Lighting the Flames (12 page)

Gen gave him a
thumbs-up before she spoke.
“
No, why was it a
waste?
”

He hesitated, then
took a slow breath.
“
I had to learn embalming techniques, cremation,
chemistry, stuff that I had to know to apply for a license,
but
—”

“
You
’
ll never use it.
”

Jeremy shook his
head.
“
Nope. Never.
”

“
How
’
d you do?
”

He glanced at
her.
“
In embalming?
”

“
Yeah. In all your classes.
”

He mumbled something.

“
What?
”

“
Got
a four point oh.
”

“
Are
you
kidding
me
?
”
Genevieve jumped in
front of him and punched him in the arm as hard as she
could.

“
Ow!
What was that for?
”

“
You
got perfect grades, you finished your degree with perfect grades,
and you didn
’
t
tell
me!
”

He rubbed his arm and
shook his head at her.
“
I
didn
’
t know you
…
wanted to know.
”

Shock ran through her
like cold water. He was right. He had no idea she wanted to know
about his life because she
’
d never asked, or let
him know that she was curious about him, about what he did in the
real world. And of course, with all his training and experience in
bereavement, he
’
d wait before he shared anything with her, out of
respect for her own feelings. She felt incredibly stupid, angry at
herself for having spent so much time waiting for him to tell her
things when she should have just asked him.

She
’
d opened her mouth to
tell him that when she saw his face. She
’
d been looking at
him, but she hadn
’
t really seen him until that moment. He could barely
meet her eyes. His eyebrows were down, his ears were turning red,
and a deep flush was spreading across his cheeks. He was
embarrassed. Very much so. Her anger at herself
didn
’
t disappear, but it got out of her way and let her see more
clearly.

“
I
am so proud of you, dude.
”
She reached up, grabbed his neck with
one hand, and pulled him toward her. Then she kissed him quickly on
the lips, before she lost her nerve.

He stepped back a
fraction and blinked a few times before he smiled.
“
Thanks.
”

She started walking
and he shuffled through the snow behind her.
“
Did you have to do a
final project and all that?
”

“
Yeah, had to do a thesis, too.
”

“
What
’
d you write about?
”

“
Um,
”
he said. Then he coughed and looked
down.

“
What?
”
This time she stopped and turned to face
him.

He took a deep
breath.
“
I wrote about roadside memorials.
”

Gen felt the blood leaving her head, the shock that
had run through her moments before turning to ice. He stepped
closer, reaching out with one hand to touch her arm, but dropped
his hand back to his side before he made contact.

Her mouth moved twice
before she spoke actual words.
“
Are
they
…
common?
”

He nodded slowly,
still watching her.
“
Very. People want to mark where life ended for
the people they love, not just when, or how long
it
’
s
been.
”

“
Did
you write about
…
?
”

“
Your parents? No. I wrote about the idea in general, and
took some photographs of the memorials that were near the
campus.
”

“
I
didn
’
t do the memorial for my parents,
”
she said, trying not
to picture it in her mind and failing. The plastic flowers, garish
pink and orange against the dark brown tree they
’
d
hit
—
that was all her aunt
’
s
doing.

His mouth curved in a
half smile.
“
I know that. Those flowers are
fugly.
”

She laughed quietly and his smile grew a little.

She
didn
’
t turn to start walking, though. She watched him, watched
his face as he talked about his project, the people
he
’
d
interviewed, how some people hated the constant reminders of their
mortality, but that others took them as a sign to be careful, and
to be grateful.

She
couldn
’
t look away.

She wanted to listen
like he did, to watch and learn about this person she knew with the
curly hair and the big smile, and the person she
didn
’
t know, the one with the beard and the purpose. This adult
who was sometimes so serious, almost intimidating, but who was also
still the guy who always made her laugh.

“
You
…
you like your job,
”
she said, realizing that the look on
his face, part intensity and part joy, revealed his
contentment.

He stared at
her.
“
I wouldn
’
t do it if I didn
’
t like it. I mean,
it
’
s
not all good, but I do like what I do.
”

She cocked her head a bit, waiting for him to say
more. He did.

