The Makeover of James Orville Wickenbee Read online

  Alex hesitated. “You sure?”

  “I’m sure,” I said again, without even a flicker of inflection. “You bet, go ahead.”

  Apparently deciding it was in his best interest to take my words at face value and not try to read between the lines, my brother placed the plate of turnovers in the microwave and pushed the timer.

  I separated some of the broccoli from the rest of the chicken casserole on my plate, pushed it to the side, pushed it back, then separated several fat chunks of chicken and pushed them around as well. Where was James?

  “So you didn’t see James at all today?” I asked Alex as Mom left to get a new roll of aluminum foil from our new storage room downstairs.

  “No . . . no, uh- uh.” Alex pulled out a carton of Rocky Road ice cream from the freezer and plopped a huge scoop over his turnover. Out of compassion, he added ice cream to a second turnover and pushed the plate in my direction. “Here you go. Have at it.”

  “Thanks, but I’m not that hungry.” I pushed the plate back toward him, reached down to the bottom cupboard to get out a Tupperware container, and with my knife and a serving spoon, carefully scraped my dinner into it.

  “You hardly ate anything, Jana.” Mom’s voice vibrated disappointment as she returned to the kitchen, unrolling a good yard of aluminum foil for the leftovers.

  “I’ll eat it later.”

  “James still hasn’t come, I guess,” she said, pressing the foil around the casserole.

  “No. He hasn’t.” I stretched my eyes at the Tupperware. Wasn’t that obvious?

  “Hey, wait a minute,” Alex tapped his fork into the air. “You know what? I just remembered something.”

  I did what he’d requested. In fact, I waited for what seemed like far longer than a minute as Alex took another large bite of his Rocky Road- smothered turnover.

  He pointed the fork in my direction once again and swallowed. “I did talk to James this morning. I talked to him on my cell.” Alex swiped underneath his mouth with his napkin. “When I was over at the gym, I called him to see if he wanted to come shoot a few hoops, but he said something about going somewhere with Dolly and her friends. There was a lot of static on the line and I couldn’t really hear him that well.” Alex shared this information with me as though it were nothing— as though it were the most ordinary thing in the world for James to be going somewhere with Dolly and her friends on the day that he and I always, always, always played chess.

  “What time was that?” My fears had just been confirmed and without looking at Alex, I placed a couple of glasses into the top section of the dishwasher. There was only one coffee mug there now— mine.

  “It was probably about nine- thirty or ten when I talked to him. I’m not sure what time he was meeting the women.” Alex had slowed down a little at the end of the sentence, looking at me slanted as he took another bite, possibly recognizing that this bit of information wasn’t one I’d been hoping to hear.

  I could tell he was trying to come up with something to say that would make me feel better when somebody honked for him. Somebody was always honking for Alex.

  Alex pushed the ice cream back in the freezer and hurriedly finished the last bite of turnover. My brother wiped his mouth again and ran the napkin over his teeth. It was a good thing sweets weren’t on the LDS Church’s forbidden foods items list, I decided.

  “I’ll be back in about twenty,” said Alex. “I’m running with Smith and Torkinson over to the mall.” He paused and looked at me. “Wanna come?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Mom was in a hurry as well to get ready for another charity function. She too invited me to spend the evening at what she said would be a “nice affair.” Again, I declined. “I’ll stay home and do the dishes. Adriana wants me to come over and has some people from Westchester High coming to her house, but I’m not sure if I’ll go. I really don’t feel like going anywhere.” I was sounding like some kind of a martyr and it wasn’t Alex and Mom’s fault James hadn’t come, so I twisted my mouth into what I hoped resembled a smile. “I’ll be fine,” I said. “I’m just not in that great of a mood right now, that’s all. I’ll get over it.”

  “Would you like me to stay home with you?” Mom asked with concern, her compassion bubbling over again. “I can stay home for a change. It’s not essential that I go to this function.”

