Night lights and nightmares

July 20, 2013

I lock my screen and set my phone next to me on the couch. Annoyed at the blankets twisted around my legs, I kick them off and lay on my back instead. Kristen’s couches may be comfortable to sit on but sleeping on them is a different story. I can never seem to get comfortable.

When I finally settle into a position that isn’t completely unbearable, I look up for a moment and allow my eyes to adjust to the dark after looking at my bright little phone screen.

This summer, I have put an end to sleeping with a night light. I didn’t always need one. It started my junior year and ever since I just.. but since I’m starting college in a couple months, with roommates and everything, I figured I should get used to sleeping without it.

It hasn’t been easy. Generally I get everything all situated and clear a path from the light switch to my bed before flipping the switch off and darting back to my bed as fast as I can. Then I just close my eyes. I fall asleep pretty quickly most of the time (thank goodness), so it’s been manageable.

But apparently tonight is one of those nights where I won’t fall asleep so quickly. It’s so odd for me; I can literally sleep anywhere and anytime. But there are some nights.. I try to relax myself, let go of tension in my face, my shoulders, my—

The stairs squeak behind me.

I freeze, any trace of relaxation gone.

I hear the click of a door lock, very faintly.

I cannot move. I literally cannot move.

Now the floor boards, a barely audible creak.

It is you I know it, it is you. I came to Utah to get away from you but now you’ve found me and there’s no escaping because I cannot move my body and my hands are just frozen by my sides, why am I always frozen and I see a flash of movement out of the corner of my eye and it is you, you are here to finish the job and I can’t stop hearing creaks now they are everywhere you are everywhere and I can’t stop envisioning hands over my head, clamping down, pinning me and it is you it is you it is you.

I am saying prayers in my head but they are half coherent because my mind is frozen too it is you it is you it is you.

“Jessi?”

I let out a shriek and it doesn’t sound like me it sounds like some wounded animal and now I’m sobbing when did I start sobbing

“Shmoo! It’s me, it’s me!”

Soft arms come around me and I flinch away and I’m gasping for air and whimpering and hugging my knees to my chest and burying my face, my whole body into the arm of the couch and I just can’t stop saying “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” and I can’t stop crying I can’t stop crying

It takes at least ten minutes of Kristen talking me down, helping me to count my breathing, but definitely not touching me, for me to stop crying. It takes another twenty for me to breathe normally. And it is hours before I stop shaking.

When I leave this time, it's for good

August 9, 2014

I’m pushed to the front of the horde of girls; the youngest is probably ten and the oldest.. is me? No, Rose is definitely older than me, by a few months that she hasn’t let me forget about since we met twelve years ago.

I take a second to fling off my heels. There’s no way I can jump in heels.

Lauren lifts up the skirt of her ball-gown just enough so she can walk over to stand in front of us. She smiles and I swear she’s never looked more beautiful and more in love. The next second, she’s turning around, bouquet in hand, so her back is towards us.

“One,” she begins counting. “Two..”

A week earlier

My alarm goes off at 3:30 a.m.

I let out a groan, flopping over and swiping the snooze button. I’m at peace for ten beautiful seconds until a small knock at my door rudely shoves me into full consciousness.

“Hey Jess. Let’s go.”

I push myself up on one arm, reaching for my phone charger, yanking it from the wall, detaching my phone and shoving the chord into my pillow case. Swinging my legs over the side of my bed takes all my energy and determination, so I allow myself a brief moment of rest.

“Jess. Come on.”

She’s back to remind me again. She is so anxious to get on the road and I’m procrastinating with everything I’ve got.

I grumble as I stand up, joints popping, and slip on my flip flops. I grab Lola and hug my pillow to my chest before following Sadie down the stairs, out the front door. Some groggy part of me recognizes that it’s still so frikkin dark outside, but the stars have never looked so bright.

I’m temporarily blinded as Sadie unlocks the already-packed car, lights flashing as she walks over to open her door. Still half asleep, I pull my door open, plopping unceremoniously into the seat. Sadie hasn’t even started the car before my pillow is propped against the window. The engine starting is the last thing I hear before drifting into a few more hours of relief.

