Beyond the Boundary

Jenica heard his truck as it turned onto the street.  The engine’s deep rumble sent vibrations through the house when he pulled into the driveway.  She touched the window pane to feel the thrum in her fingertips.  Her heart pounded so hard she felt her pulse in her chest, her neck, her lips.  Watching him climb out of his truck, his cowboy boots dusty from a previous job, Jenica held the back of her hand to the tight, gnarled skin of her cheek.  She wondered if her blush could be seen in spite of the scar. 

Her mother walked out through the front door, wiping her hands on a dish towel, directly beneath the window through which Jenica peered.

“Good morning, Mrs. Madison,” he said. 

As usual, her mother admonished him, “It’s Linda, Nathan.  Please, call me Linda.”

“Yes, ma’am.”  His easy smile and humble wrods made Jenica wish, ache, hope that he was as kind as his manner suggested.  Jenica strained to see him as he walked around to the back of the house to continue construction on the addition.

Her mother called out to him, “And don’t call me ma’am!  You make me feel ancient!”

Jenica heard his quiet reply, “Yes ma’am.”

While she enjoyed thinking about him, the feelings were bittersweet.  Fantasies were all she could conjure.  The courage to meet him, to look into his eyes and allow him to see her face was beyond her reach.  She stepped to her writing desk and leafed through her journal.  Capture the fantasy, she thought. Make it real and tangible on the pages, if not in your life. 

In her left hand she held her grandfather’s antique quill pen, brushing the feather over her neck, where she could feel the tickle, and lifting it to her cheek, where there was no feeling at all.  The habit calmed her and helped her to center her thoughts.  With her right hand she reached for a ball-point pen, and began to write.

___________________________________________


“Jenica!  Jenica?  Come down here, will you?  You’ve been hiding in that room all day.”

“Coming, Mom,” Jenica said, descending the stairs and claiming a stool at the kitchen counter. 

“Oh, good.  Listen, I need to run to the store and pick up a few things for dinner.  Your father called to say he didn’t have time for lunch.”  Linda grabbed a chocolate chip cookie from the cookie jar.  “And now we’re out of cookies, too.  Anything you need me to pick up?  I was thinking lasagna, but that takes forever.  Steak?  Burgers are quick.  What do you think?”

Jenica sat slumped and silent on the stool.  “Whatever.”

“What is it, Sweetness?”  Her mother reached out to smooth Jenica’s hair away from her face, a habit that had never bothered Jenica before the accident.  Now it made her flinch and wince. 

“Mom?  Do you think…”  Jenica looked intently into her mother’s eyes, willing the tears not to fall.  “Do you think a man like Nathan could ever, well, go for a girl like me?” 

“Of course, Sweetness –“

“No, Mom.  Don’t just say that!  I want a real answer.  It’s not ‘of course,’ it’s ‘probably not.’  I know what I look like.  I’m really asking you.”  The tears flowed freely.

“Okay.  Okay.  I’m really answering you.  And the real answer is ‘yes.’  Yes!  You are a smart and witty woman with an incredible gift with words.  You have so much to offer the world and any man in his right mind would see that.”  Jenica rolled her eyes.  “So, you have a scar on your face.  A good man, a real man, will see beyond that to the beautiful heart inside.”  She passed her daughter a tissue.  “But, Sweetness, Nathan can’t decide whether or not he would ‘go for’ a girl like you if you never come out of that bedroom when he’s here.”  With that, Linda came around the kitchen counter and gave her daughter a hug.  She kissed her daughter’s scarred cheek, picked up her purse and left for the grocery store.

______________________________________________


Jenica checked her reflection in the mirror.  The burn wasn’t invisible, but the makeup she wore helped to tone down the redness and mask the scarring enough that she felt she could at least meet him, maybe even have a conversation. 

Linda stood in the doorway, watching her daughter.  “Sweetness,” she said, “you look lovely.”

“Thanks, Mom.”  Jenica turned to face her mother, took a deep breath and straightened her skirt.  “What do you think of my outfit?”

“You look like a spring morning come to life.”

Jenica turned back to the mirror.  “Oh, please, Mother.  I’m the writer.  Don’t try that metaphor stuff with me.  I don’t look like a spring morning.  More like a hard day’s night.” 

“You know what, Jenica?  You’re right.  I’m not a poet or anything, so I’ll say it plain.  That shirt is fabulous.  It’s tight in the right places and shows just a hint of cleavage.  Nathan’s gonna have a hard time keeping his eyes off that shirt.  Your hair is shiny and thick and your butt looks good in that skirt.  Was that an acceptable description?”  With her arms crossed, Linda challenged Jenica to contradict her.

Jenica smiled and met her mother’s eyes reflected in the mirror.  “That was a perfect description.  Thanks.”

Linda’s hands dropped to her sides.  “You’re welcome, Sweetness.  I’ll be folding laundry and watching TV, if you need anything.”  She went to her bedroom and closed the door.

