Mosaic (5 page)

His lips pressed into a line. “No.” His bluntness stunned me, but he only studied the sidewalk in front of us as we kept going.

“I wasn’t going to tell anybody.” He glanced at me. “Then I wanted to say it out loud. I wanted to hear your reaction. We’ve always talked about this stuff. Help me decide if it’s crazy or not.”

“It’s not crazy at all. I think it’s a really interesting idea.” I glanced at his profile and his blue eyes met mine for a moment. Relief was in them. “Did something happen at SCAD?”

His eyes roamed up, around the buildings we were passing. “I don’t know.” We were quiet for a few more steps before he continued. “Maybe it was the move, everything changing. I just had this idea, and the more I thought about it, the more I liked it.”

“Architecture.” The image of him following in his father’s footsteps made me nervous in a way I couldn’t share with him.

“Have you told anybody else?”

By his glance, I could tell he knew who I meant. “I exchanged a few emails with Dad.”

“Yeah?” I leaned forward to catch his eye again.

He nodded. “I asked if I could visit his office, maybe try working there some, over the break. Just to see if I liked it.”

I was pretty confident Mr. Kyser liked the idea. I was certain he loved it. He’d wanted his son by his side for years. I was also sure his mother knew what was on her son’s mind, even if their relationship was still strained. Bill Kyser wouldn’t keep anything from Ms. LaSalle, and I wanted so much to know her thoughts. Was she happy? Was she as nervous as I was?

“I probably shouldn’t have brought it up.” He was back to evasion. “I’m probably just adjusting to the move, having a moment.”

“It’s a big move for all of us.” Still, my future plans hadn’t changed.

We were back at my duplex and he stopped, pulling me around to face him. My expression must’ve given me away, because he cupped my cheeks in his hands, his thumbs lightly touching my skin. “Why so worried? This doesn’t change anything for us.”

I swallowed my fear before speaking. “It doesn’t?”

His hands moved to my shoulders, pulling me against his chest. I held his narrow waist and tried to banish my doubts. “I told you, I’m not losing my angel. If I decide to do this, you’ll just have to come and work with me.”

“What would I do at Kyser-Brennan?” My voice was muffled against his shoulder, and my eyes were closed as I inhaled a deep breath of fresh, ocean air clinging to his t-shirt.

“Be my PR person, of course. Marketing… you name it.”

Shaking my head, I managed a little laugh. “Not until I’ve gotten sick of being a writer.”

“Ahh,” he growled. “I’ll find you things to write about. Just like I’ll find time to draw and weld and paint.” He caught my cheeks again. “Trust me. This doesn’t change anything.”

Deep inside, however, a little nagging pain said he was wrong. He was starting a path that could lead him away from us and our dreams. Even if it didn’t, I knew for certain Julian working with his dad would change something.

Anna’s Private Blog: The One Thing

Tonight was the night.

I’d been waiting for it, preparing myself, and out of the blue, when I least expected it, there it was.

It did not go how I thought it would.

I have no idea how to begin sorting out my feelings. I don’t know what to do with what just happened or where to place it in reality. My head is still spinning.

But I won’t cry. No way am I shedding another tear over that boy.

I know… I have to back up and fill in the gaps, but trust me. What happened tonight defies all logic. Even more illogical is my stupid eyes that keep trying to fill as I sit here typing this.

Dammit. I am
not
crying over him anymore.

Deep breaths.

Back it up a little.

Place this in time…

* * *

Being a second-semester sophomore is actually way more demanding than I expected. I’m sorry if my entries are sporadic and spread apart. Rest assured, I’ll definitely be back to dump crap like what just happened here. God knows, I can’t say it out loud or tell anyone else. They wouldn’t understand.
I
don’t understand.

I’ve given up on my emotions returning to normal after senior year—as much as I try and force them. All I can hope is that maybe seeing it here, written down in black and white, I’ll understand it better.

My last entry was Julian’s visit, when he told me about his future goals and how they were shifting. Even though I was worried, we spent our last day together the same way we’d started the weekend, holding each other, catching up on time we’d lost and making up for the days ahead when we’d be separated again, touching and kissing… which led to other things. We’d said goodbye with me fighting tears and him holding me close, telling me softly in my ear that he loved me, and we’d be together again soon.

Rachel stayed at Brad’s, which was fine. They’re stockpiling for their own shortage once football season gets into full swing. Playing for Tulane, Brad won’t be quite as slammed as if he were at one of the big state schools. Still, he’s going to be on the road, practicing then trying to cram studying around it. At least they grew up in the football life.

Julian suggested we try Skyping every evening so we can see each other as well as text. We started the very next night, and I’m convinced he gets better looking every time I see him. I don’t know if it’s because we’re apart or if he’s turning into a man, but whatever it is, he’s absolutely yummy. So what’s wrong with my stupid head? What happened to me?

It all brings us to tonight…

Rachel and I were doing our usual, Thursday-night meet up at Fat Harry’s. We do it every week because between her class schedule, my class schedule, me Skyping with Julian, her spending the night at Brad’s, it’s our only way of keeping in touch.

Fat Harry’s is one of the college bars on St. Charles Avenue, east of Loyola. It’s a pretty easy walk or even a cheap street-car ride away from our duplex, and it’s pretty popular with the Greek kids.

Neither Rachel nor I pledged a sorority. My reason was because of my accelerated schedule and Julian. I didn’t want to be distracted by unnecessary social events involving other guys that would slow down my studies and make him uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure what Rachel’s reasons were.

