“Feeding people in general. There’s a little boy at the hospital. He's six. He broke both arms in a car accident. He always wants me to feed him.” She forks a piece of egg and puts it in her own mouth. “He has deep brown eyes like yours and freckles like…” She stops. I know who she’s thinking about. If I remember right, Michael Stephens has a face full of them.
“I was worried about leaving him,” she continues. “He doesn’t eat very well unless I’m around to feed him.”
“Where are his parents?” I ask.
Her face goes dark. “His dad comes as much as he can. His mom didn’t survive the accident.”
“Oh, I’m sorry.”
She puts the fork down. “I’ve been thinking about what you said last night. It reminded me of that little boy. He asked me if I knew where his mommy was now, but I couldn’t answer him. He told me later he’d figured it out. He said that his mom was still around, but hecouldn’t see her, because she was an angel. He said she had to be there because moms don’t leave their kids alone when they’re only six.”
“I think he’s right,” I say. “And I think if we ever really need them, Gage and Matt will be around too.”
She nods and twists the corner of my blanket. “I’ve learned a lot from those kids. They do more for me than I do for them. Helping them keeps me from getting so caught up in my own problems.”
I nod at her. “It was like that in…” Do I dare say it? “In Iraq. Not all the time. But we got the chance to do some humanitarian stuff. That helped a lot. Made me feel like we were doing some good. I mean, I know we were, but it helped to be one on one. Helping people up close.”
“I’m glad you got the chance to do that.” She smiles, but she doesn’t pick up the fork.
I continue eating, feeding myself and watching her. She looks far away. I wish I knew what she was thinking.
She shakes her head as if to clear it. She leans down and retrieves a glass of apple juice and offers it to me. I take a drink and hand it back. I’m trying to think of something to say to her. I want to put my arm around her, pull her close and offer her some comfort. I’d probably scare her away again.
Mrs. Roberts appears in the doorway. “I’m glad you two are up—well, sort of. I just heard from the guys on the radio. Tyler ran into some of his friends, so he’s having lunch and then boarding with them. I’m going to ski with Dad as soon as he gets back. I guess the two of you are stuck with each other for the day.”
Jess sticks her finger in the whipped cream and dabs it on my nose. “I think we can handle that.”
sixty
Letting Go
Ican’t remember a better day of snowboarding. The weather totally sucks—cold and windy, near whiteout conditions at the top. The snow is icy with just a little powder. I barely notice any of it.
I have Jess.
It’s like we erased the last year and we’re back, not together exactly, but back to being comfortable, back to being friends. I love watching her laugh. I love pulling her close on the lift and keeping her warm.
The weather clears with just a few runs left. We run into Tyler and a bunch of his friends at the terrain park. They’re practicing jumps, sliding the rails and doing all sorts of crazy stunts. I try, but no way I can keep up. I’m too out of practice.
Jess tries a few jumps too, but eventually she just sits in the snow and watches. I sit down beside her and watch too.
Tyler slides over beside us. “Did you see that?” he asks. We make the appropriate appreciative comments. “I’m pretty good, but you shouldhave seen Michael. He was incredible.” My stomach twists when Tyler says his name. “He did this backflip and these jumps. He plops down in the snow. “Right Jess?”
“Yeah, he was great,” Jess says. She stands up. “I want to get a couple more runs in. You can stay here if you want, Jacob.”
“No, I’ll come,” I stand up beside her.
“I’m coming too,” Tyler says. “I want to get a couple more runs in too.” He yells to his friends and follows us down the mountain.
Jess is skiing too fast. She launches off the lip of a cat track, catches an edge when she lands, and crashes hard. Her skis fly in different directions. She rolls and then slides for a couple of hundred yards before she stops. Tyler goes for one of her skis. I grab the other on the way down to her.
“Are you okay?” I kneel beside her in the snow.
“Fine,” she answers. Her hair and face are covered in snow.
“Are you sure?” I brush the snow out of her hair.
“Man, Jess, that was really stupid.” Tyler hands her the other ski.
