This Ordinary Life

by Jennifer Walkup

  He’s not Sebastian, Jasmine.

  Or he could get hurt himself, get sick again. What if he did, start having seizures again, and I couldn’t be there for him the way he would need me to? Because of Danny and Mom and everything else?

  And yet… I really like him a lot.

  Wes glances over at me. “Someone is deep in thought.”

  I smile at him, hoping my thoughts aren’t obvious. “Just tired,” I lie. “Tonight was amazing.”

  “So you’ve said.” He pulls off our exit and stops at a red light. When he turns to me, his expression makes me all warm-gooey-brownie-not-quite-cooked-all-the-way-through inside. He traces circles on the back of my hand. “I’m glad you had fun.”

  “Me too.” I close my eyes with my head against the seat and try to quiet the should-I-shouldn’t-I voices is my head.

  Wes pulls up at my house way before I’m ready to end our night. When he opens my car door, the warm breeze blows my hair around my face.

  “Don’t come to the door,” I say. “My luck, my beast of a mother will hear us and come out to meet you.”

  Wes laughs, his hands fidgeting near his pockets. Nervousness suits him even better than his normal cocky joking act. I could almost throw my restraint out the window and lean into him for a kiss. It would be like stepping into the broadcast room without a plan for the day’s show. Risky, but sure to work out. But I can’t bring myself to do it. I obviously like him a lot and it obviously goes both ways. But even still. Not yet.

  I fall against him, wrapping my arms tightly around his waist. “Thank you so much for tonight.” My words are muffled against his chest.

  I look up at him and smile. His lips turn up and his eyes study mine for a moment that seems suspended, as if everything else in the world has stopped. I lick my lips and he licks his and wow, only an inch forward for either of us and it would be all over. I can imagine that kissing him would be gentle and sweet and that I could lose myself in it faster than you could say ‘good morning listeners.’

  He bends, ever so slightly. It’s probably not even perceptible to a normal person, but to obsessive, analyzing old me, I watch the centimeters between us like the secrets of the universe are lingering there, just waiting to get pressed between us.

  I raise onto my tiptoes, turning my head slightly so his lips land on my cheek. I squeeze against him tightly.

  “Thank you so much, Wes. Tonight was simply perfect.”

  I take a step back. Wes swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He takes the hint, and there is no joking about kissing tonight, which somehow makes me feel worse. I walk toward my house, turning once more to look at him. I could still do it, could launch myself at him and bring my mouth to his.

  Instead, I hold up the comic store bag and swing it in my hands. “Thanks for this too. It’s totally going to make Danny’s weekend.”

  Wes nods, brushing that flip of hair back and tucking his hands into his pockets with a faint smile as he turns to walk back to his car.

  “You already made mine,” I whisper.

  22

  SOMETIMES YOU WAKE up all groggy and cranky and like nothing is going right with life. But other times, it’s the exact opposite of that, like life is a Disney cartoon and you live in one of those princess lands with singing birds and stuff.

  Hello, listeners. Please disregard my pre-coffee, post-date, and obviously insane mental broadcast.

  I shake my head to snap out of it and reach for my phone.

  And smile when I see a text from Wes.

  good morning sunshine

  My response is a sunshine and smile Emoji as I flop back on my bed, reliving the night, detail by detail.

  I probably should have kissed him.

  Picking up the phone again, I giggle as my fingers tap the screen.

  last night was so fun. Still in shock you didn’t kiss me…

  WHAT

  I roll on my side and laugh, thinking how best to respond when he texts me again.

  please tell me you’re kidding

  just saying. u didn’t even try…

  Silence for a good three minutes. I sit on the edge of my bed, staring at the screen and waiting for his response.

  not the kind of guy who thinks you owe him after a night out.

  omg I so was not implying that

  My heart beats faster. I would never think that. Does he think I would think that?

  haha he writes. im joking. don’t worry. i’ll harass u for a kiss next time I see u, then. what are my chances?

