It is chilly outside, so we run upstairs to grab jackets. I borrow a brown parka of Megs's that matches my outfit better than my Hufflepuff letterman jacket. Jason's waiting in the hall for me when I emerge, and we walk down the stairs together. When the cab arrives, he holds open the door and rolls down the window for me before getting in himself. I feel like I have my own personal guardian angel. No, my own Edward, only without all the romantic stuff.
"Thanks," I say, rolling down the window on my side.
"You're letting the heat out," the driver grumbles as he pulls down the street. "You'll catch cold."
"I'll be fine. I'm a werewolf."
The cabbie glances in the rearview mirror at me, as if checking to see if I'm insane.
Jason sniggers.
"You got my joke?"
"Sarah's a big Twilight fan."
"She hates Austen but she's read Twilight?"
He nods. "And seen the movies."
I lean back in the seat and tilt my face into the breeze. "I never thought of her as a big reader."
"She's not. Only the one book, well four really. And she's only read it once."
"How is that even possible?" I ask as if I'm talking to Leah. "Every book I love, I've read at least five times. You don't even really know the story in one reading."
Jason is smiling as if this is the most fun day of his life. "I agree, but Sarah has different priorities..." His smile fades and he gazes out his window.
We pass the rest of the drive, each staring out our windows. Every once in a while, Jason will point out a restaurant that's been around forever or a shop. To me, it is all concrete. I miss the hills and cornfields and fireflies. My heart swells with longing and an overcoming loneliness. My family is still there, but what will I do one day when they are all gone and I'm alone. Assuming, of course, that I outlive them or they move away and I'm left single and living in a grossdaddi across the street from him and his wife.
I shake my head, trying to wipe the thought from my mind. I can't think like that. I'm the oldest of my siblings. Hopefully, I'll die first. Miriam will likely take over the farm. I can live with her and help raise her children or something. Then they can bury me next to Gramps.
"What's wrong?"
"Hmm?" I snap around, and Jason's staring at me intently. Too intently for me to BS him. "Just thinking of home." There, that's a reason to be down.
The cabbie rolls to a stop. Before I can get my wallet out, Jason pays and the yellow cab consumes another passenger.
"Why do you keep doing that?" I look up at Jason, squinting at the sunlight over his head. "I can pay for myself."
"I know, but today's my treat to you."
I press my lips together. "Just today."
Jason breaks my gaze and guides me onto a path that weaves through the park. "Do you mind if I ask you about home?"
"If you let me pay for something."
"Very well, you can buy hot dogs later... You miss home?" he presses.
I nod. "My family is everything to me."
"But you came here?"
I gaze around at the trees—more trees, though they are barren, than I've seen since leaving Ohio. "My life took a turn I couldn't face any longer."
"But you don't want to talk about it?" he says, sounding just like Edward in the scene where he's driving Bella home after buying her ravioli in Port Angeles.
"It hurts," my voice quakes and part of me wonders why I'm being so open with him. Then again, everything about the way I act when I'm around Jason is a mystery to me. Why not this?
"Sometimes, I find, talking about things makes them hurt less later... not that you have to."
I take a deep breath of the fading autumn air, and then I launch into the story giving as few details as I can get away with. Maem and Daed always joke that I have a daily word cap when it comes to speaking, and it's very low. Once I reach the cap, I get snippy. I can't say they're wrong.
Thankfully, Jason doesn't stop to ask questions, he just listens and strolls. I follow his lead as I have no clue where I'm going, and I'm focusing on the story. Broken girl meets whole boy and new family. She pines away years and years after boy, when one day he is all hers and life is perfect—nearly perfect. Gramps and Grams are still gone and the girl lives in constant fear of who is next. Of being left alone. Of one day, not being able to recover from the pain. Then, out of the blue, the boy lays down an ultimatum the girl cannot live up to. She loses him, and all the parts of herself he was holding together. He goes through with the choice that separates them forever. Girl runs away to a new world to try to learn to breathe again.
"You seem to be doing okay," he says when I'm done.
"Maem and Daed say that too, but I don't feel okay—I mean, I suppose I'm better, but I... I still love him." I fiddle with one of the buttons on the parka. "And he doesn't... feel that way about me..."
Jason's arm wraps around me, holding me together as I perch on the edge of losing composure.
"Thanks," I mumble, but through the fresh pain, there is a bit of lightness, a very small bit. "I haven't been able to talk to anyone... I'd rather not—"
"I won't say a word."
We walk on a few more yards, Jason still holding me together. "How about you... with Sarah? What's the deal?"
He lowers his arm and clasps his hands behind his back.
