The XOXO New Adult Collection: 16 Full Length New Adult Stories (157 page)

William looked from her back to me, smiling the entire time. “Make it two.”

When we were alone, I started tapping the table again, using my fingernails again to vary the sound of the noise. I only spoke up again when I felt his gaze drift from my hands to my face, questions he clearly wanted to ask not being verbalized.

“What?” I snapped. Where had my sing-song voice gone? Did suicide attempts cause mood swings? I made a decision to look it up later and focused on the sound of William’s voice.

“Nothing.” He said dismissively. “I just didn’t peg you for high carbs kind of girl.”

I stopped tapping and looked up. With the better lighting, I could see William’s eyes were not only blue, but speckled with yellow as well. They reminded me of late summer, the way leaves threaten to change colors while still occupying a blue sky. Liking it far more than I deserved, I stared at the withered, shaking hands of the waitress as she placed my iced tea in front of me. When she left, I stared at the ice cubes that struggled to melt.

“What kind of girl did you peg me for?”

“I don’t know.” Clearly uninterested in ice cubes or the hands of overaged waitresses, William slid his iced tea to the side and put his elbows on the table. “The carrot smoothie kind?”

It hadn’t occurred to me how thirsty I was until I started drinking, but now that I did, I gulped my iced tea like my life depended on it. That notion made me laugh, and I ended up snorting a particularly strong gulp of lemon flavor, causing me to sputter and cough out my laugher.

“You should watch your stereotypes, William. Just because I’m a girl doesn’t automatically mean I have an eating disorder. I didn’t assume that because you’re Irish your Catholic.”

“I’d be the first in my family if I wasn’t.” He said with shining pride. “But I never said you did, Jumper—had an eating disorder that is.” He leaned back into the seat and shoved his hands into his pockets. “Women who look like you just tend not to eat things with ‘lots and lots of syrup’.”

I wasn’t sure if he was trying to compliment me or make fun of me, either way I still kind of liked it and felt myself rise to the challenge for the second time that night.

“Syrup is a staple food for all other foods, the base of the food pyramid, the founder of all other foods...”

One of his eyebrows went up. “I’m pretty sure syrup isn’t technically even a food.”

“That’s just non-believer talk. Clearly, you have not accepted syrup into your life as your one true savior.”

Considering he was in fact Catholic, I thought for a second that I had taken my joke too far and offended him. Once his face broke back out into a smile, I knew I was in the clear. Again though, he leaned forward with his elbows on the table, his smell that much more potent—that much more lovely.

“Right then, so the whole water into wine thing, are you going to tell me that was actually syrup?”

I nodded and let myself laugh. “Amen.”

William chuckled like he really thought I was funny, and slid his iced tea across the table. Normally, I would have felt bad about it, awkward, but at that moment I didn’t care—I liked the game we were playing and was too thirsty, too hungry to care about much else other than making him laugh some more and filling my thirst.

“Blimey,” He rolled his eyes but never stopped smiling. “Anything else I should know?”

“The tree of knowledge.” I waved him away. “Was actually a river of syrup.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “This has all the makings for a conspiracy novel.”

“I know.” I nodded seriously. “I know.”

“The first man and woman?”

I looked over my shoulder, feigning paranoia. “Sugar cane”

“Wow.” William gasped. “Wow.”

If humoring me wasn’t enough, William interlaced his fingers as if in prayer. By itself, this drew more than one look from the diner’s other patrons, but when he closed his eyes and started mumbling to himself I was certain I might die of literal embarrassment. I grimaced into my hand, turning to the wall and closing my own eyes.

“What Jumper? You’ve converted me!” Laughing still, he hit the booth table with his fist. “Take all my money! Where’s the compound? Where do I sign up?”

I couldn’t help it—I laughed.

When the food came, we both ate, though admittedly, I ate faster and probably more too. Hardly looking up from my plate, I never could have known for sure.

“Damn Jumper, eat much?”

I poured more syrup over my hash browns. “Last meal.” I shrugged. “What can I say?”

