“Why?” I ask.
“Because, somehow, you always come up.”
“JP...”
“Jules.”
Just my name. A command. A pleading. A truce. As much as I want to hear an explanation of why I always come up, I know the answer. The flippantness of our relationship doesn’t equate to its meaningfulness. An admission neither of us will say aloud.
“Right,” I say. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
IT’S AN ODD SENSATIONto have once known someone completely, only to be standing at his front door outside of the city, realizing his front door is green. I’ve never seen this rusted bell-shaped knocker, and I’ve certainly never felt the sting of the wood as I knock on it.
And yet... and yet...
The welcome mat that says, “Go Away... just kidding” is so JP. The only other time I’ve seen the color of this door is when I’ve looked into JP’s eyes. Even the porch swing hanging to the right reminds me of the laid-back guy I almost fell for exactly three years ago.
The door swings open and I see JP standing there in sweats and a black t-shirt. It doesn’t take but two seconds for me to tell he’s lost weight and sleep. He needs a haircut and probably could shave, but I don’t mind the scruff. I like the smile that breaks open the sadness on his face and I love the way his arms feel around my shoulders. But there’s hurt there too.
“I’m sorry, JP,” I say into his chest. “I hate this for you.”
“Audrey is excited to see you,” he responds, pulling away. He’s being polite. A gentleman—a sad, exhausted gentleman.
“Right,” I nod then go to my bags I had set down next to me.
“What did you bring?” he asks, half-astonished and half-teasing.
“A lot of food,” I answer, stepping over the threshold.
“Taco Bell?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow as he closes the door behind us.
“Well...” I tilt my head to the side. “Three Crunch Wrap Supremes, two bean burritos, two softshell tacos, and three hard.”
“You’re the best.” He smiles wide, stepping close to me, and rubbing his eager hands together.
“But I also brought a lot of healthy stuff too—crunchy, if you will.” I wink and he half-rolls his eyes, unable to restrain a smile.
I make my way through his house like I’ve been there. It’s small, with old wood floors and chipped paint on the cupboards, but it has the same charm it had in the twenties when it was built, I’m sure. Setting the bags on the counter, JP stands next to me and pulls each meal out with me.
“Chicken squash pasta?” he asks, a mixture of disgust and skepticism on his face. “Why’d you squash the chicken?”
I snatch the foil tray from him. “It’s chickenandbutternut squash, smart ass, and it’s delicious. Trust me. It sounds weird but it’s full of protein and nutrients and low in sugar.”
“Sure...”
“Shut up and eat a Crunch Wrap before you get mad at me,” I say, throwing the wrapped, greasy fast food at him.
“Why will I be getting mad at you?”
“Because I also made tofu Pad Thai, vegan alfredo, and pesto quinoa salad.” I wince as I place each tray on the counter for his freezer.
JP breathes through a smile, then begins to unwrap his Crunch Wrap. “Well, first of all, most of that sounds... delicious. Except the vegan alfredo. My mother would never allow it—”
I throw back my head and laugh, but he continues.
“But second of all, you didn’t have to. I’ve been cooking and we are eating healthy, I promise.”
I smile, small and contrite. “Well, offering you free counseling services seemed inappropriate.”