So Thursdays are our catch-up dates, and you know how I said Julian’s growing up? Well, guess what? We all are. As I stumbled into Fat Harry’s with Rachel last night, I couldn’t help thinking how different college life is than how I expected. It helps so much having her with me, and I’m so glad we decided to be roommates.

Even though I miss Julian like crazy, Rachel and I are having a blast learning to be responsible together and being adults. I even enjoy hanging out with Brad more. School work, football practice, and soon games are keeping him busy, so it doesn’t happen very often. Still, it’s fun. I’m truly feeling like a College Woman…

Except for The One Thing waiting to happen.

Everywhere I went, I held my breath waiting to run into Jack. Loyola and Tulane were literally built back to back. It was an inevitable meeting, and I wanted to get it over with. I wanted to know how seeing him would affect me, so I could deal with it if I had to.

He knew I was dating Julian. I knew I loved Julian. I just needed to see how I’d handle being confronted with Jack here, alone.

More than anything, I wanted to prove to myself that I was past him, finished being the girl I used to be. The past was in the past, I’d moved on, and my future was waiting for me with someone better.

Last night, my waiting ended. As I made my way past the tables in Fat Harry’s, I spotted him, sitting by himself in a back corner booth.
He didn’t even look up, but his name was out of my mouth before I could stop it.

“Jack.” It was somewhere between a whisper and a squeak. I was incredibly nervous, and I braced myself to hear his voice. I wondered if it would sound the same, then he looked up and saw me.

His eyes widened almost imperceptibly, and he laid his head back against the wooden panel of the booth.
“Anna.” 

His voice was low and slightly loose, and I noticed a half-empty pitcher on the table in front of him. He was so amazingly handsome in the dim yellow light, almost unchanged from our last meeting at homecoming—the night I left early and Julian sat with me while I cried. That memory made me cringe.



His eyes seem to glow from the blue oxford he wore, but all I felt was relief—intense relief. My insides were calm. I wanted to do a little dance when I realized the thing I feared most was
not
happening.

I wasn’t melting at the sight of him. I wasn’t that fragile little girl anymore, and I knew why. I had someone now who meant more to me than the infatuation that had defined almost a year of my life. All I felt for Jack was friendship. I only wanted to be friends if that were possible. Julian was his half-brother, after all.



Jack’s eyebrows pulled together in a frown. “What are you doing here?”



My voice sounded distinctly calmer. “I didn’t expect to see you.”



“Well, it looks like you found me.” He was still frowning, and even though I was calm, a small pain moved in my chest. We
could
still be friends at least, couldn’t we?



“Were you hiding?” I tried to joke. “Wow, it’s been what? Almost a year?”



“Six months.” His tone was sharp, and it seemed the answer to friendship was
No
.
For whatever reason, that realization made me sad.

“I’d better go. I’m sure we’ll see each other around. I’m at Loyola now. Full scholarship. It was the best offer I got, so I took it.” The way he was acting, I was hoping he didn’t remember how much he’d had to do with my decision to apply here.



“You were always very smart. Speaking of smarts, how’s Julian?”



“He’s at Savannah now.”



Was this about Julian?
He slid to the side of the booth and stood to face me. I’d forgotten how tall he was as he leaned forward to close the space between us.



“Tell me, was Julian on the pass-fail system as well, or did you grade him on a curve?” His voice was low and sarcastic, and I could smell the alcohol on his breath. My pulse ticked up a notch.

“I don’t understand.”



“You were so good at riding the fence. After I left, did you run straight to Julian or did you wait a day or two for appearances?”



“I don’t know what you’re talking about. You broke up with me.”



“Right. No discussion. No argument.”



“Do you have a head injury?” My voice rose as my tension built. “You were determined! You said…  You told me you needed to end it. Jack, I waited for you.”



“You waited? Why?” He leaned back and the look in his eyes immediately called up the first night I’d encountered his father. It could have been the same man standing in front of me now.



“I don’t know. I don’t even recognize you anymore.”



“I’m me,” he smiled holding out his arms, slightly wobbly.



“You’re not Jack. Not
my
Jack.”


“I was never your Jack.” The smile left his face, and the cold withdrawal returned.



Nodding, I backed away. “You’re right. You told me many times, but I wanted…” I couldn’t finish that sentence. It was all in the past, and I wasn’t going back there.



“Wanted what?”



“What’s happened to you?”
He was being so mean.


For a moment, I thought he would sit back in the booth, but after a pause, he turned back and grabbed my arm roughly, pulling me into his embrace. His kiss was hard and aggressive, and I put my hands on his shoulders to push myself free.



“Stop it! What are you doing?”



“Just trying to remember what I’ve been missing.”



“If you’re missing anything, it’s your own damn fault. You could have called me at any time. I’d have waited forever if you’d only asked me to.”



“I didn’t know you needed to be asked.”



“That’s not fair.” A tear spilled down my cheek, and I turned to go. This was crazy, and why the hell was I crying? He was the one rewriting history, clearly still trying to mess with my head. 

I was so angry and hurt, I could barely see where I was going, but I stopped as I opened the door. Looking back through the center window, I saw him slump down into the booth, head back against the wall, eyes closed. He might be messing with my head, but one thing was certain—something was wrong. Bad wrong. The question facing me was whether to walk away from it or try and help him.

For tonight at least, I chose to walk away.

I got back to our apartment on St. Charles Avenue and didn’t even turn on the lights as I collapsed on the bed, pulling my knees into my chest. I didn’t know why I was crying. It wasn’t like I wanted him back. But dammit, I was worried about him. I loved Jack once, and it hurt to see him so changed. He was lost and ugly, and regardless of what he said, he was not being my Jack—the guy I knew and fell in love with a year ago.