Page 130 of Okay, Cupid

“Yeah, all my stuff is here.”

“Good, I’m leaving the keys with the in-law tenants downstairs, so we don’t have to wait for Mrs. Anderson to come by for them.”

“Sounds good.”

That’s when the doorbell rings, and Leah looks at the stairs, confused. “Weird, I didn’t order anything.”

“I’ll get it.”

It’ll suck to say goodbye to this place, this home. Then again, it’s not like I had many friends that I’ll be saying bye to. Or any friends at all. It’s never been my strong suit to get to know people. The homeschooling didn’t help. Leah says that Mom and Dad really did a number on me with that one. Most of the time I just have to trust her judgment, because I don’t remember many of the years that we had with them. There are blips where I can picture Mom’s face, and Leah promises me that I have her smile, and she even admitted that seeing me happy makes her sad sometimes.

I let the door swing open, expecting someone to be on the other side of the gate, but instead of the postal guy waiting to give us any late mail that came before the change of address took effect, or an Uber Eats delivery person ringing the wrong doorbell, no one’s there.

There is, however, a manila envelope on the ground.

An envelope with the words For Jude written in black Sharpie.

I take it and close the door, opening it as I walk up the stairs slowly.

“What is it?” Leah asks.

“An envelope.”

“Probably just some delayed mail or something,” she tells me. “I’m going to go take things down to the car.”

“Okay, sure.” I wait until she’s out of sight to open the envelope, spilling the contents out onto the kitchen counter. All that falls out is a piece of paper taped to a cassette tape.

All right, definitely leaning into the serial-killer vibes.

Like this tape will have some confession on it with the voice of the killer.

I take the paper first, reading it quickly because there are only a few words.

Go to Marx Meadow, at the bench in front of the big oak tree. And listen to this tape on your way down.

—your friend

“Okay … right.” Like I’m going to do that.

I ball up the paper, prepared to toss that and the tape away before I remember our trash cans are packed in the moving truck. So I have to go out the back door in the kitchen and down the precarious wooden stairs that lead out to the backyard to toss them both into the recycling bin.

But before I do that, I pause, looking at the tape again.

It’s a mix of some kind, with my name written on the spine.

For Jude.

Then I remember!

I have a Walkman. I race up the stairs, going through my backpack and nearly spilling out all the contents on the floor before I find the small black box. I think Leah gave this to me as a gag gift or something. I don’t even own any tapes to play on it, so I’m not sure why I hung on to the thing.

Maybe because it was a gift.

There was just something about it, something that made me feel guilty any time I thought about tossing it.

I open the compartment, slip the tape in, put the headphones on, and press play.

“Hey, Jude … I, uh … God, this is so awkward, I’m so sorry. But I wanted to make this for you. Just because, and also because I like you, and I don’t know if you’re going to listen to this before or after I tell you. I guess I should make sure it’s after, or else that’d be awkward, huh? I’m also going to ask you to forgive me for the first song choice. I couldn’t resist. Enjoy it.”