From the corner of my eye I saw him tense, but he didn’t say anything, not even a joke, and for some reason, that bothered me more than I wanted to let on.

“Lighten-up William Do-gooder O’Reilly.” I stared at the dirty linoleum floor. “I think it’s safe to say you met your good deed quota for the day. Hell, maybe even the week.”

“I’ll admit” He crumbled a piece of bacon in his hands until it turned to dust. I wasn’t sure what I was going to do if you asked me to take you back to that overpass.”

I swallowed the food in my mouth. “What makes you think I still won’t?”

William smiled like he had just heard the greatest joke in the world. “Cause our agreement was that I’d take you to any place you wanted to go.”

“Yeah...”

“
Place
Jumper not places. You said you were hungry, so I brought you to one of the crappiest diners in southern California. I don’t have to take you anywhere else.”

“Ah.” I wiped my hands on a napkin feeling full and stupid, relieved and mad all at once. “A clever way to get rid of me.”

“I’m not trying to get rid of you Jumper, just trying to bide some time.” He shoved a bite of pancake in his mouth and smiled.

I frowned, a stomachache quickly growing. “Bide
me
some time you mean?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Who knows? Maybe this syrup deity of yours will save you after all.”

To this I said nothing, picking at the rest of meal in silence and the awkwardness I had become so familiar with over the last several months. And, no matter how hard I tried, it seemed I could not avoid looking at the overaged waitress—her wrinkled hands impossible to ignore for some reason.

Once the initial syrup high and William’s laughter began to wear off, the fresh heaviness of the meal started settling. My stomach wasn’t bothering me too badly, but the self-awareness hit me as I began to feel embarrassed and annoyed at myself that I had let so much show—exposed what I shouldn’t have in my moments of weakness. How could I have let a stranger talk me off the ledge after I had been so determined? So sure?

How could I have been weak enough to let him see me cry?

William paid the tired looking waitress from a large stack of money, letting her keep the change and surely giving her the thrill of her night like he had given me. If I wasn’t so snowed under the weight of my own shame I might have even asked him about it—or at least would have let theories roll around in my head.

After walking outside, William opened the door for me and I felt strangely obliged to let him do that much considering my sudden mortification forced me to look at the floor—and then the street—I couldn’t have found the door handle if I had wanted to.

It was well into Saturday now, but even if it was a weekday, the rush hour traffic probably wouldn’t have started for a good hour. Maybe, I mused if I hurried, I could get back to Port Elizabeth Street before sunrise.

“You have someplace to go Jumper? Other than the afterlife that is?”

I told him exactly where my car was—the brief smile he showed me in return making me cringe because of the victory he so clearly thought he had achieved. When he realized just how close my car was to the overpass, however, it shrank back and I scolded myself.

Making William frown seemed to be just one of many regrets I would take with me. And while my instincts told me he wasn’t trying to be cruel, it was clear I had overstayed my welcome and someone who looked like him, who was kind and interesting and clearly well-off must have had a girlfriend at home—hell, maybe even a wife and kid. While I probably could have found a way to hurt myself right then and there, I didn’t want to burden him anymore than I already had, didn’t want to risk making him feel guilty or responsible when he had already been so damn nice to me. Therefore, I would play the nice good girl my mother had raised me to be, get in my car when he drove me there and let him think he had done a good deed. If nothing else, I could give William that for his trouble.

We were quiet on the drive and I literally bit my tongue, keeping my eyes shut and pretending I didn’t feel his eyes on me. Maybe it was my imagination, but he seemed to be driving slower than before, and when it occurred to me why, I almost started laughing out of the sheer ridiculousness of it.

The poor guy probably thought I was going to jump straight out of his car and into oncoming traffic.

When we finally did get to the medical office parking lot, my car looked strangely foreign to me—smaller somehow and unimportant compared to all the vehicles I had been exposed to that night. Without hesitation, I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened the door to escape. It would be awhile before I had an opportunity like this again, but that was okay too. Maybe I could plan it out even better, try again at a note, or even try to make it look like an accident—

“Hey Jumper, are you gonna be okay?”