When I wake, the clock reads 6:30 a.m., only a slightly more reasonable hour. We are pulling into a gas station boasting to have Elko’s cheapest gas prices.

We are making really good time. The thought does not comfort me.

“Your turn to drive.” Sadie nudges me.

 I turn to protest, but then I catch sight of her blood-shot eyes framed with big dark bags, and I bite back my words.

We both get out—it’s light out and already 70 degrees—and she hands me her card as I pass her, to fill up our tank. I stall as long as I can, but filling a gas tank can only be stretched out for so long. It is all too soon for my taste when I pull out of the gas station, merge back onto the freeway.

The motions are so automatic that I let my mind wander. Sadie's iPod is on shuffle, playing a gentle melody in the background of my thoughts.

I’ve known all summer that I’d have to go back. I’m still not prepared. I don’t want to go back to perpetually cloudy skies. I don’t want to go back to gang-ville, where I can’t even go jogging alone without fearing for my life. I don’t want to go back to a memory of you around every corner, some good, some bad, all painful. I can’t go back. I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

My beautiful sister is getting married to a wonderful man in a terrible city. I will go back, for her. It’s only a week, I keep telling myself. After this, I never have to go back.

“Three!”

The bouquet flies into the air and our swarm of bodies collectively jumps for it. I’m literally the average height for an American woman, but I must have some kind of fight left in me for this, because I snatch the bouquet fiercely out of the air, hair whipping around my face. I land on my feet, hard.

“Yes!”

I raise my first into the air, the bouquet still clutched in it, and everyone cheers. Just as quickly, I realize what I have just done. Even with the entire wedding reception watching me, I can't help your face flashing briefly through my mind. You are the only boy I ever thought I could marry. I wring out my hand once, bringing myself back to the moment.

“Nooo,” I protest, turning to the crowd. “If I’m getting married next, that is unfortunate for y’all! It’s gonna be a while!”

Everyone chuckles and then the photographer is whisking me off to take pictures: the bride and the bride-to-be.

Sometimes the right people can make all the difference

      Salinas, California
      The first drop of rain pelts my forehead. I run for cover as the downpour unfolds in a matter of seconds. The wind roars around the raindrops, driving them every which way, making any cover useless anyway. Pretty soon, I can't see through the droplets covering my glasses.
      I sigh, whipping the glasses off, biting my lip, and stepping back out into the rain. I've taken five steps before I am soaked. My hair sticks to my neck and my wet jeans cling to my legs in a cold embrace. The rain stings my face and arms and I can't feel my nose or fingertips. I've taken ten steps before I am absolutely freezing.
      My mind flashes back to a distant rainy day, the same clingy jeans, the smell of wet leather around the arms that hold me - your arms - shaking with laughter, both of us warmed to the inside.
     The memory makes my heart cold too and I'm not sure I've ever felt this trapped.
     Everything is so blurred by the rain mixing with my tears, dampening the surrounding colors and I am struck with such a feeling of dreariness, and I just feel numb.


      Provo, Utah        September 2, 2013
      I gasp for air, giggling and running down the hallway having left me breathless. It is only our first night together, but my roommates and I are already clicking. We thunder down the stairs and burst from the door into the pouring rain. Oh goodness, it's really coming down hard, but it's warm and steady.
      Soon we're all drenched to the bone. My t-shirt clings to my body, my jean shorts weigh a ton from all the water. My hair falls wildly down my back, around my shoulders, the natural curl going crazy. Rain drops spill down my shoulders, my arms. We're laughing and shrieking every time lightning strikes, jumping when thunder hits, and I'm not sure I've ever felt this free.
      Everything is so blurred by the rain, but all the colors are even more vivid and I am struck with such clarity in that moment, and I just feel alive.