"You don't have to answer," I add, curiously.
Jason sighs. "Sarah and I are complicated."
I keep my lips sealed waiting as we pass a family taking a photo with a selfie-stick on a park bench.
"Sarah and I first started dating after my parents died. She was still in school. I was feeling lost." He gazes over at me, his eyes beseeching. "I was a horrible example to Teddy for a little over a year. We were living with my grandparents. They put their foot down and insisted, if I wanted to live with them, I attend church. So, I did. And, eventually, fire caught." He gazes up at the sky for a moment. "Sarah has a hard time understanding the change in me, but I made sure to show her I still loved her."
"You proposed," the words slipped out.
He nodded. "She's a couple of years younger than me, and her father wanted her to finish school first. So we waited, and she planned and planned and planned," he chuckles, but then his eyes go dark and he gazes at the path. "The date had been set for September 6th, 2014. On September 2nd, I woke to Teddy's screams. Gramps had died in his sleep. Teddy found him."
I press my fingers to my lips. "That's awful."
Jason nods. "We postponed the wedding."
"How did Sarah take that?" I ask in almost a whisper.
"She suggested it. I would ruin the pictures, she had said." He smiles at that too as if seeing a fond memory. "Then Teddy and I inherited Bagels, which has been, until recently, a disaster. But now that we're on solid footing again, Sarah wants to set a date for the spring."
I don't know why I gasp. "Sorry."
He grimaces. "I'm not sure she'll go through with it, though."
"She will."
He shakes his head. "I've asked for one amendment to the original plans... a Church wedding."
"Ohhhh..." I say, and then realize Jason is John and Sarah is me.
"Hotdog?" he says, darkly, motioning to a cart we're approaching.
My gaze doesn't break from him. "What are you going to do if she says no?"
He shrugs. "I haven't thought out that far."
"Because you assume she'll say yes," there is a bitter edge to my tone that has nothing to do with Jason.
He shakes his head. "Because I can't spend the rest of my life fighting with her over my faith."
My muscles relax. He's not John. And Sarah's not me. I reach out and put my hand on his arm.
He pulls me in for a hug like I'm a teddy bear. He smells of cologne and fabric softener.
"This is new," I say after a few awkward seconds.
He laughs from deep in his chest. I know, my ear is pressed up against it. "How about that hotdog?"
"Do they have veggie dogs?" I ask.
He raises a brow.
I point to myself. "Vegetarian."
He gazes at me, shocked for a moment. "You ate Betty's lasagna."
I cringe. "I didn't want to give her another reason to ridicule me. The stomach ache was worth whatever peace it bought me."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
I shake my head. "I'm almost to my daily word cap. Let's eat."
He raises a brow, and I expend a few more words to explain myself.
After eating, we stroll the park a bit more and then head home. Overall, the day is pleasant. I find myself smiling and loosening up. Maybe we can be friends.
***
"What are you doing tomorrow?" Jason asks when we reach the hall between our doors.
"Mostly writing."
"How about breakfast at Tea and Tales? Six-ish?"
"I can do that." My face and spirit brighten from the core. "This is nice...being friends."
He smiles a crooked smile. "One of my better ideas."
I laugh, and then we each retreat into our apartments. When I shut the door behind me, I take a moment, leaning against it to absorb my new reality. One where Jason and I are friends. Thank you, Marty McFly, wherever you are.
***
That afternoon and evening I write and write and write. The words gush out of me onto the page until I'm utterly exhausted and pass out the moment my head hits the pillow.
Seconds later—or that's what it feels like—Megs shakes me awake. "Zia! Zia!"
I grumble something as I open one eye in a vain attempt to cling to slumber. "What?" Megs's face is a dark shadow above me. She looks as sleepy as me. Only the glow of the street lamp lights the room.
"There's someone here for you."
"Who?"
"I don't know," she yawns. "I made him stay outside in case."
"In case?" I push up on my elbows.
She's in the middle of a very large yawn and says something, but all I make out is, "Cream cheese terrorists..."
I growl but get to my feet. The floor is cold, and I forgot my socks.
Megs stumbles back to her room, her purple nightgown wafting out behind her.
Megs's mention of terrorist, though irrational, pauses me with my hand on the handle. Cautiously, I press my eye to the peephole. My blurry vision adjusts and I gasp, leaping away from the door as if it's burnt me.
There's another knock. "Zia?"
In the back of my mind, I realize the sharp breaths are coming from me. I wonder if I'm about to pass out or have a fit.
Another knock.
Hands trembling as if I'm about to faze, I flick the locks and open the door.
There he stands. In blue pants and a white shirt. His hair cut. "John?"