A Taste of Jellybean Kisses - Pink - The Prequel

One

NOW...

I blame the goose. No, not that fancy Vodka that had me talking to the moon the first night I tried it. But an actual goose, with a wing span larger than the back seat of my ten-year-old hatchback. At first, I didn’t see him. Or her. I had no idea how tell the sex of a goose, considering I’d never come face to face with one before.

It had been raining since the day before, and my mom had begged me to go to the store for just a few things. I was a typical artist type who could be a bit spacey, but even I wouldn’t leave my windows down in the middle of a rainstorm.

Cursing out the damp seats, I opened the door to find familiar pink circles littered all over the front seat. They vaguely resembled Apple Jacks, but I hadn’t put them there, and it simply didn’t make sense that they could’ve found their way to my car seat. I focused on the food, screwing my brain cells together to make sense of it, when I caught a flurry of white in the corner of my car.

It looked like feathers!

I shrieked and so did the feathers, which were attached to a white goose with wings spanning the width of my car.  I screamed and ran towards the rickety stairs of the house just as I heard a runner come up behind me.  I didn’t have to turn around to know who it was.

“Jacey? Are you ok?” I turned to see the person who’d been coming to my rescue for every single problem since pre-K when he brushed play-dough off my chair so I could sit down. The little red headed boy had grown into an auburn-locked lacrosse god. I’d never been happier to see his dimples in my life.  By my choice, we were planted firmly in the friend zone, so I had a great deal of practice ignoring the flutter in my heart. But the flutter in the backseat that took immediate priority.

“Did you do this?” I asked, gesturing at the car. I expected him to sound as horrified as I felt, but he just looked back and forth between the goose and me and began to laugh.

“I wish. I’m not creative enough, but I’d love to know who is,” Jax said, still laughing.

“I really don’t care. I just need it gone,” I said, moving away from the car, hoping he’d just take over from there.

“Open the door, Jacey,” Jax said, as if he wanted me to handle this alone. “No, wait, don’t. I really want a better look.”

The animal squawked and danced around, more active than I’d seen it up to now. When the tail feathers started shaking to get Jax’s attention, just like half the female population of Avon and the surrounding towns, I decided it was definitely a she.  At least she’d stayed dry, protected by the car while I got drenched in the rain.

Though we stood under the same exact storm clouds, Jax looked perfect. The slightly damp Rutgers shirt highlighted every muscle he’d earned running track and playing lacrosse. We were both going to college there in the fall.  He walked even closer to the car. And the goose noticed. “Open the door, Jacey. You can do it.” 

I shook my head.  Jax stopped in place, crossing his arms. The goose noticed and froze in her tracks. Perhaps she didn’t know that look but I did. Half dare, half order, that was Jax’s way of silently getting me to step up to take care of anything I was too afraid to do. Applying for art school, jumping off the swing set, saying yes when Liam McCullum asked me to be his date for his Senior Prom. All those things had happened because of Jax.