Hallie
Saturday, June 5, 2:38 p.m.
After lunch we hurriedly set up camp in the first Starbucks we find so Jack can plug in and charge his phone long enough to buy him a few more hours. He settles into a soft, brown leather chair in the corner and anxiously checks his phone as it flickers back to life.
There’s nothing. He looks crestfallen. “It’s been over an hour already. Maybe Alex doesn’t want to see me.”
“Stop it. You don’t know that. There are a million reasons why he might not have texted yet,” I assure him. “I’m going to order some drinks so they don’t yell at us for sitting here.”
It occurs to me as I stand in line that I never asked him his drink order because I already knew it. Something about that makes me smile, but it also feels potentially dangerous.
The line is long and moves slowly, and it practically lulls me to sleep. I glance over at Jack. He’s stretched out in the chair with his eyes closed, his phone resting on his lap. I wouldn’t say this to him, but maybe he’s right; it could be that his brother doesn’t want to reconnect. I’m sure he’d have his reasons, but my chest physically aches for him at the thought.
By the time I get our drinks and head back to where Jack is sitting, my chest still aches for real. I set the drinks down on the table and clear my throat, which sets off another chain of coughing like earlier this morning. Every time I cough, my throat spasms, and it feels like someone is stabbing a knife in my chest. Jack’s eyes fly open, and he’s immediately on his feet, looking absolutely terrified, like I’m going to drop dead on the spot. I press my fist to my heart.
“Are you okay? Do you need me to get you water? I can get you water.” I nod. He turns toward the counter and frantically yells, “Can I please get some water?!”
A girl rushes out from behind the counter with a plastic cup filled with water and hands it to me. I grab it from her and take a huge sip and then another, trying to ease the irritation in my throat. Jack, clearly not knowing what else to do, pats my back gently. By the time I calm down, there are tears in my eyes, my face is no doubt beet-red, and everyone in the place is staring at me.
“You okay?” he asks again softly. I nod.
“Yes, sorry.” I wave to everyone so they can go back to whatever it was they were doing before I hacked up a lung. “I’m okay. Sorry.”
My chest hurts, although not as badly as before. I’m pushing myself too hard, and my body is starting to react. I realize I’m long overdue for taking my pill. I reach in my purse, digging for the bottle. I run my fingers over the surface of every object inside but don’t feel the round plastic cylinder.
“You don’t have to apologize to anyone. Do you need more water?”
“No, I’m okay for now, thanks,” I tell him as I sit down to search more thoroughly. Where the hell is that pill bottle? I was sure I threw it in here. I remember seeing it sitting on the edge of my desk, but then Dylan came home, and I’d gone out to see him before I’d had a chance to take it and finish packing. I must have left it there.
I start to get scared. I know what I’m feeling is all tied to my health, so it’s not going to get better. More likely it will get worse. Owen’s dying is a wake-up call that this isn’t going to go away. I have no choice but to deal with this. I’m surprised by the realization that for the first time in a long time, I want to be here.
I don’t want to alarm Jack. I know he’s got a lot on the line right now, and the last thing he should be thinking about is me. As much as I love being here, the signs are all pointing toward home.
A rumbly vibration emanates from Jack’s seat. His phone seems to have lodged itself in the crevice between the arm and seat cushion of the chair. He fishes it out and flips it over.
He looks at me. “It’s a text from Malcolm.”
“What did he say?”
He reads it, and his face lights up. “My brother is down to meet me tonight at seven thirty, after work.”
“That’s fantastic! I’m so happy for you.”
“Thanks. Looks like an address somewhere in Berkeley. That’s across the bay, and with rush hour and everything, I guess it makes sense to head in that direction soon and wait it out somewhere in that vicinity instead. But your bus is at eight. That would put you much farther away. You’d get there and be close to having to turn right around again.” He frowns.
“True.” I’m suddenly freezing and completely depleted. I involuntarily shiver.
“Are you cold?” he asks.
“Mmmm. I’ll be fine once we get outside. It’s like an icebox in here.” I’m still wearing his sweatshirt jacket, and I zip it all the way up and tuck my hands under my arms.
“It really isn’t.”
The sheer exhaustion in his eyes matches my own. Seven thirty is still a good four hours away. The idea of being on the go for that long in my current state is a little daunting.
My words jumble with his as we both start talking at the same time. He laughs.
“I’m sorry. Go ahead,” he says, and I shake my head.
“No, you.”
