The Best of Fools (Jane Austen Book 2) (22 page)

Do you ever feel like prolonging a chapter of your life? Just drawing it out, maybe rewinding and reliving it to make sure you feel and experience every detail fully and deeper. Maybe dying in the middle of it so that it never ends. The next chapter doesn't have to unfold. It doesn't have to bring something you don't want to experience. It can end right here. Before everything changes. Before you can never get it back.

What if? What if I could stop it? Make it so he doesn't walk out the door. He doesn't leave. He's right there on the edge of my bed.

And the page never turns.

It never works out the way we want it to. Life. The page always turns when we want to pause and it seems they get stuck together when we desperately want to know what happens next. Then, there are those times when the wind picks up and the pages flip and flip and flip until we're completely lost. It's in those times, like now, that I felt like giving up.

But he called.

And I picked the book back up, turned the page, and began to read.

"Alistair."

"Jane.

"If I gave you a pen and told you it was magic, you could write the story of your life, make it anything you want ... what would you write?"

"Hmm ... well, that's not a little question."

I laughed. "I like the way you say little without the T's. Lih-ul."

"I know, I know. Mum always tells me to stop doing that. It's not proper."

"It's cute."

"Oh, really? Then I should make sure to say it a lih-ul more often."

"Don't let it lose its charm."

"Good point. So how was your time with the guy?"

"It was Donovan. I've told you about him."

"He's with someone now? Again? Does he not like to be single?"

"Not anymore. We kinda have a history together. I mean, we never dated, but he wanted to and when I finally pushed him away he just went full force into dating. One girl after another after another after another. This one's different though. She's normal and sweet and beautiful."

"But he's still your friend, you say?"

"He is. We've always been close."

"You sound sad."

"You always know how I'm really feeling."

"It's not hard. I just listen. Pay attention."

"I like you, Alistair."

He paused and I almost regretted letting that slip, until he finally said, "I like you too."

"So ... the story of your life ... what would you write?"

"I guess I would start by writing a plane to the States so I could provide this strange girl with the best kiss she's ever had in her life, from there I don't really care what's written. That'll be enough, thanks."

I laughed. "What if you're a horrible kisser?"

"Then it will be the worst kiss you've ever had, which will be equally as memorable."

I laughed again. "Thank you."

"For?"

"For being a morsel of happiness in a cookie of crap."

He laughed. "Sounds nice. Vulgar but nice. You're welcome, I suppose." He paused. "What would you write, Jane?"

"I'd write a new me."

"Not at all. I wouldn't change a thing about you."

"I've got flaws. Too many."

"That's okay. We all do. Part of what makes us real."

"I emailed my mom a few times. She hasn't responded."

"Maybe it's the wrong email."

"It's not."

"How do you know?"

"I have a few different ones. Tried them all and a Facebook account. She just hasn't responded."

"Don't let it get you down, okay? She may not be ready to face you."

We spent the next ten minutes in a content and warm silence. He fiddled with his guitar, then played a song for me. I used my iPad to send him pictures of my latest sketches. We talked and listened and breathed for another hour until he finally needed to sleep.

Before we first talked on the phone I dreaded it. My nervous and anxiety-stricken side got the best of me. Now I dreaded hanging up with him, but honestly ... I felt horrible. Like I was using him to deal with the hole Donovan was leaving in my heart.

I didn't want to be
that
girl.

So I watched the shadows on my ceiling as the streetlight flickered outside. The air conditioner hummed in the background. And I considered telling Alistair I needed some time to think and process things. Then, maybe if I felt better we could still meet in October.

Our long conversations at night made it impossible to think clearly. My heart was so messed up. For years I avoided my feelings for Donovan. I could avoid them because he was always there. His arms around me without the threat of a kiss or a relationship. Now, though, Alistair awakened this part of me. I swear the boy slapped some wires on my heart and brought me back to life. I felt things. Things I never felt before. I smiled more. Laughed more. Loved more. Because of that sweet British boy.