In with the old and out with the new

      October 14, 2013  
      I glance away from the screen where a couple passionately embraces, taking a deep breath.
      "I think it's almost worse when you know what you're missing.."
      This is my one attempt at defending myself this evening against Grace and Leah's wistful whines: "Oh, I want a boyfriend! Jessica, you don't know how lonely we are. At least you've had boyfriends! You're so lucky!"
      I'm not so sure lucky would accurately describe the string of jerks, liars, misfits that I've been romantic with.
      Leah gets all up in my face. "Oh no. You don't know how it is! You don't understand how it is to be single your whole life!!"
      Grace echoes a firm, "Yeah!"
      I hold back a billion comebacks and they go back to watching the movie.
      It always ends up here, doesn't it? Comparing pain as if it's a competition. It's true that I'll never completely understand, but neither will they. How can we compare, when we all have different pain levels? A three to me could be a ten for them.
      Still, Leah's angry assumption and Grace's agreement bother me in a deep way. It's conversations like this, where they don't even attempt to be understanding, that make me never want to open up to them, but at the same time explain every excruciating thing I've ever experienced to shock them into a humbled silence.
      The first part wins out, and I direct my attention back to the movie, rubbing my hand along my left forearm.
      My phone lights up in the dark room and I immediately reach for it to turn off the notification. Tumblr. Woah, a new follower? I navigate onto the tumblr app, swiping onto my new follower's page.
      Daniel. My heart stops. It's Daniel. I didn't even know he had a tumblr, didn't know he remembered mine. But he's found me.
      I don't let people that I know follow me on tumblr. I just don't. My thumb hovers over the block button on his page.
      Another notification. This time a message on tumblr.
      "Hi. I'm sorry I haven't kept in touch. Things have been crazy. I'm actually really sorry that I went and found your tumblr. I know it's personal for you. I just want you to know that you still have a friend to talk to. Even if I can't understand exactly what you're going through. But if you want me to unfollow you, I will. -Daniel."
      A number of responses run through my head, none of them good. I'm sucked into memories of him, which are all tainted by you. Even while he and I were together.. you were never really gone. Not like I wanted you to be. Not like you are now.
      Maybe a friendship with him would actually work without you.
      I lock my screen and set my phone back down, deciding that I will message him in the morning.

November 24, 2013

      Today I told.
      It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do. I've never said those words out loud before. I've never been poked and prodded so much about it. Kristen took me to Olive Garden afterward to try and make me feel better.
      I tried very hard to detach myself from the situation. I was mildly successful. But mostly I've just been agonizing over how you'll react when you find out.
      Part of me is very sorry. But I'm not so torn anymore. I recognize that I used to love you. Used to. I don't quite hate you either though. Neutral. I am okay with where I am at with that.
      I feel like I should be saying 'I hope what I'm doing helps you' and 'I wish nothing but the best for you'. A year ago, I would've. But those feelings are pretty minimal now. Neutral.
      I'm not going to contact you and I'm okay with that. You are not in my life anymore and I'm okay with that. It has taken me three years to get here.
      I am away from you. Finally. Out of Salinas and my mind doesn't need to take field trips back.
      Maybe I'm just feeling numb from the day's events. Maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and feel completely different.
      But tonight I am okay. A bit shaken up. But okay.
      Now that I've told, there is no backing down. And that is okay.
      I'm so tired of being broken, Ian. It's your turn.
      And that is more than okay.

A few of my favorite things

December 3, 2013

In Salinas, I always hated cloudy days, which was pretty much every frikkin day. Mom called them silver. Whatever. Every day was overcast and gray and ugly and it made me all of those things too.

But, oh, cloudy days in Utah are different. The clouds almost always bring snow.

I have never been a fan of shoes or cold weather and bundling up. You used to tease me for wearing flip-flops every single day, but in California, I could. Utah is different and I have discovered that I will do it all—the bundling and shoes and surviving the cold—for snow.

Grace and I are walking home from church, chatting about the—uh—certain symmetrical qualities that create a pleasant aesthetic effect on a particular boy’s face in our ward, when big fluffy white flakes start drifting around us. I stop walking. She turns around, impatient.

“Snow??”

Grace rolls her eyes. “Haven’t you ever seen it snow before?”

I shake my head at her. Her eyes widen. “Really?”

And then she’s quiet. We both take in the drifting sparkles and flurries that embrace the ground in a giant frosty quilt and cover the trees’ stark nakedness, coating anything that will hold still long enough with glistening icy crystals.

