Chapter 11: An Old Friend

After that afternoon with Darcy and Bill, I went from being with someone all the time to not really having anyone to pal around with.

Sam was staying away from me. She wasn't mean or anything, but she made it clear our days of being best friends were over with without saying anything. All her spare time was spent in the room next to mine, watching over my brother. Darcy was spending all of her time with her brother. After he shipped off to boot camp, I knew she'd want to be with other seniors. I really didn't expect her to spend a lot of time with a freshman. And the cheer squad as a whole had decided I was persona non grata. Anyone who would come down on them for spreading rumors wasn't welcome in their little world. Which was fine with me.

My brother was certainly no company. I found myself sitting next to him, holding his hand and talking to him a few times. I don't know that he knew I was there but I felt good about it. He's the only one I told about Darcy and Bill. Mom was still around but her attention was on Jeff. Though they wouldn't get married until Mom and Dad's divorce was final sometime in October, they spent a lot of time together. He always said he was checking up on Wes, but nobody really bought it. You don't need to spend an hour drinking a cup of coffee and staring into somebody's eyes to check on their son who's upstairs in a coma. Jaz was around to sleep and eat and not much else. Joey had occasionally played games and hung out when Wes and Sam were around but those days were long gone. Besides, he was busy with Vickie. Since she was on the squad, she and I weren't talking to each other.

One person I did spend some time with was Mr. Johnson. I was walking home from the store one afternoon when I passed by a house a couple of blocks away from us. There was an old man watering the front lawn with a hose. He looked up and smiled as I came up on the yard.

"You're the Bond girl, aren't you?"

"Uh, yes Sir."

"I beg your pardon, Miss. We've never been introduced. My name is Donald Johnson. I visited you and your brother when you were recovering from your surgeries."

"I think I may have heard Sam talk about you."

"Ah, yes. Samantha. I owe that little girl a lot. Tell me, Miss Bond, could you spare a few minutes to talk to an old man?"

He looked harmless and he did seem to know me. Sam had met him in the hospital. Something to do with his wife, I think.

"I would be happy to, Mr. Johnson. My name is Leslie, by the way. Or Les."

"Leslie. I think I like that better. Such a strong name. Befitting someone of character."

"Well then, maybe you should call me Les."

"Nonsense. Someone who would give up a kidney for her brother definitely has character. Why don't we sit on the porch? I do believe I have some fresh lemonade in the refrigerator."

"Oh, please don't go to any trouble for me."

"Please. I rarely have guests. It's been a long time since I've had an attractive woman come calling on me."

I wasn't too sure about that "attractive woman" thing, but he was pretty old and looked harmless. And we would be on the front porch.

He went over near the house and turned off the hose. He had one of those roller things attached to the side of the house and he took care to get the hose wound up perfectly. I was still standing at the edge of the lawn, trying to figure out what to do with my hands.

"Please. Sit down and relax." He swept his arm down, his hand upside down, pointing at the porch at the end of the motion.

I walked up the two wooden steps and sat in the swing. It was wide enough for two adults or three kids. Obviously years old, it had been well taken care of. It was made of wood but had cushions for both sitting and a person's back. There was a little sound of air coming out of the cushions as I sat down. Very comfortable. I could probably spend hours on this while I'd be uncomfortable on the unprotected wood.

Once he could tell I was seated, he smiled and said, "I'll be right back." He disappeared into the house and was gone for a few minutes. I heard a spoon stirring something in a glass pitcher somewhere in the house.

He came outside carrying a tray with a glass pitcher of lemonade with slices of lemon floating in it. There were a couple of glasses that almost looked like crystal filled with ice and a plate with some chocolate chip cookies on it.

"I'm sorry, the cookies are store bought. I don't bake much anymore." He put the tray down on a small table up against the house.

I got up and walked over to him. "Please allow me to pour. You just made this, didn't you?"

He smiled and nodded, then sat down on a chair next to the table.

I poured us each a glass of lemonade and gave him one. His chair was also made of wood with cushions on it. The arms were planks about four or five inches wide. He rested his glass on one while holding it. I took a couple of cookies and put them on one of the small paper plates he'd brought out and handed him the plate with a napkin under it. I put a couple of cookies on a plate, took a napkin and picked up everything. The mate to the chair he was sitting on was next to him and I sat down in it.

"So, Miss Leslie, the last time I saw you your mother said you'd spent some time in the sun and were worn out. I think it was your first time out of the house since you got out out of the hospital. How are you feeling these days?"

"I feel good. I didn't realize I would be as weak after the operation as I was but I've been fine for the last week or so. I was planning on being a cheerleader and I wouldn't be able to do some of the cheers yet, but I decided not to be on the squad."

"Because of your operation?"

"Oh, no. They were holding my place for me. I made the mistake of telling one of them something I didn't want spread around and the next thing I knew people were calling the house to find out if it was true. And when I went to practice the next day, all the girls wanted the newest gossip. They didn't even ask how I was feeling first."

"That's a shame. Unfortunately, some people who might be decent by themselves lose sense of that when they get into a group and feel they have to act that way to belong."