AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Well, that’s awful.” Jamie studied me with soft eyes.
I tightened. “What’d you think of the books?” I asked, purposefully dodging the subject of Dave.
A pensive expression splashed across Jamie’s face like he had a million more things to say in response to my not-so-skillful avoidance talk of my ex. To my relief, if Jamie did wish to say something else, he shrugged it off and continued forward, answering my question.
“I enjoyed your books immensely,” he said. “I just… didn’t expect a single one of them to come from you.”
“Why’s that?”
“Your stories are about young people.”
I opened my mouth to respond, to ask him why he would think I couldn’t write about young adults, when the server slid a plate full of scrambled eggs, toast, and hash brown in front of me, and a rush of embarrassment filled me. I needed to be careful how loudly I carried on a conversation with Jamie. People were liable to think I was nuts.
The smell of greasy potatoes wafted into my nostrils, and my stomach growled.
“Thank you,” I said to the server. The dude gave me a head nod, eyes still cautious of me from my earlier outward display of insanity, before he spun around and headed back to the register area. With the man far enough away from me, I breathed deeply and relaxed.
I played with the eggs using my fork, not sure how I felt about being rude and eating in front of someone else who couldn’t. Spirit or not.
“Yeah, so. Don’t need food anymore.” Jamie laughed. “Go ahead. Eat. I’ll just keep talking while you do.”
“Yeah, you do that,” I murmured so lowly I wondered if Jamie would even hear me.
“Anyway… it isn’t that I think you couldn’t write…YA.” He added air quotes as he said YA. “It’s just I never would’ve expected it. Not from a person with a childhood cut short early. I mean, even back then I guessed you’d had some rough childhood or something…” I opened my mouth to ask him why he would think that, but he continued. “Yet… somehow you know exactly how to write a believably youthful voice. I didn’t understand that.”
“I’ve read widely in my genre,” I said in between forkfuls of food. “I studied other contemporary authors before I ever finished a single manuscript. It wasn’t rocket scientist to learn the conventions of how to write a youthful voice. Plus, I did once experience being a teenager, Jamie.”
He scratched his chin. “Yeah, I guess. But that doesn’t explain why you were drawn to young adult in the first place. I would’ve expected, I don’t know, literary fiction out of you. Maybe some kind of dark romance.”
“Ha!” The word flew out of my mouth a little louder than I would’ve wanted. I lowered my voice. “Romance would not ever have been the genre for me. It’s too… optimistic.”
No.Instead, I opted for the dark, noir side of YA. ThinkGone Girlfor teens, and that was me.
I glanced around the diner for a moment, hoping that none of the other patrons had noticed my outburst. Or that I was speaking to absolutely no one.
Fortunately, the only other customer in the place was an older man on the other side of the diner with his little brown chihuahua at his feet, and he seemed too preoccupied with the newspaper in his hands.
I looked back at Jamie who hadn’t responded to my quip about romance. His mouth parted as if he wanted to say something but didn’t know what to say.
“Alright, Mystery-Man,” I said, figuring I’d help him out a little. “It’s your turn. We’ve talked about my books. Which you already knew about, apparently. So now let’s hear about you. What have you been up to since we last talked? Any kids, wives, girlfriends, jobs?”
His lips puckered, and his eyebrows came together in the form of an upside-down V, little unruly hairs pointing up and away from the shape like his brows needed to be combed.
“Sorry, I’m not very good at this catching up thing,” I said. “What I mean is…”
“No kids, no wives,” he said. “One girlfriend… and, no, not Melissa… but the girl and I… we’d been broken up for years before I died. And… yeah, I had a job. Two jobs at the same time, actually.”
“Doing what?” I asked as I dug into the hash browns. Though I asked about his job, a part of me was more fixated on the fact that he’d only ever had one girlfriend after me, and it hadn’t been Melissa.
“Stocking shelves at the local grocery store by day… and most weekends and holidays. House-fixer-upper by night and every weekend and holiday I had free from the day job.” He bit his lip. “I know it’s on your mind but… let’s talk about the girlfriend another time.”
“Are you sure you didn’t date Melissa?” I asked. “You don’t have to lie to me, y’know. If she’s the girlfriend and—"
“Not Melissa. God, no way in hell.” His mouth constricted into a tight and grim line. “That girl… was so not the right kind of person for me.”
“What’s that supposed to mean? You were head over heels in love with that girl. You obviously thought she was the right kind of person for you back then.”
“Well…” he said. “I only thought I was head over heels in love with her.” He twisted to the side, glancing off into the distance once again as he drew his lips thoughtfully. At least some things never changed with him. “I was too young to know what love really was, Jemma. I was in love with the idea of a person. Not the actual person.”
