My Kind of Woman

36. The Final Act of Us

AN; (Not the final chapter, just in case the title caused confusion)

Exams started and progressed smoothly. Each night, I studied and thought of Mio, who I was missing dearly. For a while, we didn't see each other. There was no time nor chance to. I assumed she'd gone back to regular life for a bit, faking normalcy, just as I was.

We'd exchanged phone numbers for the first time. After I saw her off that day, she rolled down her car window and called out to me. It was also an opportunity to show off her new ride. It had that lovely new car smell that my dad's truck used to have, back when he first bought it. She had a little cherry-shaped air freshener hanging from the rear-view mirror, one of those cheap ones I'd seen in the gas station at the edge of town. Though there was rarely ever a reason for me to go there, but I remembered that. She passed me her number written on a napkin through the open passenger window. It felt very much like we'd just had our first date after meeting in a coffee shop, despite me knowing her much deeper than that. I wished we could've met like that.

I'd been tempted to text and call her everyday, but we had to be realistic. She told me to only text her when she messaged first, unless it was an emergency. Calling one another was a rarity. She said she only would when she was out. We were trying to not raise suspicions higher than they already were.

Her messages were always short and sweet and always in the evening. I usually received them whilst I was studying, or when I was running the bath. The first one she sent, she sent a few hours after she'd left me on that day, and I was changing into bedwear. It read,

'Thinking of you now. Please sleep well and think of me too ~<3'

I felt ridiculous for then leaping into bed and kicking my legs so childishly, but I did. I texted back something as simple and sweet, hoping it would have the same effect on her. I told her I was always thinking of her, and that I wanted to hear what she dreamt about the next morning. That message of my request came whilst I was on my morning route to school. I'd started trekking through the tall grass fields in the mornings, instead of taking the usual road. I felt less afraid of the grass in the mornings. In those early hours, there was something more relaxing than frightening about the fields, and with the warm, dry weather, the grass was not damp.

Her message containing her dream kept me smiling through the morning, right up until I was lining up for the exam hall. Then I completely focused on doing well so I could be praised and have reason to be. She told me that she dreamt of a flower garden and a beautiful house, in Spain or Italy, places she'd like to go. She said I wasn't there but she'd thought of me so intensely. That was good enough for me.

I only really saw glimpses of Jackie, looking very stoic and hardened. Only in the halls and when I glanced around during the exams. I knew she was going to breeze through and do incredibly well, and I wished her the best internally. But whenever I saw her, I thought of what she'd called Mio and a heat rose to my face in anger.

But I did miss her. I missed walking to school with her, I missed swimming with her, I missed her warm body tucked against me, uncomfortably fidgety as we slept, I missed her bad jokes and the general comfort being her friend bought. And I'd probably never feel it again. But choosing Mio meant losing everything else, and my everything had only been Jackie and my dad. I had other friends at school but, like most high school friends were, they were temporary. I'd already lost Jackie, but I'd always known that would be inevitable under the circumstances. But my dad? He was a kind man, too soft for his own good, but when he was uncomfortable it was obvious. He'd never really cared what I did, only expressing when he was worried about me. I'd never spoken to him about romance and relationships because I'd previously had no interest in them. But I knew how he really felt about two women being intimate. He was never too outright about it, but it was the little things that had the most impact. The looks of discomfort at depictions on television, the asking of me a few hours on for 'a good family'. He thought of it as unnatural. I knew he wouldn't ever kick me out the house or tell me what to do, but he'd look at me oddly. He'd think of me differently. When would I lose him too?