  I put my phone on my nightstand and stretch. That was a mean trick. I thought he was serious. I grin. Just for that, he can wait for an answer. I yawn, noticing for the first time, the too-warm light streaming through my sheer curtains. I glance at the clock. After eleven! I have to get up. Tomorrow is the interview and I have to get everything ready.

  “Hey sleepyhead!” Mom says when I walk into the kitchen.

  Sleepyhead? Really?

  “Did Danny have his meds?”

  “He did. And we had pancakes. I saved you some.” She pushes a few buttons on the microwave to heat them up. I fall into a chair with a thud. I’ll play along with her act. But my guard is up higher than it’s ever been.

  I have to admit breakfast is delicious, though. Mom even sits at the table with me, offering me more as soon as I eat the first three pancakes on my plate.

  “Thanks,” I say. “They’re really good.”

  “Thank you.” She twirls the plate in front of her, round and round, while I cut the pancakes on my own plate. “So, how has school been?”

  “Pretty good.”

  “Almost over.”

  “Yep.”

  This conversation is torture.

  Outside, the bounce bounce bounce of Danny playing basketball in the yard fills the gaps in our awkward conversation. Must escape from this room. Like now.

  “By the way,” I say. “Ms. Hudson said you have to re-sign the permission slip for tomorrow. I missed the trip last time but since we are going on a different day and taking the train instead of a bus, I need permission.”

  “Sure!”

  She’s trying way too hard, smiling all clownish big and everything. I have to legitimately force my eyes not to roll.

  “Do you need something new to wear?”

  “Nah. I borrowed something from Frankie.”

  “Cool.”

  “Yep.”

  “So did you have a nice time last night with Sebastian?”

  “Mom. Really? Sebastian and I broke up.”

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. So who were you with?”

  “A friend.”

  I’m being meaner than I need to be. I realize that. She’s only asking simple questions. But despite my floating on clouds wake-up this morning and the pancake effort, I’m still not ready to be that generous with my forgiveness.

  I finish my breakfast and wash the dish. Mom still sits there, staring at me, like we’re going to continue this awkward heart to heart for the rest of the day.

  “So… I’m going to go get my stuff together for tomorrow.”

  “Oh… yeah. Okay. Let me know if I can help.”

  “Thanks. I got it.”

  I escape to my room and drop into my desk chair. I guess I could have been nicer. She was trying. And sober. I reach for my phone and laugh out loud when I read Wes’s text.

  hello? i am dying in suspense here! my chances? what are they?;)

  I SPEND THE rest of the day prepping for tomorrow. Ironing the dress, practicing my makeup and gathering all the materials for my portfolio and resume. Ms. Hudson calls me in the evening to go over the details for the morning schedule and by the time I have to turn on the lamp in my room against the waning daylight, I feel one hundred percent, completely prepared.

  I’m so happy that I decide to eat dinner and watch a movie with Mom and Danny. Mom orders pizza. Okay, so it’s not cooking, but still, it does require some effort on her part, and she only drinks wat
er as far as I can tell. She even lets Danny stay up a little late, since the school year is almost over, and she lets us both pick a movie. He picks Dumbo, I pick Frozen. Mom even sings along to a few of the songs and I’m surprised by how nice her voice sounds.

  I tuck Danny into bed just after ten o’clock and come back into the living room to help Mom straighten up.

  “Thanks for tonight,” she says. Her eyes search mine and I can see what she isn’t saying out loud. I’m trying, Jasmine. I really am.

  Well, I’m trying, too.

  “It was really fun, Mom.” And then, because I feel like I owe her something else. “Seriously. Let’s make it a weekly thing, maybe? Danny was so happy.”

  “And you?” She looks down at her hands.

  “Me? Yeah. It was cool.”

  Mom wipes down the counters in the kitchen and hums under her breath.

  My chest heaves a little, seeing her act like a normal mom. Between tonight and last night, it’s like I’m living in a parallel universe. Let’s hope tomorrow completes the trifecta of things going well.

  My English textbook waits for me on my nightstand. I’m too excited about tomorrow to sleep, but Mr. James assigned some short stories that looked boring enough to do the trick.

