I nod. “Yeah.” I run my finger over the rim of my coffee mug and change the subject. “Jesse’s been texting.”
She sits up straight. “Really? About what?”
“Random stuff,” I shrug. “Emojis and photos mostly. June called to thank him for the birthday gift a few weeks ago and the communication lines have stayed open. It’s been...nice.”
“Does he know about...” She waves her hand around in front of her and I shake my head.
“I haven’t told him. So, unless one of you guys—”
“We haven’t. We promised we wouldn’t unless—”
“Unless he asked about me.” She jerks her head in a nod, and my stomach twists. “He hasn’t asked about me.”
“I think maybe it’s just too hard for him, you know?”
“Yeah, maybe.”
This is what I wanted, him in Boston pursuing his dreams. Him living his life and not being dragged down by mine. This is good. I’ll be fine. I have too much to worry about to be dwelling over a broken heart, anyway.
“Jocelyn...” Bailey starts, then trails off.
“What?”
“Are you sure he knows? How you feel, I mean? Does Jesse know you’re in love with him?”
I don’t bother denying it. Bailey isn’t stupid.
“It doesn’t matter, Bailey.” I shrug. “He’s got his life, and I’ve got mine. He needs to go to Harvard Med. He can’t ruin his future for me.”
“Don’t you think that should be his choice to make?” When I look at her, her lips are tight, and her eyes are narrowed. “He’s a grown man. You know that, right?”
I gasp, jaw dropped wide in shock, but her gaze doesn’t let up.
“Yes, I am well aware that Jesse is an adult,” I defend. “You think I’m trying to parent him? I’m not. I’m trying not to let my tidal wave of a fucking life pull him under and drown him like it has me.”
I can feel my eyes start to sting with unshed tears, but I stare at the wall and will them away.
“I can’t be the reason he loses everything,” I whisper.
“I think that’s the problem,” Bailey says softly.
“What is?”
“You’re considering yourself a loss instead of a gain.”
I open my mouth to speak, then close it. I have no words for that.
It’s hard to see myself as anything worth gaining. The only person who has ever made me feel that way was...Jesse.
“You know,” she starts, “part of the reason you ended things with Jesse was because Patrick threatened to use the pictures and Jesse against you, right?”
I nod. “Yeah.”
“Well, Patrick’s done it. You ended things with Jesse and your ex still used those pictures. The damage is done, and according to Christina, it’s really not much damage at all.”
“Okay...” I raise a brow, and she raises one right back.
“I just wonder, at this point, if keeping your distance from him is really what’s best for either of you. That’s all.”
She gets up quietly and moves into the kitchen. I hear her rustling around and refilling her mug. While she’s in there, I mull her words over in my head. She’s right. A relationship with Jesse is no longer the danger it was when he left. Sure, he’s in Boston and I’m here, and I do want him to stay in Boston because it’s where he needs to be to achieve his dreams, but maybe...
Out of curiosity, I open my social media and go to his profile. I haven’t been to it in a few weeks. I’ve refrained. I couldn’t handle more things to be sad about on top of all the Patrick crap. Last time I checked it out, his feed was full of pictures of food, lifestyle type shots of him studying, and cats. So many cats.
When his profile finally loads, though, it’s a slap to the face. I feel like somebody kicked me in the stomach with a steel-toed boot.
The very first picture I see is one of him and a gorgeous girl. He’s wearing a grey tux and his yellow tie matches her elegant yellow dress.
He’s smiling. A real, sparkling teeth, all the way to his dancing eyes, Jesse Hernandez smile full of humor and mischief. He looks so beautiful it hurts.
And she’s smiling too. I recognize that smile. It’s the one people get when they’re in the throes of experiencing Jesse’s superpower.
She’s very pretty, this girl. Petite, with rich brown skin and long dark hair. Her eyes are lined with dark black and sparkling gold, and her lips are the deepest of reds. When the picture starts to blur, I blink to clear my eyes of the tears. Then I notice that he’s posted some new story videos, and against my better judgment, I click on them.
I wish I wouldn’t have.
His deep voice and his playful laugh feel so real. He’s dancing. He’s singing. Sometimes he’s by himself, sometimes he’s with people I’ve never seen before, and most of the time, he’s with the pretty girl in the yellow dress. It’s a whole string of short videos of him at what looks like a formal dance. Like prom or homecoming. I never got to go to dances in high school. Patrick didn’t like them. He’d promised me we could go to senior prom, but he ended up breaking that promise.
On the last slide I see the girl’s account is tagged, and I click on it, but her profile is set to private. The bio tells me she’s in her first year at Harvard Med, though. I laugh darkly. I told him our lives were too different. Now he’s found someone who fits his better. I laugh harder, until my side aches, and my face is drenched in tears.
“It won’t always feel like this,” Bailey whispers from the couch next to me. I didn’t even realize she came back. I have no idea how long she’s been sitting next to me. I glance at her and see her phone is open and on Jesse’s profile too.
“The universe is really trying to make me hate pictures,” I muse.
“Fuck the universe,” Bailey spits, and her voice is full of so much venom that it starts me laughing all over again.
A couple hours later,Bailey leaves, and I find myself rage-cleaning the kitchen, so I don’t fall victim to my sadness and heartache.
I declutter the countertops before wiping them down, then empty and wipe out each drawer in the kitchen. I’ve finished four drawers and am starting on a fifth when a familiar piece of construction paper catches my eye. I pull it out and study it.
My list.