The Songs of You and Me

by Mylissa Demeyere

  I guess there was a third option, and I was trying my darnedest to pretend like I had a clue what Mr. Baker was talking about, stop myself from blushing, and keep my cool around Michael. I felt my cheeks warming, but I refused to give into his bluff. Instead, I gave him a sideways glance.

  “I could ask Evan along. He might know a thing or two about Matt Damon,” I challenged, pointing out our classmate a few rows over. I didn’t trust myself to say anything more that wouldn’t dig myself into a deeper hole. I could see the challenge register on his face, and instead of cowering like most guys, he rose up like a real man. I had to give him credit for that.

  “I’m most definitely asking you out on a date, so there will be no taking Evan along, you hear?”

  He raised his eyebrows, making sure I wasn’t going to contradict him again. I couldn’t help myself. The action made me laugh, and a few heads turned in response. Luckily, Mr. Baker was really into his lecture and totally unaware of our banter.

  “Jane Pierce.” Michael paused, waiting for me to look him in the eye. “Will you please accompany me to the movies on Saturday night?”

  He gazed at me with all of his boyish charm, and I grinned at his theatrical display. He sure knew how to turn it on for the ladies, I would give him that.

  “Well, when you ask me like that, Michael, however can I say no?” I batted my eyelashes and gave him a cheeky grin. He chuckled but settled down when Mr. Baker called him out, drawing even more attention to us than we already had.

  “So, what time am I picking you up? And can I have your number?”

  All of that played out on Monday, and today was Saturday, the day of our date. It was half past six and I was all dressed and ready, sitting in my room putting my lip gloss on when my dad passed by my door. He saw me and paused.

  “You look beautiful. Going out tonight?”

  “Yep, on a date with Michael. I spoke to Mom about it earlier this week.”

  “Right, she mentioned it. That’s tonight?” Dad looked at me, his brows pulled together.

  “It is Saturday, Dad, so yes, that’s tonight.” I smiled through my reflection in the mirror.

  “You’re growing up too fast.” Dad walked over and dropped a kiss on the top of my head.

  “Dad…” I chided, but secretly I loved the attention.

  “Be home by ten, and don’t forget who you are.”

  “Why, who am I?”

  “You’re real funny, young lady.”

  My parents always reminded me to never forget who I was, especially when I left the house. It was really sweet, but I liked to push my dad. Mom, not so much. But Dad, he could handle the joke.

  “Eleven thirty?” I pushed.

  “Eleven,” he conceded. Perfect, that was exactly what I was aiming for. Thank goodness my parents hadn’t figured out my tactics yet.

  “Okay, Daddy.”

  I was thrilled to spend two hours staring at Matt Damon. As excited as I was about this movie, Michael was like a little kid on Christmas morning, the way he kept going on about it.

  It was 7:15 and we were seated in the theater, a couple of buckets of popcorn and enough soda that I might need a bathroom break during the show.

  Michael had kept me engaged in conversation since he picked me up half an hour ago. As always, he was full of fun and jokes.

  The lights dimmed and the screen lit up. Two hours of staring at Matt Damon executing flawless stunts was magical. You know how they say, don’t get your hopes up too high, you’ll be disappointed? I had high hopes, and Matt Damon wasn’t at all disappointing.

  Michael was enraptured, commenting on the special effects and fighting scenes.

  “You know Brad Pitt was originally offered the role of Jason Bourne, right?” Michael commented as Matt Damon entered another scene. I found myself really enjoying this date despite his interruption and extra commentary.

  The movie came to an end, and after a quick stop to the restroom—blast those sodas—we walked over to Michael’s car.

  “That was such a great movie. What was your favorite part?” He was still riding a movie high.

  “Eh…there were so many good parts. The one in the embassy was impressive.”

  “That was great! And did you like the part where they were in his Paris apartment? I think Hollywood nailed that one.”

  As we drove onto my street, I felt my insides tighten in nervous knots. I was not the kind of girl to make out with a guy on a first date. As much as I liked him, I didn’t know if I was ready to start something I wasn’t sure my heart was into yet. Would that even be fair to him?

