Juniper Blue (NaNoWriMo2023; manxman)

Chapter 9

Gabriel

Any day now I expected Juniper to drop a bombshell. There was no way he could be this perfect. From what I could tell, he wasn't an addict, he didn't have a husband or wife (although I could still be wrong about that,), he didn't have any diseases (again, he could but just didn't tell me), and he had no criminal record. If he had a criminal record, he wouldn't be teaching. And, so far, his moods appeared stable. He seemed like he was the only person living in that cabin, but the farmhouse was nearby. Maybe that's where his wife and kids lived. 

There definitely had to be something wrong with him. After all, I had a whole litany of things that were wrong with me. 

During the hike, I could just about keep up with him. He had a lot of energy, and he was enthusiastic about everything! I bet he was a great teacher. The hike wasn't too challenging and the scenery was breathtaking. The leaves had changed to orange and red. As usual, Juniper talked most of the time. He talked about the hikes he and his dad took together over the years. From everything Juniper told me, he and his dad appeared close, closer than me and my dad were. Both my parents thought I was close to them, which made it more difficult for them to understand why I moved away.

Although we enjoyed being outside together, we both looked forward to returning to the cabin. I couldn't wait for Juniper to make dinner for me. And he couldn't wait, either. A stack of wood sat by the fireplace, which I didn't remember seeing the last time I was there. His cabin was tidier than I remembered. He must have cleaned up in preparation for my overnight stay. His kitchen sink was cleared of dishes and there were no papers or books on the table, only four placemats. I'd come to learn that his favorite color was purple. Not only did he wear purple a lot, purple pillows sat on each side of his cream-colored couch. His placemats were purple, too, hand-knitted by his grandmother who lived in the nearby farmhouse.

"Are you cold?" he asked me, dropping his hiking bag inside the front door. We left our hiking boots on the front stoop so we wouldn't track mud inside. "Yeah, it's chilly in here." He answered his own question. "I'll start a fire. I'd rather not turn on the heat and waste propane. I save it for hot water until it gets really cold out. One time I ran out in the middle of winter during a really bad snow storm and it took days for the propane guy to get out here."

I sat on his couch, watching him chuck logs into the fire. "Do you chop your own wood?"

"Yep. We chop our own Christmas trees, too, but you probably don't care about that."

"I have no problem with Christmas trees. I'm not anti-Christmas." Growing up, I didn't have many gentile friends. I lived primarily in a Jewish neighborhood, but there were times when I admired the houses and stores with the twinkling lights, wreaths, and neatly wrapped presents under beautifully decorated trees. I remember visiting Rockefeller Center at Christmas time and being totally in awe of the spectacular Christmas tree. We celebrated Hanukkah but there was  nothing spectacular about a menorah.

"Do you celebrate Hanukkah?" he asked, tossing a lit piece of newspaper into the fireplace. I didn't even know people read newspapers anymore, yet Juniper had a whole stack of newspapers. 

"Yes."

"What is Hanukkah, anyway?"

"It's the festival of lights. It commemorates the rededication during the second century B.C. of the Second Temple in Jerusalem, where, according to legend, Jews had risen up against their Greek-Syrian oppressors in the Maccabean Revolt."

"Hmm... you sound like an excerpt from a history book. What's the significance of the menorah?" Juniper genuinely seemed interested in learning about Jewish customs.