“I’m… I’m sorry,” I said, fumbling for words. “You didn’t like it?”
Jack quickly looked away before bringing his eyes back to me. “It’s not that I didn’t like it, Sara. It’s just… Why did you do it?”
Oh God, what have I done? My mind raced with guilt and regret at his question. “I…I don't know,” I stammered, my heart beating so fast I thought it might burst. “I just… I thought that…”
“You thought what?”
“I thought that maybe…you liked me. You know, more than as a friend.”
Jack leaned back in his seat and ran a hand through this hair. I watched him silently, my stomach twisting with anxiety.
“Sara…” He looked at me, his eyes shimmering in the dusky light. “Sara, of course I like you.”
“You do?”
“But…” He broke eye contact. “But it's…complicated.”
His statement made my hopeful heart sink again. It was a familiar phrase—”it's complicated.” It was an excuse used by people who were unwilling or unable to commit.
“Why is it complicated, Jack?”
He looked away into the distance, his silence unbearable. I wanted answers but feared I had opened a door that couldn't be closed again.
“Because…I like things the way they are. And I don't want to ruin our friendship.” The weight of his words hung heavy in the air like a thick fog, making it hard for me to breathe.
“But, maybe we could have something more,” I said softly, my voice filled with a desperate plea. I dared to reach out and touch his hand, which was resting on his knee. His fingers were cold compared to mine.
Jack looked back at me then, the color having drained from his face. For a moment he did not pull away from my touch, but then he gently slipped his hand out from under mine.
“Sara,” he began, pausing as though searching for the right words, or perhaps the courage to say them. “I value what we have too much to risk it over something uncertain.”
I wanted to protest, to tell him that life is all about taking risks, especially when it involves matters of the heart. But somehow I couldn't summon the strength to utter those words. Instead I gave him a weak smile through my unshed tears and simply nodded.
Jack’s posture relaxed and the color slowly returned to his face. But even as he smiled back at me, sadness clouded his features. I thought I saw him open his mouth to speak again, but he quickly closed it and looked away, bringing an end to any chance I had of hearing him say the words I longed for.
8
Present
“So Jack never reciprocated your feelings?”Diane asked, her eyes filled with the same sympathetic sadness I’d seen in so many faces over the years.
I shook my head with a weary smile. “Not in the way I wanted him to. He cared for me, deeply. Just not in the way I cared for him. We continued to be friends, and that was enough for him. But for me…it was never quite enough.”
“And you never tried again?”
“Sure, I tried. But each time, it was like trying to hold water in my hands. It just slipped away.” The memory of those attempts had left scars so deep that even now, it still had the power to hurt. “I moved on, eventually, but it took many years and a lot of heartache before I finally learned my lesson.”
At half past five, we decided to call it quits. I was exhausted, and by the look of the dark circles under Diane’s eyes, she was too. We’d had enough revelations and reminiscing for one day, and I longed for a hot meal and a good night’s rest.
“Whatever became of Jack?” Diane asked as we tidied up and moved toward the kitchen. “Do you still keep in touch?”
I paused, my hands tightening around the dish I was holding. “No. We haven’t spoken in a long time. Not since…” I faltered, not sure if I was ready to unpack the rest of the story.
“Not since what?”
“I guess you’ll have to wait until tomorrow to find out, won’t you?” I said, attempting a lightness that I didn’t quite feel.
Diane seemed to sense my unease and offered a gentle nod. “All right. Tomorrow then.”