  “Let me get your door,” Michael said quietly.

  I guess he was also nervous about the good-bye door/kiss moment coming up. It was actually a little endearing. The loud, confident Michael was obviously uneasy. It made me feel a whole lot less nervous all of a sudden.

  “I had a really nice evening tonight, Michael.”

  “Me too, Jane.”

  He took my hand in his, interlacing our fingers. Something he wasn’t brave enough to do all night, I realized. The contact, although sweet, didn’t really affect me. I didn’t feel the butterflies exploding inside me like I did when I thought of Jackson. The air didn’t crackle and sizzle when our skin met, the way I felt myself ignite when Jackson’s hand sought out mine.

  I saw the seriousness in the way he looked at me, and I felt a brick settle in the pit of my stomach. Oh no, he was going to kiss me. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings, but if him holding my hand didn’t do much for me, I doubted him kissing me was going to have me doing cartwheels on the inside, either.

  Michael’s eyes closed, and as he leaned in, I made a split decision. I turned slightly. His lips brushed against the corner of my mouth, barely missing my lips. It was a sweet, soft kiss, with the right amount of pressure to be chaste for a first date. As much as I wanted to like Michael, wanted to want his kiss, I didn’t feel any kind of spark. I stood there, let it happen, and hated myself for not being able to enjoy this moment that could be the perfect start of something great.

  When he pulled away, I could see the disappointment written on his face. Poor Michael. I rejected him, but he still awarded me one of his brighter than life smiles.

  “Thanks again for a wonderful night, Jane.”

  “Thanks, Michael.”

  I watched him drive off, and I headed inside. Dad was sitting in the living room waiting up for me.

  “How was your date tonight?” he asked, without taking his eyes off his newspaper. I knew my dad; he was chomping at the bit to hear, but he didn’t want to appear overeager.

  “It was fine.” I forced a little extra enthusiasm in my voice, but he lowered the newspaper and looked at me. Really looked.

  “Fine? Just fine? Not great, amazing, wonderful?”

  “No, I guess not.”

  “You guess?”

  “I guess.”

  “You want to talk about it?”

  “Not really.”

  “Well, honey, don’t aim for anything less than amazing, great, wonderful, or anything equally impressive. You hear?”

  “I hear, Daddy.”

  “Okay, then.”

  He picked up his paper, but he didn’t fool me. I knew the moment I was in bed, he would follow.

  “’Night, Daddy. Love you.”

  “Love you, too.”

  As I lay in bed at night, all I could think about was how I wished it had been Jackson with me tonight. Why didn’t he want me like Michael wanted me? And why couldn’t I forget Jackson, so I could like a perfectly great guy like Michael?

  Present Day

  Push the Button -Sugababes

  JANE

  School was finally done for the week. I was ready to pick up my baby girl. I collected my things and hightailed it out of the high school, eager to wrap Emma in my arms.

  “Hi, Mom,” Emma murmured in my ear, squeezing me tight. How I loved a welcome like this at the end of my day. Nothing beat the warm greetin
g she gave me each time I picked her up from school.

  “Hi, sweetheart. I missed you today.” I hung on a little longer to her. Soon, she would grow up and not want me hugging her, so I wanted to cherish these precious moments while they lasted.

  “You ready to get some dinner?”

  I was starving after a long day of teaching difficult teenagers. “I thought we could eat together before you go over to Nana and Pops’s. What do you feel like having?”

  “Can we have pizza, Mom?” Emma pleaded with a grin plastered on her cute face. She looked just like David, with her big baby blues and huge smile, but when it came down to food, she was a copy of her momma.

  “Sure we can, baby girl.”

  We hopped in the car and drove over to Marco’s. Nothing beat a pizza from the Italian place in town.

  After indulging in a pepperoni pizza with olives and a salad, because the good parent in me urged me to have something green on our plate each night, we headed to my parents’ home.