  I flip my air conditioner on and slip into bed. Just as I suspected, the first story has me half asleep by the time I turn the page. As I’m reaching up to turn off the lamp, there’s a knock on my door.

  “Come in.”

  Mom stands there, holding a small wrapped box and wearing a very goofy smile. I sit up, confused. If she bought me a gift, this really is taking the whole new her way too far.

  “A boy just came by,” she says, her smile growing even goofier. “A very not Sebastian boy, I may add.”

  He didn’t.

  “He said to give you this but to wait five minutes so he was sure he was far enough away that you couldn’t come out and catch him. He’s funny. And cute. Very cute.”

  I roll my eyes and hold out my hand for the package.

  “So is this the not Sebastian you were out with last night?”

  “I assume it must have been. Blondish hair?”

  She nods.

  “That’s Wes. He’s cool. A good friend.”

  She raises her eyebrows and gives me a small smile.

  As soon as she’s gone, I tear off the wrapping paper.

  Oh my God!

  He bought me a pair of Bortons! Oh my God! I rip the plastic package open and pull out the headphones. They’re yellow, exactly like the pair I tried on last night. I can’t believe this. This is crazy. Too much. Wow. I’ve always wanted a pair of these.

  I grab my phone.

  “Wes!” I screech when he answers. “What did you do? Oh my God, thank you, this is crazy. Wow.”

  “It’s a good luck present,” he answers, all nonchalantly too.

  “This is insane, Wes. These things are super expensive.”

  “It’s nothing. I wanted to get you something to wish you luck. Not that you need it.”

  “I’m… I’m actually speechless right now.”

  “First time for everything. But seriously, when I saw your face when you tried them on, I had to.”

  “How did you get them?”

  “At the mall. Junction Records isn’t the only place that sells them. Didn’t take all that much research to find out where else I could get them.”

  Wow. He did all that for me? So… incredibly thoughtful.

  “I’m totally going to wear these next time I broadcast. You should come by the Easton station one morning to hang out while I do the show. Before school.”

  “I’d love that.”

  I slide the headphones over my ears. “Seriously, I feel all professional in these. Hang on.” I hold my phone out to take a picture with them on and send it to him.

  “Just sent you a pic.” I say. “Don’t mind my no makeup and pajamas.”

  “Is it something revealing?”

  I snort. “I’m ignoring that one. But seriously, best good luck present ever. I am definitely going to be showing up tomorrow feeling like a legit, real, professional DJ.”

  We chat for a few minutes before hanging up. I lay the Bortons on my nightstand and turn off the light. I don’t sleep for a while, thoughts of tomorrow’s trip, Wes, and Mom all rolling around in my brain, begging to be figured out.

  Sometimes when things feel too good to be true, you have to just roll with it.

  23

  NEW YORK CITY field trip to WYN60 Get Up and Go. Take two.

  This time me and Mom are up at the crack of dawn. She makes me eggs, and while I’m eating she gets Danny up, gives him his medicine and gets his stuff ready for school.

  Twilight Zone, indeed.

  I meet Ms. Hudson at school and we take her car to the train station. She’s her normal self, barely even talking about the interview, but I’m practically crawling the train car walls with nerves. It’s already been narrowed down to a handful of final choices, one of which I know is DJ Big Dee, who I already wasn’t able to beat the one time when we faced off in a live competition. Plus, who knows who else is in the running that may be even better than her.

  “Jasmine,” Ms. Hudson says sternly, smoothing out her white floral dress. “Relax. You’ll do great. Internships are not so demanding. They will listen to your stuff and know you have a future in radio. Believe me, they would be lucky to get you for the summer!”

  As soon as we exit Penn Station, excitement courses through me, the city thrumming with the bustle I love. It’s hard not to think back to Saturday night, being here with Wes. I smile to myself, the memory of his hug warmer than the June sun overhead.