  “No- oooo,” I said with inflection on the second set of ooo’s, “I’d just as soon you went.” I didn’t need a baby-sitter, thank you. “No, please go ahead.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  Mom hesitated, then slipped on her tan shoes, grabbed her tote, a box with flowers, a couple of books, more napkins, her tan handbag with the black trim, and with one last look of concern in my direction, finally hurried out the front door.

  After I’d finished placing all the dishes in the dishwasher and had pushed the normal wash cycle button, I began cleaning the counters. They were still looking pretty good from the cleaning I’d given them earlier that day, but I couldn’t think of what else to do. At first I dragged the dishrag gently across the bar, but then I began pushing it harder. I slapped the cloth in the water and swung it across the counter, smacking it against the sleek granite. I was not gentle either as I cleaned off the stove. “Dolly Devonshire,” I muttered through clenched teeth.

  -B-

  “James still not here?” Alex asked when he came back about forty- five minutes later.

  “He isn’t,” I answered. “He’s apparently busy with his other friends.”

  “Hey, I’ll play chess with you. Michelle had to work tonight and doesn’t get off for a couple of hours and Torkinson and Smith ran to some floral place down by Wal- Mart to get some flowers for Lynette’s birthday. It’s obvious Butch has a thing for her, but I wasn’t in the mood to keep looking at cards. Butch had already hauled us around the entire mall to find Lynette the perfect gift and was trying to get me to tell him what kind of flowers girls like. I tell you he’s smitten.” Alex swung his leg over the stool next to the chessboard. “I stopped by B. Dalton’s to check out that new book by Stephen Hawking that James told me about. Plus, I found a book Michelle’s been looking for. Okay, light or dark?”

  “No thanks, Alex. I’ll pass on the chess, thanks.” I frowned down at the beautifully carved wooden chess pieces from the set Uncle Bartho had found in Naples. This time I did not stop to strategize or contemplate a potential move. “True gratitude,” I mumbled. “James stood me up.”

  “Oh, come on, Jana.”

  I had to will myself not to cry. It was true. James had stood me up. Give a person some looks and a little prestige and it goes straight to his head, I distinctly remember thinking.

  -B-

  It was at around seven, while I was in my room supposedly reading The Iliad but really just skimming over the words, when the doorbell finally rang. I lifted my head and stared toward the inside of my slightly open bedroom door. After a few seconds I could hear muffled voices. “Jana?” my brother finally called. “James is here.”

  Pulling in my breath, I jerked my head away from the door, turned back to the wall, then looked back at the inside of the bedroom door once again. I didn’t answer.

  A few seconds later I heard Alex taking the stairs two, possibly three, at a time. “James is here,” he said, tapping. “You decent?”

  “Tell him I’m awfully busy,” I said.

  “Jana, come on,” Alex said. “This is James.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Fine, suit yourself.” Alex started back down the stairs and when I heard him hit the ground floor with his normal thud, I pulled myself to a sitting position. I waited a few seconds longer, then, with narrowed eyes, slid my legs off the bed and onto the hardwood floor.

  Chapter Twenty- Five

  •••

  Well, hello James. Is that how I should say it when I see him when he gets off the plane? Or should I just be casual? Oh, hi, James, you’re back. No, that sounds insip
id.

  If Cassie were here at the airport, I know how she’d greet James. She’d rock the place with unabashed exuberance. She’d race over and envelop James with her classic bear hug, all the while shouting out her trademark salutation. Or maybe that salutation has changed now. Maybe instead of “Wowsers!” she’d be bellowing “Aloha!” now.

  Cassie flew to Hawaii a few months ago and was hired at the Polynesian Cultural Center where she demonstrates, yes, the hula. She says that despite the fact that she still has a good bushel basket of weight to lose, they like her attitude there. “I think they figure that my being willing to make a fool of myself will encourage others who aren’t the perfect ten to go for it as well,” she wrote in her last e-mail. “You know— if I can do it, anybody can!”

