"I'd hoped we were done with Debbie Downer once you and Portia hooked up." Carson squinted to keep the smoke from his eyes when he took a drag off the joint."I don't have a clue what you're talking about." But I did. Ever since she went back to school two weeks ago, I'd tried to play it off, not just with my friends, but with Portia, as well. Evidently, I hadn't been all that successful.Carson leaned back in his lawn chair and dropped one hand on the armrest, while still holding the joint with the other. He licked his teeth beneath his lips, and I studied him with odd interest as his facial expressions changed. They went from confusion to concentration and possibly curiosity. I watched him blink several times, open his mouth, close it, and he finally spoke in a relaxed, low tone. "You were you again. And then you weren't.""That's profound. Thanks for clarifying the personality shift.""You know what I mean. When you came back from spring break, you were the Jude you were whe
I had started to feel like a bouncy ball with one flat side. When I was with Portia, it was as if someone had launched me high into the air. Yet the moment she was out of reach and I couldn't smell the scent of her shampoo or taste the hint of soap on her skin, I crashed to the ground and flew off in odd directions, springing erratically around until I finally settled into a pit of despair in a dusty corner. With no one around to chase my proverbial flight path, I was forgotten until her face lit up my cell phone screen or a text message lifted me from the cobwebs. Ernie and Hensley were on my ass about going back to Dr. Vanderhugh-a fate worse than death. I argued vehemently that my emotional swings were related to stress and not at all connected to grief. I'd long since packed that into a tidy box and stored it in the recesses of my mind, never to be opened again. Even still, every time one of them brought it up, it ripped off the emotional packing tape and exposed the loss again
The best I could hope for, until Portia came home for the summer, was to stay numb. I'd successfully managed to plan our phone calls around going to Carson's house, but she knew something was wrong. I tried to convince her it was just me missing her, although I was fairly certain Hensley told her about the book and my subsequent meltdown. Then, all manner of hell had broken loose last night when I'd given Hensley and Ernie my report card.It was a good thing I hadn't planned to attend Columbia or Carnegie. After my fourth quarter grades, the offers probably would have been rescinded. I didn't give a shit. If I hadn't had straight As going into exams, it would have been far worse. As it was, I ended up with Bs, Cs, and an F for the quarter, which didn't affect my overall GPA enough for the University of Maine to care. It did, however, send the Shaws into a tailspin. Hensley threw out the word suicidal-laughing at her probably wasn't the best response. My "indifference concerned them,"
I'd lain in bed with the lights off for hours last night, waiting for him to come home. There hadn't been any point in trying to close my swollen eyes, sleep wouldn't have taken over, anyhow. Not until I knew he was safe. While I stared at the ceiling, my eyes drifted out the window. It never ceased to amaze me that no matter how much turmoil took place on Earth, the moon and the stars didn't lose their luster. They shone just as bright, and they hung safely in the sky where they'd been for ages, unaffected by any raging storm below. If I could have found a way to reach one of them, I would have. It was funny in a non-comical sort of way, ironic, maybe-until I heard Jude close the front door and pad up the steps. I worried I'd been too quick to pass judgment. I wouldn't have been able to live with myself if I'd left him, knowing full well he was too high to drive, and something had happened. Yet, the sounds of his shoes taking the steps two or three at a time suddenly catapulted me
Sometimes I wondered if it were possible for me to keep my mouth shut. "Why not?" I posed the question softly, more out of curiosity than accusation. "Truthfully? I don't know. Best guess is...I didn't want them to. I wanted to be angry. I felt justified in it. That one feeling hadn't failed me when my mom was sick or when she died. Every other one had." He lifted his shoulders slightly and then allowed them to fall. "Then spring break happened."I smiled. I couldn't have stopped the toothy grin even if I'd wanted to, which I didn't. I'd never regret anything about that week. He huffed through his nose, and his eyes lost focus. It was clear he was reminiscing and maybe even wishing he could go back to that place in time. "It was as though God answered a prayer and gave me a blessing all at once. Other than my mom, you are the only thing in the world that makes me truly happy...core deep."That was a heavy burden to carry, and one I wasn't equipped to hold. "Jude...""When y
