Chapter 35

I'D NEVER TRAVELED by bus before.

It'd been two weeks since Elias had left us. Chemistry classes were different now, I spent class reminiscing about the way I used to copy his work, the way he wore his lab coat unbuttoned on experiment Wednesdays, how he'd always been the one to retrieve the required apparatus and materials.

He'd been so fucking patient, I wouldn't be half as kind to someone as useless as myself.

Elias was selfless. Our 'engagement ring' was hanging around my neck now. I'd touch it sometimes, reminds me of his laughter, the crinkles in his eyes. He said I was the only person who truly made him smile.

Jaxon Ortega was snoring beside me. His head was dangerously close to resting on my shoulders. Not that I would mind. Just an observation.

It's Thanksgiving today.

We'd been traveling for three hours on the bus, there was a family behind us with two kids who were squabbling over crayons. I inclined my head to look at Jaxon, he didn't look as tired while he slept. Almost boyish and almost carefree. I wondered how his family would take me.

The map on my phone told me we were another hour from Bakersfield. I fingered the modest rhinestone on the ring hanging from my neck.

The weather was kind today. Blue, cloudless skies formed the backdrop of barren trees by the interstate. Things were going to be okay, one way or another, they had to be.

We had to change buses three times to arrive at Jaxon's neighborhood. His house was two streets away from the bus stop. I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but I was certain I wouldn't have been able to picture something like this in my mind's eye.

Jaxon's smile was small, almost self-conscious. "It's not much, but it's home."

I fingered the strap of my backpack, allowing my eyes to take in my surroundings. His house was facing the railroad. Somewhere in the distance, a dog was barking. People here worked hard for happiness, my neighbors back East paid millions for the illusion of happiness.

Jaxon's hands found mine, his touch was electric and it caused my heart to speed up in ways it shouldn't.

We started holding hands six days ago. I didn't peg either of us as hand-holders. But life was kind, it gave us ample opportunities to learn new things about ourselves. I gave his hand a squeeze.

"Are you sure it's okay?" I asked.

"Am I sure what's okay?" He asked back.

"You bringing a complete stranger home for Thanksgiving."

"My parents have been dying to meet you since I told them about you."

"You tell your parents about me?"

"I tell my parents everything."

I took it in with a nod.

Jaxon moved so he was standing before me, forcing me to look into his eyes. My hands were still in his. "Andrea, are you embarrassed?"

I frowned. "What?"

His eyes fell to the ground. His voice was soft when he replied. "That I'm not as rich as some of your friends, or past boyfriends or whatever."

"No," I almost choked out. "No, no, no. I like you the way you are."

I rested a hand on the side of his face, forcing him to look into my eyes. "Jaxon, I can literally give two shits about a person's wealth. I'm not that shallow, okay?"

I'd never seen Jaxon like this before. He'd always been so self-assured - but again, there wasn't much to be doubt when you're scoring straight As, student council president and on the verge of graduating as Valedictorian.

On a whim, I pressed a chaste kiss onto his left cheek.

He startled, dropping my hands and stepping away. I forced myself to look away, at the overgrowth beyond the railway track.

For two weeks now, we'd been treading on eggshells. Jaxon didn't trust himself around me, I didn't trust myself around myself.

Jaxon's parents were nothing like mine, or Elias's. (I try my best not to think of Elias these days but he just invades my thoughts sometimes.)

I put on a smile and returned Mrs. Ortega's hug. She was a plump woman who smelled like she'd spent her day in the kitchen. Mr. Ortega was the kind of father who played board games with his children. It was evident from the way he remained engrossed in Battleship with a younger version of Jaxon despite my arrival.

"Matias and Nicolas, come say hi," Mrs. Ortega frowned at the duo, before turning to me and introducing herself as Mariana.

I took her hands and in return, introduced myself.

The Ortegas reminded me of how my own family used to be, before my father got all engrossed in work. Thanksgiving in my own family used to be a huge thing where I'd help my mother stuff the turkey as she prepared her signature pecan pie. I wasn't the only one affected by my father's absence.

The first year Father was gone, my mother tried her best to recreate Thanksgiving. It just wasn't the same. Left her kind of depressed, if I should say. Father couldn't make it home the second year either, my mother ended up throwing the food out and flying the both of us to New York to shop our sadness away. Mother didn't even bother doing anything on the third year. I stopped going home after that. The glamor of Thanksgiving faded away. Just another day at my house now.

I told Jaxon this three days ago, he proceeded to invite me to his house for Thanksgiving. It wasn't an offer I could pass up, despite it being incredibly selfish of me. What right did I have crashing the reunion of such a perfect family?

