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“You are?” He looked uncertain.
I nodded. “I’ll always be a princess,” I said. “It’s just that now I can be a princess with a regular job and an apartment and stuff. If I want.”
It was as I was explaining all this to him on the front stoop—after Lars had nearly Tasered him because he, too, had mistaken him for a vagrant—that the strangest thing happened:
It started to snow.
I know. Just very lightly, and freakishly early in the year for snow in Manhattan, especially given global warming. But it was definitely cold enough. Not cold enough to stick, or anything. But there was no denying the dozen or so tiny white flakes that started falling from the pinky night sky (pink because the clouds were hanging so low that the city lights were reflecting off them) as I was talking.
And something strange happened when I looked up at the snowflakes, feeling them fall gently on my face, while I was listening to J.P. explain that he was glad I was still a princess after all.
All of a sudden—just like that—I didn’t feel that depressed anymore.
I can’t really explain it any other way. Ms. Martinez would no doubt be disappointed in my lack of descriptive verbs.
But that’s exactly how it happened. Suddenly, I didn’t feel that sad anymore.
Not like I was cured, or anything.
But that I’d climbed a few more feet out of that big, black hole and could see the sky—clearly—again. It was only just out of reach, as opposed to being dozens of feet overhead. I was almost there….
And then, while J.P. was going, “And I hope you don’t think I’m stalking you, because I’m not, I just thought maybe you’d need a friend since I’m pretty sure your dad isn’t too happy with you right now—” I realized I felt…happy.
Really. Happy.
Not over the moon, or anything. Not ecstatic. Not joyous.
But that was such a welcome change from feeling sad all the time that I—completely spontaneously, and without thinking about it—flung both my arms around J.P.’s neck and gave him a great big kiss on the lips.
He seemed really surprised. But he rallied at the last minute and ended up putting his arms around me, too, and kissing me back.
And the weirdest thing of all was…I actually felt something when his lips touched mine.
I’m pretty sure.
It wasn’t anything at all like what I felt when Michael and I kissed.
But it was something.
Maybe it was just the two or three flakes of snow on my face.
But maybe—just maybe—it was what my dad had talked about. You know:
Hope.
I don’t know. But it felt good.
Finally Lars cleared his throat and I let go of J.P.
Then J.P. said, looking embarrassed, “Well, maybe I’m stalking you a little. Can I stalk you some more tomorrow?”
I laughed. Then I said:
“Yes. Good night, J.P.”
And then I went inside.
Where I saw that I had two messages in my inbox.