____________________________________________________

Carrying a tray of sandwiches, chips and lemonade, Jenica stood in front of the plastic sheeting that separated the construction area from the rest of the house.  She took a deep breath, pasted a smile on her face and nudged the plastic aside with her elbow. 

Sunlight shone in to the space through rectangular gaps where windows would soon be placed.  Millions of flecks of sawdust floated into and out of the beams of light. Bright light and air thick with dust obscured her view, making Nathan appear dim and far away.  He stood at a worktable, measuring a beam for cutting.  As Jenica walked past the draped barrier she stirred up the dust, which drifted and clung to her shoes and ankles.  Jenica stopped before she reached the brilliant sunshine.

Nathan looked up from his work.  He carefully put the wood and tools aside and wiped sweat from his forehead.  The two stood and looked at each other through the veil, both curious, neither knowing what to do next.

Nathan spoke first.  “Hi.  You must be Jenica.  I’m Nathan Brooks.”  He stepped forward and took the tray.  He placed it on the worktable and reached his right hand out to Jenica.

“Hi, yes.  Hi.  I am Jenica.”  Jenica quickly shook his hand.

“Mrs. Madison mentioned a daughter.  I wasn’t sure if you were ever around.”

“Well, I’m pretty much always here, but I, you know, work most of the time.  Upstairs.  I’m a writer.”

He picked up the glass of lemonade and offered it to Jenica.

Jenica smiled.  “No, no.  That’s for you.  My lunch is in the kitchen.  If you want to bring yours in, you’re welcome to.” 

“I usually eat at the table in the garden.  I’m pretty dusty and don’t want to track dirt through your house.” 

“Oh, of course.  Right.  That’s considerate of you.  Well, okay.  Enjoy your lunch.”  Jenica turned around, wishing she’d stayed in bed that morning, and tried not to get any more sawdust on her as she made her way back to the kitchen.

Nathan followed her and stopped in the doorway, holding the plastic obstacle aside.  “I wouldn’t mind the company, if you want to eat in the garden too.”

Jenica kept her back to him as her pulse quickened.  She spoke without turning, “Sounds good.”

She regretted her words instantly.  Her mind raced with potential problems.  How will my makeup look in sunlight?  Will it still cover my scar?  Will the breeze blow my hair away from my face?

As Nathan retrieved his lunch tray and took it out to the garden, Jenica moved woodenly around the kitchen assembling her own lunch and praying that Nathan would be kind.

When she opened the sliding glass door to the back yard, she was surprised to see Nathan waiting just outside the door for her.  He took her plate and glass and carried them to the table.  Jenica closed the door behind her and followed him.

They ate in silence.  Nathan consumed his first sandwich in the time it took Jenica to take two bites of hers.  Still, he had excellent manners, managed not to drop anything, and didn’t need his napkin, though he wiped his mouth after every bite.  He appeared comfortable in the garden, at the table, with her.  Jenica felt the silence closing in and reached for something, anything, to talk about.

“I noticed you have a tattoo.  What is it?”  Jenica indicated the tattoo on his left forearm.

“You have to look at it from this direction to see it well.”  Nathan turned his arm and lifted his hand.  Inked on his arm, an owl, perched on a branch, seemed to look into her eyes and farther, into her soul.

“It’s upside-down.”  Jenica smiled.

“Actually, it’s right-side up, from my point of view.”  Nathan leaned back in his chair, and took leisurely sips of his lemonade.  “It was my mother’s idea, actually.  Not the tattoo - that was my idea.  But the owl was her idea.  It’s a symbol of wisdom.  The owl can see well at night, can see through the darkness to what nothing else can.”  He started on his second sandwich.

Jenica felt the tension slowly leave her shoulders as she relaxed into the cushions of her chair.  Nathan was not repulsed by her, nor treating her with kid gloves.  She tilted her face to the sky and felt the warmth of the sun on her skin.

Nathan’s voice brought her attention back to the table.  “What happened?”

She considered being coy and pretending she didn’t know what he meant.  She looked into Nathan’s level gaze, absorbing the serenity she saw there. 

She answered honestly.  “Fireworks.  I was at a Fourth of July party last summer and we were shooting off fireworks.  My job was simply to stand a safe distance away and hold the matches.  I wasn’t far enough away.”

Nathan nodded and looked directly at the scar.  Jenica resisted the impulse to move her hair in front of her face.  Nathan met her eyes and smiled.

He said, “You wear too much makeup.”

Jenica laughed.  “I usually don’t.  I guess I just didn’t want you to see the scar.”

Nathan slowly reached out to touch her cheek.  Jenica held her breath. 

His fingers touched her healthy cheek first, then he moved to lightly caress her scar.  “It’s better not to hide.”

Jenica exhaled.

Nathan stood and stacked their empty plates onto the tray.  Jenica picked up the lemonade glasses.  As they walked back to the house, Nathan said, “Lunch in the garden again tomorrow?”

She spoke without fear. “Sounds good.”

word count: 1854