My first thought, with today being our would-be four year anniversary, is that You would love it. You would stand out here with me for hours, in total awe of this event that we've missed out on our entire lives. I can't linger in my head with You for long right now, though. Not with what I did last week.

I reach out, catching a few snowflakes on my fingers. The intricacy of the delicate patterns lasts only a moment before melting from the heat of my skin.

It is amazing. Little water drops that are so tiny and frozen that they just flutter down, soft, light, gentle, happy, pure, and they make me all of those things too.

Roses and cupcakes don't last

It’s Valentine’s Day. And it’s the first Valentine’s Day in years that I’ve spent single.

              

            2013

Last year, it was Tim. I remember Hedge left the room just as the bell rang, to do who knows what. If I’m being honest, I think he knew exactly what was going on between Tim and me and was trying to give us some privacy.

Tim initiated, taking the step closer that completely crossed and kind of friendship line. and wrapping his arms around my waist. I still felt so guilty about us, what with Megan just an hour away, but the day was already proving to be a rough anniversary date.. I allowed him to lean his forehead against mine and brush my lips with his.

While I didn’t pull him closer, I certainly wasn’t protesting. He pressed his lips to mine with one of the most delicate kisses I’d ever had with him, just enough pressure to assure me of his affection without taking the kiss somewhere he could tell I wasn’t in the mood for.

It did nothing. I felt nothing. When I didn’t kiss him back, he stepped away and squeezed my hand.

“I’ll see you at lunch?”

I nodded, eyes dropped.

The door of the classroom flew open and Tim dropped his hand quickly. With a smile that didn’t reach his eyes, he said goodbye and turned away.

             

            2012

The year before it was Jacob. Although we weren’t officially together, he was my best friend in the world and we’d held hands and were all sorts of confusing.

He found me before school and ran up with an eager smile and a small plastic container in his hand.

“Jess!” He took the lid off the container and produced a single cupcake, all red and pink and hearts. “I..” He suddenly seemed shy. “I made this for you.” He glanced up at me and I was already smiling.

He handed me the cupcake and I took it, hands brushing and lingering.

“Thank you.”

He shrugged, “Of course,” and offered me his arm. I took it, hip checking him and laughing on the way to first block. It was the first Valentine’s Day since you, so naturally the majority of the day was horrendous. But that small moment with Jacob gave me a little bit to hang on to.

              

            2011

Three years ago (wow that’s weird to realize), was you. My family was gone for the whole evening, picking up Dad at the airport. I stayed home, saying I had a chem lab to work on.

And I mean, I did work on it.. until you picked me up.

I was cleaning the kitchen, which was a guilt thing, when you knocked on the door. Grinning, I paused my music and slid across the wooden floor in my socks, stopping in front of the door. I opened it. You bent down to kiss me.

“Hey there, gorgeous.” You murmured against my lips.

I sighed into you. “Hi.”

Without hesitating, you stepped inside and I nudged the door shut. With one hand you brushed a piece of hair behind my ear, with the other you found your spot on the small of my back and pulled me closer. I could’ve stayed there forever.. but just as you leaned in to kiss me again, my grumbling stomach gave me away.

You pulled away, smiling. “Dinner?”

We drove across town in your cube car, holding hands the whole way. You stopped at In-N-Out and I just beamed because you knew I didn’t get to go there as often as I liked.

Two cheeseburgers, one with tomato and one without, and a shared milkshake later, we sat at In-N-Out for at least an hour, holding hands across the table and just talking. It was all I needed, you were all I needed, but you had other plans for the evening.

           

            2010

The year before was our first Valentine’s Day. You bought me a giant teddy bear and a bouquet of roses and chocolates and some balloons. I rolled my eyes at the entire production, but neither of us had had a real Valentine before, so I let it pass in the excitement of it all. This was in the old days, before we’d even kissed. So we just sat together and talked and had a ridiculously long hug goodbye. And for then, it was enough.

2014

This year, I spend Valentine's Day with my roommates, some of the dearest and most loyal friends I've had yet. When I veto the plan to go to Olive Garden (I haven't been there since last November), we make reservations at Tucanos instead and dress up all fancy and make each other Valentines and giggle the entire night, unashamed. 

