the nearby snack bar where I watched the girl who was supposed to be working there put her magazine down and take her place behind the counter. She immediately perked up when he leaned against the laminated counter and placed his order. Jibby sure had a way with the girls. It didn’t seem his style to rely on blackmailing Alicia into dating him, and I wondered if she hadn’t misunderstood him. The thought stayed with me as I left the mall and made my way to the parking lot where my truck sat. A large pile of homework was waiting for me, and would probably take most of the day to it get through it all. On top of that I’d decided to apply to other colleges besides Stanford, so there were a dozen college applications that needed to be prepped for mailing. I shook my head thinking about the amount of work that had to be done yet.
Over the next few weeks I made numerous calls to Jensen’s dorm, while at the same time he made just as many calls to my place. It was almost as if neither of us were ready to talk live yet, and leaving messages for each other sufficed. Hearing his voice over the recorder gave me some piece of mind, and the musical communications he left were more than just memorable. The first one he’d left consisted of Def Leppard reminding me to stand up and fight for our relationship. The second was a new song by Bryan Adams fittingly titled Please Forgive Me. Sometimes I would replay them and think about the last time we were really happy. I didn’t know what we were, but I guessed we were still together, even though our relationship was strained. I tried not to think negatively and decided to stay focused on school and studying for the upcoming SATs on February twelfth. Jensen was thinking of me, though, because he left two more musical messages on my recorder.
The personal side of my life was not going great, but the career side was finally in order and I sent off applications to Washington, Stanford, UC Davis, UC Berkeley, Seattle Pacific University, and to my back up schools, the University of Alaska Southeast and Portland State. These were schools I had thoroughly researched, from which scholarships were available to what credits and essays were needed.
My love life may have been a mess, but my educational career was seemingly back on track.
4. Revelation
The morning of February twelfth, I woke up at six forty-five to get up and go through my usual routine of getting ready for school. I was also trying to ignore the heaviness that bore down upon me—another round of SAT testing that I didn’t feel up to. Before taking off for school, I looked over and noticed a blinking number one on my machine indicating that a call had come in, probably while I was taking a shower. Pressing the play button, I listened as Bryan Adams began singing: Look into my eyes, you will see … what you mean to me.
The work of Jensen, no doubt.
Without calling him back, I listened to the message twice before leaving the house. I chose not to call because it was already fifteen minutes after eight and testing was at nine o’clock sharp. Besides, I needed to focus on the test and doing as well as I could instead of letting Jensen’s musical musings on our relationship take over. Leaving the house and driving just above the speed limit, I made it to the school in plenty of time but had to drive around to look for parking. Finally, I found a space more than a block away because more cars than usual were parked along the street. By eight forty-five I rushed into school and followed the signs to a classroom on the third floor. After signing in and climbing into one of the few empty seats along the back row, I put my purse under my seat and arranged my pencils and calculator at the top of the desk. When I was comfortable, I began to look around the room. There were a few sophomores, a few juniors and more than a few seniors, so at least I wasn’t the only senior in the room.
Four grueling hours later after the test had finally ended, I slowly walked out of the school building and toward the street where my truck was parked. Feeling a little numb and more than happy that the test was over with, I lifted my eyes to the partly cloudy sky and saw the sun peeking through a few blue patches here and there. For once it wasn’t raining or snowing and I took that to be a good sign. There was a chance the temperature would climb to higher than usual, but maybe that was just wishful thinking.
Instead of leaving right after starting my truck’s engine, I cranked the heater up and turned the radio on to hear Meat Loaf singing about what he would or wouldn’t do for love—I laughed cathartically. Leaning back and closing my eyes to give my brain a little time to recoup, I waited until the air inside had heated up enough to soothe my skin and warm me to the core. My fingers tapped the steering wheel to the beat of Meat Loaf’s tune, and my mind went to Jensen. Why has it been so long since we’ve spoken? What was he doing each night I called and missed him? Was he partying? Drinking? Did he have another chance meeting with Fallon? Is he seeing her behind my back? I could feel tears spring to my eyes and I couldn’t stop the few that did escape. Wiping them away and putting the shifter in first gear, I peeled out and willed myself to think about something else. At the same time, I silently thanked the DJ on the radio for playing a fast Guns N’ Roses song.
Pulling up into the driveway when I got home, I got out and leaned against the truck. The sun was now out and the heat felt nice against my skin as I stood there with my eyes closed and listened to passing cars on the freeway not far from where my house sat. Taking in a deep breath and pushing myself off the truck’s body, I slowly walked to the front door to let myself in.
Dropping my purse and keys on the couch, I slipped off my shoes before shedding my coat and draping it over the back of the couch. It was about then that I noticed the house smelled faintly of roses. Glancing around the room and beyond to the kitchen, I caught sight of what the smell was emanating from when I saw a clear vase of roses wrapped with a pink ribbon. These weren’t your average roses, either, but the kind that were large enough to fill the palm of your hand. Stepping closer I saw a small card lying next to them on the counter, and picking up the light-colored envelope I recognized Jensen’s familiar handwriting:
Happy Valentine’s Day. Sorry I missed you this morning. Please meet me for dinner at The Fiddlehead at five.
Jensen
Reading the note again, I wondered when he’d come to town and why. Yeah, it was close to Valentine’s Day, but could he really have come just to surprise me? If so, why wasn’t he here waiting for me? I thought that his note was rather strange, too. Instead of picking me up he asked me to meet him. That more than bothered me, so I grabbed the phone, poised to call his house to see if he was there, but halfway through dialing his number I stopped and hung up. Maybe right then wasn’t the right time to call since I didn’t know what I’d say. Panic gripped me when I thought about all the truths I’d have to confess to him. Telling Jensen about my make out session with Nate was going to be hard enough, but telling him about the pregnancy and the miscarriage was going to be more than difficult. Needing time to come up with what I would say, I placed the phone back in its cradle and went to my room to choose what I would wear and how my hair would be done for my date with Jensen at The Fiddlehead. I had never had a chance to eat there, but had passed by numerous times over the years. For an instant I wondered if Jensen had ever gone there with Savannah.
Going into the bathroom, I heated up my curling iron and gave myself a good look in the mirror before picking up a brush and swiping my hair back into a long ponytail. After securing it with a hair tie, I rolled my hair evenly around the large wand. After five minutes of holding it there while my arm complained, I unwound the curling iron and watched my hair slowly bounce into a large, loose curl that rested upon my neck. I let out a snicker and decided that my hair looked like Savannah’s the day we’d seen her, only darker. Hmmm, am I inherently trying to torture Jensen? Maybe I was, because I