“I was going to say that you shouldn’t feel like you have to stay. You’re obviously not feeling well. You should probably take it easy and rest. Honestly, it would be completely selfish and irresponsible of me to recommend differently.”
I nod, relieved. “And I was about to say that this is a huge moment for you. I wouldn’t want to compromise the focus in any way because you’re worrying about how I’m doing or worrying about me getting back or whatever. Either way—we say goodbye now or in a few hours, right?”
“Right. It makes sense. We’re just being logical about this.”
“Absolutely.” It seems to be what he wants. Unless he’s saying this because he thinks it’s what I want. I smile reassuringly. “I can get a cab back to the bus station and find a bench and read and hang out until my bus leaves. Maybe I’ll get lucky and they will have Raisinets in the vending machine.”
He sits down in his chair and leans toward me, resting his arms on his knees. He bites his lip. “Are you sure you’re gonna be okay? I feel like a jerk for not offering to travel back with you to LA.”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’ll be fine. That was never the plan,” I tell him.
“There was no plan. I can at least drop you off at the bus station and go on from there.”
“That would be great.”
“So, okay, good—that’s what we’ll do then.”
“Yeah.”
I hadn’t even noticed music had been playing in the background until the song changes and suddenly “Dancing Queen” comes on. Jack and I lock eyes and smile, both remembering the sing-along hours ago.
“I guess this is kind of our song,” he says. I know he’s kidding, but it always will be the soundtrack that plays under the memory of this time together in my mind.
It’s hard to know what to say after that. Despite briefly sharing the same path, at the end of the day we are indeed on separate journeys. Until now, I thought mine was about seeing Owen, but I’m realizing it was actually about stepping back and seeing myself. Talking with Jack has helped me understand that behind this mountain will always be another mountain, because that’s just how life is. The key is not letting them stand in my way.
The temperature is starting to drop outside. Jack stops at a souvenir shop next door and buys me a black I Heart SF sweatshirt to wear so he can take his sweatshirt back. They only have bigger sizes, so it swims on me, but at least it’s warm and cozy. As he puts his sweatshirt back on, I know that when I think of him, I’m going to picture him exactly like this, with the afternoon sun hitting his face and the city as his backdrop.
On the cab ride back to the bus station, I angle myself toward him in the seat and say, “There’s something I want to tell you before I go.”
“Okay.” He looks nervous. He’s probably wondering what I could tell him at this point that could possibly top cancer.
“I’ve felt more alive in these less-than-twenty-four hours than I have in a long time. For the first time in a long time, I’m excited to think about the possibility of the future and what it could bring, and I have you to thank for that. I think our paths were meant to cross.”
He beams. “I feel exactly the same way. Maybe this sounds bizarre, but when I’m with you, it’s as if I’m coexisting in some alternate reality, and in this one I actually feel good. Like the version of me I want to be. And if not for meeting up with you last night, I honestly don’t know what I might have done if I’d gone home, all up in my head on the eve of yet another unwanted major life shift. Meeting you forced me to unknowingly take charge of my destiny.”
I feel myself blush. It’s probably the most amazing thing anyone has ever said to me. It’s good that I’m leaving, because I am falling for him, and that can’t happen right now. It’s the absolute worst timing for both of us. It’s not fair.
He looks deep into my eyes. “Thank you for the most perfect day between I could ever imagine.”
I nod. “That was a good time.”
He blushes and asks with a nervous smile, “So you sure you want to leave it like that? No contact, no communication, just show up six months from now and see if the other one does too?”
“The universe brought us together once—if it intends us to meet again, we will. No expectations. It’ll be a surprise. Like a present our future selves get to unwrap.”
Something to hold on to, something to hope for.
We arrive at the bus station for the third time today. The driver waits while Jack gets out of the car to say goodbye.
“So, this time this really is it,” I say and then wrap my arms around his neck and pull him in for a hug. “It’s weird to say goodbye.”
“It is.” We stand there like that, me resting my head on his shoulder. “I guess I’ll see you in six months.”
As I pull away, I kiss him softly on the cheek. His skin is cold against the warmth of my lips. If he turned his head ever so slightly, our mouths would touch, and so I pull away quickly to make sure he doesn’t, even though a part of me wants him to. It would only make this harder than it is already.
“Bye, Jack.” I take a snapshot of him in my mind and grin as I raise the handle on my Hello Kitty suitcase and walk toward the terminal. I refuse to look back.