They never questioned much of anything I was obsessed with.
Above my old desk sits a shelf cluttered with oddities. Like the plastic phalanges I never reattached to Earl’s left hand.
I got Earl when the school where my mom taught math received a freshly donated human skeleton, from a former biology teacher who wanted to keep educating kids even after he passed away.
The retired skeleton was mostly made of plastic, and I had to improvise some missing pieces however I could.
I pick up the wooden bone Dad whittled to complete the set, memories pressing in. The big dreams I shelved when everything changed. Professionally, I fought and charmed my way to the top. But what would toothless little Adam think of the mess I’ve made of my personal life?
“Adam, your father—” Jackie stops cold in the doorway, gaping.
To be fair, for an outsider, my room might seem…odd.
“What in the Hannibal Lecter starter pack is this?” she mutters, gaze swiping from the anatomy posters curling at the edges to the different plastic organ models, then lingering on the old jars of dried lizards I found on the road.
She drifts along the shelves, fingers brushing the spines of old books until she pulls down a sketchpad. Flipping through my clumsy doodles of “lifesaving” inventions, her brows scrunch. When she looks up, there’s a flicker of confusion, like she’s seeing me for the first time.
I laugh off the awkwardness. “My parents were convinced I’d end up a doctor. Or serial killer.”
“How…When…These are so detailed.” She sets the drawings back with care and steps closer, circling her finger to take in the whole room. “So…what was all this about?”
“I was really into anatomy,” I say. “Mom even drove me two hours every other week to the city library.” She’s close enough now that I can see all the questions swirling in her beautiful sky-blue eyes. “Turns out I was gifted. My parents figured it out early but never told me. So it wouldn’t go to my head, I guess. Instead, they quietly supported all my passions the best they could.”
“Your parents are truly wonderful people,” she breathes out. “Many wouldn’t have bothered.” Jackie continues to look around, mesmerized. “You know I had to practically beg my dad for a job in the department I wanted. All the money and resources in the world, and he still didn’t think he should bother with me.”
“Yeah, I was a lucky kid.” I don’t think I understood and appreciated that until now.
But what gives me pause is her surprising comparison between our families. The way she said it without condescension. The genuine admiration in her voice for my parents, regardless of their limited means. When for the past eight years, I’ve known she wanted more from a partner. Someone in her own league.
And yet, there was the look on her face when Blanca snapped at me. It was close to shock. Outrage. Or maybe I’m reading too much into it, and it was only the way she was raised. Theunspoken rule that you don’t talk about certain things, like money and class, out loud.
I cling to the warmth of her smile like a man stranded in a snowstorm, until something clicks for her and her jaw slackens. “Then…why did you go to business school?”
This is the part of the story I usually leave out. I don’t let myself imagine what life would’ve looked like if I stayed on that path.
“Priorities changed after Dad’s accident. Harvard gave me a full ride. Med school didn’t, and it would’ve taken too much time to get to a place where I could support myself. I didn’t want to put that kind of weight on them.”
“Oh.” Jackie’s mouth rounds so temptingly around the sound that I barely hear her next words. “Does your dad know?”
I shake my head. “Nah. He feels guilty enough. For me, it was an easy choice, and I don’t regret it for one second.”Because I met you.
She takes a half step forward, as if pulled by a string. “You never said anything…back then.”
The laugh that bursts out of me is genuine. “What? ‘Hey, Jackie, want to see my dissected frog collection?’ Great pillow talk.”
Amusement dances at the corners of her mouth, but she fights to keep a straight face. “I’d lay the serial killer option to rest, too much logistics. But it’s never too late for med school. Dark blue scrubs would fit you nicely.”
This time, she honest to God giggles, and it takes me straight back to the nights we lay in bed, me cracking stupid jokes just to hear that sound.
I can’t resist being in her orbit. “Maybe I’ll wear one just for you.” My voice drops as I close the gap between us.
Her smirk curls, slow and dangerous. “Don’t threaten a girl with a good time.”
“I didn’t realize you were into role-play.”
“It’s been a while since we last talked about what we’re into.” She wants to play it cool, but her thumb keeps rubbing against her fingers, a tell I know too well.
“I’m open to some good old fashioned trial and error approach.” My voice drops low, and I follow the twitch in her neck when she swallows. I’m way out of the banter area. And I mean it.
