by Jessica Wood
He didn’t.
I knew I should feel relieved that he didn’t kiss me, we were just friends and I didn’t think he liked me like that, but I couldn’t help feeling a tinge disappointment wash through me when he didn’t.
But as he pulled me deep into his arms, and I sank into his inviting embrace, those feelings of disappointment was overshadowed by the happiness that spread through me like a warm blanket on a cold day. Despite everything that’d happened in my life, I felt hopeful. I knew that no matter what the future held for me, Jackson would always be there.
“Here’s to your thirtieth birthday,” he said playfully when he finally pulled away.
“And yours, too,” I added.
“Well, not exactly.” He paused and grinned—that same boyish grin from the first day we met, the same boyish grin I’d come to know so well in the past eleven years, the same boyish grin that made my heart soar with happiness.
“What do you mean?” I feigned a frown, knowing too well he was being a smart-ass.
“Well, seeing as I’m eight months older than you, our pact won’t start when I turn thirty.” He chuckled smugly. “So I’m rooting for your thirtieth.”
I laughed and slapped him gently against his chest.
As we slowly walked back to the paved pathway and followed it back along the lake, the warm crimson sun began to disappear over the horizon. But instead of feeling the cool night’s air against my skin, the delirious warmth of happiness seemed to spread through my entire body, and I felt more alive and happy than I could ever imagine possible.
CHAPTER SEVEN
September 2003
Nineteen Years Old
JACKSON
“You did not tell her that!” She laughed hysterically on the other end of the line.
“I was just telling it like it is.” I snickered as I stretched out on top of my bed. It felt nice to hear Chloe’s laughter.
“So you guys didn’t have sex, then?” There was a hesitation in her question that I found troubling.
“Hell no!” I scrunched my face in disgust, and then felt a wave of disappointment when I realized that she couldn’t actually see my reaction.
“But I thought all the guys in your dorm think Megan’s a ten?”
“She may be hot, but you’ve met her. She’s pretty wild and loves the attention. I’m pretty sure in the past four weeks since classes started¸ she’s slept with half the single guys on the floor and probably countless other guys on the other floors in just this residence hall.”
Chloe had met Megan—a girl in my freshman class who lived on my dorm floor—when Chloe came to visit me four weeks ago. Her fall semester classes had started a week before mine and on her first weekend, she’d taken the train up to visit me during Harvard’s Welcome Week before our classes officially started. During her visit, we’d bumped into Megan at one of the infamous Welcome Week frat parties. Megan had come up to us to say hi because she said she’d seen me earlier that morning in our dorm. I knew pretty quickly that Chloe didn’t like Megan, and even though I didn’t want to admit to it, I wanted to think that the reason was because Chloe was jealous and threatened by Megan. Of course, she had no reason to feel jealous or threatened—Megan couldn’t hold a candle to Chloe when it came to anything that mattered to me. But still, it was nice to imagine Chloe wanting me more because another girl was showing me interest. So even though I didn’t care for Megan, I secretly enjoyed mentioning girls like Megan to Chloe because I wanted to see how Chloe would react. liked to see Chloe’s reactions. talking about other girls with Chloe because I enjoyed her reactions.
“But what if you hurt her feelings when you rejected her like that?”
I could hear the mixture of curiosity and amusement in Chloe’s voice.
“Well, I think she had it coming,” I said frankly. “If she’s going to ask me point blank if I want to take her back to my dorm room for a night I won’t forget when we’ve previously only talked briefly maybe three or four times, of course I’m going to tell her she’s right, I won’t forget it because three of the guys on my floor have already told me their nights with her in detail.”
“Jax, you can be such an ass sometimes!”
I chuckled. “Touché. I’ve never denied that.”
“So have you met any other girls at Harvard?” she asked. The interest and curiosity in her voice made me smile.
“Nah. I’m not really interested in any of these girls.”
“Really? So are you interested in guys, then?” she teased.
I laughed. I knew she didn’t really think that. “Hell no! I’m a women-only type of guy.”
She giggled. “How can you say that if you’re not interested in any?”
“I never said I’m not interested in any,” I corrected her. “I’m just not interested in any of these girls here at Harvard.” I smiled as I closed my eyes and tried to picture Chloe’s face.
“So who are you interested in, then?” she asked.
“That’s my secret to keep,” I teased. “But if you must know, you do know her, and she’s incredible.”
I heard her giggle, knowing I was referring to her. But I wondered if she thought I was just humoring her. Since we sealed our promise to marry each other with the love lock a few months ago, we’d been teasing each other about our pact, and our running joke between us was where we’d tease one another on who would break this promise by dating and marrying someone else, and who would make this a promise to keep.
As if to agree with my suspicions, she teased, “Don’t tell me you’re holding out for me so you can keep our promise?”
“Nah,” I casually said. Even though I let out a laugh, I felt a little deflated by her question. I knew it’s something we teased each other about. But it had become a constant reminder that she didn’t really know how I felt about her.
