Page 111 of Okay, Cupid

“But I knew that it’d be a mistake, to leave behind everything that I’d worked for. And I’ve never regretted it for a single day. That girl, she doesn’t mean anything to me now. I was just stupid and a teenager.”

“You’ve never missed her?”

“Not once. And I know I would’ve regretted leaving everything behind for her. That much I’m confident in.”

But she never would’ve remembered the life that she left behind. She’d have no recollection of being a Cupid. So how does she know that for a fact?

“I’m going to make some calls,” she says. “Get some boxes.”

“Boxes?”

“I told you—we can’t stay in the Bay, not with two different boys in the area who have made you question things this badly.”

“Wait! We can’t just leave. What about Cal? Richard?”

“They’ll understand why we have to do this. We’ll put you under more training, we’ll get you straightened out, and everything will be okay.”

“Why can’t it be okay now? Why is even the smallest hint of me wanting to be human enough for you to throw our entire lives away?”

“Because you’re a Cupid,” she tells me again. “This is what you were meant to be, it’s what you were meant to do. And getting out of the city will help you rediscover that. You’ll be able to clear your head, get a sense of the bigger picture. You’re more than just yourself, Jude. We serve a greater purpose than the humans will ever understand. That’s a privilege.”

“But what if I just want to be myself?”

Leah stares at me, crossing her arms. “I’m going to make some calls, get some boxes. Be prepared to pack your things, okay?”

There’s no room for debate. Despite the request that comes at the end of her sentence, I know that it isn’t one. This isn’t my choice. I can’t stay in the city. And maybe she’s right; maybe moving somewhere else would clear my head, help me escape from this trap that I’ve tricked myself into falling for.

Maybe just being away from Huy would be enough for me to forget him.

Deep down, though, I know it’ll never be enough.

Leah isn’t kidding about the boxes.

Not that I thought she was.

She drags me out of the apartment later that night to collect them from the delis and grocery stores on our block. And she orders some more online for our larger things. Then she goes into the dining room with her laptop and phone to call around to moving companies. I’m left in my bedroom to parse through what I’ll need for the next few days, and what can wait.

It doesn’t help that I don’t even know where we’re going.

And if the conversations I overhear are anything to go by, Leah doesn’t know either.

We could still end up in California, or maybe we could head north to Washington? I like to think that I know Leah well enough to believe she’d choose somewhere we’d both be safe, that she’d ignore states like Texas or Florida or anywhere else that feels the need to tell trans people how they should identify.

I try to distract myself with music, listening to the soft sounds through my ears, but I have to close my door at one point, climbing into my closet and hiding my face in a jacket just to muffle the sobs. At first, I don’t even realize that I’m not holding my jacket, not until something falls out of the pocket and clatters down to the floor.

I have to open my door to find it, but when I do, I see the cassette tape lying there, waiting for me to rediscover it.

It’s new.

I know that because when I flip over the spine of the case, there’s writing that I know I’ve never seen before.

Written in black pen, the words For Jude. rest there, almost as if they’re taunting me. He had this in his pocket that entire night. With songs he’d chosen specifically for me.

My first instinct is to rip into the casing of the tape, to snap it in half, rip the roll apart in my hands just so it won’t exist anymore.

But I don’t.

I have to stop myself from destroying this one last good thing that I have.