Missy swallows, and her eyes shimmer with unshed tears. “I’m so happy for you.”
A sniffly chuckle escapes me. “You don’t look happy.”
Missy lets out a wobbly laugh and waves a hand in the air. “I know this is good for you. I’m just going to miss you is all.”
As I look at Ji and Missy, my heart hangs heavy for an entirely new reason. “I’m going to miss you guys.”
I bend forward and wrap my arms around both of them, and for a long while we huddle in a triangle hug with our heads together, something we’ve done since we were teenagers. I squeeze my eyes closed and fight back a fresh batch of sobs.
When we all pull away, I’m surprised to see that even Ji is wicking away her own tears. Moments later, Ji whips out her phone from her linen pants pocket. “Best hotels in San Francisco during Thanksgiving,” Ji speaks into her phone’s search engine.
“Ooo! Yes, please.” Missy pulls her legs onto my bed and tucks them underneath her. “And what about a girls’ trip down to San Diego in the spring? Maybe we can rent a boat and go out on the water with cute sailors.”
Ji and I laugh.
Missy shrugs. “What? It will be fun!”
Looking at Ji and Missy, I’m reminded how lucky I am to have friends like them. Through all my ups and downs, they’ve always been there for me. “Thank you.” I wipe my cheeks. “You guys are the best.”
“We know,” they practically sing together, and then we all start laughing at how creepy it sounded. The genuine laughter nestles inside me, a singular bright spot amidst so much pain and sadness. And for one glimmering moment, I feel a spark of hope telling me that even though I might not have Jordan, I’ll still have moments like this to keep me company when the chill of his absence digs bone-deep.
Chapter 34
JORDAN
I push Mom’s sliding glass door back and forth, testing to see if the new layer of grease I put on the track will stop the squeak I’ve heard for the past month. The door glides open with a softwhoosh, then I close it.
Satisfied, I crouch down and dig through my tool bag and pull out a screwdriver, moving to the loose plastic handle connected to the door. My mind starts drifting into unwanted territory as I tighten the handle’s screw. Just two months ago, I was sitting in this very room with Paige as the medical hand massage morphed into holding her soft hand in mine. The memory starts to sprout into a dozen other moments with Paige, all of them striking adissonant chord within me. My favorite memories with her are now draped in a layer of grief that throbs at my core.
The sound of splintering plastic jostles me out of my thoughts. I look up to see that I’ve twisted the screw so tightly, I’ve fractured part of the handle.
I drop the screwdriver in the tool bag and sit back on my heels, running my hands through my hair. It’s just like me to break something I’m trying to fix.
Once more, Paige is center stage in my mind. It’s been three weeks since I saw her at the hospital. I can still hear her soft voice whispering that she loves me after I told her I would go to California with her. Then she’d said those same words after I told her to leave and go to California without me. I dig the heel of my palms into my eyes. How could I have done that to Paige? I tried to make things work between us, but instead I made everything so much worse.
I sift once more through the tools, pulling out a hammer and some drywall screws and head for the towel rack that’s fallen off the wall in the downstairs bathroom. Before I get far, the door to the garage opens, and Mom walks in through the kitchen, a small scar above her left eyebrow the only evidence of her fall last month.
Mom glances at the hammer in my hand, a look of impatience crossing her features. “What are you doing?”
“You had a squeaky door.” I jerk my thumb toward the glass door behind me. “I broke part of the handle, so I’ll order a new one online. But right now, I have a date with the towel rack.” I give her a half-hearted smile and continue to the basement door.
“No, Jordan.” Mom’s sharp voice has me pivoting back toward her. “I mean, what are you doing with your life?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, wondering why Mom looks like I’ve exhausted the patience right out of her.
“I mean, why aren’t you with Paige?”
I swallow the lump in my throat. Just the mention of Paige’s name makes me feel like a broken-down car that’s being gutted for parts. “She’s in California.” I turn back toward the basement door, not wanting to know where this conversation will end.
“I know that. But what I don’t know is why you keep telling me you two weren’t meant to be. All I’ve seen you do since the breakup is sulk as you fix things around my house. But I’ll tell you this, nothing you fix around here is going to fix that hole in your heart.” She pins me with a stern eye. “And don’t tell me your relationship with Paige is not worth fixing. She left weeks ago, and even though you’re here and she’s there, your mind and heart are with her.”
The silence stretches between us, condemning me. Mom throws her purse and keys on the table with a thud, pulling my attention away from the basement door. “I don’t get it with you. I’ve watched you and Paige for years. When I went over to her family’s house to take pictures on homecoming night of your junior year, I don’t know what I expected, but never did I think I’d find a person so perfect for you. That night, you and Paige were half in love already. And then finally, seven years later, you make it work, and I swear I’ve never seen you happier. Why would you throw that away?”
“She had a job opportunity in California, and I belong here,” I say curtly.
Mom shakes her head. “That’s crap.”
Her uncharacteristic vocabulary takes me by surprise. “Mom?”