But I could no longer deny the feelings I had for my best friend. Those endless summer nights as we watched the sun go down. Snow days full of hot cocoa and Frosty the snowman wars, where we challenged each other to see who could build the ultimate snowman. Being an artist and him a sports guy, I always won and it ended in snowball fight tickle wars. He was the first person I called when I passed my drivers license test and the last person who'd ever hurt me. Really hurt me.

There's one memory that sticks out the most to me though. I think I was sixteen and he was seventeen. He joked around about wanting to be with me and I told him it just didn't feel right. I loved him, but wasn't
in
love with him. When he asked what would make it feel right I said, "I don't know. If I ever feel that way I'll tell you that I've fallen and can't get up. Then you'll know."

He laughed, but he knew I'd never say it. Locked in my dungeon of relational fears, I sat alone. Content to be alone. Donovan learned to accept it.

But things change. People change. When they actually want to.

I changed.

Alistair revived me.

I'm sure that wasn't his intention and I wasn't being fair to either of them. I knew that. I knew I needed to tell Donovan the truth and if he no longer felt the same, well, then maybe I could move on.

Han made it difficult though. I didn't want to lose her friendship or hurt her in anyway. Or him. What if he really loved her and my proclamation—after years of pushing him away—made her go away? That would kill me too.

After going back and forth, pondering this option and that solution, over and over again, I finally made a decision. Wasn't the best decision in the world, but it was something I really, really needed to do as soon as possible.

Mom and Dad stared at me like I was crazy. I was. I was definitely crazy. Eddie played around on his phone, probably some weird brain teaser app to test and strengthen his intellect, but he stopped when I told them my latest decision.

"I know it sounds impulsive," I said. "But I feel like I need to do this right now."

Mom glanced at Dad. He nodded, then she said, complete with British accent, "Honey, if you feel this is important, then I am willing to do it. As long as Eddie and Granny can watch over your father." She looked at Dad.

"I'm just concerned," Dad's voice of reason entered the scene. "Not about me. About you Jane. Are you trying to run away again? I don't understand. And it's a lot of money." He paused, cleared his throat, and folded his hands on his lap. "I know the shop didn't go as planned, but you need to handle this like an adult."

"Dad." I sighed.

"I'm serious. You're eighteen now. You live on your own. You successfully created your own store, which is unheard of for many kids your—"

"Now I'm a kid." I laughed. "I thought I was an adult?"

Eddie's eyes shot up. "Jane!"

"What?" I nearly jumped out of my chair. "What did I do?"

"You just responded in a British accent." Mom smiled. "Maybe you really are changing."

"Okay, guys." I took a bite of Mom's homemade peach pie which was dee-freaking-licious, then continued, "You're all overreacting. I'm not running away. I'm not being immature. I just want to go somewhere with Mom. And these are places I've always wanted to go. Every Batman fan's dream. Plus, I need a vacation. Badly. I need to get away from everyone and I want my mother's support. That's all." I looked at Mom's glowing face as Dad's hand disappeared under the table. Then hers. "Mom, you're my real best friend. The best best friend. Remember when everything went haywire so many times in the past and I'd stay home and watch movies with you?"

Her smile grew.

"And remember how happy I was? Those are some of my best memories. This is something I've always wanted to do and I want you there."

"I'll come." Even her eyes smiled. "But we can't be gone long. Two weeks at the most. Where's the first destination?"

"This will wipe a lot of your money out." Dad. Again. Who else?

"Don't pop bubbles," I said. "Join in on the fun of blowing them."

He shook his head. "I'm just worried this is a bit irrational and when you come back to an empty bank account you're going to regret it. What if you lose your apartment and the shop, Jane? You put so much hard work into it."

"Dad, look, I've got it all planned to make it as cheap as possible. And quick. I need this. It will inspire me for the new direction I'm taking with the shop aaaand I can write it off as a business expense."

"Yes, but—"

"Husband." Mom gently touched his hair and wound it around her finger. "It will be fine. She wants to do this and I would love to spend some extra time with her. It'll be okay, dear."