“That’s good,” she said a little too quickly. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to keep your promise and tell me you’re not interested in someone.” The tone in her voice was playful and teasing.
“You mean because of our pact?”
“Yeah.”
Trying to adopt her playfulness, I teased her back. “Nah. The only reason I made that pact was because I want to use my thirtieth birthday as a warning of my old age. It’ll be like an alarm to let me know I have eight months to find a wife before I have to be stuck with you for the rest of my life.” I forced out a chuckle.
“You’re so mean,” she whined.
For a split second, I wondered if this wasn’t what she wanted to hear. “Oh, you know I don’t mean it,” I quickly added just in case. “You know I’d be lucky to end up with someone as cool as you.”
She laughed. “You’re such a kiss-up. I don’t believe a word that comes out of your mouth.”
I laughed along, but on the inside, I wished she didn’t think that way. I wished she knew the truth.
I had wanted to tell Chloe that I wanted to be more than just friends several months earlier when we’d sealed our childhood promise to marry each other with the love lock. But at the last minute, I’d chickened out because I started to wonder if the timing was right. I knew living six hours away from one another was already going to be a difficult adjustment for us as best friends. I wasn’t sure if tacking on a possible relationship—assuming she’d even be interested—during such a transitional and unstable period in our lives would be too much for us to handle. Plus, I wasn’t completely sure how she’d felt about me—whether she loved me the way I loved her or just as a best friend. So I knew telling her how I really felt and what I really wanted would be a risk, and it was something I only had one shot at. Because once I confessed my feelings, I could never take the words back, and if she didn’t feel the same way, it could forever change the dynamic of our friendship.
“Anyway, all jokes aside, are you okay, Jax?” Chloe’s voice changed to something more serious.
I knew what she wanted to talk about and I really didn’t want to talk ab
out it. “Yes. I’m fine.”
She paused. “Well, you know that if you need to talk about it, I’m here for you.”
“There’s really nothing to talk about, Clo. Classes have been great. College has been great. You know I’ve been busy going to a lot of the rush events for the fraternities. I really like one of the houses, and I hope I get a bid from them. Things couldn’t be better.”
There was another pause on her end. “Jax…your parents just told you they’re getting a divorce a month ago. I know you had your issues with your dad, but I know you didn’t want to see your parents’ marriage end. I know you’re in a lot of pain but you don’t want to admit to it because you think it’s a show of weakness, but it’s not, Jax. It’s—”
“Stop!” My voice came out louder than I intended. “I really don’t want to talk about it.”
“Okay, Jax…I’m here if you need me.”
I felt a little annoyed and I knew she was probably still thinking about it. She probably wished I were one of those sappy guys who was more open with their feelings and talked about all the pain and sadness they felt. But I wasn’t one of those guys. I didn’t want to admit to her that I was blindsided by my parents’ divorce. I knew things weren’t perfect between them, but I’d never imagined they’d get a divorce. I’d never imagined they’d stop loving each other. They’d broken the news about a few weeks before I left for Harvard. My dad had already found a place of his own in the city, closer to the university. He’d moved out a week later. I knew Chloe had been worried about me. She’d call me a lot to check in on me. She’d been trying to get me to talk about it. She’d even come to visit me the weekend after her first week of classes. She had tried to play it off—that it’d been her intention to visit me that weekend all along—but I knew she had wanted to check out some clubs and activities at her campus that first weekend, and she’d missed a lot of the club sign-ups and informational meetings that happened that weekend in order to visit me instead. I knew she was doing all this because she cared. But I just didn’t want to talk about it. The divorce was just too fresh in my mind. It was something I had no control or say over. It was what it was, and there was nothing I could do about it. Talking about it wouldn’t change anything. Talking about it would only remind me that it happened, and I didn’t want to think about it.
“Thanks, Clo. You don’t have to worry. It is what it is. I’m over it.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” I said flatly, annoyed by her persistence. “Oh yeah, guess what?” I knew just then exactly what I could say to take her mind off my parents’ divorce.
“What?”
“Amber says hi.”
“Amber?” I could tell she became more alert at the mention of her name.
“Yeah. It turns out that we have English Lit together.”
“Oh. How come you didn’t mention this before?”
There was an accusatory tone in her voice that I didn’t like, and I was immediately on the defensive.
“She never came up in conversation and I forgot. What’s your deal with her, anyway?” I grimaced when I heard my question come out.
“Nothing,” she shot back quickly. “I just think she’s a bitch.”
I let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, Clo. I know. That came out wrong. I know you don’t like her, but I think she’s really matured since high school.”
“Yeah, maybe,” she said half-heartedly.
Then I let out an uncontrollable yawn. I looked over at the clock on the wall and realized it was one in the morning. We’d been on the phone for over two hours now.
“Hey, I think I’m about to crash, Clo.” I yawned again. “I have an eight o’clock class in the morning.”
“Yeah, me too,” I admitted, catching myself yawn as well. “I’m pretty tired.”
“Call you later this week?” I suggested.
