Jamie

Jordan sat at the porch table, his Sony headphones on, bobbing to a song only he could hear. We had just finished eating and I expected him to get up any minute. Every once and awhile our eyes would meet and he would quickly look back at his phone with a slight blush to his cheeks. He really was cute.

As I anticipated, there he went and my eyes followed him as he walked back into the house. Tim just shook his head, not because I had a hard time taking my eyes off his little brother, but because he was always shaking his head at his behavior.

"Can I ask you something about Jordan?" I asked Tim.

"Sure. Why not?" he said with a laugh. "Maybe I'll be able to answer."

"Why doesn't he go to a regular college?" I asked.

"He goes to a regular college," he said. "It's just online because he doesn't play well with others."

"I don't know. I know he has a temper and he's a little odd, but I think he's kind of fun, too."

"Fun?" he said in disbelief. "You don't know him very well. Odd? Yeah, that's an understatement. You have no idea. Anyway...Speaking of Jordan...um...well...I've been meaning to ask you something." Uh-oh, I thought. What? "I just need you to do me a favor." Rolling my eyes, I only imagined what this favor could be. "Come on. I'm letting you stay in my house rent-free all summer."

"What is it?" I said.

"Take Jordan to see his mother," he said all in one breath as if my immediate reaction would be "no."

"Isn't she your mother, too?"

"Yeah, but I hate going and driving all that way. It's Jordan that insists on going. She doesn't even know we're there. Come on, please? It's a long ass drive. Stop at the beach or something on the way back. Jordan loves the beach and I hate it."

"Yeah, I noticed he loves water." Going to the beach with Jordan sounded fun. "I don't know..." I said, feeling the need to pretend I was indifferent to his little brother.

"Will you do it? You like him, right?" What did he mean by "like?"

"He's a fucking space cadet," I said, but the truth of the matter was that I really did like him, more than I could ever let on. I had a thing for so-called space cadets. "Fine," I said. "I'll take him."

***

Jordan seemed more excited about going to the beach than visiting his mother.

"Okay, Jamie, what have you done to my brother?" Tim asked as Jordan ran around the house, searching for beach things. "He's never excited about anything." Maybe he didn't know him like he thought he did. And he definitely looked very nice in his red and black swim trunks.

"You have to put a shirt on," Tim said as Jordan stood at the door with a bag that consisted of towels, a blanket, and sunscreen.

"Awww," Jordan whined like a little boy.

"You can't visit Mom like that. Now go put a shirt on...and shoes." Jordan stormed off to do what he was told.

"Was he the type of baby who used to run around naked?" I asked.

"No," Tim said. "I think he's just lazy."

Jordan stared out the window of my Jeep as I sped down the highway. It was a perfect beach day so I hoped his visit wouldn't be too long. Tim said the visits usually lasted an hour, an hour where Jordan just sang and played music to her the whole time. During the ride, I thought I'd introduce Jordan to music beyond 1990.

"What if I don't want to listen to it?" he said.

"It's my car," I said. "I can play what I want."

The introduction of the day was Green Day's 1994 classic, Dookie. Pouting, he stared out the window as the opening riff of Longview played.  Halfway through the song, Jordan quickly glanced at me, his fingers tapping against his knee. As the follow-up song, Basket Case, played, he picked up my phone and hit replay so the song started over.

"Do you have the time to listen to me whine...?" I sang, which was perhaps the greatest opening line ever. He replayed it again and again. I guess he really liked the song. "There are other songs on the album, you know," I said. After the fifth time around, he let the rest of the album play although we did have to listen to Welcome to Paradise three times.

"Can I borrow your phone?" he asked. "My mom might like it."

"Yeah, sure." We drove all the way to the North Shore, eventually pulling into a long driveway where Sherry Cameron had lived for the past four years. Crane's Beach wasn't too far away.

"Wanna meet her?" Jordan asked before getting out of the car.

"Your mother? You want me to meet your mother?" I asked and he nodded.

A young, dark-haired woman, maybe twenty-two or twenty-three greeted us at the front door. "Oh, hello, Jordan," she said brightly, smiling at him. "She's out back waiting for you."

A gray-haired heavy-set woman sat on a picnic bench in the backyard with another young woman sitting beside her, another group home staff member no doubt. His mother wore a Red Sox t-shirt and sweatpants (even in this steamy hot weather).

"Hello, Jordan," the woman said. Jordan didn't say anything, not even acknowledging her. Instead, he sat down beside his mother. "Nice to see you, too," the woman said facetiously, getting up. "You're not Tim," she said to me.

