The Dream Before the Dark ✓

20 | A Play of Hopes and Fears

PARENTS WERE SOME OF THE MOST EXHAUSTING PEOPLE ON THE PLANET. A full day after seeing hers, Jen was still worn out from the interaction, but she was set on not dedicating the second half of her weekend to sulking. The weather was pleasant enough for late March, cloudy but on the warmer side, so she decided to get out of the apartment and go ride her bike until her legs started hurting too much and it stopped being fun.

All of her athletic clothes were old and embarrassingly ugly, but since she intended for this outing to be more for leisure than exercise, she decided that she could get away with just throwing on a casual outfit. After hunting through her pile of clean laundry for something cute but relatively practical, she pulled on a pair of plain tights under a short, pleated skirt that wouldn't constrict her legs too much. One of her favorite sweaters, an olive color, also happened to be one of her most lightweight ones, so she tugged it on over her head and tossed her hair back into a scrunchie that she'd once borrowed from Celie and then never given back. She gave herself a quick once-over in the mirror and, deciding that this was sufficient, grabbed her purse and headed outside.

Chicago didn't exactly have a reputation for being the safest city, so although she always made sure to properly lock her bike to the rack out front, Jen was a little bit surprised each time she walked out the door to see that it hadn't been stolen yet. Its pumpkin hue made it inevitably stand out against the other bikes it was clustered with, but she could never bring herself to repaint it—the color was one of her favorites, reminding her of fallen leaves or a cozy fire or the froth on top of an espresso.

Her head was bent down as she unchained her bicycle, and even when she noticed the quiet clicking sound of another one's wheels nearby, she simply assumed it was someone passing by behind her on the sidewalk or one of her neighbors coming to fasten theirs to the rack. A quick jolt of surprise sparked through her veins when she happened to glance up and saw that it was none other than Robert stopping at the curb.

Jen's eyebrows lifted as she watched him get off his bike and stroll over to her like this was a regular occurrence. His hair, sticking in all sorts of wrong directions, looked like it had gotten into a fight with the wind. 

"To what do I owe the pleasure on a Sunday afternoon?" she asked.

He procured a small envelope that she hadn't even noticed sticking out of his shirt pocket, twirling it between his fingers. "I started reading Madame Bovary again and I was trying to jot down some quotes I thought you might like, but I filled up my first sheet of paper rather quickly. I thought I ought to go ahead and give it to you."

Her heart expanded in an unfamiliar way as she thought about him tucked away with his book, diligently copying down word-for-word the excerpts he thought might most resonate with her. In some ways, the gesture felt more intimate than a touch, but she tried not to appear too affected by it.

"And this is so important that it couldn't wait until tomorrow?" she teased instead.

"I'm sure it could wait. I just didn't think it had to."

She tucked the envelope into her tiny purse, which she was now glad she'd brought with her instead of just her keys. "I, for one, just think you're coming up with excuses to see me."

Jen glanced back up from her handbag, and for a brief moment, she worried that she was being a little too familiar with him, a little too bold. But then the corner of his mouth quirked up into a little grin. And he didn't correct her.

"To my credit," he offered smoothly. "I wasn't planning on actually disturbing you—I just meant to leave it in the mailbox. I couldn't predict that you would already be outside when I showed up."