  My mom must have heard the car, because she opened the door as Emma and I got out.

  “Hi, Nana!” Emma screamed with the energy and excitement of a six-year-old running on too much sugar. I guess we would be skipping the soda next time.

  “Hi, Emma. How has your day been?” my mother asked her, as if she were addressing an adult and not her six-year-old granddaughter.

  “It was great! We learned new words, and I got to play with the bunny Miss Matthews brought in today. It was awesome.”

  “Where are my favorite girls?” Dad came out to greet us. He picked up Emma and gave her a twirl. She squealed and shrieked, but he didn’t let her go. He was enjoying this as much as she was.

  They both started whispering something I couldn’t make out and headed on inside. I smiled, enjoying the bond they shared. Dad knew how to make a girl feel special, and Emma was eating up every moment with him.

  “How has your day been?” Mom asked as she wrapped her arm around my shoulder. She gave me a little squeeze, waiting for me to answer.

  “It was good, just a long week is all,” I replied.

  “What a nice surprise to see Jackson at Emma’s party.” Mom was baiting me.

  “Mhm,” I mumbled.

  “You two were always such good friends,” she continued.

  “We were,” I agreed. Thinking of Jackson’s strong arms wrapped around me caused my cheeks to flush. Those arms sure didn’t feel all that platonic. Trying not to read too much into it, I added, “I guess we still are friends.”

  “He always was such a good boy.” Mom’s lips curled up into a smile, and her eyes turned wistful, probably recalling fond memories from our past.

  “He isn’t a boy anymore,” I blurted out without a second thought. Mom’s smile turned into a much less innocent one as the wheels in her mind turned.

  “He sure isn’t. I’m glad you’ve noticed.” Mom smirked and gave me a slight squeeze.

  “Mom! He’s half your age. Seriously.” What was up with her?

  “Oh, honey, I may be old, but that doesn’t mean I can’t notice a good-looking man when I see one. And that man is very fine looking.”

  I was too stunned to reply.

  Mom continued. “You know he always had a soft spot for you.”

  Now I was even more stunned.

  “Don’t look at me like that. He would always hang around you and run after you like a lovesick puppy.”

  “He did not.” I protested.

  “Sure he did. You were too blind to notice, and he was too young and scared to do something about it. Your dad probably scared him off as well.”

  “Seriously, you’re remembering all of this a whole lot differently.” Was she? Was I blind back then? I always felt there was something there, but Jackson never made a move, and I was too afraid to hope.

  “Trust me, a mother knows these things. And I’d say not a lot has changed from where I’m standing.” Her wistful gaze returned.

  “Mom, we’re just friends.” I was trying hard not to read too much into all of the intense feelings he was eliciting in me lately.

  “The best of relationships are based on friendship, dear.”

  “That may be the case, but I’m not looking for a relationship at the moment.” I kept reminding myself this over and over, trying to save my poor heart from the damage I knew Jackson Wright could inflict. Was I even ready for the intenseness he evoked?

  “Sweetheart.“ Mom’s tone turned serious as she led me to the swing on the porch. “As much as it has gotten better these past years, I can still see what the loneliness does to you. You miss having someone by your side, sharing your bed. David’s gone, Jane. You are here. Emma is here. You need to move on with your life.”

  “What do you mean, move on? All I’ve done is move on. I’ve made a life for us without him,” I snapped, the warm and fuzzy mood from earlier forgotten, that loneliness she talked about creeping up on me. I was so good at keeping the pain tucked safely away. Facing it was something I did nearly three years ago. I did that more than I wanted to when David died. Sure, it still hurt more than anything when I stopped to think about it, but I moved on. I knew he wasn’t coming back. That didn’t mean I had to go and replace him, though.

  “Getting a job, moving to a new house, being there for Emma is all great, but I want to see you happy again.”

  “I am happy, Mom.” My voice still held a bit of edge, but my mind was preoccupied by all of the thoughts tumbling around.

