After the other morning, when he said he wanted to kiss me, I’ve been living with my heart in my mouth in a state of continual anxiety. I’m not able to concentrate on work. I can’t do anything other than think of him, in his room, in front of me, barely dressed. There’s nothing I can do to distance myself from that.
“I wouldn’t want for you to get tired out.”
I huff. “I’m not tired, Dad. I worked a bit this morning and I haven’t done anything this afternoon. I’m bored and would appreciate having something to do. This isn’t difficult work for me, and I’m fine.” My tone is too harsh, but good Lord, how many times do we have to listen to this same broken record?
My father looks at me for a few seconds and with a sigh lets me pass behind the counter.
“But you stay here, don’t serve the tables.”
“Dad…”
“I like having you nearby.”
I raise up on my tiptoes and give him a tender kiss on the cheek.
My dad’s the best.
“So, dear, how are things going? Did you have fun with Rain the other night? Were you good? Did you see Jason?”
All those questions just to get to that last one, huh?
Jason.
“I ran into his father yesterday,” he continues, not waiting for my answer. “He told me things are getting better between them. I’m glad, they needed to make up for some lost time. He’s a good kid.”
I nod and prepare two cappuccinos that have been ordered.
“I’m happy they finally have some kind of chance with their music. After Rain’s accident, I thought those four guys would be sidelined forever, and that they would have been full of resentment and regret. Instead, they’ve got this other chance at it…”
“Chance? What chance?” I ask with my mouth agape and my eyes wide open.
“A London recording company called them for a meeting. Didn’t Jason tell you?” he asks with fake innocence.
I return my gaze to the cups I’m preparing and I’m overwhelmed by a strange sadness. I don’t want to cry in front of my father.
“I’ll be right back,” I say, backing away from the counter.
He doesn’t say anything. He knows me and understands I have to digest this on my own.
I go upstairs and head to the bathroom, close the door and rest my back against it. I look at my reflection in the mirror and I realize the tears have already appeared without me realizing it.
Jason’s leaving. He’s leaving me again, after having told me all those things.
I take two steps forward and rest my hands on the sink. My tears fall into it, mixing with the water I’ve just turned on to wash my face.
I didn’t believe it could hurt so much.
Again.
And yet, we’ve just seen each other again, and I’m so painfully in love with him still, as if five years have voluntarily flown out the window.
I knew I should have continued to avoid him, that I shouldn’t have let myself get involved. That I never should have started hoping.
I knew that again, it would end up like this for me.
