I was eight when I met James. He’s moved to Los Gatos from New York and was Nick’s new neighbor, two blocks from the ranch home where I grew up with my parents, Catherine and Hugh Tierney. On a midsummer Saturday morning, Nick and Kristen brought James over to introduce us. I remember details about that day more clearly than any others at that age, from the way James topped off his wave with a smile, revealing he was as nervous meeting me as he was eager to make new friends.
He wore his hair longer than the boys at school, and I couldn’t stop looking at the thick, brown waves curving around his ear lobes under the rim of his New York Jets cap. He combed his fingers through his hair as though trying to flatten the unruly strands. Like most Saturdays in our neighborhood, the air was heavy with the scent of fresh-cut grass.
The neighbors’ sprinklers droned on, white noise in the background. I heard the gentle hum each time Dad cut the engine to his mower. And like many summer Saturdays, I’d set up a lemonade stand to raise money. I was saving to purchase a pouch of Magic Memory Dust from the toy store downtown. The sales clerk had told me if I sprinkled a pinch over my head each night before bed, I wouldn’t forget where would I put my shoes or when to do my chores.
After hearing that, I had to have a pouch. But this particular Saturday morning was different from others, and not because Nick and Kristen were coming over with their new friend. Robbie, the kid across the street, and his cousin Frankie had seen me set up my stand. Robbie was enough of a bully on his own, but the two of them together meant hair-pulling and name-calling, damaged toys and angry tears.
They’ve just finagled a cup of lemonade from me, offering up shiny quarters that I wanted more than I wanted them to leave me alone, when Kristen and Nick arrived.
“Hi, Aimee,” Kristen said.
She motioned to the new kid standing beside Nick.
“This is James.”
I poured Robbie his lemonade and smiled at James.
“Hello.”
He grinned and gave me a short wave.
“Lookie who’s here,” prodded Robbie.
“Icky Nicky and Sissy Pants. Is that your new girlfriend?”
He thrust his chin at James. James stiffened. Nick took a threatening step toward Robbie.
“Buzz off, loser.”
“Ugh!” Frankie moaned.
The cup slipped from his hand. He gripped his neck with both hands and weaved.
“She’s poisoned me. I’m dying.”
“Stop messing around!”
Embarrassed, I tossed James a panicked look. He scowled at Frankie.
“Let me try.”
Robbie downed his lemonade and the cup flew from his hand.
“Oh no! It is poisoned.”
He pitched forward across the table. Plastic cups rained onto the ground.
“She’s killed us, Frankie.”
“No, I didn’t!” I shoved Robbie.
He wouldn’t budge.
“Get off!”
“Move it!”
Kristen tugged Robbie’s arm.
“Goodbye, cruel world.” Robbie rolled to his side, dragging Kristen.
She fell hard to the sidewalk and burst into tears. As she tried to stand, Frankie pushed her back down. Nick punched the air two inches from Frankie’s nose.
“Get lost!”
Wide-eyed, Frankie ran across the street into Robbie’s opened garage. The table collapsed under Robbie’s weight. He grabbed my shirt, twisting as he pulled me down, landing on top of me. My ribs burned and back throbbed. James yanked off Robbie, who came up with fists flying. He punched James in the mouth, splitting his lip. James grunted and popped his left fist into Robbie’s right eye. Robbie burst into tears and ran home. I slowly stood, James helping me up as I dusted off my clothes. His eyes zoomed over me.
“Nice left hook you’ve got,” Dad said from behind me.
“That should keep Robbie and his weasel cousin on their side of the street for a while.”
I looked over the disaster on the sidewalk and my lungs deflated. Kristen wiped her nose and sniffled. Her knees were scuffed and blood trickled down one shin.
“Sorry about your lemonade stand,” she said.
My chin quivered.
“Now I’ll never get the Magic Memory Dust.”
James gave me a funny look.
“Kristen, come inside and Mrs. Tierney can fix up your knees,” Dad offered.
“I want to go home,” she whined, gingerly touching the raw skin.
“I’ll take her.” Nick tugged Kristen’s elbow.
“We’ll catch ya later,” he said to James.
As they walked away, Dad looked down at James.
“What’s your name, son?”
“James, sir.”
He wiped his palms on his shirt and extended a hand.
“James Donato.”
Dad grasped his hand.
“Nice to meet you, James. Come inside so we can clean you up.”
James took a quick glance at me.
“Yes, sir.”
“Aimee, take James into the kitchen. I’ll tell your mother to get the Band-Aids.”
By the time Mom retrieved the bandages and ointment, James’ lip had stopped bleeding. His mouth was swollen, so he sat on the kitchen stool beside me holding a bag of frozen peas to his face. I rattled off questions. I wanted to know everything about him.
Yes, he would attend the same school as me. Yes, he loved to play football. No, he had never punched another kid before. Yes, his hand was sore. He held up five fingers twice and then one more for eleven years when I asked his age.
“Do you have any sisters?”
He shook his head.
“Brothers?”
He held up two fingers before shaking his head harder and changing two fingers to one. I laughed.
“Robbie must have hit you hard if you can’t remember how many brothers you have.”
He frowned. “I have one brother. And Robbie punches like a baby.”
I laughed harder and slammed both hands over my mouth to quell the giggles, afraid he would think I was laughing at him and his miscount rather than Robbie’s expression after James pummeled him. I’ve never seen Robbie run home so fast. James glanced around the kitchen.
Mom’s apple pie for her bunco party baked in the oven. Classical music floated into the room from the radio my dad had taken outside. James shifted in his seat.
“I like it here.”
“I’d like to see your house.”
I hoped he wanted to be my friend because I really liked him. He had a nice smile and was very brave. He’s punched Robbie, something I’ve wanted to do for a long time but had been too afraid. Robbie was much bigger than I was.
“Yours is better.”
His eyes skirted back to me.
“What’s Magic Memory Dust? It sounds cool.”
My cheeks flamed as I recalled James’ face when I’ve whined about the dust earlier. As we leaned on the countertop, I told him about it, keeping my face ducked. I admired how dark the skin on his forearm looked next to mine. I shrugged over the dust.
“Doesn’t matter now. My lemonade stand is ruined and I’ll never raise the money I need.”
James reached across the countertop and dragged the sugar bowl toward him. He pinched raw crystals and raised his hand above my head. I looked up.
“What’re you doing?”
“Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Trust me. Close your eyes.”
I did and heard scratching overhead. My hair rustled and scalp tickled. My nose itched and it felt like raindrops were landing on my cheeks, but they weren’t getting wet.
I blinked and looked up. Sugar crystals rained on my face.
“What was that?” I asked when he finished and wiped his hands.
“James’ Magic Memory Dust.”
The unbruised corner of his mouth lifted.
“Now you’ll never forget we met.”
My eyes rounded and his face heated. He slapped the peas against his mouth and winced.
“I’ll never forget you,” I had promised, crossing my heart.
Over the years, James had made promises, too. It would always be just the two of us. There would never be anyone else; we loved each other that much. We’ve grown up together and made a promise to grow old together. I couldn’t imagine wanting anything else than the life we’ve planned together.
End of the Part 8!
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