology and then holds up a memory game. “Will you play with me?”
I nod. “Yes, but first I need to use the ladies’ room.”
As I wash my hands, I admire the shimmering stud in my nostril. It’s very, very tiny and not too noticeable. Hopefully Dad won’t make a big deal out of it.
When I leave the bathroom, Caleb is waiting for me with the memory cards all laid out on the carpet.
“Jonah went to go put Adah in her bed,” he says. “I already turned two cards over so it’s your turn.”
I turn two cards over with no match.
“Hey.” Caleb peers at me. “There’s something on your nose. I think it’s a boogie. I’ll go get a tissue for you.”
He leaves the room and I chuckle a little. So much for it not being obvious. Caleb hands me the tissue but I don’t wipe. He takes a closer at my nose. “Hmmm, that’s weird, it’s sparkly. Maybe it’s just a piece of glitter or something.”
I bring his active mind back to our game and we play for about ten minutes before Caleb tells me he’s hungry.
The house is quiet. “Where is everybody?” I ask.
“Mommy went to the grocery store to buy groceries for dinner and JJ prolly fell asleep. Zach is at basketball practice and Papa is still at work in Memphis. Can you fix me something to eat?”
Me? Fix food? “Um...sure. I guess I can try.” Baking is one thing, but cooking is another thing altogether.
“Can you make a cake?”
“No cake before dinner.” I’m not yet ready to start baking again. I check their refrigerator to see what I can find. I’m searching for something simple that he would eat. Cheese, butter, and bread. Grilled cheese. I heat the cast iron skillet as Caleb sits at the counter and watches.
“Are you making fromage grillé?” he tries to say in French. I vaguely remember JJ saying something like that for grilled cheese.
“If that means grilled cheese, then yes.” I wait for the butter to melt, then plop the sandwich into the skillet. While I’m searching for a spatula, I get a message.
Trevor: Let me see it
News travels fast. Guess his uncle already told him I was in the shop. I take a selfie making sure to get my nose ring shimmering in the light. I don’t like the first photo so I try again and move towards the sunlight. The next photo is better, but then I decide to take my hair down from the French braids and pull it over to one side of my face. Much better.
“Um...Clove,” Caleb says. “Don’t you have to flip it or somethin’?”
Oh yeah, the grilled cheese. I run back over to the skillet and flip the sandwich. It’s slightly burnt, but that’s okay because there’s still the other side.
I go back to my picture taking and try making different faces with my lips: fish lips, pouty, snarled lip and then one with my lips slightly parted. I pick one and send it to Trevor.
“Is something burning?” Caleb asks.
I sniff. Holy smokes! I grab an oven mitt and remove it from the stove, tossing the now blackened grilled cheese on the counter. Caleb runs to open the door and thankfully the smoke alarm doesn’t go off because it would definitely wake Adah.
I rinse the pan in the sink and yelp as steam rises into the air. The pan makes a loud thud as I drop it to the sink. I fan the air. “Sorry, Caleb. I’ll try again and pay attention next time.” I search for another, smaller pan and start the process over.
Trevor: you look hot!
Me: Thanks
Trevor: ur dad see?
Me: not yet. Not at home.
Trevor: Where u at? Let me come scoop you
The word “scoop” gets on my nerves. I am not a dessert. But I'll let it slide this time.
Me: where r we going?
Trevor: u tell me
Why’d he even ask if he doesn't know where we’re going? He’s not coming to my house and I’m not inviting him over to JJ’s.
The smoke alarm beeps and Caleb gets down from the counter stool to open the door again.
“Mon dieu, Clove.” JJ comes downstairs and removes the skillet from the stove.
The house smells of burnt bread and cheese. I can’t believe I’ve done this twice.
JJ puts the pan in the sink and then runs back upstairs to get Adah who’s now crying. Mrs. Jourdan and Zach enter the house with bags of groceries.
“What on Earth?” Mrs. Jourdan says, rushing to put the bags down.
Zach fans at the smoke and Mrs. Jourdan opens all the windows. JJ brings Adah downstairs. Her face is wet with tears. I feel terrible that I’ve made such a mess of things and woke poor Adah from her sleep.
“What happened?” Mrs. Jourdan says, taking the baby.
To my horror, Caleb explains. “Well see, Clove was trying to make me fromage grillé but she burnt it up twice because she was sending pictures on her phone.”
You can always trust a four-year-old to tell the truth when you really don’t want them to.
Mrs. Jourdan starts laughing. She holds up the grilled cheese sandwiches as if they’re giant playing cards. “Catch.” She throws it to Zach. He catches it and then throws it to JJ.
“My turn,” Caleb declares. All of them are playing frisbee with my blackened grilled cheese sandwiches.
“Wow, these make great toys,” Caleb exclaims.
I try not to laugh but it is kind of funny. My dad sends me a message asking when I’m coming home. How does he know I’m not home? I thought he was out of town already.
“Clove, would you like to stay for dinner? James is cooking,” Mrs. Jourdan tells me.
My dad sends me another text letting me know his flight got delayed. Oh shoot! He's going to see my nose piercing tonight.