I sit there at the table, thinking of all my past Valentine's Days, all the boys that didn't last, and I realize that this, here, now... it doesn't make up for all the memories that have turned sour, but I feel at peace knowing that the memory I'm making now will be nearly unspoilable. 

I hope You still appreciate my corniness

       Ian,                                                                                                           April 15, 2014

       Winters have never been easy without You, and this one was no different.

       Except that it was. It was a struggle, don’t get me wrong. But I just.. I’ve.. Ok, the only way I can think to describe it is to tell you about spring.

       You know how Salinas never ever had seasons? Just constantly gray and cloudy skies, with sixty degree temperatures? Utah is different.

       Our campus has been snowed in all semester. And the trees… they’ve been bare for so long. Bare and lifeless, with only a thin layer of snow to cloth them. I wonder how You would feel about snow. Anyways, one day, when I looked up, it was different. The trees were growing back. Delicate pearly flowers blossomed from teeny green buds, vibrant, alive. And seeing them, those trees that had been beaten and empty for months, coming back to life.. okay, it’s gonna sound corny so don’t You laugh. Those trees gave me hope that I could do the same. I have been beaten and stripped and empty for so long, for years. Honestly, since You. But, I dunno, I’ve been (might as well embrace the corniness now) growing back. It’s been a ridiculously hard process not without setbacks and mistakes. Not all my blossoms are perfectly formed. But they are there and they are strong.

       Did You know that I forgot Your birthday this year? April 3, I remember it now. But that day came and went and I.. well of course I thought about You. After all this time, I still think about You every day. But Your birthday wasn’t anything special. It wasn’t a disastrous day or one stuck in memories. It was just another day for me. And that’s how I’m taking things now. One day, one moment, one blossom at a time.

Airports and nerf guns

May 2, 2014

       When I finally get up to the counter to check in my bag and find out it’s a whopping three pounds over the weight limit, I am considering throwing over those extra couple books I threw in last minute. Just because I’m going home for a whole three weeks doesn’t mean I need a different book for each day.

But the stewardess just smiles at me with crinkly eyes. “Are you a student?”

“Yes ma’am.”

“Going home for the break?”

“I sure am.”

She waves her hand dismissively at my bag. “Don’t worry about it. You’re the fifth or sixth student I’ve gotten today; none of you can seem to keep your bags under the weight limit!” She chuckles.

I smile weakly and thank her.

After being hassled by security for not putting my laptop in a separate bin and getting chosen “randomly” to have my carry-on searched, just because I crammed an entire bag of cocoa puffs in there, I’m counting on relaxing at on the plane. But spending the entirety of the three hours squished between two people who aren't exactly the tiniest (you'd say that "they've had one cookie too many"), is anything but relaxing.  

The second I’m stepping off the airplane and onto the ramp, I’m wishing it all could’ve taken a whole lot longer. My mind flashes briefly to the two days near Christmas that I spent with my parents in the year since I moved out. Hardly quality time.

Getting to the baggage claim and collecting my overweight bag is a breeze compared to my previous experience. Soon enough, I’m dragging the sagging suitcase behind me into the still-frigid May air and scanning the line of cars for our blue Prius.

They honk when they see me and Mom clambers out to help me with my suitcase. We heave it into the trunk and then she pulls me into her arms. I smell her perfume and that, at least, is the same as it’s always been.

The ride home is filled with pleasantries; I tell my tale of airport woe and they talk about their trip into the city to pick me up—apparently they made a day of it. They promise to take me into the city later for a “touristy day!” and I look out the window at brightly lit buildings whizzing by.

I’m not sure what I’m expecting when we finally get to the house, but the tidy mess that greets me is definitely not it. Mom’s made the best of the move and picked out an entirely new color scheme for most of the rooms. Purples mostly. Some navy. It’s unnerving to see our dinner table, our couches, our piano, in this new and unfamiliar house.

And honestly, that’s how the entire three weeks is for us. It is an odd thing to see our relationship, especially between my mother and me, in this new setting. We bicker good-naturedly and there are a few moments when she slips back into her judgmental ways, and a few instants where I clam up. But we work through them. It is entirely different now that we’re both “adults”.

