I S L A
I squirm in my seat excitedly throughout the entire car journey. Jason keeps glancing at me with an amused laughter as he soars us down a dirt road at the edge of California.
He knows I know where he's taking me, my attempt at trying to act surprised just doesn't go in sync with my giddy, uncontrollable body. I turn the volume of the radio up, singing along to a song that matches my electric smile.
I see the pier in the distance, it's a long stretch of platform that reaches out down the ocean, I hoist myself upwards in my seat, squinting my eyes until I see the waves hitting the shallow rocks beneath it.
To anyone else in the world, somewhere amazing would probably consist of a restaurant. But Jason knows me, he knows me better than I know myself. Even after twenty years, he still remembers my favorite place in the world.
A pier.
I love watching the ocean, I love the nerve-wracking possibility of trying to catch a glimpse of a whale. After all, it was on my list. There was this one time at sea world. . . but that was just completely irrelevant.
"Jesus," Jason laughs under his breath. "Anyone would think I'm taking you to a free-bar concert."
I grin, shaking in my seat. "Better."
+ + +
After stopping at a small food stall to get a couple of corn dogs and some delicious mugs of hot chocolate we both wander across the empty docks towards the windy pier. I wrap my loose jacket tighter around my body as my scarf sways in the breeze. I love this time of year; feeling my hair blow with freshness and clarity, feeling my bones sting with a cool, mild tremor. It's one of the best feelings in the world, after a couple of others.
"How was your Christmas?" Jason asks suddenly.
He asks me that just as I take a bite out of my corn dog, so I try and think of a reply while I swing it around my mouth. I swallow it fearfully, not daring to meet his eyes. "Different."
"Are you still in contact with...?"
I shake my head, silencing him. "I haven't spoken to them since I graduated. I want to, I mean, they still believe they're my parents and they always will, but it's just. . ."
"Different."
I meet his eyes with a small, sad smile. "Yeah. And difficult. I feel guilty that I couldn't be the daughter they created. That I couldn't love them the way they loved me. They were amazing parents, they were the kind of parents in ways I sometimes wished I had in my other life. Whoever was supposed to be their daughter would have been incredibly lucky."
I feel the tears coming, but I fight them. My voice begins to choke and Jason senses that, so he changes the subject.
"I remember the first time we came to the pier. We sat right over there," he points down the long platform to the very end of the pier. "And played cards with a bottle of rum between us until the sun went down."
"I remember that," I smirk. "I had to teach you the rules."
"Snap is a very hard game, okay? Especially with rum."
I laugh, keeping my eyes on him as we continue pacing down the platform while eating the remainder of our corn dogs. We walk in silence for a few minutes, letting the sound of the close waves guide us, until finally, we're at the very end, the edge.
"You know, I never did get that rematch," he says with a grin on his face.
I take my head from out of the mini telescope that over-looks the ocean and I glance at him. "Well there's nothing we can do about it now, it's-"
I stop myself as he places his free hand into the pocket of his jacket and brings out a neatly stacked pile of cards. My first instinct is to laugh, wildly and loudly. But then my laugh fades as his eyes look back to mine with a serious expression of what can only be described as intense sorrow. I give him the same look, both of us smiling just a tiny bit, but not completely, as there is a sudden wave of sadness that creeps over him.
I can't understand what it is yet. He gave me that look a few times during the ride over here, it's as though he's still mourning me, even when I'm right here before him. It's like, every few seconds or minutes, he keeps forgetting who I am, and his mind keeps drifting to his Lily. The Lily whose eyes weren't this bright of blue, whose hair wasn't this shade of brown, whose face wasn't this shape, whose height wasn't this tall--and he still believes her to be gone. He still grieves for her, even when gazing into my eyes. His heart still beats for our previous life--our previous love. He's searching for something that I can't give him, because I can't give him back twenty years.
My voice falls to a flat, undignified whisper. "Let's play."
+ + +
The day was horrible. I wanted to burst out into tears and run a thousand miles every time Jason so much as glanced at me. He was distant, quiet--he dealt the cards, we played the game, then another, and there was nothing but the sound of 'snap' being called repeatedly. His body was stiff like stone, he showed only subtle emotion through his eyes which sent alarm bells ringing.
Did I do something wrong? Did I say something to upset him? If he didn't want to play the game then why did he bring the cards?
Why did he bring me at all?
After the date from hell came to an abrupt end, we spent the entire car ride in silence, and a few tears fell from my eyes as I leaned against the window.
He pulls up outside my apartment block, then switches the engine off. "I'm sorry if-"
I open the car door, wiping more tears, too furious and confused to hear him finish that. I slam the door, storming to the entrance.
"Wait!"
I place my hand down on the handle, but his hand falls down onto it as he catches up to me. "Let go of me." I say through my teeth, shaking my hand from his.