  Even though Cassie’s not here, there are plenty of others who look just as ready to pounce on James. Why am I worrying about how I’ll greet James when Ruby and Topaz Backus, prepared and organized as always, arrived about fifteen minutes ago with hundreds of balloons and a banner that reads: “Welcome Home, Super- Jim.” Butch, who’s a yell- leader at Ohio State now, has been practicing an actual welcome home cheer with Emily Fitzmeier who just swooped by me about five minutes ago. If I hadn’t immediately lifted the Time magazine I’d just picked up, I’m sure she would have seen me. Oh yes, it’s obvious James will be getting quite the reception.

  It wasn’t with balloons or banners or a bear hug that I greeted James that Saturday of our senior year after he’d kept me waiting for over four hours. I’m afraid I wouldn’t have done anything resembling a toe touch even if I’d been capable. I didn’t even give James a low five, not to mention a high one. I wasn’t about to let anyone get away with treating me like some kind of a discard.

  “Nice of you to finally show!” I said when I located James and Alex in the family room. “I waited for you. In fact, I waited and waited! But you didn’t even have the decency to call.”

  “The fact is—”

  “The fact is that you’re a somebody now, isn’t it?” I interrupted. “The fact is that you’re important. You’re wonderful! You’ve made more prestigious friends this past year. And who needs the old friends after you used them to become president of Fairport! Isn’t that the fact, James?”

  “Jana, get a grip!” Alex’s light brown eyes had turned into ping- pong balls. “Sorry about this, James. She’s completely lost it.”

  “Jana, I wanted to—” James was still trying to explain.

  “I single- handedly turned you from a complete geekkenstein into a VIP,” I interrupted again, “but you— you have no gratitude!”

  “A geekken- what?” asked Alex, raising his eyebrows as high as they’d go.

  “If you’d give me a chance to—” James had pushed his glasses against the bridge of his nose three times in a row and was inching toward the French doors that led to our patio, undoubtedly wishing he were outside of them.

  “Yes, please, go ahead and explain if you can, James,” I continued, following him. “But first I have a question: Is this what your religion that you’re always trying to share, teaches you? Is this how the Book of Mormon you and Alex have been wanting me to read instructs you to treat people? Does your church teach you to dump your old friends after you’ve used them to get what you want? Is that what your Holy Ghost tells you to do?” The instant I’d spit out the words I was sorry and I cleared my throat nervously. I’d once again gone too far, and I knew it. Unfortunately once words are out, you can’t rein them back in.

  Both Alex and James were staring at me. Alex came to first. “Man, Jana,” he breathed.

  James stopped moving backward. He lowered his eyes and peered down at the floor, his mouth puckered. Finally he lifted his head, took off his glasses and slipped them into his shirt pocket. Little flares had formed in his light blue eyes. “Thanks for stopping to breathe,” he said quietly. “May I have a turn to talk now?”

  “By all means. Be my guest.”

  Alex backed to the couch and then pushed himself into the corner, pulling the cushion toward him.

  “Go right ahead,” I continued, lifting my hand at our friend.

  “Thank you.” James paused and then started to speak in a low, controlled voice. “The truth is, Jana, that Dolly had been wanting to tour our historical church site at Kirtland and she couldn’t go the last time Alex and I took a group.”

  Alex pulled the cushion down, ready to add I was sure, how “awesome” that site was. I’d heard much more than I’d cared to hear about it. When I glared at him, my brother lifted his hand with a “What?” expression.

  “This morning was the only time we could go,” James continued, “and I let Dolly know that I needed to leave early enough to be back in time for my chess game with you. But when I got to her house she said that Shereen Quinn really wanted to come along but was registering for some kind of a beauty pageant and was running late and asked if we could pick her up there.”

  “Oh, well, my goodness, you poor—”

  James raised his hand. “I’m not finished.”

  “He’s not finished,” repeated my brother.

  “When we got to Kirtland, there was an electrical outage of some kind in the visitor’s center, more than likely because of the weather, and the tour was delayed. We caught a later tour, but afterward, the power company’s truck was blocking our car and it took us a while to find the driver. It was pelting rain by then— really coming down. As soon as we got on the interstate, we realized that we should have taken a side route because a semi had rolled over and cars were lined up for miles. It took us about two hours to move what seemed like ten miles. Dolly’s cell had run out of power, Shereen’s wouldn’t connect for some reason, and I’d forgotten mine. Luckily, the time wasn’t wasted. It turned out the girls had quite a few questions about what we’d seen and heard on the tour and while we were stuck in traffic, I answered them the best that I could. Now that’s the truth.”