I looked forward then back to him. “My car is here.”

I got out before he could stop me or say anything else charming to remind me of what a screw up I was, how dismal my existence had been. But just so he wouldn’t think of me too terribly, before I closed the door behind me, I forced myself to smile (the way Mom had taught me) and said thanks.

“Um, thank you for breakfast—dinner—whatever.”

As quick as I could without quite running, I walked to my car and started it up as if I had meant to do that all along. I waited for William to pull away but he didn’t, even then, and I had the most distinct feeling he wouldn’t—at least not until I was safely on my way somewhere else.

I waved to the rearview mirror then, cursed to myself silently. William still didn’t budge.

William Do-gooder O’Reilly was serious about his responsibilities.

Well, wasn’t that nice?

I pulled out slowly, not bothering to hide how miserable I felt or how annoyed I was when I saw his car imitate mine motion for motion as I drove towards my house. Knowing it was childish, I didn’t bother with my blinkers or headlights the entire way home: a nerd’s rebellion. Briefly, I glanced at the clock on the radio. Though the morning hadn’t quite reached five, the sun was well on its way to coming up, so even if I wanted to, there wouldn’t have been a chance of jumping from the bridge without being spotted beforehand.

Leaving the clock, my gaze returned to the rearview mirror. William was still there, following at a safe distance. He wasn’t going to try and follow me home was he? Surely his intervention ended hours ago.

At my first red light, I looked back to see he had disappeared, leaving the road behind me as empty as the house would be when I got back to it—a testament to just how little my absence in the world would have made if William hadn’t come along. The more I thought about it, the less I thought I could handle it—the emptiness of my house, and my life.

I gripped the wheel and released it, gripped it, and released it. The sky around me was getting lighter and lighter as the minutes passed. Before long, the joggers would be out, the young mothers with their sleepless babies and playful pets.

Judging by the way the sun moved across the garage, I sat in my car for a good hour before I got out and lugged myself inside the house. Once again, I was terribly sleepy, ready to close my eyes but no longer sure how to make it permanent—my ambition to die just as great, but not as aggressive.

I slept until mid-afternoon, something I hadn’t done since the depression started. Yet how exactly it had started was fuzzy. Even before the event, there was a feeling of dissociation that I felt from my friends. Between the National Guard, backpacking through Europe and internships in DC by the time the end of junior year rolled around almost everyone I hung out with had grand, big plans for after high school. I, on the other hand was going to stay at home and go to college—a decision that everyone assured me was both practical and smart.

Wise. That’s what I had been, wise.

What I failed to tell my friends and teachers was my lack of choice in the matter. Mom and Dad were both adamant on helping me with college—Mom, however, was the only one who put conditions on it, saying that I had to pick a realistic major, something along the lines of computer science, or medical technology. Anything, she insisted that resulted in a reliable paycheck and reputable career.

After four years of nagging, I finally picked business as a major—the only decision that had made her and Dad truly proud. And since Dad’s alma mater gave me a better shot at getting in, I applied to Southern California University as a safety school, looking for more of a reprieve from Mom than anything else.

My real goal was Texas A&M; not, however, for its academics or even its famous football team, but rather because it had been a lifelong dream of
his
. At the time any wants and needs of
his
had been my own.

We were soul mates after all.

It feels strange to think about it—even though it’s been well over a year since he broke my heart—how true love, soul mate, and all that other stuff can change tenses so quickly. Wasn’t true love supposed to be
forever
? If there was someone made for everyone, and only one someone, how were you supposed to go on when your
one and only
didn’t want you anymore?

The small clique of girls I had been friendly with were supportive in the beginning, hanging out with me until I cried my eyes out and binged on ice cream and Fritos only to gradually give-up when the novelty of a brokenhearted friend wore off. In the end, I couldn’t blame them for it. After all it wasn’t their fault that they were going away to school, had lives of their own and dreams to attend to. Even Mom had been supportive that first week, saving her ‘I told you sos’ for a day or two until she couldn’t stand my blubbering anymore and told me I needed to get over it.