I retreated to the security of my bedroom. It was eerily quiet. Jude had turned the music off or put on headphones, and I hadn't so much as heard footsteps outside my door. There had been no sign of Ernie or Hensley, either. It was as though I were the only one in the house.Curled into a ball on my bed, I picked at Woobie's knotted fur, keeping the little bear close to my face. He reminded me of Jude, and if I closed my eyes and tried hard enough, I could smell Jude's scent on him. Or maybe that was my mind's way of comforting me through the most excruciating pain I ever remembered experiencing. When my mom died and I was in protective services-before I'd been placed with the Shaws-a counselor told me that with each day that passed, the hurt would subside a little more. Even as scared as I had been, I just never missed a mother who hadn't really existed. But the fear had done the same thing the lady said the pain would do. And I got to where I longed for the sun to come up just t
For the life of me, I couldn't recall what I'd said to Ernie after Portia left my room that day. From the moment she told me to find myself, until the time I walked into Dr. Vanderhugh's office, there were only fractions of time I could clearly visualize. The same thing that had happened when I found the Beatles tribute book in Hensley's room happened again when Portia gave up on me. Only this time, I didn't have anywhere I could run.The walls had closed in as the darkness narrowed my field of vision. My chest constricted, my heart raced, and I had kept it hidden so Portia wouldn't see how truly broken I was. The slamming door sparked impending doom, and I was certain my death was imminent. Ernie's panic-stricken face was crystal clear when I got downstairs, yet how I had arrived there was a mystery. Once I had gotten out of the house, the possibility of death by suffocation waned. It might have been something Ernie had said, it could have been escaping the torture chamber, or possi
California was an adjustment. I'd only been there a few days, but the heat was a killer, and the people were different. Not in a bad way. Actually, I loved how liberal Berkeley seemed as a whole. Ethan and Carson both found menial jobs near the campus, which was within walking distance of the apartment, so I spent most of my days alone. I had met with Dr. Sarratt twice since I'd gotten here. He encouraged me to get out and walk around, see everything I could find that held any interest, and start writing. I wasn't certain I bought into the belief he had about journaling, but I committed to giving this my all. That meant playing by the rules. And I hadn't set the rules in this game.I tried to treat my notations about my excursions like a documentary on paper. When I viewed it as an exercise in evaluating my surroundings instead of my feelings, the words covered the pages. If I tried to analyze the ink on the page-zilch. It only took a couple of days before that notebook became my
The ceremony was a blur, at best. The only thing I recalled with any clarity was the boy I'd loved almost my entire life and the way he watched me as I approached. Long gone was the tall, lanky, awkward kid from my youth. In his place was a man with confidence. His smile was perfect, his tux was dapper, and he was virtually edible. Throughout our vows, he never took his eyes off mine, and he hadn't even tried to erase the sheer joy that overtook his features. I'd long since memorized every freckle on his skin, every streak of color in his irises, and every strand of hair on his head, but nothing had prepared me for the expression Jude wore as he committed his life to mine. Once it was over, and I was officially a Thomas, the world came back into focus. After the minister announced us as husband and wife, Jude and I started across the lawn toward the bed and breakfast. It was then that I noticed two empty seats amongst the six in the audience. Hensley had insisted on doing something
Sunday afternoon came faster than either of us wanted. Three days hadn't been nearly enough time to reconnect, and even though I'd made myself sick on lemon pie, saying goodbye proved to be painful. I'd give anything to freeze time in that hotel room with the dessert tin between us, forks in hand, simply enjoying each other's company and catching up as we shoved pie in our mouths.Standing in the airport, I held Portia's face and softly kissed her. "Don't cry, babe. It's only a couple of weeks," I whispered with my forehead pressed against hers.Her eyes were bloodshot, and no amount of consoling would change her anguish. It was inevitable-her displeasure and our circumstances. She had exams to finish, and I had to fulfill a two-week notice at the bookstore. We'd be back together in no time; however, having spent the majority of a year apart, those weeks seemed unjust. A harsh penalty neither of us wanted to serve. "I don't want to go." Portia's whimpered words tore at my heart.