But then Nicolas Ortega (Jaxon's younger brother) asked me if I knew how to play Battleship. When I said no, the ten year old, had dragged me to the living room where his game had been set up. With a glint in his brown eyes, the kid proceeded to teach me how the board game worked.

"Come on Nick, aren't you going to let her get settled in first?" Jaxon asked as he plopped down on the couch closest to us.

"She needs to learn," Nick replied.

"He just wants to play with you 'cause he never wins against my father nor I." Jaxon told me.

"That is not true," the kid snapped.

I could only smile at the exchange. I wasn't sure if any of the Ortegas could tell, but I was barely holding myself together. The rumbling of an approaching train moved my focus away from the game, to the living room window. I kept my eyes on the window until I saw the train rush past. I looked outside until my vision blurred before I wrenched my gaze back to Nick's board game.

The Ortegas didn't have a guest room, they let me take Nick's bedroom, forcing the kid to share a bed with his brother. I felt semi-bad for both boys, but they didn't seem to mind. Something about Jaxon's bedroom having "better Wi-Fi connection anyway".

Dinner was okay, but I still felt like I was encroaching somewhere I didn't belong. I smiled through the pleasantries, complimented Mrs. Ortega's food where appropriate, and finally, fought nail and tooth to wash the dishes. I didn't miss the way Mr. Ortega put a heavy hand on his son's shoulder, giving him an approving nod.

I wasn't anyone's, though. I wasn't even sure what I wanted, or who I wanted.

I'd been numb for the past two weeks. But moments like these made me feel raw, akin to stripping a band-aid from a wound that's yet to heal. I swallowed the nausea and scrubbed harder at the plate.

I had to be okay. No excuses. No time to mourn.

I watched TV with the Ortegas after dinner. I only registered glimpses of moving pictures on their box television. Sometimes, Nick's laughter would rip me from my reverie, but only for moments, before I drowned in the way Elias looped his Ys, the way he his brows furrowed over hazel eyes whenever I said anything remotely smart, the way his body felt against mine whenever he swooped in for hugs -

"Are you okay?"

"No."

With a start, I realized what I'd said. I forced some laughter out. "Just kidding. I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?"

I held it together until 2:56am, when I grew tired of calling Elias to hear his voicemail message, when I grew tired of looping Elias's favorite song, when I grew tired of suppressing the strange emotion, when I ripped apart from the fucking seams.

I don't know, sometimes you don't realize how unhappy you've been until you see happy people and wonder why the fuck you aren't smiling like they are.

For the first time since Elias died, I allowed myself to cry.

It's true, what they say about grief. It's like the ocean, it comes in waves, ebbing and flowing. Sometimes, it's calm, but other times it's overwhelming, all at once, and you drown in it because you can't catch your breath quickly enough.

I was curled in a fetal position, sobbing noisily when Jaxon found me.

I felt the bed dip before I felt his hands pry tear-soaked hair from my forehead. It was dead quiet, my uneven breathing, interspersed with Jaxon's silent ones, were the only noises in the night. My heart clenched painfully as I recalled the first time I saw Elias. Things were so different now.

I don't know how long I laid like that, holding Jaxon's hands tightly as I tried my best to steady my breathing.

"The whole house can hear you, you know?"

He was trying to lighten the mood. Jaxon didn't do sappy, he wasn't like Elias. I pressed my lips to his hands, keeping them there until I was forced to come up for air.

I sat up then, refraining from looking at Jaxon.

"I'm sorry."

My voice came out hoarser than I intended. I tried to clear my throat but I ended up sniffling loudly. "Where can I go to cry in peace?"

"Why are you crying?"

"I miss him, okay?"

"Okay."

“I don’t understand why he did it. He was facing some inconveniences but suicide shouldn’t have been the answer. He was always there for me when I needed him.”

“Oh.”

“But I wasn’t there when he needed someone.”

My tears had dried up by the time Jaxon took me to the patio. But you could see stars from this part of the country, so that was a good trade-in. I drained the glass of water beside me, before lifting both legs and hugging them to my chest. Time felt like a foreign concept tonight. It was just me, my memories of Elias and Jaxon.

"Feeling better?"

"Uh huh."

Jaxon started speaking, but then he stopped himself.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"I wanna know what you wanted to say."

"I was just going to say that crying releases endorphins, that's why you feel better now."

I rolled my eyes, but it was an affectionate eye-roll. Then I leaned my head against his shoulders. It felt nice. We sat like that until the horizon yellowed into dawn of the following day.

Things were going to be okay. They had to be. I read that time cures pain.