Page 51 of Dreams of Falling
“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean...”
I put my hand over his on the stick shift. “I know. It was sweet of you to think of me. I appreciate it. I really do.” And I did, although I now had an uncomfortable hollowness at the back of my throat.
It was a short drive down Front Street to the restaurant, but I was thankful for the ride because my high heels weren’t conducive to walking more than a block. The hostess greeted us with warm familiarity and immediately took us past the large reef aquarium and to the perfect corner table, with two windows offering a panoramic view of the harbor. Boats of various sizes bobbed at the dock, and gulls perchedon masts and shiny deck railings, occasionally swooping down low over the water in acrobatic and picturesque contortions that made me wonder, just for a moment, if they were deliberately placed to add to the ambience.
I smiled at Jackson as he pulled back my chair. “Great table.”
He pulled his chair next to mine, sliding his place setting closer, too, then sat down, his thigh close enough to touch mine. I’d been fairly confident that if there’d been anybody at the restaurant who’d known me, they wouldn’t have recognized me as we’d walked through the dining room. But for one irrational moment, I wanted the entire varsity cheerleading squad from my senior year to be there. I found myself glancing into the dining room just to be sure they weren’t, then flushed with embarrassment when I realized what I was doing.
“You okay?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Just trying to remember the last time I was here.”
“Probably senior banquet. Were you here for that?”
I blinked at him for a moment, remembering. “Yes. I was.” I wanted to remind him that he’d asked me to sit at his table along with Mabry and some of the players and cheerleaders. I’d sat next to him, and he’d smiled directly at me. Twice.
“It was a fun night,” he said.
I nodded, happy for the distraction of the waitress approaching the table.
We lingered over our dinner, eventually splitting a dessert and two bottles of wine. He’d made a toast over our first glass to “old friends,” and I hadn’t questioned it, still pinching myself that I was having a romantic dinner with Jackson Porter. We spent most of the time talking about people we’d known—what they were doing, where they were living. He spent a lot of time talking about his best football plays, and when he was done, he asked me about my own high school extracurriculars.
For the second time that evening, I found myself blinking stupidly at him. Finally, I said, “I was the editor for the school paper. You know, the one everybody got on their desk in homeroom each Friday.” I could tell that he was probably one of the many who’d madepaper airplanes with it and then used them as weapons against their classmates.
“Right,” he said. “That’s cool.”
“And I was in charge of the pep rallies before the games. Made sure there were posters and stuff, and led the chants.”
“That was you, huh?” he said, nodding his head as if he actually remembered. I didn’t bother telling him about my walk-on parts in every school play or how I’d won sophomore class president by promising a Coke machine in the lunchroom if my fellow students voted for me. After I’d won, Ceecee had made sure that the machine was installed, insisting that I’d really won because everyone liked me and I was capable of doing a great job.
He poured more wine in my glass, then upended the rest of the bottle into his own. Raising his glass in a toast, he said, “To new memories.”
I hesitated a moment, studying his eyes. I wondered whether he was hoping for new memories because he couldn’t remember the old ones, or because he did. Too fuzzy-headed to decide for sure, I raised my glass and clinked the edge of it against his. “To new memories.”
We smiled giddily at each other, and I felt that I’d been here before, Jackson and me, sharing a bottle of wine. But of course I had, in the dreams of a young girl who’d never doubted that dreams were meant to come true.
“Jackson... ,” I started, unsure of why I’d spoken. Wondering if the new Larkin was lurking under the surface of the old me, interrupting my dream with a cold splash of reality.
He looked at me, his smile slowly fading as if he recognized the serious note in my voice. “Yes?”
“You do remember, don’t you? That time on your dad’s boat. When it was just you and me.”
He looked uncomfortable, like a child scolded in class, and I expected him to squirm in his seat. To deny it, say that it was too long ago to remember. I didn’t want him to, because then I’d have to be my adult self and leave. Tell Mabry that she was right about him. Except Jackson didn’t deny it. Instead, he took both of my hands in his. “Ofcourse I do. It’s not something a guy could forget.” Softly, he added, “It was your first time, which made it special for me, too.”
I sat very still, barely able to breathe.
Glancing down at our clasped hands, he said, “I was a bit of a jerk back then, wasn’t I?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Yes. You were,” I said, wanting to cheer the new, mature Larkin almost as much as I wanted to tell her to go away, not to ruin this long-held fantasy.
He looked apologetic and maybe even a little ashamed. “I didn’t call you afterward. I remember that, too. And I’ve always regretted that. See—I did think of you while you were gone.” He squeezed my hands as if to add sincerity to his words.
“And at the party... what you said...” I trailed off, my memory having long ago exorcised the exact words as a form of self-preservation.
Jackson shook his head. “I was just blowing smoke in front of my friends. And Melissa. She was there, too, and we hadn’t broken up yet because I was too much of a coward back then. I’d heard some rumors, and I thought it made me look tough in front of my friends, so I didn’t deny anything. Didn’t even think how much you’d be hurt by everything.”
I bit my lip, not sure if I should be laughing or crying. If I’d ever scripted this scene the way I wanted it to play out, he was speaking the exact dialogue I’d have given him.
