5

Another week passed by, and Sunday came. Owen hadn't been to the service that morning because there had apparently been a delay so they were arriving much later, a day after the set time.

Jem lay awake in bed. She thought of how she would act when she saw Owen again. Should she distance herself? Maybe she had been too forward and he'd caught onto her true feelings. But it didn't matter really, all it was was an innocent, childish crush.

There was a potluck the next evening at the church to celebrate Owen's return. Jem squeezed her palms, trying to make herself fall asleep but she was restless. She couldn't leave her bed or there would be no hope of getting any sleep but every inch of her itched to move and do something— anything. She hated these moments when she became so aware of herself, of her every thought, of every past action she'd made or future things she would have to deal with. Silence killed her. She forced herself to listen to the sounds in the walls, the shifting grass outside and the light breeze that pushed the branches around. She pinched her hands, tensed her feet, felt the fabric of her sheets. But those things only stole her attention and made her even more awake and aware.

At last, she tired herself enough to fall asleep.

~

Her family parked a little ways down the road since the lot was full. If they'd arrived earlier they would have gotten a better spot but dad didn't get off work till later and arriving late was always the way they chose to do things.

Jem could smell the campfire smoke as they approached the back yard of the church. Her family spread out, going to their respective groups, and leaving Jem to herself. She looked at the snack table. She popped in a stick of gum instead. If they had arrived just minutes later they may have gotten a better parking spot because most of the families began to leave. Owen must have already done his greeting rounds. Where was he anyway?

She looked over the yard but couldn't see him anywhere.

Pastor Taylor approached Jem, "Hey, Jem, would you mind speaking to my wife quickly?"

She cleared her throat, "er— yeah, of course."

She followed him to where his wife stood, and he left her there.

"Jem, I don't want this to sound imprudent and I in no way wish to scandalize you but..." she took a deep breath, "I noticed you're wearing some shorts that go quite a ways above your knees and I really don't know if that is appropriate for a church gathering."

Jem sucked in a breath, "oh no, I didn't mean to. I mean, these were mine from ages ago and I just put them on without even thinking. I'm so sorry." A deep flush crept up her cheeks and she wanted to completely disappear.

"Don't worry, dear, I know you wouldn't do that on purpose. Do you have a change of clothes anywhere?"

"No, I don't. This is all I came in."

Mrs. Taylor thought for a moment, "I wonder if you could find something in the lost and found box. I could give you a key."

Jem nodded her head, "yes, I can do that. Thank you." She took the key from her outstretched hand.

The air around Jem felt heavy as she walked away. She went to the back door of the church, meaning to find the lost and found box but instead walked through the church until she reached the front entrance. How stupid did she look? Did everyone see? Was it Mr. Taylor who noticed first and told his wife? Completely and utterly humiliating. She felt naked, like everyone saw something and was talking about her and she was just oblivious. Her eyes began to prickle. Don't cry. But the prickling spread to her nose and her throat. It felt like a bee was flying through her head, stinging and stinging until she let it out. She released a short breath after holding it in for so long, and out of her eyes came hot, slow tears.

She walked through the front entrance and to the side of the church, sitting down under a nearby tree, as far from the cookout as possible. She could still hear the chatter and high pitched screams and laughs from the little children, but it was muffled by the distance, and the light that illuminated the event only cast a vast shadow over this side of the church.

She sat with her knees pulled to her chest and wiped the tears from her eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. Just feeling the skin of her legs filled her with nausea. Her hair poured down, sticking to the sweat on the back of her neck and the dampness of her cheeks.

A grunt sounded from behind her and she turned quickly to see who it was.

Owen.

He leaned against the siding, sitting with one leg bent and the other sprawled out. He held a small ember of light between his fingers, held to his mouth, and exhaled a puff of smoke.

"You okay?"

His tone wasn't concerned or cautious, barely even a question. It was clinical, like he was just fulfilling convention. God, Jem hated the word.

"Fine." She stood quickly and wiped her face, walking back to the church entrance.

He didn't follow but she saw his eyes track her as she left.

She found the front desk and tried the lock but the key wouldn't go in. She'd given her the front entrance key. 

Jem debated her options. She could go back out and ask for the right key but that would mean exposing herself again to everyone. She could walk home but then she wouldn't be able to return the key till much later. She could ask Owen for his key... but then she would have to explain herself to him.

She decided to walk home.

She walked out the door, trying the key on it just to see if she was right. She was. She began walking down the steps, turning her head and seeing Owen propped against the side of the building, standing now.

She couldn't just walk away in silence but she felt so awkward and exposed. He hadn't been there when his mom spoke to her but he saw her crying and that was almost worse.

She glanced down at his hand again, the cigarette was gone. He noticed her looking.

"You gonna tell?"

She cleared her throat, "N—no."

He lowered himself back to the ground, pulling out another cigarette and placed it lazily between his lips.

He took out his lighter, cupping the flame over his cigarette, and glanced at her impatiently, "Sit? Or is it too scandalous?"

She swallowed. The word sent a shiver down her spine. What did he mean by that?

"The smoking?"

He let out a dry snort, "yeah, the smokin'."

"Oh."

He paused, the smoke escaping his lips in a slow cloud.

"So?"

"So, what?"

He let out another snort, "you gonna sit or what?"

She snapped back into it, "oh— no. No, I have to get home. Actually, could you return this key to your mom?"

His eyes narrowed, "you walkin' home?"

"Yes."

"Cause?"

"I want to."

The corner of his lip curled up, "Uh huh."

"What?"

"Nothin'," he puffed, "you're not enjoying the party?"

"No it's great, I just gotta go now."

A cool breeze hit her and she felt goosebumps sprouting on her legs. She wanted to vomit.

"Okay." He sounded so unbothered as he turned his face forward again, not sparing her a glance. She wanted to not care or at least feel a small sense of resignation but it wouldn't come.

She didn't say goodnight as she walked away, just tossed the keys onto his lap and left.