After everyone leaves, I retreat to my room and pace the short distance between the nightstand and the door. I want John back. A part of me probably always will. I've come to terms with that. But this is entirely different. He is asking me to go back. To reopen Pandora's Box and let him out. How can I do that without completely falling apart?
If I let take him back, we will marry. I've never been casual about relationships. I suppose it's the Amish in me. Or maybe it's the Zook. Either way, he's asking me to choose between a forever with or without him. There is no middle ground. John will be shunned if we go back, which may as well mean I am too. If I choose without him, I get to keep my family but at a distance because he'll likely return to Wooster. I won't be able to bear bumping into him. John's very good looking. Especially with his red hair cut like an Englishers.
John's whole family is a bunch of redheads, like the Weasleys. I suppose that is one reason for my initial attraction to him at the age of five. But John has sun kissed skin and zero freckles. The combination is odd and beautiful, especially with his blue-green eyes so bright they practically glow. He could give Batman a run for his money that's for sure. And by Batman, I mean Jason.
I sit down hard on my bed and the mattress gives. Even if I do choose to let John back in, I clearly have pent-up resentment toward him that will need dealing with. And then there is the matter of what Jason will say. The past weekend has sealed my inevitable respect, if not always like, of my overly-handsome neighbor. Will he still want to be my friend if I give in to my drug of choice—John Adam Miller?
I press my palms to my stinging eyes. Why doesn't any of this feel right?
Because it's not. If I take John back, it will be the single most selfish thing I've ever done. The only two people who will be happy are myself and him—and I'm not even sure I can be happy knowing I've cemented a wall between myself and my family.
This is all his freaking fault! I punch my pillow three times before falling into it, face first and letting out a scream.
There are only two right things to do and neither of them seems possible: 1. Send John back and we both live out our greatest fear, or 2. Return and marry in the Amish church giving up my stories and never seeing my friends again.
Jason's face resurrect's in my minds eye at the thought of losing my first non-John friends. Why does the thought of losing him hurt just as much as losing Megs and Leah and Teddy? Maybe even more?
***
When I wake, the sun is high in the sky and the apartment smells faintly of scrambled eggs.
Pushing myself up, my skin tingles with the weight of the bags under my eyes. As if a fairy came in and filled them with sand. Darn fairies.
With one wide yawn, I get up and trudge to the door. My stomach growls, urging me to move faster.
I shouldn't be surprised when I see Jason standing in the kitchen washing a frying pan. Two plates of steaming eggs and golden-brown toast wait on the table. Each paired with a to-go cup from Tales.
"Morning," I say and realize I have no voice.
Jason towels his hands off as he turns toward me, worry lines etch in his forehead.
"Sarah's not back?"
"She arrived this morning. I hope you don't mind," he motions for me to take a seat, "John wanted to be here when you woke, but I thought you might want a meal first."
I take the seat, the hardwood chair oddly comforting. "Thanks... Megs?"
"She had to go to work, but she took John over to her grandparents' on the way."
I stab my eggs. "That's going to be a fun conversation."
"Perhaps tea with honey would be a better choice for you."
I snatch my hot cocoa before he can. "Chocolate will cheer me up."
He raises a brow.
"Okay, it won't, but tea over chocolate is never an option. Don't you know me at all?"
He picks up his fork. "I know you enough to know you'd rather choose what you like over what's good for you."
It is my turn to raise both brows.
He holds up his hand before whatever sparks of temper left in me can ignite. "I mean that in the most endearing of ways. Actually," he pops the top on the grape jam for me, "it is one of the qualities I like most about you."
"Hmph," I shove a forkfull of eggs into my mouth and then let out a low moan. "These don't even need ketchup."
"I'm glad you like them."
Three more scoops and my eggs are gone. "What'd he say when you told him he couldn't see me?" I shove my knife in the jam and spread a huge clump over my toast.
"He agreed... He said you're volatile when you're hungry."
I set the toast down. "John used to carry snacks around just in case I got testy. Amazing what a cookie can do for a person's mood."
"This knowledge could have spared us a lot of arguments."
"No, you're just that irritating sometimes."
He smiles, but it doesn't last long. "Have you decided what to do?"
"I need to talk to my parents."
He nods.
"What do you think?" I blurt, too curious to restrain myself.
Jason looks taken aback for a fraction of a second, then he shakes his head. "This has to be your decision. But I will support you. Either way."
"Promise?"
"Once you care about someone, it's impossible to be logical about them anymore, right?"
"Right, Bella," I chide to throw off that he's quoting Bella's love for Jacob. A love that was more than mere friendship but not quite romance—not for her.
