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Finally, I can have the normal life I’ve always wanted. With her.
If she wants me.
3
Jo
The passenger train from the city hisses to a halt.
I clutch my bag to my chest. And wait for what feels like an eternity to see Jakob.
The two-hour bus ride from Mirror Lake was sparsely populated this morning as I hopped on the earliest route, as most tourism is going in the opposite direction.
My gaze fixes on the doors, my breath catching in my throat. Will I recognize my old friend? Will he recognize me? We should have exchanged photographs or FaceTimed. But it occurred to neither of us. But then again, he mentioned he doesn’t have a smartphone, which is so wild to me.
The doors slide open. A tall figure steps onto the platform. My heart beats in my throat as my eyes meet his.
Looking at him now, I realize we didn’t need to exchange photos. I know this boy like the back of my hand.
Though I must say, Jakob is no longer a boy. Not at all.
Time stands still as I gaze at him.
Jakob has matured, and yet the familiar features are unmistakable—a well-maintained beard frames his rugged face and those deep blue eyes that still retain that touch of vulnerability.
I’m starting to hyperventilate.
People cast sidelong glances at Jakob’s presence. His jeans hug his long, muscled legs, and he wears a crisp white T-shirt under a pressed button-up shirt that hangs open. He looks fresh and put-together. I should have put in more effort. Internally, I wince at my sneakers and wrinkled oversized prairie shirt. Today, I look like the artist and he looks like a manager.
But I don’t beat myself up for long, as Jakob strides forward, beaming.
That’s for me. That smile is for me, and it goes straight to my heart. I am melting.
The noise of the Salska station fades into the background as he closes the distance between us, and then, finally, we’re face to face.
“Jakob,” I breathe, holding back the urge to laugh or cry or both.
“Josephine,” he replies, his voice cracking with emotion.
We stand there for a moment, taking each other in.
The air between us is thick with memories and bittersweet longing for the time we lost.
“It’s really you,” I finally say, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips.
Jakob’s familiar chuckle floods me with nostalgia. “Yeah, it’s really me.”
As we share a smile, I feel on one hand as if no time has passed at all.
“Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” Jakob says, his smile faltering a little.
Why so formal? Is he already regretting this?
I nod. “I’ve wondered what happened to you after I moved away. It’s so good to see you.”
The station’s arrival and departure announcements fill the awkward silence.
“You look…” I start, but I don’t know what to say after that. Handsome? Cute? Gorgeously rugged and perfect? That’s what I really want to say, but I hold back. Do I say he looks well? Healthy? That sounds too distant, and I want to gently let him know he doesn’t have to be so unfamiliar with me.