He took her hand, kissed it, and there they went into La La Land. Eyes locked on each other's, smiles easing their cheeks up toward cloud nine. Oh, man.

I stood. "Okay. So let's plan to leave Friday."

Eddie looked up again. "Meet me in my room before you go. Give me five minutes." He stood and disappeared around the corner.

Mom and Dad looked at me.

I shrugged. "He's Eddie. Who knows."

"I know," Mom said. "He may not be the most expressive person—like someone else I know—but if you just listen and watch you can intimately know any person in the world, regardless of how much they tell you."

"How can you listen if they don't tell you?"

"People speak in all sorts of ways, Jane. It's just that most people only listen with the intention of speaking, not knowing. If you want to know someone you just need to be with them. Listen to the way they breathe, the way they talk."

Dad nodded. "She's right."

"I know someone like that," I said.

"How is Donovan?" Mom asked.

"Don't talk to him much anymore." I focused on my hands. "But it's not him actually. Alistair. He always knows what I'm feeling by the tone of my voice." I could almost hear his voice. "I don't know if I know anyone well enough to do that all the time, but I feel like I listen. I try to."

"Alistair?" Mom said. "Who's Alistair?"

"Oh ... I ... didn't I tell you?" I fidgeted with the
Pride and Prejudice
art on the wall beside me. "It's ... well, you know, he's a friend. A, uh ... a guy."

"Hm." Dad stood and put his plate in the sink. "And here I was thinking it was a girl friend."

Mom laughed. "So—"

"Oh!" I pivoted. "I think I heard Eddie call for me. Be right back."

They looked at each other as I dashed away. Then I stopped, walked backwards, peeked around the wall to the kitchen, and said, "I'm not avoiding." Even though I totally was and they totally knew it. "We'll talk later."

I jogged upstairs to Eddie's room. Door was open so I went in. He sat on the bed with his hands behind his back. Smiling. Eddie. Smiling. Prolific moment in the history of all moments.

"What are you up to?" I said. "Better not be hiding crack back there."

He laughed the tiniest laugh, then handed me a wrapped box. "Sorry this is late. Meant to give it to you on your birthday, but it wasn't ready."

"Oh, you didn't have to do anything." I smiled at the box. "Wow. Impressive wrapping."

He shrugged. "You're stalling. Just open it."

I didn't like opening presents in front of people. He was right. I always stalled. Peeling back the paper as slow as possible, like now. Not only was I horrible at pretending to like a gift when I couldn't figure out what it was, but I also had trouble getting excited when I really liked something. Most times I'd smile and stare and mutter a word of thanks and smile and stare again. Autumn jumped up and down like a two-year-old when she opened a gift and Donovan did this thing where you just knew he was sincerely grateful even if he was quiet about it. Something in his eyes.

I missed him.

"At this rate you might as well spend the night here," he said. "It's nothing big."

I finally got the paper off and folded it neatly as Eddie rolled his eyes. Then I lifted the lid while staring at him.

"You're such a jerk," I said, laughing, as I pulled another wrapped box out.

"Figured if I wrapped it twice it would take three times as long to open."

"Funny."

I peeled the paper off and found another wrapped box. I shook my head and unwrapped it. Then saw the gift.

"Ed..." I ran my fingers along the top. "You made this?"

A slight smile brightened his face. "It was my first wood carving project. Took me a while. I wanted it to be perfect."

"Ed." I couldn't get over it. "Eddie..." I waved my hand in front of me, thensat beside him, cross-legged, and wrapped my arms around his neck. He hugged me and tapped my back. I was his older sister, but his strength both physically and mentally always made me feel younger. He was smart, calculated, and extremely fit. I could feel his masculinity even when he tapped my back. That same strength always made me feel safe when Mom and Dad left us home alone. Or the time he rescued me when I tried to do a back flip off of the pool and knocked my head on the side. He was only fourteen at the time, but managed to pull me to the surface and out of the pool, then ran with my unconscious body all the way inside and up to Mom.

Still, to this day, he hadn't said, "I love you," to me. But he didn't say it to Mom or Dad either. He was the most internal person I'd ever known.