  Ms. Hudson leads the way, pulling the door open to a very tall and impressive looking skyscraper. As soon as the elevator opens on the thirty-seventh floor, The WYN60 logo is bigger than life and my excitement skyrockets. This is really happening, isn’t it? I expect everyone to be much older and smarter than me, probably wearing business suits and fancy hairstyles and in general being way cooler than me. I’m filled with a sudden fear that they’ll look down on me and think I’m just a dumb kid.

  The receptionist sitting at the front desk is trendy in the way I’ve always imagined most native New Yorkers tend to be without even trying, with her cropped asymmetrical haircut and a drapey silver shirt and red leather pants.

  “Welcome to WYN60!” Her face brightens when we walk into the reception area. “Do you have an appointment?”

  The Get Up and Go show is being piped in throughout the speakers and I listen closely, hardly believing that I’m in the building where it’s being broadcasted. Like, live, as in right now.

  We’re shown into an office and Ms. Hudson and I wait in matching leather chairs opposite a big glass-top desk. On the walls are all kinds of pictures of various celebrities and radio personalities. Award trophies and plaques line one shelf and framed gold and silver records line another.

  Ms. Hudson winks. “You got this,” she mouths.

  A few minutes later, a woman about Ms. Hudson’s age walks in. She’s impressive, tall and stylish in a smart black suit. She’s absolutely beautiful and the way she carries herself, straight back and poised, with complete confidence, shows how professional she is. She gives Ms. Hudson a hug, reminding me that the two women are old friends. My phone vibrates in my bag and I look quickly between them, hoping neither of them heard it. I kick it under my chair, saying a quick, silent prayer that everything is okay and that buzz wasn’t about Danny.

  “You must be Jasmine,” she says, shaking my hand firmly. “I have heard so very much about you. I’m Roberta Jackson.”

  “Thanks for seeing us today,” I say, crossing my legs and making sure to sit up straight. “I’ve been working in our school radio station since freshman year, and it’s the only thing I want to do with my future. Just being in this building is more excitement than I’ve ever had, I think.”

  Her smile grows even wider and she takes a
sip from a glass of water. “I’ll tell you what,” she says. “I know you have your samples and recordings, which of course I want to hear. But why don’t I give you a quick tour of the studio and office? We can even get a peek in on the morning show, if you want?”

  If I wasn’t sitting down, I think I would probably faint. “That sounds great.” I keep my voice as calm and professional as I can. “As long as you’re sure you have time. I know you’re very busy. I don’t want to take up too much of your morning.”

  “Nonsense.” She stands up. “Follow me. You can leave all your things here.”

  I walk beside her as we make our way through the halls. She points out various departments: marketing, art directors, sales, and accounting. It’s all cubicles and so many people I can hardly take it in. Plus, she’s walking and talking quickly, so I don’t have much time to stop and notice much.

  We walk down a long hall, with a tiled floor and low, warm lighting. Like most places in the office, this hallway is lined with pictures of Brian, Sarah, Johnny and Latisha of the Get Up and Go show, standing and sitting with various pop stars and other celebrities. I have the urge to touch the pictures, their faces. A fleeting feeling grips me, a dream really, one I don’t even want to allow myself… imagining my own face on these walls someday.

  Hello, New York City, this is Jasmine Torres with Get Up and Go, wishing you an awesome Monday morning.

  Holy goosebumps.

  “And here, of course, is the broadcast area.” Ms. Jackson walks quickly, her heels clicking like a metronome on the floor.

  “How many years have you been here now?” Ms. Hudson asks.

  “Me? Thirty-four years. Can you even imagine? We were kids back then, weren’t we?”

  Ms. Hudson smiles.

  Ms. Jackson looks at me. “Your teacher and I went to NYU together and interned here forever ago. After a few years in the business she was the smart one to get out to make a difference. And here I am, still here.” She waves her hands as if to say she’s stuck here, but it’s obviously not true. Not that Ms. Hudson doesn’t love her life, because she chose to leave radio for teaching. But come on, Ms. Jackson runs one of the most successful radio stations in New York City. I doubt she really regrets her decision to stay. How could she?