“
Life is really short, and I know you know that, and I know
that, but sometimes it surprises me. We don
’
t usually get a
choice when or where we die most of the time. Before I decided to
get my degree and get my license and join my dad full-time,
I
…”
He trailed off and looked up at the stars hiding behind the
dark branches. The trees were so thick here that even without
leaves, there were very few patches of open sky above
them.

“
The
way I see it, the most important job we have is to make sure
we
’
re happy.
”

Everything she felt
for him, that she felt about what he was telling her, how proud she
was, overflowed inside her, and she blinked tears away. He was the
most amazing person she knew, and she knew him well. But she
hadn
’
t known everything about him until she
’
d asked.

“
And
if we
’
re not happy, if
…
I
’
m not happy, then I
have to keep moving toward becoming happy. I have to change what
sucks into things that don
’
t
suck.
”

She smiled
slowly.
“
I like that motto. Change what sucks into things that
don
’
t suck.
”

“
That
’
s my goal,
”
he said, nodding before he pulled off
his cap to rub his hair.

“
How
many more items do we have on the list? Is your backpack getting
lighter?
”

He looked down and
counted quickly.
“
About two dozen or so? We should get moving.
It
’
s
starting to get cloudy.
”

“
Really?
”
She looked up, but couldn
’
t
tell.

They walked a bit
before she spoke again.
“
So what is your job
now?
”

“
With my dad, you mean?
”

She nodded, writing down the coordinates as he
stashed a few items behind the handholds of the climbing wall. He
handed her his backpack and started to climb.

“
You
’
re wearing boots, dude. You
’
re going to slip off
and fall.
”

“
Nah, I
’
m not climbing that high,
”
he replied, pulling
himself up. His jacket rode up on his back, and his snow pants
pulled tight across his hips. She
’
d seen him in
swimsuits and nothing else for days on end, every summer, as long
as she could remember, and if the memories made her blush a little,
that was probably normal. But now, with multiple base layers and
insulated nylon pants, he still had a backside with its own
gravitational pull, and she hadn
’
t adjusted to it. It
kept knocking her over.

He reached up with a grunt and hid a piece of
pottery, a clay Star of David that Gen had made out of scraps, on
the edge of a handhold near the middle, just high enough for an
adult to grab without climbing too high. Then he jumped down,
landing next to her.

“
See? Cakewalk.
”

“
Yeah, yeah, you
’
re
Spider-Man.
”
She waved her hand at him.
“
So?
”

He shouldered his backpack, shifting the weight on
his back while looking at her, his face very close to hers. His
eyes were gold and green, but none of the color showed in the
dimness. She still knew what they looked like, though.

“
Do
you
…”
He wiped his face with one hand, scratching at his beard a
moment before speaking again.
“
Are you really okay
with
…
talking about this?
”

She poked him with the
cap end of her pen.
“
Yes. If I didn
’
t want to know, I
wouldn
’
t ask. I
’
m curious.
”
I want to know more about this
different you who is the same but isn
’
t
,
she
thought,
but she
didn
’
t say it out loud.

“
Okay,
”
he said.
“
What else do you want
to know?
”

“
What do you like about it?
”

“
I
like the part where I help people figure out what to do when
they
’
re lost,
”
he began, leading the way out of the low ropes course
and heading for the path to the lake.

“
That
’
s not so different from camp.
”
She tucked her pen
and paper into her pocket.

“
No.
”
He laughed, a short breath of sound.
“
In one of
the classes, I had to write up my r
é
sum
é
, even though I had a
job. Speaking of wasted time: half the people there were going into
their family businesses, too. No real discussions about inheriting
a business and all the things that come with it, but, hey, we all
had shiny new r
é
sum
é
s with which we did absolutely
nothing.
”

He stopped talking,
and when she glanced up, he was looking over his shoulder to see
her face. She
’
d been watching her boots as she navigated the snow
and the rocks beneath it on their winding path down to the
lake.
“
Keep talking. I want to know.
”

He nodded slowly,
watching her walk toward him before he spoke.
“
So I had to do this
r
é
sum
é
, and when you
’
ve only had a few
jobs, that piece of paper is freaking immense. It
’
s like miles and
miles of white space to fill in. Paper route? Ha, no. Newspaper
delivery
specialist
.
”