She left her room and explored the dark house. Neither member of the family could be found and, as Bryn made her way to the kitchen, found the lamp above the stove was the only light left on. Taped to the cabinet where Ellie stored her recipes she never cooked was a note.
'We went for supper.'
"Whoopee." She sighed.
Dropping the paper on the counter, Bryn retraced her steps to her room and shut the door.
"What should I do?" she asked the stale air. "Laundry?" She looked at an overflowing hamper. "Nah, better leave it for Ellie. Music? Yes."
She hit the play button on her stereo and a slow, sweet ballad came on. Bryn shrugged. "It works."
She opened the window, hitting the ledge once for good luck and stuck her head out. She closed her eyes as the cold night touched her face.
Bryn was drawn back to a memory when she and Ellie went for a drive without their mother. Their windows were down and music was pulsing through them. Driving along, Bryn had looked at her sister and realized how much alike they looked.
They were only a year and a half apart, but they were so close. Bryn wondered every time she covered for their mother's drunkenness why she kept up the charade. Why, even a few weeks ago, had Bryn tried to clean up the vodka bottle?
"I didn't want her to know," she murmured.
Bryn pulled herself back in and shut the window. She remembered the box. She rummaged through it, taking out each item (pictures, Jen's favourite book, an old ring Jen used to wear) and setting it down beside her on the floor.
"The notebook," she whispered.
Bryn pushed some things around trying to find it. She grabbed handfuls of papers and poems and just as she was about to freak out, just as she began to believe that her conversation with Will hadn't happened, she found it again at the bottom of the box. She held it in front of herself as if it were the Holy Grail. She pushed the box from herself and backed onto the bed.
She counted the pages, seventeen from the front, seventeen for no apparent reason, and opened the book. She started reading from the top of the page.
'Every time he says he loves me, I find it harder and harder to believe.'
<|><|><|>
March 13
Jen and Connor had settled into a routine. For almost two years, they went out every Friday for a movie, then dinner. It was sacred. Friday dates were carved in stone.
A year and a half into seeing each other, Connor discovered a little clearing in the woods at the edge of town and added going there on dates. It was "their place."
It was another Friday; an assumed date took place as per unspoken agreement and the two were sitting down at an all night diner for burgers.
"Did you like the movies?" Jen asked, picking up a french fry. She tapped her lips with it until Connor responded, then chewed it.
He shook his head, swallowing the mouthful of Pepsi he'd brought to his lips moments before. "Nah. Too much French for my taste."
"But French movies are romantic."
"Oh, like that one where those two idiots buried themselves in concrete?"
"They were in love," Jen reasoned. "Besides, it was a true testament of their love for each other."
"That's a little extreme."
"You wouldn't bury yourself in cement for me?" Jen batted her pretty eyes.
Connor smiled. "Well when you ask like that..."
They ate.
Connor looked at her, watched her drink from his Pepsi. "I can be romantic," he said.
Jen rolled her eyes, then smiled playfully. "Prove it."
"Maybe I will."
"Maybe you should."
He cleared his throat. "Actually I had something special planned for tonight."
"Special for me or special for you?"
"Both." He grinned.
"What is it?"
He only smirked and shook his head, looking down to the plate in front of him. "You'll never guess."
"Come on," she said smiling. She leaned forward and pouted. "Please?"
Connor raised his eyebrows and spoke, "I'll give you a hint. You'll like it, and well, of course I'll like it. And it's something we can do together, so no more guilt trips about me leaving you out of stuff."
Jen thought. Something we can do together and something we'll both like. She blushed and frowned at him.
"I'm not doing what you think we're doing."
"What're you talking about?" Connor asked through a mouthful of masticated beef.
She leaned in and Connor did likewise. "I'm not," she looked around and whispered, "sixty-nining you. I said I didn't want to." She leaned back and watched her boyfriend swallow what he had chewed.
"You don't think I care about your feelings?" he asked, cocking his head.
"Well it's just... that one time..."
"And then you said stop so what did I do?"
"You stopped," Jen said, looking down.
"And you said you weren't comfortable with me doing that, and I understood. I understand. You don't have to act like the innocent girl ashamed to talk about this. You don't have to assume I don't listen either, because I do. You said you didn't want me to finger you again and I won't."
"Sorry, God."
"Didn't I keep my promise so far?" he asked, softening his tone.
"Yes," she said mockingly.
"Good then."
Connor finished eating. Jen picked at what was left of her burger. Embarrassment made her lose her appetite. Connor apparently didn't notice.
"You want an ice cream or something?" he asked, crumpling a napkin on his plate.