“Okay. Sure. Oh and don’t forget to think about November.”
I smiled. “Clo, I’ve already told you. There’s nothing to think about. It’s a done deal.”
“Jax, just double check with your classes. I know there are a lot of midterms and papers due in November. I wouldn’t want your grades to suffer just so you can visit me then.”
I shook my head and laughed. “Clo, don’t be ridiculous. Of course I’m going to visit you that weekend. It’s your birthday. We’ve never celebrated a birthday apart since we’ve known each other. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
“Okay.” I could hear the happiness and excitement in her voice. “You promise?”
“Yes,” I laughed. “I promise.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
November 2003
Eighteen Years Old
CHLOE
First semester at Penn was hard for me—harder than I’d thought it would be.
I made a few friends at my dorm, but not many and no one I felt I’d really bonded with. All my freshman year classes at Penn were so large, with well over two hundred students in each lecture, that it was impossible to make friends with anyone in class. I should know, I’d tried to make conversation with a few girls I’d seen in class, and they had all smiled and responded back politely, but made no efforts to prolong the conversation before rushing out of the lecture hall. Many of the other freshmen on my floor in my residence hall seemed to be meeting new people through the Greek system—if they were pledging a fraternity or sorority— or through a club or social group they’d joined during the first week of classes. There had been a few clubs that I had wanted to check out, but I ended up missing their scheduled informational meetings and sign-ups because I had gone to visit Jackson instead. I tried to go to one of the club’s second events two weeks later, but it seemed like people had already made friends with each other from the first introduction meeting and had met up to hang out a few times between the first and second club event. I’d ended up leaving the event feeling like an outsider, and it brought up the same feelings of insecurity and loneliness that I’d felt during my first day at my new school when I’d moved in with Aunt Betty and Uncle Tom. It wasn’t the type of feeling I wanted to feel, and I never ended up checking out the other clubs I had also been interested in.
And after a while, it felt harder and harder to make friends with people because as people started to form their social circles and routines, they became less willing to make time and space for new friends.
What made the first few months of college even worse was Jackson. I really missed him. He had started pledging a fraternity a few weeks into the start of the semester and with every passing week, I’d hear less and less often from him. And when I did hear from him, it was usually just a quick text or email, and rarely a call. The few times I’d actually heard his voice, I could barely get a few words in before he said he had to go.
But I didn’t fault him for being busy. College was supposed to be busy and fun. Even though my first semester wasn’t panning out the way I’d wanted or imagined, it wasn’t fair to blame Jackson for it, or expect him to not enjoy his own college experience. I never told him that I hadn’t made many friends yet, and I wasn’t sure if I would, even if he was around more to talk to. I didn’t want him to feel bad or guilty for having a great time while knowing that I wasn’t.
So as the weeks dragged on, and I heard from Jackson less and less often, I began to feel more and more isolated and alone. And even though I hated feeling this way and knew that I needed to get out and make more of an effort to meet new people, I couldn’t seem to escape the heavy feeling of loneliness and despair.
The one thing I was looking forward to—the light at the end of the tunnel—was my upcoming nineteenth birthday in two weeks.
I had been excited about my birthday ever since I started planning it a few weeks ago. Jackson was taking the train down and Aunt Betty and Uncle Tom were driving into the city for the day. Even Charlie decided to take the week before Thanksgiving off so he could celebrate my birthday with me.
I had the whole day already planned out.
We were going to spend the day at the Autumn’s Colors and Chrysanthemum Festival at Longwood Gardens before heading to my birthday dinner at Vetri, an upscale Italian restaurant owned by the up-and-coming chef, Marc Vetri. I was so excited to see everyone, especially Jackson, and spend my birthday with those whom I loved and cared about. I knew having them around would make everything better. My birthday was exactly the thing I needed to get out of this slump.
***
November 21, 2003
Nineteen Years Old
My nineteenth birthday was today and it was turning out to be the worst birthday ever.
I woke up that morning with puffy, blood-shot eyes and a migraine. I had cried myself to sleep the night before. Luckily my roommate had left early for Thanksgiving break and hadn’t witnessed my complete mental breakdown.
I had cried because Jackson called me late the previous night.
I squealed in delight when I saw his name pop up on the screen when my phone started buzzing. It had been almost two weeks since we’d spoken on the phone. We’d both been busy with midterm exams and papers, but he had been even more busy because of his fraternity.
As I picked up to answer the phone, a wide grin spread across my face knowing that I was finally going to hear his voice.
But as soon as I did, I knew something was wrong.
“Hey, Clo.” His voice was low, like he was whispering and didn’t want anyone to hear him. But even through his muted voice, I could hear that he wasn’t happy.
“Hey, Jax,” I greeted him with apprehension, the excitement I’d felt just seconds ago gone from my voice. “How are you? I haven’t talked to you in a while.”
“I’m all right. How are you?”
“I’m good.” I tried to sound cheerful as I braced myself for whatever he was about to say. “I really miss you. I’m really excited to see you tomorrow.”