  “Right. And next you’ll be telling me that you prayed right there on the interstate. That you got out and knelt by the side of the car— you and Dolly and Shereen and whoever else!” The most beautiful girls in the school, I was thinking.

  “No, but we did pray inside the car.”

  “Oh, I see. I’m supposed to believe that you spent almost this entire day talking religion— even praying!—with Dolly Devonshire and her friends. Is that what you’re telling me?”

  “Pretty much.”

  The trouble was I did believe him. Furthermore, this information, I realized, should actually have made me feel worse not better. I hadn’t heard any more about Dolly and Shereen still studying the LDS faith and I’d assumed that they’d lost interest and had moved on.

  I could tell James was extremely frustrated with me. “At least some people are open hearted enough to be willing to listen,” he said, his voice raspy. “I invited you to go to Kirtland with us the last few times that Alex and I went, remember?”

  “I had other plans,” I said, folding my arms.

  “All four times?”

  “I’m a very busy girl.”

  James was quiet for several seconds, his head bouncing slightly. “You know, just a minute ago, you insinuated that you single- handedly changed me last year. The truth is you had some help and cooperation.”

  “That’s right,” said Alex, lowering the cushion again. “Hey, I gave you the shirts off my back, Buddy.” It was obvious Alex was trying to lighten things up, but James and I ignored him completely.

  “I was open to your ideas, Jana,” said James. “I was reachable— which is more than I can say for you.”

  “What do you . . . what . . .”

  “What could you possibly have to improve? I just might have a few tips. In fact, why don’t you step closer to the mirror.”

  Alex readjusted the cushion and tucked himself even deeper into the end of the couch. I felt like asking him if he wanted some popcorn.

  “Oh, I get it. I know what you’re doing,”
I said to James as I backed toward our wrought iron, framed mirror over the stone fireplace. “Now it’s my turn, is that it?”

  “Well, I was able to handle it when you critiqued me pretty thoroughly last year, remember?”

  “Fine!” I turned and faced the mirror, unwilling to admit I was a little curious to hear what he’d have to say.

  “What do you see, Jana?” asked James quietly.

  “I don’t know, just . . . I don’t know.” I didn’t especially want to look at myself right then and I pulled my gaze from my reflection and glanced around the room. I narrowed my eyes when I got to my brother who appeared to be feeling a little too comfortable. I finally looked back into the mirror.

  “I’ll tell you what I see,” said James. “I see an eighteen- year- old girl whose highlighted, golden- brown hair is styled exactly right and whose makeup is just about perfect. I see someone who exercises and keeps herself up and stands up straight and wears the right clothes that are the right size with colors that emphasize her green eyes with blue flecks or blue eyes with green flecks, depending on whether she’s wearing blue or green.”

  I hadn’t blushed in years, but I could feel my face heating up like a candelabra. In the mirror, the follow- up telltale light crimson crept into my cheeks. “But how you look at people is important, too, Jana.” James obviously remembered what I’d said to him all those months ago when I’d had him facing the mirror. “Now it happens that you look at people with your chin too high and your nose in the air as if you’re saying, ‘I’m better than you are, World, and I know everything there is to know!’”

  I objected. “What are you talking about?” He was describing our old enemy Lyla Fannen and some of her former friends, but not me. “That’s not true. I—” Only then I noticed that my chin was lifted at that very moment and I pulled back in surprise and lowered it.

  “It’s not easy to see yourself in action, after all. We could follow you around with a camera, but even if we did, you probably still wouldn’t see yourself clearly. It’s true, you’re book smart, and you’re definitely street smart, but nobody knows everything, Jana. The sad part is you don’t even know the basics,” he paused, “because you won’t—”