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12
Jamie
I wake up to the smell of coffee. That’s the first thing I notice, and it makes me smile because it reminds me of Zeke. But then I open my eyes, and my smile is wiped, my reality crashing down on my chest,hard, and I wish the couch cushions would swallow me whole.
“You’re up!” Her voice is too loud. Too chirpy. Like a shrill siren going off in my already pounding head. I reach up to where the pain emits, cringing slightly when my fingertips brush against the dried blood. For a moment, I’d forgotten about the accident, the gash on my head, the missing part of me. Ineedto find it. “I made you coffee!”
I lift my head, see Holden’s girl flitting around the small kitchen with her bare, perfect legs on full display, and her perfect hair, and her perfect smile, and she’s everything I’m not and everything Holden deserves. “Holden’s in the shower,” she almost sings. “He’ll be out in a minute.” I push aside the useless, pitiful jealousy—because,of course, he has a girlfriend, andof course, she has the potential to grace the cover ofPenthouse, andof course, she’s kind enough to make me a coffee. I bet she’s super friendly. And super sweet. And supernormal.
Guh.
“Thank you,” I mumble, pushing the covers off me and slowly getting to my feet. I make my way over to the small counter, whereshestands opposite, pouring coffee into a mug.
“I’m Brianna, by the way. I’m not sure if Holden introduced us last night.”
Brianna. Such a perfect name. And they’d have such perfect kids and give them just as perfect names.
I must take too long to respond because she stops pouring and looks up at me. “And you’re Jamie?”
I nod before clearing my throat and taking the coffee from her. “Yeah, Jameson, but everyone calls me Jamie.” Everyone… as in thefivepeople I know. Including Holden. Actually, onlyfournow. That sucks.
“Right.” She returns my nod, only hers doesn’t stop. Gosh, she’s pretty. “Can I ask you something, Jamie?”
I sip on my coffee and shrug. “Sure.”
“Do you draw?”
I almost spit out my coffee.Almost.I lean forward an inch as if I didn’t hear her the first time. I did. It was just… an extremely odd question. “I’m sorry?”
She seems to grow a few inches when she repeats, “Do you draw?” Only this time, she says it slowly, enunciating every syllable as if I’m hard of hearing. Or maybe English isn’t my first language.
I suck in a breath, stare at her the way she’s staring at me. Like this is a game. A challenge. I shouldnotbe taking this long to answer, but my answer isn’t so definitive. I give her the truth because nothing else matters.Do I draw?“No.”
Her shoulders deflate the second the single word is out of my mouth. “Okay, good,” she mumbles.
Good?What doesgoodmean? “Can I ask you a question?” I throw back.
Brianna nods, then pulls out a bunch of cut-up fruit and vegetables from the fridge. I wait until she’s finished setting up the juicer on the counter, only now realizing she never poured a coffee for herself. “How long have you and Holden been together?”
Before answering, the juicer comes to life, and she slowly, methodically, inserts all the crap from the bag. She’s making me wait. Minutes that feel like hours. And she knowsexactlywhat she’s doing. She’s won this little game of ours. This challenge. Just like she’s won Holden. Not that I ever had a chance. Once the juice is made, she has theaudacityto take a sip, and then finally,finally, she answers. “Like, six years, on and off.”
Six years. I was with him five years ago… that doesn’t make sense. Or maybe it does. There’s a tightness in my chest, in my lungs, and I have to force myself tobreathe.
Breathe, Jamie, breathe.
As if needing to twist the dagger in my heart, she adds, “We met the summer before his senior year of high school, and we’ve been seeing each other since.”
Cool cool. Also:fuck this.
“I have cell signal now, so I think I’m just going to head outside, call Triple A, and get things sorted.”
“Okay!” she chirps, and she turns her back, focusing on her juice as if it’s a work of art. I grab my phone and step outside, my breath catching when I see our surroundings for the first time. It’s…beautiful. And I realize that word is overused and cliché, but it really is something.
We’re surrounded by nothing but tall trees with leaves so green, I want to bathe myself in the shades. Sunlight filters through the branches, creating a natural light show right in front of my eyes. I’m so struck by the atmosphere that Ihave togive myself a moment to take it all in. I may never get to again. I sit down on a wooden bench just beside the door and close my eyes, listening to the sounds of the birds calling to each other.
I want to be the birds.
I want to fly.