  “I know, honey. But you need more. Maybe you haven’t figured it out yet, but you’re too young to go through the motions.” She wrapped me in her arms and kissed my forehead. “Promise me you’ll give the idea some thought. I’d hate for you to miss out because you’re stuck in the past. You hear?”

  Was I stuck in the past? Was I clinging on to the memory of my dead husband out of fear? Had I moved on enough? Was I going to pass up something good because I wasn’t willing to let go?

  “Okay, Mom.” It was all I had to offer for now.

  “Jane, honey, I know you don’t want to think too much about this, but you have to at some point. It’s time, baby.”

  She faced me and held my shoulders in her hands. “You know I love you, my Janey. I have loved you from the day I found out you were growing inside of me.” I noticed unshed tears in her eyes. It wasn’t often my mom got this serious, and I found myself getting a little overcome by emotion. “So please, Jane, be happy. Think of that precious girl and live a happy life together. No more dwelling on the past, sweetheart.”

  “I don’t know if I can,” I choked out.

  “I hear you. I won’t pretend to understand, but I know how hurt you were, how much you still hurt. But he’s gone, and he’s not coming back. You have to move forward. Staying in the past isn’t going to help you, or Emma. You need to look to the future.”

  “My mind knows you’re right, Mom, but I’m not sure my heart is in the same place yet,” I admitted.

  “I understand. And as much as I know you like to take things at your own pace, life doesn’t always move at the pace we choose it to move at. If we decide to postpone and not work through what is holding us back, we might wake up one day and realize we missed out on a whole lot of amazing opportunities. I don’t want that for you, sweetie. If I have learned anything along the way, it’s that life is over in the blink of an eye. And if we don’t grasp the opportunities life gives us, we’ll be left with regret.”

  “I know, Mom.” I loved her for helping me hear this. I hoped I had the courage to move forward, because right now, I didn’t feel courageous at all.

  Mom knew she’d given me enough to mull over. She was never one to force an idea on someone. She would gently but firmly make her point. And she had.

  “Let’s go find your father and see what kind of trouble he has gotten little Emma into, okay?” She gave me another quick hug and headed into the house.

  I took a minute to look out into the evening sky and enjoy the sun trying to
break through the clouds. It was as if there were thick clouds surrounding me and preventing the warmth and light of the sun to break free and light up my life. If I was honest with myself, I didn’t feel complete. I hadn’t since the day David died, and I feared I never would be completely whole again.

  JACKSON

  I arrived at Jane’s house by about 7:30 and gave myself a final pep talk before popping a couple of breath mints in my mouth. Making my mind up took my nervousness to a whole new level. This girl always had that effect on me.

  I walked up to her front door and heard the soft thump of a bass floating in the air. It was a tune that seemed familiar, but I couldn’t quite put my finger on which song it was. I tried the doorbell but already knew it was pointless. There was no way anyone would hear anything over the sound coming from those speakers.

  After waiting a few seconds, in order not to appear too eager, I tried knocking, slightly louder than the doorbell, and waited. I felt like an idiot after my weird behavior the other day.

  With that kind of noise coming from the house, someone had to be home. I was determined to see Jane tonight and get this apology off my chest, no turning back at this point.

  Knowing no one would hear me, I walked around the house, to see if I could knock on the back door. I remembered the way from the last time I was here for Emma’s party. The gate on the side of the house opened up easily enough. As I rounded the corner, I saw a dancing, singing Jane dropping a trash bag in the bin outside. She hadn’t spotted me there as she belted out the lyrics to the song I now recognized as one Sarah used to listen to all the time as a teenager. I guess it was one of Jane’s favorites, too.

  The sight of this side of her took my breath away. This was the girl I fell in love with all those years ago. The girl who embraced life to the fullest. She was almost crying out to the tune and dancing like she didn’t have a care in the world. Her hair was tied up, a few strands fallen out of her ponytail framing her face. She was wearing cut-off jeans, showing off her slim, tight legs. Her form-fitting shirt revealed new curves, reminding me she wasn’t the same girl from all those years ago.