Page 50 of It's a Love Story

I take a half step forward. “Hey,” I say too quietly for anyone to hear me.

Jack is in the driver’s seat now with his window down. He’s nodding as if he’s following the phone conversation, and he’s backing out of his two parking spots. I need to approach the car, but my body won’t do it. I notice that I have assumed Ruby’s Wonder Woman power stance, my subconscious trying to convince my conscious that this is a thing I can do.I can do this.

From just ten feet away, I call “Jack!” in a medium-loud voice. He looks up but past me, and puts his car into drive. I yell “It’s Jane Jackson!!” in an extra loud voice, and he looks right at me. The words don’t register. I don’t register. I could have shoutedBananas have potassium!to get the same reaction. And suddenly the red-hot shame that I’ve been carrying around for almost two decades turns into white-hot rage at being ignored and unworthy of remembering. He starts pulling out of the parking lot, and I scream “I’m Jane Jackson!” at the top of my lungs. His window is up, his left-hand turn signal is on, and my body, which had previously refused to cooperate, scoops up a discarded Super Big Gulp from the garbage and chucks it at his bumper. I watch it explode against the back of his G-wagon, orange soda splattering. The car jerks to a stop, and the red of Jack’s brake lights shifts my rage instantly to panic.

I turn and run.

Scenes of myself begging Jack for a favor after apologizing for a minor assault on his car flash through my mind as I run past the shocked faces of the young women and down the path through the dunes.

I am unhinged for real. Thank God Dan wasn’t with me to see that. Jack, who deemed me a weirdo at fourteen, is probably calling security about me now. The old shame burns and mixes with my terrifying feelings about last night. My heart is being drawn to a foreign land that is famous for sinkholes and cataclysmic disasters. I don’t know how to walk confidently into that place, and I don’t know how to stay away.

I arrive at the beach and lie on my back in the sun. I barely give my heart a chance to settle before I text Clem: 911

She calls me immediately. “What happened?” I can hear gurneys rolling past her and the sound of voices bouncing off the hospital walls.

“I just saw Jack and threw a Super Big Gulp at his car. Orange soda.”

Clem laughs. “You what? Let me guess—he stopped and immediately wrote you a song?”

“Drove off. Didn’t even know it was me.”

“Okay, kind of a nonevent then. What else? You sound panicked.”

“We kissed,” I say. “Dan and me.”

“How is this a crisis?” She’s whispering into the phone, and I feel like such a drama queen demanding she talk to me at work.

“BecauseIkissed him! Like a total maniac, like a crazed sex fiend.” I’m covering my eyes as I say it.

“This I cannot picture, but also yay?” To someone else, “I’m just going to check the supply closet, back in five.” A door shuts; then, to me: “I love this for you. This feels like good, loose behavior. How was it?”

I’m covering my eyes with my forearms, and I feel safe in the darkness with Clem. It’s all so ridiculous. “It was like inThe Notebook’’

“So, terrible? You hate that movie.”

“I know! I did! I mean, I do! But the kiss, it wasn’t just like the kiss in the rain but also the whole time he carries her upstairs and they can barely wait to get their clothes off and she can’t believe that’s what she’s been missing out on. All of that, in a kiss that lasted five seconds. I’m having feelings, Clem. I can’t go back to the regular world after this.”

“Do you have to? I mean, he must like you.”

“Maybe. But I’m terrified. Like going-into-battle terrified.Ikissedhim,see? I’m the desperate one. I don’t know if he meant it, and even if he did . . .” I trail off.I’m easy to leave. It’s something that I know about myself, but right now it’s more of a feeling than a thought, bubbling up uninvited to justify my fear. “Maybe it’s just the sun and sharing a room and his totally absurd cheekbones. Maybe he feels sorry for me because I’m probably getting laid off.”

“You just unpacked a lifetime of crazy right there, but that doesn’t sound like a pity kiss.”

“I hope not, Clem. I really like him. Are there patients dying because of this conversation? I know I’m being ridiculous.”

“No, but I’ve got to get back to work. Can you just do me a favor? Don’t do the thing where you assume you know what Dan’s thinking and decide it’s over.”

“What’s the alternative to that again?” I know what she’s going to say, but I need to hear it.

“You can—wait for it—say how you actually feel.”

“No.”

“Yes. It’s a thing grown-up people do. Brand-new, started on TikTok.”

I laugh and it’s a relief. “Love you, Clem. Go save some geezers. They’re lucky to have you.”

As soon as I hang up, my phone dings. Dan: I’m all done here, meet for lunch?

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