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“Really?” I try to hide my surprise that she volunteered this information.
There’s a beat of silence while I wait to see if she’ll say more or if I should ask another question.
Having deeper conversations with Jade is often what I imagine bird-watching is like. Lots of waiting and being patient and waiting some more for the right moment, hoping you don’t have to sneeze or make any sudden movements and startle the wildlife.
“Nah. I just got out of a relationship.”
The metaphorical bird is still on the branch, so I try to get a little closer.
“How long did you two date?”
“There were actually three of us. Me, another girl, and a guy. We stayed together, like . . . eight months, I guess? Greg and Anna are still together, but I left.”
“Why did you leave?”
“They wanted something a little . . . deeper. Emotionally. And I . . . didn’t.”
I try to listen for the sadness in her words or another emotion besides apathy, but she really seems detached from the whole thing.
“I thought you believed in love,” I say, referencing our conversation from a couple weeks ago.
“What we had wasn’t love. At least, I wasn’t feeling it.”
“Have you been in love before?” I ask.
She pauses, tilting my head to the other side. “Have you?” she asks, avoiding my question.
“I thought I was a couple times, but in retrospect I don’t think it was the real thing.”
“How do you know what the real thing is like? Your parents?”
I start to answer, but she uses her finger to smooth something on my face, so I wait until she’s done. When she steps back, I open my eyes and watch her riffle through her stash.
“Yeah. My parents are the standard in my mind.”
“That seems like a lot to live up to, but I guess, in a way, my parents are the standard for me too. Which is to say, the standard is in hell,” Jade says with a cynical chuckle.
I’m not sure what to say, so I opt to not say anything.
“What happened? With your parents. Like, tell me why their love story is so great,” she asks after a second of silence that feels like a year. She leans against her desk, crossing her arms.
I resist the urge to itch my face, which feels heavy with makeup. “I didn’t really think anything of their relationship for a long time. They never fought, or if they did, it wasn’t in front of us. They didn’t seem unhappy, but I guess they weren’t that happy either. Or maybe my mom wasn’t that happy. She said she fell out of love with my dad. She said there was no spark, no chemistry left. She saw my dad as a roommate more than a romantic partner. So Dad moved out and gave my mom her space.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. I think he felt confident he could win her back. He used to say that a lot. He said if it was meant to be, they’d end up together. It took almost two years, but my dad won her backover. We moved back into the house eventually, and they’ve been wildly and madly in love ever since.”
“And that’s the story you want for yourself?” Jade asks as she picks up a compact and a fresh brush.
I close my eyes again as she dabs the makeup brush across my face. “Not that exact story, but I want a love like that. The kind that can withstand anything.”
I’m tempted to prompt her to admit she wants that too, but she’s made it clear she doesn’t really believe in love.
Which is totally fine, because having a crush on someone doesn’t mean anything. People have crushes that go away all the time. It’s not important if she believes in love or not. Liking Jade doesn’t mean I’ll eventually love her.
“Well, now I know your secret,” Jade says.
Every muscle in my body tenses.My secret?Does she know I like her? Was I that obvious? I run through every word I said tonight, every movement, every touch. Either Jade is a CIA-level expert in reading body language or she has telepathic powers she hasn’t revealed yet.