"No," I said. "I'm Jamie, a friend of Tim's...uh...Jordan's ride."

"I'm Amanda. Let me know if you need anything."

Behind Sherry's glasses were a pair of brown eyes similar to Tim and Jordan's. Her eyes met Jordan's briefly, then she resumed staring blankly in front of her. I didn't know what to do with myself.

"Hi Mom," Jordan said. "This is my friend, Jamie." I laughed to myself as he introduced me as his "friend." I wasn't quite prepared to be referred to as his "friend" since we've really only known each other for two weeks. "Look. He got me these really cool headphones." He held out his blue Sony headphones for her to check out. She merely blinked. Tim was almost right; she hardly recognized our presence, but there was no doubt a spark in her eye when Jordan greeted her.

"I wouldn't play Basket Case," I said.

"Why not?" he asked innocently.

"We're at a group home for people with mental illness. Don't play it." Heeding my advice, he selected Longview instead. To me, his mother showed no expression whatsoever, but Jordan was convinced she liked it.

"Jamie's taking me to the beach," Jordan said to his mother. "Tim hates the beach." He talked to her as if she were normal, that she understood and heard what he was saying. Maybe she did. Maybe she would talk back someday. We only stayed for about twenty minutes because Jordan was itching to go the whole time he was there, maybe because he never went anywhere and I was beginning to think that was partly because Tim simply didn't like to do the same things Jordan did. Tim was always the studious book worm type. Come to think of it, I was nothing like Tim, either, but somehow we made good friends.

"See you in two weeks," Amanda said on our way out.

"Have a nice day," I said, feeling the need to say something because Jordan didn't.

Jordan knew exactly where he wanted to go once we got to the beach...as close to the water as possible. He dropped his beach bag down on the sand, took off his shirt and ran into the water, bringing me with him. I just about had time to take off my shirt and sneakers. The water was freezing although not as freezing as I expected it to be. He could have stayed in the water forever if I hadn't dragged him out with me.

In his wet swim trunks, he plopped down right in the sand. I had some sensory integration issues just watching him dig his feet into the sand, the sand getting all stuck to his body while I sat on the blanket.

He didn't care that he was covered in sand or that he tracked the sand into my car. He wanted me to play Green Day again on the way home so I did.

I was falling hard for this kid and I wasn't sure what to do about it. Maybe I should move out? No. I liked his house. I liked him.

I wasn't even sure if he was gay or straight or bi, but I did know how he responded when his fingers touched mine.

By the time we got home, it was close to ten o'clock. "You wanna go swimming?" he asked.

"What? Again?"

"I have to wash off the sand."

"How about a shower? That's an idea." I knew he wasn't falling for that. It was a Sunday so Tim was already in bed. I grabbed a beer and went with Jordan to the pool. He stripped naked and jumped in.

"Take them off and come in," he said as I sat on the deck sipping my beer. He wanted me to take my trunks off? Funny. "Come on. I won't look." That was extra funny. "Scared?"

"You think I'm scared? Scared of what? I'm not scared of anything, you little shit." I stood up and took off my trunks with Jordan's eyes on me. "What's the matter? Haven't seen a naked man before?" I teased him and jumped in beside him.

"I'm a naked man," he said.

"You're a boy," I corrected him.

"I am not," he said, sounding just like a boy.

Swimming under water, I disappeared while Jordan twirled around looking for me. I wondered if he'd freak out if I scared him. Taking a chance, I pulled him by his legs and all the way under.

"I should kill you," he shouted to me, but I didn't take him too seriously because all he did was splash me. He splashed me over and over again until I grabbed his wrists. Clutching both wrists, I pushed him against the side of the pool.

"I'm touching you," I said, my eyes fixed with his, my hands tightly around his wrists, his arms at his sides. "Are you going to spit in my face?" He didn't say anything, swallowing hard. "Maybe kick me again?"

Catching me by surprise, he lifted his legs up, letting them float on either side of me while I continued to hold his wrists. His body was clearly aroused...as was mine. Finally, I let go of his wrists. He stepped into me, letting our arousals touch under the water. "I'm touching you," I said again. He laughed just as the light in the house turned on. "Shit," I said. "We woke Tim up."

Jordan pushed me away and quickly got out of the pool. "Don't ever touch me," he said, pulling up his trunks. He was the one who stepped into me and he did it on purpose.

Before I could respond, he was running back into the house.