“Night, Jake,” I breathe.
We turn away from each other and walk our separate ways, my heart spinning in wonderment with all the things my head knows it shouldn’t feel.
I silently promise myself it’s nothing to worry about. That I’m not going to lose my sight or balance over silly notions, no matter how real they feel.
None of it matters right now. And I can’t forget why.
Track6
“Smile” Nat King Cole, 1954
ALANA
“OKAY, SO FOR the basic model, I really think we should start with the plain outline. Keep it simple and to the point. Nothing too fancy. Since I have that dance studio idea, maybe we should just go with that? Or were you thinking…”
I trail off when I notice Jake is dazed out for the third time in the twenty minutes we’ve been working. It’s only our second week meeting at the library, and I’m already gathering that keeping his attention is near impossible.
“Um,hello? Earth to Cooper.” I kick his chair under the table, and he jumps, startled by the motion.
“What?”
“What,” I echo. “You haven’t been paying attention for, like, the millionth time.”
He runs a hand through his hair, but he doesn’t answer. His eyes are sad, almost like he’s suffering. Like he’s preoccupied by something he doesn’t want to give attention to.
You don’t have time for this,my mind warns.
I know, I sigh in reply.
“Look, if you don’t want to do this, it’s fine. I can do it on my own. I really didn’t—”
“No, I do. I’m sorry,” he rushes out. He exhales deeply. “Sorry. Go ahead. Business models. Plain and simple.” His gaze meets mine, and once again, when I want to feel nothing but agitated, my heart squeezes at the gloominess in his gaze.
He blinks a few times as if to clear his head, to expunge it of whatever thought is plaguing his mind. His lips curve upward at the corners, a reassuring smile drawn on them, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. It only makes my chest ache more.
I’ve seen Jake before officially meeting him. More than once, actually, and never did he carry this weight with him.
He used to come into the café every Sunday and would always order two almond croissants and a raspberry tart to go. He was always smiling. Always friendly and kind. When he looked at you, it felt like he reallysawyou. Saw all the parts of you, and it made him smile anyway.
My heart fluttered once or twice at the sight of him, even when he wasn’t alone. I’d feel bad after, looking at a taken man like that, but I couldn’t help it. He was so effortlessly charming. Dreamy, even. And she was perfect for him—shimmering skin, brown doe eyes, and curls that cascaded down her back. She was always giggling and smiling right there beside him, and all I ever thought was how lucky they were to be in love.
I know you shouldn’t judge people’s lives from such brief interactions, but it's hard to ignore the way your heart warms at seeing a stranger's happiness and not picture everything about them to be perfect.
As a kid, I thought being an adult was like a Folgers commercial—all bright mornings and cheery faces. I saw myparents and how happy they were, and I thought the whole world looked just like it.
Then the ugliness of life caught up to me, and I forgot what happiness looked like.
That’s how it feels looking at Jake right now—like the hardships of life have caught up to me again and stripped me of the little joy I had once believed in.
I take a deep breath, knowing exactly what’s about to happen next.
Don’t do it, Alana, the voice warns.
You don’t have time for distractions,it reminds me.
You can’t save him, either.
I let out another breath,well aware of all that, and knowing it won’t do anything to stop me.
