“Wow. Hi.”
How long has it been? A year? About that. Oh my God – I think he got better looking. Yes, his hair is definitely longer. And a little stubble now – not quite so clean cut as before. But his eyes are as big and as brown as before, his eyelashes as thick and black.
“Amber,” he says, with a wide but wary smile. “How are you?”
“I’m good. Great.”
“You look terrific,” he says. “Really well.”
“Thanks. I am. I’m...doing good. Well.”
Jaime waves a hand to the fish tank. “I was just...um...looking at the nautilus. I remember it from when I first came here. Your old man told me they hadn’t changed in millions of years.”
“Oh. You got the living fossils lecture, huh?”
“Yeah. One of nature’s grand designs, he said. Ain’t broke, didn’t fix it.”
I laugh, nervous. “Pfft. Please. They’re not that great. They can only move backwards and can’t see where they’re going.”
“Is that right?”
“Yep. We had to move my stupid No Fishing sign when he got the nautilus – it kept knocking the sign over.” I can feel my face turn warm. I really thought I was over this, but he looks so good. A year has carved stronger angles in his jaw, and he looks a little bigger in the chest and shoulders – like he wasn’t quite done filling out at twenty-three. “So...uh...what brings you here?” I ask.
“Your dad, actually. I was in town and he asked me to stop by.”
“You’ve been away?”
Jaime nods. “A few places, yeah. He did me a favor – put me in touch with a friend of his who does rock band security.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah. It was cool. I saw a lot of places. New York, Europe. England.”
“Really? How was that?”
“Wet,” he says, after a moment’s hesitation. “You know everything they say about British weather? Well – it’s that. And worse. I don’t know why they have all those big rock festivals when it rains all the goddamn time.”
“I expect they’re used to it.”
“Maybe,” he says, and looks me up and down. “How about you?” he says, like he’s afraid to ask but he’s forcing himself to because of good manners.
“Oh, you know. The usual. Paragliding, bungee-jumping, public speaking – all those old agoraphobic favorites.”
He frowns and I take pity on him. “Actually not kidding,” I say. “Well, about the last one, anyway.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. It’s...um...it’s been good. I’ve been volunteering with this women’s refuge and it’s made things a lot easier, knowing I can help make a difference.”
He reaches out and squeezes my hand. “That’s terrific.”
“I’m getting there.”
Dad wanders into the room and we jump apart like guilty teenagers. “There you are,” he says. “I wondered where that pumpkin came from.”
“The farmer’s market. I picked it up on my way back.”
“How was your thing?”
“Good. I made a speech.”
He blinks and I know that later he’ll complain I didn’t tell him, but Jaime’s here and so he’s trying to be all unparental, if there is such a thing. “She’s still keeping secrets from me,” he says, in a stage whisper. “As you can tell.”
Dad wanders off into the next room and I can feel Jaime being pulled along in his wake. It’s weird to see how that magnetic, celebrity effect works on other people. It never worked on me; he’s just my Dad.
“I’d better...”
“Sure.”
Jaime walks maybe three paces and then decides to go for broke. “Listen, do you want to maybe...do something?”
“Sure,” I say, my heart starting to race. I remember something he once said, back when I wasn’t myself. “Dinner and a movie?”
His face lights up – I think he remembers too – and I’m half-afraid of the depth of my feelings. “That would be great.”
“My place?” I ask. “It looks a lot different to the last time you saw it.”
“Okay. I’d like that.”
I float back to the kitchen. It’s not until I’m wrist deep in the slime and goo of pumpkin innards that I realize I’m still smiling. Oh God. Perhaps this was a bad idea. Am I supposed to feel this way? After all, I never explicitly said it was a date, and neither did he. I don’t know how this works.
I’m twenty-two and I’ve never even dated before. How weird is that?
Immediately I reject the comparisons – I’m tired of him. I’m tired of him twisting my life from beyond the grave. He doesn’t get to have that power of me – not any more. I’m done.