I swallow hard. I deserved that.
“Can it be option C, I’m actually just a coward?” I ask, averting my gaze. I have never wanted a barista to make a drink as fast as I do right now. The sooner I can leave, the better.
“Coward works.”
The hiss of the milk frother fills our silence, and although the cafe always smells like coffee, the fresh espresso intensifies the smell as if someone lit an espresso-scented candle.
“You should know that I’m mad at you,” Jade says as if her greeting and the dagger stares weren’t communicating that. As I grab my latte and turn to leave, she gestures with a toss of her head to a table, inviting me to sit.
I hesitate. She just said she’s mad at me—why would I sit? I know I fucked up, but I don’t want to be lectured. I have no interest in being berated by someone else. I’m doing a decent enough job of berating myself.
“You have every right to be mad, I know I—”
“But,” Jade interrupts, “I also think that in the grand scheme of your relationship with Jessie, this will just be something that brings you closer.”
Grand scheme of my relationship with Jessie.Her words bounce around in my brain, slingshotting from one corner to the other. They disorient me like I’ve been spun around ten times and asked to walk in a straight line.
“Wait—what?” I ask, but Jade holds up a finger.
“Jessie is really hurt and really pissed, and rightfully so.”
“Yes, obviously, that’s—”
“But,” Jade interrupts again, continuing her thought, “I think she’ll forgive you because she really fucking likes you. That’s why it hurts, but I think she has more grace in her than she realizes, and she may eventually come around.”
Hope sneaks into my heart like a bandit.
“Is there anything I can do?” I ask with a sudden burst of energy. “Can I write her a letter? Or, like, send her flowers?”
Jade shakes her head violently. She does a hand-slicing motion in front of her neck. The energy leaves me as fast as it came.
“Listen, if I’m right and she does forgive you, you’ll have years to make up for it. For now, just give her space.”
I press my lips into a line and nod. I don’t want to take space from Jessie, but I know she’s right. I just hate it.
Jade and I both take a sip of our drinks. Our conversation feels like it’s at its natural end, but she hasn’t made any indication of movement. I dart my gaze around the room.
“I heard you might be taking a theater class next…semester? Next year?” Jade removes the lid of her drink, setting it on the table and cradling her cup in her hands. I swear she stares at me like she can see through my soul, and internally I squirm, but I won’t give her the satisfaction of seeing it. Even if I should grovel a little. I can’t help but think Jade is actually rooting for me and Jessie. For me.
“I guess Jessie told you?”
“Mm-hmm.” Jade nods, eyebrows high, asking for more information.
“I’m just thinking about it for next year. I’ve got room in my schedule and I’ve always wanted to take a class, but I don’t know. It’s dumb.” I pick at the plastic lid of my cup.
“Wrong crowd if you’re looking for someone to agree. Theater isn’t dumb. People who think theater is dumb are dumb.”
“My dad.”
“You said it, not me.” She shrugs and takes a sip of her drink.
I want to agree with her, but it’s ingrained into my brain. Rewiring my brain is a Herculean task, but how can I start if not by taking small steps?
“What’s the deal with the improv night?” I ask. I stare at the photo I took of the flyer at least once a day, convincing myself to go, convincing myself not to go.
“You should come,” Jade says. “It’s open to the campus. People can come watch but also participate. It’d be a fun way for you to dip your toes in before getting fully wet.”
Her words spark something inside me—the flicker of a match that’s been struck but hasn’t quite lit.