"Nah, we should get going anyway. I'm going to the bathroom. If you want something just get it to go." She slid out of the booth and touched his shoulder as she walked past. Four steps away, she turned back and called to him. He looked at her and smiled. "You have ketchup on your face," she said, then turned to the bathroom.
I really think I love him.
She looked at herself in the mirror and patted her face with a wet paper towel. She was running a fever and felt like shit but preferred to be out with Connor. She didn't want to acknowledge her sickness by cancelling. She didn't want to give in.
She breathed deeply for a second then, fixing her hair, left to go back to her seat. As she turned the corner coming out from behind the half wall separating the tables from the bathrooms, she saw a girl standing in front of the booth where Connor was. Jen stepped forward.
The girl was a waitress, someone she recognized from school who was wearing a shirt buttoned too low for her own liking. She was leaning over Connor. Not the table, not clearing anything. Just leaning over him. His face was eye level with her parading cleavage.
He was telling a joke and as she laughed, he looked down her shirt. Looking at her the way Jen thought he only looked at her, he made the international gesture for 'come here.' She leaned in. He whispered in her ear, she giggled and wrote something on the pad she'd used to take their order. She ripped the paper off, folded it and held it between two fingers over her chest. Connor reached for it, she moved it; the inevitable happened.
They laughed. The waitress threw her body back if it had all been so funny.
Sometime as she began to look back at Connor, her gaze met Jen's. For a lightening quick moment, the girl looked terrified. She dropped the paper, smiled nervously at Connor and walked into the kitchen.
Jen appeared at his side.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"What d'you mean?"
"You know why that little bimbo got her ass away from you so fast?"
"Because-"
"Because she saw me. At least someone acknowledges our being a couple." Jen grabbed her coat and left the building. She paced the sidewalk unable to decide to run as fast as she could home or wait until he cam out and scream until her throat was hoarse.
She coughed hard and loud. Catching her chest, unable to breathe, she leaned against the building as Connor burst through the doors a moment later. He ran to help her.
"Fuck off," she said out of breath.
"Jen, it's not what you think it is," he said flustered.
"Okay, you flirt with a stranger and touch her tits and get her number and it's not what it looks like?"
"First of all, I didn't touch her tits. I wasn't flirting, and she's not a stranger."
"Oh great!" Jen raised her hands and dropped them, hitting her thighs. "So you touched her tits and got her number, but it's okay because she's not a stranger."
"There's a reason, Jen. It has to do with you."
"Oh good, you did it for me then."
"Goddammit Jen, just listen!"
"No, you listen. We're through. You can go back in there and fuck her for all I care." Jen started walking away, arms crossed over her chest, teeth gritted. She got to the end of the block when Connor's crap-mobile pulled up beside her. He leaned down to see her. "You didn't let me finish."
She scoffed. "I don't want to talk to you. We're over."
"You're mad right now, just give me a chance. You didn't even let me finish."
"What then?" she asked, turning around. "What can you possibly have to say that'll make a difference?"
"It's not what I have to say. I have something for you. It was part of the surprise. He opened the door, got out and held out a small box wrapped in brown paper.
"I didn't get a chance to wrap it properly. It's the reason I was talking to that girl in there."
She swallowed hard, and looked from him to the box.
Connor offered some encouragement. "Open it. It's yours."
Jen took it. She pierced a crease with her thumbnail and pulled the brown paper off of a long velvet box. Her heart beat fast and tears started to well in her eyes. "I'm such an asshole," she said shakily.
He laughed sympathetically and hugged her. "No, no. It was an honest mistake. You're beautiful. You're wonderful."
Jen kissed him and bit her lips, opening the box. In it was a necklace.
"Oh my god," she whispered, still crying. He smiled, and in the fashion of every movie with a jewelery exchange, put it on her. A small diamond heart hung just below her collar bone, and she kissed him and she loved him.
"I told you I could be romantic."
"I love you."
Connor looked at her, saw how beautiful she looked though she was sick and crying and embarrassed. "I love you."
He opened the door for her as she got in his car.
"Do you want to go home?" he asked, looking over at her as he drove.
"Didn't you say you had a surprise?"
He sighed, contented with the evening. "Yep. I could save it for another time, though. You seem tired or sick or something."
Jen cleared her throat, having been found out. "I'm fine. I feel great."
"Always a trooper."
Except for the radio and the noise not filtered by insulation, the car was quiet.
When Connor pulled onto a rural road, Jen thought nothing of it, recognized it and having been previously lost in thought. The headlights lead them down a rocky road to a place with an earthen canvas painted with thousands of little daisy buds.
<|><|><|>
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