For The One(17)

I’d managed, for the most part, to keep my head above water. Until this wedding. Months ago, Maja had tearfully told me that she and Sanjin were probably never going to be able to get married because they couldn’t get the money together to pay for the wedding. I’d done everything I could to help, even giving up the tiara—temporarily.

“Janjica?” she said, and for a moment I was assailed by memories of hugs from Papa, of biting into Christmas cake and finding a silver coin, of sitting for long hours in church on Sundays when I wanted to run outside and play. “I know it’s a lot to ask, but…can you bring Baba’s tiara with you? I’ve dreamt of wearing it with my veil for my wedding day. My ‘something old,’ you know.”

Guilt almost squeezed the breath right out of me and tears immediately stung the backs of my eyes. That day I’d taken the tiara in to have its value assessed, little pieces of my heart had died with each beat. The jewelry broker had dispassionately inspected every antique crystal, every tiny amber bead, even the quality of the gold while I’d burned with shame. Kci, you must be brave…

Right now, I wanted to curl into a ball and die.

“Janja? You still there?”

I cleared my throat a few times before speaking. “Yeah…yeah. I am. Definitely. Of course I’ll bring her tiara. You must have it.”

“Just to wear on that day. Papa gave it to you. And I know it’s one of the few memories you have of him.” Maja paused for a moment, and while I attempted to collect myself, she must have misunderstood my hesitation. “I’d never want to keep it. I just want to wear it. To have Baba’s and Papa’s blessings on our wedding.”

Papa gave it to you…

Oh, the irony. I’d sacrificed the tiara to pay for her wedding and now she wanted to wear it at that same wedding. The last thing I had that connected me to that blurry, faded past, to those memories of Papa. And it was now out of my reach.

I had to continue leading them to believe that everything was all right. Because they never, ever would have taken the money if they’d known all that it cost me.

I hung up minutes later, then rolled over and sobbed into my pillow for a good fifteen minutes before I finally got hold of myself.

But there was definitely no going back to sleep.





Chapter 4

William

Monday is my favorite day of the week. Most feel that Friday should have that honor because they look forward to the weekend. They live for the weekend. But I prefer the comfort and structure that a weekday brings to my life. My days seem more difficult to fill on the weekends, even while participating in the Renaissance and Medieval Reenactment Alliance. Only so much time can be set aside for grocery shopping and meal preparation, for home organization and my various hobbies, and it’s hard to occupy that eight-hour block most often consumed by work.

And since I do not care to watch television, that’s a lot of time to fill.

Order is restored to my life on Mondays. I arrive at my station approximately five to ten minutes before the start of my shift. I don’t punch a clock, but I’ve always been punctual—and not just because I work for my cousin’s company. Things are easier when you are punctual. There’s no stress, no rush. You feel the accomplishment of arriving on time, ready to begin your workday.

However, this Monday, no matter how good it started, takes an annoying turn not long before lunch. I’m at my drafting desk in the art department when I suddenly become aware of someone standing near me. And since I’m in the middle of focusing on what I need to be doing—a computer-assisted rendering of some 3D background models—I ignore whoever it is until they loudly clear their throat.

Taking another few minutes to save and back up the complex and detailed work, I remove my special glasses designed to help with this task and look up.

Jordan, the company’s CFO, is standing across the desk from me, his hands in his pockets. “Hey, William. Sorry to interrupt.”

No, he isn’t, or he wouldn’t be doing it. Irritation bubbles up immediately. Jordan is not one of my favorite people and hasn’t been for some time. It’s been a few months since his crap advice lost me the chance to ask Jenna out on a date.

I’d made the mistake of asking Jordan for guidance on how to approach Jenna, since approaching women is easy for him. I’d followed his suggestions by inviting Jenna to participate in the RMRA, which she’d loved, and it had given me the opportunity to see her more often. Before that, she had just been one of Mia’s friends, but then she started to become one of mine. Just as I’d been designing my plan of attack, she’d met Doug, and they had begun their infuriating relationship instead.