Although, the second she picks up a nerf gun and shoots at me while I’m peacefully playing piano, and I grin and jump up to claim my own weapon and defend myself, I wonder if any of us really and truly become adults after all.

Tears always seem to come when they are most inconvenient

May 27, 2014

      On the trip home, the airport personnel is not as lenient with my overweight suitcase. I sigh and dig out a couple of books, handing them to Mom. She rolls her eyes as she takes them, but she’s smiling.

“I’ll mail them this week.” She says, but knowing her, I really don’t expect to get them until Christmas when I see her again.

With such an early morning flight, we are already running late, so there isn’t much time for goodbye. Mom and Dad walk me to the security line and Mom wraps me up in a hug.

“I love you.” She says to my ear. I feel her squeeze a little tighter. “I am so proud of you.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

I draw away from her only to be swallowed in a hug from Dad. “Be nice to everybody...”

I grin and finish the sentence like he knows I will. “Learn something new.”

I’m ushered into line, which must be at least forty people long. I will be lucky to make it onto my flight in time. Glancing back, I see Mom reach out for Dad’s hand, her fingers lacing in between his. He squeezes her hand she smiles up at him briefly.

I turn back with watery eyes. If there’s one thing I don’t want to go back to, it’s endless classes and job searching and socializing. Grace has promised we’re gonna make tons more friends in this new ward, which just sounds exhausting. Beyond that, there is a lingering sense of.. dread about returning. I'm more anxious than I usually am, which is saying a lot. I can't put into words how uneasy, how agitated I am over this. 

And the thing is, I can’t recall one argument I had with my parents these past couple weeks. As long as you don’t count heated debates about what to make for dessert. For the first time.. well, for the first time since you, my parents and I weren’t at odds with each other. We were at peace.

A single tear escapes and I brush it away impatiently. It’s an action I repeat several times as I move through security. 

After what seems like an eternity, I make it through the line. I check my phone for the time and realize I have ten minutes until my flight is supposed to leave. With a last glance at my parents, I gather myself and my bags and run for it.

Rainy days make the best beach days

August 3, 2014

It’s the first time in years, probably since we were all living at home, that all five siblings, additional spouses and children, and our parents are all able to make it to San Diego in August. We cram into Grandma’s house, sticking the kids in one spare room and our parents in another, and littering the rest of the house with air mattresses and sheets. It’s squished and we get on each other’s nerves, so basically everything is normal.

One night, just after all the kids have gone to bed, we’re sitting around the living room listening to Lauren tell yet another tale of her paleo diet, when Tanner's wife comes down the stairs. I glance up from a text to Daniel and hear her telling us to “go out and have some sibling time.”

As soon as the spouses agree to hold down the fort at home, Tanner leaps up, our fearless leader. He hurdles over Kristen, sprawled out on the floor, and digs around in his suitcase for a second, finally victoriously pulling out his swimsuit. He turns back to us, curly hair bouncing, and says, “Race you.”

We fly into action. Years of changing in locker rooms and cars for swim events of all varieties have not gone to waste. By the time I make it out of the closet (the bathroom and Grandma’s room were taken), striped beach towel in hand, Tanner is already by the door. Lauren is digging around in Mom’s purse for the car keys. She tosses them to Tanner just as Sadie emerges from the bathroom. Kristen is last, but only because she grabbed extra towels.

We run out the door, Tanner leading, then Kristen, Sadie and Lauren together as always, and me heading up the tail. We all stop short outside the door, simultaneously realizing that it’s pouring rain. This isn’t the soft mist or light drizzle of Salinas; this is downright angry downpour. It hammers the pavement in our moment of hesitation.

Sadie grins. “We’ll have the beach to ourselves.” She says.

We don’t need a lot of convincing and fifteen minutes later, we are greeted with miles of damp sand clumping to our feet as we sprint down the beach and absolutely no people but us.

We drop our towels in a heap and hastily shed our cover-ups before barreling into the water, diving into the waves head first, shrieking in childhood delight.

And in that moment with some of my dearest friends, I don’t think of how isolated I am from all of them being the only unmarried sibling. I don’t think about how I’m missing half of finals week to be here. I don’t even think about You.