Jason insists on dish duty, so I take a shower. I trust him not to be a peeping tom. And he locks up behind him. I don't ask where he's headed to, but I assume his destination has something to do with Sarah and repairing the damage his friendship with me has done. My heart drops a few millimeters at the thought that she might persuade him into hating me again.
The water running over my head and down my face and back soothes my tired skin. The warm shower and full belly take the edge off. I'm nearly decided that I shall never leave when my phone vibrates against the fluffy purple toilet cover.
I stick my head out of the curtain and dab my eyes with the towel before glancing at the caller ID. It says, HOME, so I turn the water off, dry my hands, and answer as I wrap the towel around me.
"Zia?" Maem says, stern and frantic.
"He's here," I confirm, assuming that's why she's calling.
"With you," Daed says, and he's not the gentle-mannered man I've known all my life.
"He's at Aunt Betty's and Uncle Frank's, I think."
"How are you?" they say in unison.
I stare down at my toes, which press against the white porcelain tub. "I don't know. I was mad last night. Now, I suppose I'm just confused.... I can't figure out why he would do this...."
Someone lets out a breath into the receiver causing static on my end.
"Ruth is a mess," Maem says.
"John too," Daed refers to my John's father. "Isaac is taking this hard. He came to find Ariel the moment they told him. He found the note, but couldn't read it."
I sigh and sit down in the wet tub, not caring. "I told John, but he refuses to go home."
"And you?" Maem asks after a short pause.
Stupid tears. I swipe at my face and struggle against the lump rising in my throat. "I love him... but not like this... He'll be shunned forever..."
"We will never shun you," Maem says sternly.
"I'm not much for shunning," Daed says, "but right now I don't care to see that boy on my doorstep." Another breath and static. "I'd accept him for you, Zia. We're always here for you no matter what you decide."
"Can't you just tell me?"
"There are some decisions no one can make for you, not even us," Maem says.
"You'll make the right choice, Jedi. Just follow your instinct," Daed adds trying to be comforting, but the barbell of pressure ka-thuds in my gut. Why does he have to believe in me so much?
"What if I don't know?"
"Then you pray and wait. You don't have to make a decision just because someone wants one right now," Daed says. "You take all the time you need."
I nod. "Denki."
When we hang up, I towel off and then stare at my sodden reflection in the mirror. I've changed in so many ways these past three months. Ways that aren't physically perceptible. And it scares me because as much as I love John, he feels foreign. Like I'm Sandy Cheeks, living in a dome at the bottom of the sea trying to have a relationship with a sponge. If he comes into my world, he'll dry up and shrivel. If I fully embrace his, I'll drown. Maybe all these years we've been fighting a losing battle.
But, maybe we can make us work. Maybe John can put on a water suit and enter my world. The suit will always be a barrier between us, but we'll be together. That's something right? Not to lose my best friend?
Gah! Even the SpongeBob scenario is too simple. Sandy committed to living on the bottom of the sea. She didn't just up and return to the surface, make a bunch of friends, and decide that she would likely only see SpongeBob again at a distance. How sad is that story?
A knock on the door interrupts my distant mind. I'm still in a towel. Hastily dressing, I answer the door, letting Leah in. She came to check in on me. I assure her everything is fine and give her the basics of what's happened.
Before she leaves, Leah takes my hands in hers. "I am horrible at relationship advice, so I'm not going to tell you what to do because it would probably be wrong. All I do know is that hasty decisions are usually bad decisions. If he loves you, he'll wait as long as it takes for you to decide what you want. And if not, I'll clobber him."
I can't help but smile briefly. "Thank you, Leah."
She hugs. "Go write something. It'll make you feel better."
A few minutes later I follow her advice mostly because it will be much easier to avoid John if he doesn't know where I am. I pack up my things along with snacks, pull on a sweater, dry my hair, and head to the library.
Having nothing in me to pour into devotionals, I decide to work on my story a bit. But a bit quickly turned into ten thousand words. I can't stop my fingers flying across the page. Leah was right, the writing frees me. Spending hours in someone else's life, making decisions that don't affect my real world. Exploring emotions I don't realize are there until the words show up on the screen. In the end, Anya gives the main guy she is supposed to love another chance. Because that's who she is. She loves hard, and loyalty means more to her than just about anything else. Though I've written many scenes in the future of her in the arms of another guy, this feels more right in a way. "I guess I've made my decision," I mumble to the computer screen right before the librarian bustles over to tell me they are shutting down for the night. It's only then that I realize how dark it is and that I haven't eaten a thing all day.
On the way out, I open a granola bar and take a bite. If I'm going to face John, I'll need all the level-headedness I can muster. I've decided to give him another chance. But there are going to be conditions, and if he really wants me back, he's going to follow them.