Dad: Gram cooked. Come home so we can eat together before I leave.
I twist my lips and tap my foot, trying to think. “Um, my dad just texted. He says Gram cooked for us.”
“Oh yeah? What’d Gram cook?” Mrs. Jourdan asks.
I announce the food as Dad texts it to me. He sends multiple messages instead of just one, so I have to read slowly as each one appears. “Fried fish... green beans...hush puppies... yams....and....and I guess that’s it.” The messages stop but then another one appears.
“Mac n cheese,” I say finally.
Zach raises his hand as though we’re in school. “I vote we go to Clove’s house ‘cause I’m hungry now and I’m not tryna wait on dad to get here.”
Mrs. Jourdan reads her phone and then sighs as she puts it down on the counter. “Your dad is running late. We’ll need to cook for ourselves.”
“Just come over,” I tell them. “Gram hardly ever makes small meals. I’m sure there’s plenty.” I’m thinking that if they come over, it might delay Dad’s wrath.
Mrs. Jourdan puts her hand gently on my wrist. “Honey, these are three hungry boys and I don’t know if Gram has enough food. It’s okay. We’ll be fine.” She leans in close to my face as Jessa, Xavier, and Caleb had done.
“Hmmmm,” she says. “Maybe you should stay over here and I’ll order takeout. I have a feeling if you go home, you might be in for a while.”
Zach scrunches his nose. “Hold up! Gram cooked all that food and we don’t get to eat because Clove got her nose pierced? How is that fair? I’m seriously hungry. She’s gotta go home eventually.”
He has a point. I can’t hide here forever. “Zach is right. Thanks for trying to buy me some time, Mrs. Jourdan, but I’m gonna own up to this. I made this choice and I think I know what the consequences will be. There’s no sense in you ordering food when I know there’s plenty at home.”
Everyone gapes at me for several seconds. Then Zach interrupts the silence. “Okay, so are we going to your house or what?” He’s still just thinking about food.
Mrs. Jourdan answers for me. “Clove, how about I have Jonah take you home? If there’s enough food, you can pack us up some plates and Jonah can bring them back. You’re going to need to talk to your dad.”
“Yes ma’am.”
JJ takes the keys from his mom. He opens the Explorer passenger door for me. We’re silent as we drive. He hasn’t said anything about my nose stud and I’ve been wondering what he thinks.
“Soooo, whaddaya think?” I ask him.
“What do I think about what?”
“Was me gettin’ a nose ring predictable?”
He doesn’t answer me for a few seconds. “Is that why you got it? Because I said you were predictable?”
“No.” That’s a half lie. JJ saying that was part of the reason; the other part was Trevor saying I’d look good in one.
“Clove, I didn’t mean that you were predictable in a bad way. I just meant that I know you. That’s all.”
Oh. Well still, he said it and regardless of how he meant it, I’m tired of being boring, predictable Clove. I peer down at my nails and pick at my dry cuticles. I’ve never worn anything on them other than clear polish or sometimes a pale pink. I am predictable. I haven’t even changed my hairstyle from the two French braids that Gram put them in last week.
JJ tugs on one of the braids. “You’re not boring. If anything, you’re multifaceted. There are parts of you that haven’t been explored.”
“Like what? What do you know about my facets?”
A smile forms on his mouth and for the first time I realize how cute it is.
“For starters you can bake. You can’t cook, but you can bake. I think you should explore that more. I also think you’re a good writer. That paper you wrote on Maya Angelou was actually quite good.”
I feel myself blushing. JJ read over that for me just to check it. “Thanks,” I say and begin chewing my lower lip.
“You ever thought about writing poetry?” he asks.
I shake my head. “Not really.”
“You should try it. I think you might be good at it.”
Maybe he’s on to something. I haven’t really tried writing as a hobby. Mama used to write prayers in her journals from time to time.
“All I’m saying," JJ continues. "Is that I know you’re far from boring.”
Hearing him say that means a whole lot, but it still want to know what he thinks. “Do you think I shouldn’t have gotten my nose pierced? Do you not like it?”
I realize I sound superficial and insecure, but maybe I am a little bit.
“Why does it matter what I think?” He asks so coolly that I’m not sure he even wants me to answer. It shouldn’t matter, but it does. I want his approval and I haven’t the foggiest idea why because I don’t care what Jessa and Xavier think nearly as much.
“Your opinion matters to me,” I finally answer.
JJ taps his thumb on the top of the steering wheel. “Do you like it?” he asks.
Why can’t he just give me his opinion like other people? Because he’s not like other people.
“Yes, I do. I don’t regret getting it, but maybe I sorta feel bad for the way I went about getting it.”
JJ nods his head slowly. “I think that’s all that matters, your opinion and how you feel about it, but if you really need my opinion, I’ll give it to you.”
He keeps driving and I wait for him to give me his opinion. When we get to my house, he still hasn’t said anything. The suspense is killing me.
“Oh my gosh, J. Are you gonna tell me or not?”
He sucks his jaws in as if holding back a laugh. “Nope. You don’t need my opinion. You want it.”
Gosh, he frustrates me. I shove his shoulder. “Chump!”