I got dressed and tossed her backpack on my shoulder, and together, we set out. Portia held my hand as we walked down the street, and she carried the pie in the other. We didn't speak, but her thumb caressed the top of my hand and spoke a language all its own. Ever since we were kids, she'd done it to reassure and calm me, and now I was grateful for all those years so I understood its quiet meaning. It wasn't the Ritz Carlton, but I wasn't Donald Trump. The hotel was within walking distance, didn't charge by the hour, and most importantly, didn't ask for ID, so I was sold. Portia set the pie on the nightstand, along with the two forks I'd grabbed on our way out the door. I set down her bag, and it dawned on me that I hadn't brought anything of my own. Not that it mattered. I just wanted time with the girl I'd seen every night in my dreams yet hadn't been able to touch. She sat on the mattress and peered up at me with large, curious eyes. I didn't move, and I wasn't sure how to proc
The knock after eleven at night startled me. I figured Carson or Ethan left their keys at home, locking themselves out. I didn't bother glancing through the peephole. Instead, I kept my nose rooted in the book I was reading, disengaged the deadbolt, and then grabbed the knob. I didn't take notice of who stood on the other side when I flung it open, and I returned to my place on the couch.The weight of the metal latching itself in place resounded through the apartment. After sitting down, I realized neither of them had come inside. Irritated by the disruption-and ready to fire off a smart-ass comment about one of them needing an escort or an invitation-I ripped back the door.And every thought fled my mind. If I'd been asleep, then I would have believed I was dreaming. As it stood, the vision before me was as real as the book I'd thrown on the sofa. My Adam's apple bobbed in painful exaggeration as I swallowed back my surprise. There. Within arm's reach. Stood Portia Sh
June was too far away. There was no way I was willing to wait for Jude Thomas to show up on my parents' porch and see him again for the first time with an audience. It just wasn't going to happen. Consequences be damned. Without their knowledge, I booked a flight using their credit card and found a way home. "Hey, sweetheart. What are you doing here?" My mom stuck her head out and looked around. "And why are you ringing the bell?" I didn't bother with any pleasantries. "I didn't want to alarm you by coming home during the week unexpectedly." I pushed by her, and she shut the door behind me. The kitchen was the place we did our best talking, and that's where I headed without further fanfare. "Where's Dad?"Her tense expression and creased forehead articulated her confusion and concern, although she didn't question me anymore. "Ernie?" She dashed to the bottom of the stairs, leaving me on the bar stool. "Ernie, can you come down here?"The heavy clump of his feet on the steps s
There was a huge tree just behind campus that typically went unoccupied and far enough away from the bustle of the crowd that I could escape. I didn't have a clue what I was getting myself into, and I didn't want to be exposed to onlookers or passersby. I trotted across campus, through the quad, and past the bookstore. When people attempted to stop me to talk, I waved and said hello, but I kept the course to my destination. As I'd hoped, there was no one around. I unzipped my backpack and took out the blanket I'd packed, careful not to accidentally toss the journal on the ground. There wasn't anything ornate or special about the cover itself, although I was certain it had been expensive. The leather was soft like suede yet worn like a jacket. While I assumed it was new, it appeared aged. The words on the pages screamed at me to read them, but even if Jude hadn't written what was inside, I'd still covet the book for its beauty.Once I settled onto the blanket, I grabbed the noteboo
Jet flew into our dorm room with her usual dramatic flair. "Mail call." Her lyrical voice tumbled into the room, and she followed. It was clear she didn't plan to stay when she left the door open, tossed a few envelopes on her desk, and held a package in my direction.I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of my bed. "What's that?"I never got mail. Everything I received went to my parents' house, and I didn't get care boxes because I went home often enough for Hensley to load me up with baked goods to tide me over for weeks.Jet snatched the thick packet back and held it against her chest like a treasure. "It's from California," she teased and then wisely handed it over.An uneasy feeling landed squarely in the pit of my stomach. Butterflies didn't flutter; vultures swarmed. I'd no sooner taken the parcel than the greedy bastards started pecking away at my insides-starting with my heart.My roomie's expression softened, and the emotion she held for me was written all over
Spending Thanksgiving alone hadn't been all that bad. Christmas was torture. The Shaws sent me a box of presents, and I opened them by myself on the morning of the twenty-fifth. Somehow, they'd managed to package the scent of their home and mail it to California. As soon as I had unfolded the cardboard, the familiar smell rolled out in waves. It was the first time I'd missed home since I'd left. I'd longed for Portia, but I'd talked to Ernie and Hensley enough that their absence didn't seem any different than it had when I lived with my mom. There were times I'd go long stretches without seeing them, although not often.I hadn't been able to unwrap a single package for nearly an hour. And when I finally regained my composure, every piece of paper I tore, tape I removed, and ribbon I untied, took me further into longing. Even though I wasn't sure I was ready to go back just yet, that box convinced me that there was nothing I wanted more. With the last gift opened, I stared at the bott
"What the hell are you doing?" I snatched my journal from the hands of a nosy co-worker.She shrugged and contorted her face into an expression of equal indifference. "Just wondering what you spend so much time working on."I tucked the notebook into my backpack and slammed the locker. When I turned around, Lacy wore the same unbothered look. "So, you went through my locker, dug it out, and just thought you'd have a look around my private thoughts?"Lacy pulled out a chair from the table and placed herself in it with more fanfare than called for. "We work in a bookstore. Do you know how many people here are writing the next great American novel?" She paused, waiting for my answer. When she didn't get one, she popped a grape into her mouth and continued. "All of them. Including the ones who run the place." "And how does that justify breaking and entering?" I didn't have a clue what she'd read, or how deep into my thoughts she had been able to dig. My heart lay fully exposed on