The Art of Starting Over

Chapter 18 - U-Turn Part 2

Jeremy's right. We can't forsake our friendship over a misunderstanding. Because that's all this is. Nothing happened! And nothing will. He's not after me. I'm nothing like the women he goes for. I don't fit into his formula. Besides, I'm too young for him. And he's a Jake. The last thing I need is another Jake.

I put on a grey t-shirt and a pair of denim shorts and head back down for some much-needed coffee.

Halfway down the stairs, I am greeted by a hearty smell of food. I run to the kitchen half-expecting to see Millie, even though I know she won't be back from work for another couple of hours, and instead find Jeremy at the stove. I thought he left while I was upstairs, but thanks to the smell that's filling up the house, I am very glad he didn't.

"How do you like your eggs, Sparky?" he asks, turning to face me, frying pan in one hand, spatula in the other. He's wearing Millie's apron. It's red with pink hearts. Modern dance music is coming from the radio. Nanna Millie won't be happy he changed the station but I burst out laughing as my heavy heart soars a little.

"Sunnyside up," I answer quietly, fighting the urge to wrap my arms around him and thank him for being here.

His heart-stopping smile appears as he returns the pan to the fire and Sosa's words are back in my head. I actually consider taking a picture and sending it to her, asking whether she knows if Jeremy makes breakfast for all his whores.

He wasn't kidding when he said he was good in the kitchen. Maybe not Millie-level good, but definitely a close second. We eat in silence like we always do. We have a cup of black coffee and then drag ourselves away from the table to clean the dishes. I'm still miserable but I have to admit, I feel slightly better.

"Ally, who is this?" Jeremy calls out from the living room.

I walk out and see him holding up a picture frame of my grandparents smiling radiantly when they were about thirty-something. "That's Millie and that's Grandpa Lawrence."

He looks at the photo again carefully. "Lawrence? Ziju Wenzu! He used to come around to our house all the time when I was little, doing odd jobs and fixing things, I suppose. He was a great man. Probably the closest thing I had to a father figure."

"Ziju? Doesn't that mean uncle?" I ask, surprised at the nostalgia in his eyes. "My grandfather is your uncle?"

"Yeah! Well, not by blood, but it's what I used to call him. He would play with me and lift me up in the air and I would pretend I'm a plane as he ran around with me in the garden. Then Mother would show up screaming because I'd get my clothes all dirty. Ha! We still did it again the next time he came over though!"

I smile as I imagine a very young Jeremy hovering around my grandfather's legs, quiet as a mute and serious as ever.

"Do you remember him?" he asks, still lost in his own memories. "I was so upset when my dad told me about the accident. You must've been really young. I even remember the funeral, I think. Yes, of course! That's why Millie's face is so familiar! I thought I knew her from somewhere! Christ! I had no idea he was your granddad."

I take the frame gently from his hands. I look into my grandparents' shining eyes, full of love and happiness.

"I never met him but Nanna Millie talks about him so much it almost feels like I know him. They were crazy about each other, I can tell. Like, properly in love. The kind of love you only read about in novels. Have you ever been to the Birgu festa?"

Jeremy shakes his head slowly.

"We go every year. It's like Millie's tribute to his memory. I hate it if I'm being honest, and I couldn't get why she insisted on going religiously at first. We don't buy any food or drinks from the stalls or anything, we don't walk around. We just wait amongst all those sweaty people for the vara to go back into the church and honestly, it always creeps me out how hysterical the devout get."

He laughs gently and I go on.

"But one day, I was watching the shrine being carried away towards those great big doors and into the immense church and I remember feeling kind of sad because it will be a whole year before Saint Lawrence can see daylight again and that was when I finally saw what Millie saw. I saw her and Grandpa clapping and cheering along with the other patrons. And I could almost hear him singing along with the marċi and Nanna's young voice laughing at his monotone. I imagined her smiling radiantly as he gave her a one armed-hug and kissed the side of her head before they continued to chant and cheer together. So, now I kind of look forward to it. It's like I get to know him a bit more every time."

I half-expect him to laugh but he doesn't. He just looks back at me with his blank expression so that I can't tell what he's thinking. After a while, he takes the frame from my hands and puts it back on the side table. "What time does Millie come back from work?"

"Around seven," I answer. "Don't worry I'll be fine. You can go."

He looks at me hesitantly and then says slowly, "I can stay. My laptop is still in the car. I could work from here."

I'd love for him to stay and almost tell him so. But then Sosa's words resound in my head again. He is after you. You're playing right into his hands.

I think of the quiet alley, the creaking windows and the trembling curtains. I think of Millie coming down into the living room and finding us sleeping on the couch.

"You should go," I reply.

He contemplates me for a long time. His eyes cloud over but in the end, he nods. "I'll talk to Stephanie," he says on his way to the front door.

"No!" I blurt out. "Jeremy, stay out of this! It's not your problem, you'll only make it worse."

"How will I make it worse?" he demands. "I'll just tell her that there is nothing going on between us that's, you know, out of the ordinary."

He looks uncomfortable. Or maybe I'm just projecting because I certainly feel uncomfortable as I try to ignore the tugging in my chest. I know very well that nothing 'out of the ordinary' is going on. I don't want there to be anything 'out of the ordinary.' He's my boss. He's irritating. He's completely wrong for me.

"Please, stay out of it, Jeremy," I finally manage to get out.

He nods curtly and heads for the door. But then he pauses with his hand on the door handle and I hold my breath, waiting for him to turn around to say something else. He shakes his head once and I notice his knuckles going white on the handle just before he pushes down on the metal rod and leaves without looking back.

I sigh and grab The Great Gatsby off Millie's bookshelf before plopping myself on the sofa.

#

It's seven o'clock and I haven't moved an inch except once or twice to check my phone. Nothing.

Finally, the front door opens and Millie is home. I sit up, never happier to see her, ready to pour out my heart to her and tell her what happened with Sosa and what didn't happen with Jeremy. But as soon as she closes the door behind her, I can tell something is wrong. She puts her bag on the floor and sits down quietly next to me.

"What happened?" I ask her.

Millie takes a deep breath. Her eyes are red and watery, her face contorted from the strain of trying to stop her chin from quivering. She takes both of my hands in hers and presses them to her mouth. My heart is pounding as I watch a single tear fall down her left cheek and drop onto our joined hands.

"Nann, what is it?"

I feel something land heavily in my stomach before she even opens her mouth to speak.

"I have cancer," she croaks.