I just take a deep breath and dive. 

Cutting boards are apparently very important to salads

September 2014

      “Can you handle the salad?”

An awkward pause with expectant eyes.

“Um.” I say.

“Great.” The mountainous head chef rumbles away.

I sigh. Charity gives me a look. “The lettuce is in—”

“Nobody help her!” He thunders from across the kitchen. “She has to figure this out on her own.”

I swallow hard and turn on my heel to retrieve the lettuce. I heave a box of it—romaine hearts it looks like—onto the counter and select a knife. I pause only for a second to remember how Jake did this, just yesterday. Fill up the sink and grab the monstrous salad spinner. Maybe I can actually do this.

My knife has just torn through the second head of lettuce when suddenly, as if his “huge angry chef” senses were tingling, my boss whips his head around and stomps over to me.

“WHERE IS YOUR CUTTING BOARD?”

I blink, set my knife down with shaking hands, and push my lips together but before I can say anything, he waves Jake over.

“Jake, can you help her? I just, I can’t—” He throws his hands up and I flinch, but thankfully he’s already turned away and doesn’t notice.

If Jake is annoyed, I can’t tell by the blurry edges of his converse. I open my eyes wide to keep the tears from spilling over. There’s no time for that. One deep breath and then I force my gaze up, to the task at hand.

It’s six and a half hours later that I stumble into my room, too exhausted to do anything but kick off my shoes. I manage a brief glance through my new texts. Grace just wants me to know that she’s at her sister’s house for dinner, so she won’t be home until late. Mom is reminding me to text her my new address. And… Daniel. Oh Daniel. It’s scary how well he knows me from three states away. I reread his message.

“Hey. I hope your boss wasn’t an ass again today. You’re tough, you’ll get this.”

It’s a message I could’ve mistaken for yours. Pushing away my scattered thoughts, I crawl into bed and close my eyes. 

Chocolate cookie crumble ice cream solves everything

Mid-October 2014

      I've been staring at my computer for hours working on this essay and getting absolutely nowhere. With a heavy sigh, I peek over the top of my screen, across the room, and over the top of Grace's computer. It takes a half second for her to peep up and raise and eyebrow at me. I wrinkle my nose. She pulls out an earbud and grins.

    "Ice cream break?"

    We sit on the counter with the container of ice cream— chocolate cookie crumble —between us and a spoon each. It seems like another lifetime that you and I did this in your kitchen, only with one spoon instead.

    It's almost shocking to realize that conversation with Grace has become nearly as easy as conversation with you. Two years being in each other's hip pocket will do that, I guess.

    The real shock, I think, is how she's been able to worm her way into my heart.

    She is the person I attack at two a.m. when I am craving donuts, the one who will get up and put on pants and come with me. She's the one who will binge-watch Netflix with me when one of us is sad, or even when we're not. She and I are still working on being able to talk about some of the bigger issues in my life- like you. But even so, I love her. Not like I am— like I was —in love with you, but like I loved you. I love her like I loved you, like I love my best friend.

Ian,

    I wonder if you know that I'm writing this. You always seem to know what I'm going to do a second before I even think it. But I suppose I've changed since we last saw each other. It’s different now, without you.

    Two years hasn’t changed the fact that there is evidence of you everywhere. In the trembling strings of my beat up guitar. In the fresh strawBerries I picked up from the store. You are in the silver cUbe car parked two spaces down and the marTinelli’s apple juice I get from mY dentist. You are in the chocolate vanilla swirl ice cream cones from Foster’s. You are in the song on the radio that still comes on every now and then.

    You are in the people around me. The bOy from my creative writing class who perches his sUnglasses backwards on his head. The rAndom guy I walked past at the grocery store who smelled like you. The boy at chuRch with your nosE. The dude in physics with a gNarly waTch tan.

    You are in me. In the lengtH of my coppery-brown curls, the hollows of my collarbone, the curvEs of my hips. In the quietness of my lips and the shade of my eyes that was never the same after you. You aRe in my head- snippets of a slow smile, a low voice, rEaching hands. You are in the fading train tracks lining my forearm, echoing the angry ones on my heart.

    You are everywhere..