Thirty Six

TIME STOPS COMPLETELY. Xavier and I spend the next few hours sitting on the park bench catching up. To be fair, my version of catching up is that I got up and got dressed today, even if it was by force. I talk about my school assignments and X tells me all about Madeline, football and his academic adventures. The only drink I have is shared from Xavier's solo cup. I know it's his birthday but I cry on his shoulder. I can't help it. As soon as Jackson's name comes up, I turn into a blubbering mess. When will it ever end? This practice is becoming all too normal with Xavier and I can't believe he doesn't avoid me as if I were infected with the zombie fever brining on the end of the world. Honestly. I wouldn't want to be around me if I were him, yet here he is. I wipe at my tears. "I'm sorry. It's your birthday and I'm sitting here making it all about me." "It's never been all about you Mouse, you've earned the time in the spotlight. Trust me. Say whatever you need to say whenever you need to say it. You know I'm here for you. A hundred percent." I know given the events that have unfolded, it's a risky move, but I place my hand on his knee. "Love you X." "Love you too," he says. He drops a kiss on my head. "To the moon and back." Those five words prove to me without a doubt, Xavier and I are in the place we need to be. The one where he's my best friend, and not my secret admirer. The place where I know he will always be and for now, that has to be good enough because it's all I've got. I stand. "Well, it's been a slice my friend but I should go. I have to do a month's worth of work in a day. The downfall of being in mourning and slacking excessively." He rises to his feet too. "If anyone can do it, you can, Lo. Have a little faith yeah?" "I'm trying." He pulls me into a hug. "You're gonna get through it, promise." Xavier walks me home but doesn't stay. He tells me Madeline is waiting for him. His cheeks get all flushed when he says it and I know that something has been going on. Good for both of them. Xavier is a stand up guy and Madeline is a doll. Two people who deserve to find each other regardless of the circumstances. My screen flashes with a text from Tori, telling me not to expect her home. A month ago, I would have welcomed the solitude but now it feels just like drowning in my own thoughts, kicking and struggling trying to get to the surface just so I can breathe again. In an effort to rid myself of them, I pull out my notebook and pen and begin organizing my ideas for our final assignment. I have about three pages of notes when I decide I've had enough excitement for one day. I head to the shared bathrooms again and when I look at my face, it becomes clear Tori's hard work paid off. I wish Jackson could have seen me look like this. Even just once. Maybe he had. Sometime in the future. I wipe away at the layers masking my face with a warm washcloth and brush my teeth. As I climb into bed, I wish that for just one night I didn't have to think. I wish my mind wasn't consumed by another person. It's a daunting feeling, to be that emotionally vulnerable to someone else and despite my best efforts, there is nothing it seems I can do to control it. So just like the last twenty-seven days, I fall asleep dreaming, wishing for Sunday. The next morning I wake because thunder crashes in the sky. Perfect. Another rainstorm. I haven't been out save for X's party, but for the last week the sound of constant rain has lulled me to sleep over and over again. I can't sleep today, even if I wanted to, work to be done. English to fail. A future to destroy. I glance at Tori's bed. For one one hundredth of a second, just like I do every single time she's gone, I picture Jax in his white and red raglan and dark jeans, sitting there without a care in the world, smirking about Tori's lacy underwear. Telling me his silly stories. Making me fall in love with him. I'd give anything to go back in time, same way he had and treasure every second that much more. I change into a pair of sweats and a hoodie and tie my hair in a top knot. Some of the curl is still in it from last night and it looks effortlessly cute despite my frumpy attire. I grab my sad notes, my messenger bag and an umbrella and head out the door. The bookstore isn't all that busy and I'm grateful to see a large sign hanging from the ceiling above a bookshelf that says 'classics.' Perfect. My work is minimized. I head there and pluck War and Peace and Anna Karenina from the shelf. Tolstoy. Classic International Author. Step one down, a hundred to go. War and Peace is intimidating. Thing weighs a solid five pounds, I swear and it's bulky and heavy so I decide it's best to sit. I slide myself down and lean against the bookshelf, scanning the pages for quotes and points of interest. If I were less cheap, I'd buy the books and bring them home to highlight the passages but it's just as easy to jot down things in my notebook here. I must sit that way for at least an hour, probably 1/10000th of the amount of time it would actually take to read War and Peace, before I move on to Anna Karenina. War and Peace gave me a solid start but I'll be honest, it wasn't my type of read, Anna Karenina, on the other hand, sucks me in. It tells the tale of a sordid love affair between a socialite, Anna Karenina and Count Vronsky. I love the idea of love. I should hate it right now, but I can't. Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. The high, the rush, the thrill of it all is beautifully conveyed by the words on these pages. They captivate me better than any cheesy supermarket romance novel ever would. Perhaps I should have read Tolstoy a long time ago. I get lost in those words. So lost. And then just like that, in the blink of an eye, I am found. A rush of air flows beside me and when I hear his voice, the book in my hands begins to shake, tears fill my eyes, and large droplets mar the perfect pages of paper. His voice. It's a voice I've ached to hear, longed for more than anything. A voice that has haunted my dreams and saturated my memories. A voice I was sure I'd never hear again yet here it was. Some wishes do come true, X. Jackson is seated next to me. Coffee in hand. His carefree smile is on his face, touching his eyes and my heart. I want to toss the book and climb onto him. I want to reach out and make sure he's tangible. Someone I can hold onto and never, ever let go. "He felt now that he was not simply close to her, but that he did not know where he ended and she began. You know something, just now, in this moment, I can completely understand what Tolstoy was talking about. Two seconds ago, when I laid eyes on you, I didn't know either. I can't possibly fathom where I end and you begin." His head is tilted slightly to the side so he can read the words on the page. Does Jackson remember me? Does he remember coming back? Or is our past that defied fate my secret to keep? Is this it? How we meet? Do I get to keep him for the next week? Year? Ten years? A lifetime? I don't even care. I smile and look at him. "What's your name?" He blinks. "Looking at you almost makes me forget it," he says. "But it's Jackson. Jackson Nathaniel Sunday but you can call me Jax, Lola." He knows me! I bit down on my lower lip to stop from laughing in utter delight. "Do I know you?" "No," he says, "but you will." "What do you want?" "You." "Jax is a great name," I say. I love the way his name rolls off of my tongue. I love the way it sounds when I speak it. I want to say it over and over and over again. His eyes narrow and he grins. "And you," he says. "I know you're Lola, but I think I'll call you Angel if it's all the same to you. You sure look like one." I set the book down, wiping away at the tears that are forming even though today, I welcome them. "You can call me Angel, Jax. I'd like that very much." He reaches out, brushing the pad of his thumb across my cheek, wiping away the tears. "Don't cry Angel, each tear takes a piece of my soul with it." "I'm not crying because I'm sad. I'm crying because every piece of my soul was just stitched back together in a heartbeat." "A single heartbeat, huh?" "Yeah," I say. "Just one." He stands and extends his hand to help me up. "We've got some catching up to do. What do you say we start with exploring the book store?" "I thought you'd never ask." I let his hand wrap around mine, the tips of his fingers soft, electric. "Jax?" "Yeah, Angel?" "Tell me you're for real." "I'm real, Angel. So real, it hurts."