"Look, I'm still adjusting to this. It's hard to-"
I turn abruptly, looking him dead in the eyes. "This was a mistake. I should never have. . . it was all a mistake."
"I don't believe that. And you don't believe that."
"Then what the hell was that?" I snarl. "One minute you're laughing with me and the next. . ." I leave that hanging there as I barge through the entrance, bolting myself at the staircase and I'm not surprised to hear him following me. "Go home, Jason."
"Not likely."
I puff, stirring myself around the bend to the second floor. I pace down the hallway, with Jason in quick pursuit.
"Seriously?" he shouts. "We're playing this game, are we?"
"I'm not playing a game." I shout back to him as I shove the key in my apartment door and kick it open. I go to slam it behind me, but his hand catches it halfway.
"You definitely act like a twenty-year-old," he says.
I glare at him, feeling my face turn a dangerous red and he steps back in fear as I charge at him through the doorway. "Is this is a game to you?" I demand. "Are you deliberately trying to mess with my head?"
I square up to him against the back wall, forcing him to swallow his courage. "I didn't do it to hurt you," he whispers.
I nod, biting on my lip. "You dismissed my entire existence! You might as well had been playing cards with a ghost."
He narrows his eyes for a moment, a shrill of temporary amusement catches him by surprise. "Is that your attempt at a joke?"
"It's my attempt at figuring this day out." My voice raises, and I don't like it. I don't like feeling this way, I don't like feeling so frustrated and angry that I turn into someone I'm not. "I don't know what else I can say to you. I've given you every reason to believe me, to trust me. And you're still mourning me!"
"I'm mourning you because you're dead!" he shouts, and this time I'm the one backing up. "You died!"
My anger fades, replaced with a careless whisper. "We talked about this for hours yesterday. What's changed?"
"When you laugh," he says. "It's different. And I know that's stupid, of course it's going to be different, but I hear and see something else."
"That makes no sense!"
"It makes perfect sense."
I meet his eyes, and that familiar damn look returns. "Is it because you're older?"
He rubs his temple. "Am I speaking fucking Chinese here?"
"Don't swear at me." I warn him.
"No," he mutters. "It's not because I'm older. . . it's. . . it's you. But it's not. But it is. And half of me is happy, half of me is so happy. But, then I hear the differences and I see the differences and-"
"You doubt me."
"I don't want to."
I shrug, my eyes filling with tears. "Then don't, Jason. Don't."
He suddenly sees something in me, something that changes the look on his face. And that something is watching me cry. Seeing me angry doesn't phase him, neither does hearing me laugh, but the moment I break down, he sees it. He sees me.
He walks towards me from the wall, placing his hands on my wet face. My head twitches from his touch, and I start to shake my head away from it.
"I'm tired," I cry. "I'm so tired. I just want it to end."
I don't want to look at him, because I know what will happen if I do. But I don't have a choice. He lifts my chin with the tip of his strong finger, slowly making my eyes collide with his.
He breathes life into me from a matter of air particles away; his bright, fluorescent hazel eyes read over mine in a daze of curiosity. "You confuse me, so much," he says. "But I feel you. Right now, as I touch you, as I look at you, I feel you. And it's scaring me to hell."
"It scares me too." I admit, he comes even closer and my body takes off into tiny trembles. "It's terrifying me."
I catch my breath for a moment as he gently brings my face to his. I'm so unprepared for this moment; this exact, completely over-whelming moment. I've driven myself crazy thinking about it, I've torn myself apart wishing for it, and finally, it's happening.
At first the contact is simple, just a little taste of something different and wet. But then the heat begins in my stomach, the shivers make their way up my spine--the feeling of his lips against mine is not just a distant memory of another life, but it is a crushing time-travelling reality of everything that can be and is, real.
My heart thumps like a drum in my chest, like my body can't sustain it any longer. It sends my blood pressure sky-high, it makes the ultimate happiness seem worth while to finally reach. His kiss grows stronger as we both explore this familiar yet new impact.
Our hands fall everywhere, our bodies come together like the snap of an elastic band. Right here and now; we are not a miracle, we are not a second chance, we are not strangers nor ghosts--we are us. Time rewinds and we're both teenagers again, sitting on that beautiful porch of his parent's house and having our very first kiss. Sharing our very first affection for each other, taking that very first chance.
We take a moment to catch our heated breaths, and then I hear a snigger coming from our right. We both turn to look, meeting the eyes of my amused neighbors who are leaning out of their doorways with large, goofy grins. They must have heard us arguing but it doesn't surprise me that I didn't hear them, they're the type to watch silently rather than intervene.
"Nothing to see here." Jason says.
I laugh to myself as he takes me by my shoulders and glides me backwards into my apartment. Without another word spoken, or another thought processed, I jump up onto him, wrapping my legs astride his waist. He slams the door with his foot and he drops me lower so our eager lips can once again find each other.
And just like that, they do.