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Pleased with my answer, Jeremiah left so I could focus on packing.
By the time I was done, the lights still hadn’t come back on. We made our way to his home, enjoying the lazy cruise of empty streets on this gorgeous Sunday afternoon. The moment we arrived, I changed into my swimming suit, put my hair up, and got into the pool. I loved swimming and dancing. Both cleared my mind whenever I was overwhelmed.
As I floated atop the water, my mind took me back to my thirtieth birthday bash. I remember telling Jeremiah about how in all the years of my life, no one had ever thrown me a birthday party, and I hadn’t gotten a birthday cake since I was thirteen. It seemed like a silly thing to be upset over, but we were heading to Memphis for my sister’s birthday party, and it put me in my feelings.
When I was growing up, my father was too busy to set aside time for family things like birthdays, family vacations, and holiday time with family. Though he still didn’t travel often, he made a fuss over Tierney for her birthday. I loved that for my sister and was glad she had his attention, but my happiness for her didn’t outweigh the sadness that came from my own personal experiences. My reasoning behind it was simple—talk to Jeremiah about it so I could get out my heart and head and give all my attention to the birthday girl when we arrived.
I thought back to how for my birthday, that same year, Nova gave me the perfect gift—a surprise birthday party and a huge birthday cake. Gestures like that made me confident that risking our friendship for a romantic relationship was worth it. I was so deep in my thoughts I didn’t hear Jeremiah as he approached, placing a tray with wine and fresh-cut fruit on the side of the pool for me. I swam over, thanking him for the kind gesture.
“You must have been in deep thought. I called your name twice.”
“Yeah, I was actually thinking about the surprise party Nova gave me.”
Jeremiah held his stomach, as if he was physically pained by my words.
“What’s wrong, Jerry?”
“Before I answer, are you thinking about that because you miss him and want him back?”
“No, why?”
“I don’t want that to be a check in his favor.”
As playful as he was being, I wanted to be serious, but I couldn’t help but smile.
“Tell me what I should know.”
His mouth opened, but he hesitated. “I told him to do that, Chap.”
“What?” I asked quietly, setting the piece of watermelon I’d picked up back down. “Why?”
“I was always giving Nova things to do for you. When you told me that you’d never had a party thrown in your honor, I decided to do it for you, but figured it would mean more coming from him. So… I told him he should throw you a surprise party and make sure he got you your own individual birthday cake.”
If my heart could have burst into pieces, it would have—like strings of confetti. That moment had meant so much to me. To know that the idea had come from Jeremiah…
“What else?” I asked, sitting on the side of the pool next to him.
“What else what?”
“You said you were always giving him things to do for me. What else?”
“Chapel…” His sucked teeth and dismissive wave wouldn’t stop me.
“Tell me.”
“You want a list?” He stretched each word.
“Yeah, I do. Give me examples.”
The ease with which he began to recite thing after thing that made me fall in love with Nova even more…
“The Vegas trip was my idea. I told him what kind of jewelry and birthday presents to get you. Taking you to the pickle festival—that was all me. I’m the reason he started leaving you sticky notes with reasons he loved you. I also told him to text you prayers in the morning and at night when he wasn’t able to be with you physically. It was a lot of shit, Chap. Too much to list honestly.”
Nova’s willingness to learn how to love and please me, or Jeremiah’s willingness to give him the map—I wasn’t sure which meant more to me at that moment. My feelings, like my thoughts, were all jumbled up. It felt… like I’d been conned… finessed into valuing Nova’s intentionality and consideration when it wasn’t him all along.
It was my Jerry.
As my eyes watered, I shoved a piece of watermelon into my mouth. Eating my emotions wouldn’t help me sort through them, but oddly, stuffing my mouth so no other words could come out felt satisfying. So I ate, ate until I couldn’t help but blurt…
