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teach Jules not to assume anything ever again. Assumptions are dangerous things.
“Is there any way we can fix it?” She asked, genuinely wondering if she could help him.
For now, I had decided to let her assume whatever she wanted though, for her sake, not his, of course.
“I don’t think so Jules. The last thing a guy wants when he’s trying to get over somebody is that somebody helping him try to get over them. It’s sweet of you to want it, but I’m thinking it would just be cruel.” Not to mention incredibly dangerous. No, Julia Jacobs, I will never allow you near him again.
She nodded in agreement.
“No wonder he gave me such a horrible time. He was lashing out,” she said.
“Uh, yeah. Lashing out. That makes sense.” I cleared my throat, “On your date, did he do or say anything else that was strange?”
“Uh, kind of, but I just assumed he was being his usual kooky self.”
There she went assuming again.
“What happened?” I held my breath.
“He kept asking me all these extremely personal questions. Like, what time do you go to bed? Do you wear pajamas or sleep in your underwear? How far have you gone with Elliott? I think we can safely assume he knows that now after yesterday’s blow up. He asked me if I thought I was going to marry you and I started to think maybe his line of questioning wasn’t all that strange, like maybe I was overreacting or something, but then he asked me something that made my hair stand on end.” She shivered, but not because she was cold.
“What?” I gulped.
“He asked me if I knew what scarification was.”
“What? Oh my God!”
“Yeah, I know. I said, ‘that was out of left field!’ I asked him why he wanted to know but he evaded it. I thought about ringing you on my cell at that point but he did this complete one-eighty on me and started acting like the perfect gentleman again, holding doors, you know, things like that.
“The theater was full so we were forced to sit in the only two seats available toward the side. My seat had a piece of gum stuck to it and he laid down his leather jacket so I wouldn’t ruin my jeans. So, after that, I figured he was just kooky or socially inept. I’m sorry I didn’t mention it to you. I didn’t want to worry you.”
“Jules! That’s not kooky! It’s creepy!”
“I’m starting to think you’re right.”
“Starting? Jeez Jules! You’re gonna’ be the death of me.” I thought I was going to have a heart attack.
Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me, I thought. This new piece of information made me more afraid than I’d ever felt before.
“Calm down. Sheesh. I think you’re overreacting,” she said.
No, I’m not.
“Maybe this whole thing will blow over,” she hoped.
“Maybe,” I said, knowing full well it was not going to blow over. Better start figuring out where we’re going to live when we have to flee. How do you legally change your name anyway without others finding out who and where you are? Could we even get our diplomas and make it to university without anyone’s help?
For then, that was the end of that conversation, with her and myself.
That night, we sat on our rock bridge with a fleece blanket underneath us as well as one to cover us. We sat cozily side by side and stared into the stars.
“Wow,” I said.
“I know,” she concurred.
She stole my eyes away from the starry night and I gazed upon her radiant face.
“I love you Jules.”
