My stomach bottoms out. A bowl of soup appears in front of me, the sandwich coming next. I look up at Juju, who falters when she sees my expression.
“Thank you,” I say, my voice sounding hollow.
She frowns but nods. “Do you need anything else?”
I need you, I think. I wish I could go back to when she was five and I was seven, and I’d ask her to play basketball with Jackson and me. Or to the time we were eleven and thirteen, and I’d stand up to Jackson and tell him there was nothing wrong with his sister and me being close. All the times I’d see her again after being in other states doing our own things, I’d hug her and ask her to fill me in on everything I’d missed.
But I didn’t. And now I don’t know how to undo it all.
“No, this is good, thank you,” I say.
She hesitates and then nods and walks away.
I stare at all the food, wondering how I’m going to breathe, let alone eat.
The way she kissed me back last night felt like she’d been waiting for it as long as I have. Nothing about it was a disaster. When we kissed, it was like I’d been waiting to breathe for years and finally got air.
I never get serious about anyone? No, I haven’t. Because I’ve never wanted to be serious about anyone but Juju. Not in high school or college or even in Colorado. Every time I tried, she wasthere at the forefront of my mind. Juju with flour on her nose, Juju’s hair flying behind her as she ran by the lake, Juju’s grin when she tried something new I’d made, even Juju shaking with fury at me.
I’ve been trying to hide how serious I am about her for so many years that I’ve almost convinced myself.
Yesterday felt like all our fragmented pieces were finally aligning, the fissures that had formed fitting back together. It felt miraculous and so right, and it hits me all over again: I want this.
I want her.
All of it.
More than anything.
I glance at her and wonder what she’s thinking. I have no idea where she stands, what she thinks in the light of day. Maybe she regrets everything.
I get up, because if I stay planted across from Jackson much longer, I’m going to explode.
“I just remembered I need to be at the restaurant for a shipment,” I tell him.
“But you didn’t even eat anything,” he says.
“I’ll get to-go containers and take it with me.”
“I know I didn’t give you any warning, but I want to see you while I’m here.” He points at me.
“Yeah, for sure. Come to the restaurant. I’ll take a break, and we can hang out. And most mornings are good after ten.”
“Okay, sounds good. I’ll stop by later,” he says.
I stop by the counter and only see Suzanne. She puts my food into to-go containers. When Juju comes out of the kitchen, she sees Suzanne handing me the bag of food.
“I’m heading out,” I tell her.
“Okay.”
“Can we…talk later?”
She nods.
“Good.” I pause and lean closer. “I can’t stop thinking about yesterday.”
“Me either.”
