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Magnolia Secrets

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Magnolia Secrets Magnolia Secrets BY GRAYSON COPELAND Isobel “Stupid steps!” In my current state of distress I somehow managed to trip up the stairs leading to the front porch of my best friend’s house. I make it to the front door without further injury, but I’m not able to raise my fist to knock. I stare at my reflection in the bright brass knocker and decide it’s probably better for everyone if I compose myself before going inside. I try to smooth my wind-wild hair as I walk slowly across porch, the varnished wood boards creaking and moaning with each of my steps as I make my way to a set of rocking chairs at the far end. In one, I sit back and rub my hands together against the biting cold which has taken up residence in our little town for weeks, now. The street in front of the house is quiet, the cold keeping most sane people inside in the warmth where they should be. I count my breaths slowly as I wipe my mascara-streaked face with my sleeve and attempt to re-school my hair into something presentable. A wind gust wind rockets across the porch, leaving my legs quivering as I stand from the rocker. I make my way back to the door and knock twice. The green paint of the door is a too-quick reminder of the color of my mother’s face when I came home to find her crying yesterday. I push the memory out of my head in time to hear the lock click, and the squeak of the hinges as the door is pulled open. My best friend, Landon, stands there, tall, with a sweet smile and the darkest blue eyes. I’ve never Valley Humanities Review Spring 2013 1 seen a shade so deeply blue on another person. They would be sincerely creepy if I hadn’t known him when he still wore Batman pajamas. The look on his face as he ushered me in tells me that I don’t look as put together as I thought I did out there, and blaming the cold and wind, I rush quickly out of his direct line of vision. My feet soon find their way to my spot in the Duncan family home. After twelve years of play dates, sleepovers, and family game nights I know this house as well as I know my own. The study is the coziest room in the big house, with a fire place and overstuffed leather chairs. This room was site to many grand Izzie and Andy adventures with sheet forts and scary stories. Then we grew up to be Isobel and Landon, and now we spend most of our time in here studying or reading. You know, grown up things. I sigh and drop heavily into my favorite chair by the bay window. My body is tired from crying, my eyes ache, and I can feel an invisible rubber band tightening around my head. I lean back and let my head loll to the left. The view from the window is nothing special, and with it being so cold the window is shut tightly. Big magnolia trees dominate the Duncan’s yard, and in the summertime their heavy scent lingers in the air like a sweet-smelling quilt. I can also see the stretch of sidewalk that I had run wildly up just minutes before, and suddenly…suddenly the reason I’m here flashes to the forefront of my brain and my body freezes up before going limp. I slide easily out of the chair and onto the floor with a startling thump, enough to make Landon flinch and turn around. I’m facing the fireplace, completely unable to move any part of my body. Landon’s crouching in front of me, his hands fluttering in a gesture that betrays his uncertainty. Finally he settles for sitting next to Valley Humanities Review Spring 2013 2 me and putting an arm around my shoulder. I sink into him and away from the firelight. It’s too bright now. Everything is too much. Despite the fire, the hardwood floor is cold; I can feel the unheated air wafting upwards from the basement directly below, and it makes the hair on my neck and arms stand up. “As cold as death,” is what my grandfather used to say when he’d feel my hands after I came in from playing in the snow. The words pound against my skull on the inside, ringing in my ears, and I scramble to try and get up. My feet slip, and I hit the floor, hard. “Hey, hey, take it easy, Iz,” Landon says. His voice is low and soothing. He eases me back against the chair. “You’re okay, I’m here, shhhh.” And just like that the floodgates open, I’m shuddering and sobbing and heaving…Memories of the last few months flash across the black of my closed eyes and I just cry harder. A voice in my head repeats “Max” like a stuck CD. Each repetition stabs at my heart until I feel like it’s bleeding all over my ribs. Landon has gone silent but his arms are still around me. Somehow that’s worse, I can feel him, but it’s like he’s not there. Now, there’s nothing to protect me from the flood of truths that come rushing in. I can’t hide now. Not from Max…and his memory. For three months I’ve clung to the memory of the last time I’d seen Max Emmerson alive. It was October and Homecoming for our high school. Homecoming is a big deal in our small football town, Pinecrest, and this year we were set to defeat our biggest sports rivals, Lakeview. Landon and I went to the game, which was an unusual move for us. We’re social, but Valley Humanities Review Spring 2013 3 coffee is way more stimulating to me than football. But tonight was all my idea, and Landon was grumbling at me for my choice of activity. It was unnaturally frigid for the beginning of October and we trudged up the Home stands clutching our little white cups of hot chocolate. “Remind me why I’m here again,” said Landon for the thousandth time in thirty minutes. “To give our school some much-needed support,” I said. I squeezed passed our principal and his wife to where I’d spotted Max and a group of his friends. Landon stopped, looked around at all of the people in the overly packed stands, raised an eyebrow and said “Ah,” before sitting next to me. He fidgeted, the icy cold stands uncomfortable with just denim between them and our skin. Clearly we were not good at outside sporting events. “Hey guys!” Max said as he saw us sit down. “Uh…hi,” I managed to stammer. Maxwell Emmerson was the most perfect species of male human I had ever seen. He was muscular, intelligent, and his eyes were a bright color of green that was unknown to the color wheel. I was unforgivably smitten with him. Max flashed us a winning smile before turning back to the game just in time to see one of our senior boys catch the touchdown pass that tied up the game for halftime. I don’t really get football, but I could tell when something good happened by the way our side of the field would shout and how Max would turn to high five Landon or smile at me. The rest of the game Valley Humanities Review Spring 2013 4 went by quickly, a blur of shouts and the crisp smell of cold metal stands mixed with the thick smell of sporting event hotdogs. We won that night and there was supposed to be an epic after-game-celebration at Bobby Richard’s house. I wasn’t really in the mood for being around my classmates while they got drunk, so Landon and I made our way to the parking lot so we could head home. “Isobel!” I could barely hear my name, shouted over the excited voices and cars in the gravel lot. The crazy amount of noise made the voice sure sound a lot like… Max was running up to me and Landon, his green eyes set off by his wind-bitten face. He stopped and stood in front of me, smiling and puffing little clouds of breath out into the air between us. This close I could see he had little dimples at the corners of his mouth that were cavern-deep when he smiled. They were so adorable. “Are you two going to the after party at Bobby’s?” he asked. He hopped a little in place; the cold really was a bit much. My nose had long since passed the numb stage. “Of course,” I said. It came out in a rush, my mouth not really connecting with my brain before I spoke. I was a little overeager, so what? Max smiled again. “Me too! I guess I’ll see you there.” “I guess you will.” It wasn’t me who replied, but Landon. I’ll admit that when Max shouted my name, I had all but forgotten that Landon was freezing his butt off right next to me. Valley Humanities Review Spring 2013 5 He was looking at Max, features hardened by the icy wind. Max clapped Landon on the shoulder and said, “Alright, man! I can’t wait to see you there.” He turned smiled at me one more time, raising two fingers to tip an imaginary hat to me as he walked off in the direction of his car.
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