Just Jack

Part Two: Chapter Eighteen: Just the Way You Were

Chapter Eighteen

Just the Way You Were

     So theres this theory, or something. I don't think its proved by scientists wearing white lab coats and I doubt it can be connected to some ancient, Chinese guy in an orange tunic, but its still a theory, even if I'm the only one to theorize it. I think. It, or I, says that if you have something, a memento of sentimental value, that reminds you of a bad time and you burn it – just throw it into the fire – it will turn those bad memories to embers and ashes. One could argue that this is, in fact, a load of crap. And to most it probably is. But maybe they just haven't gone through anything that bad. Maybe they have nothing to throw into the fire. Those are the lucky few. Unlike me, I'd need a freakin' furnace.

     I find it quite odd, and shamefully flattering, that Chris would return to Bridge Bay for me. Or us, as he put it. If we had never of kissed, would he have stayed dead? Would I still be mourning the loss of my best friend? It could be possible that I would still be in St Clares, slowly fading away as the doctors and nurses prodded me with needles and forced food into me. Did Chris' return, in some way, save me? Saving me was never his intention, however. No, he wasn't thinking with his head when he decided to return and some part of me doubts it was even his heart – more of his brain below the belt. But its done, he's back. And now he wants an answer. Could there possibly be an us?

     I stand up from the table in the coffee shop, gulp the last of my order down and then begin to walk out. The girl behind the counter waves goodbye and I nod politely and return a warm smile. She's been working here so long she knows me by my name, my order off by heart and even when my father died she offered her condolences with a coffee and a blueberry muffin, my favorite, on the house. I turn to the door but before I open it and step out onto cold, dark street, I hear a females voice call me from inside the store. Its soft, a bit croaky, but so familiar. I turn instantly.

      “Amelia? Amelia Gome!” I exclaim, recognizing the nurse who was assigned to look after me during my last stint at St Clares. She sits alone at a two-seater table, a mug of tea and a scone in front of her. She's wearing the painfully familiar white uniform from the hospital and I can just about see her name tag under her green cardigan. She smiles, stands up and greets me with a warm hug. She smells too hygienic. It is incredible to think that before I got to really know her, before I changed, the old Jack would have detested a hug form her.

     “Look at you, Jack. You look incredible,” she says, looking me up and down. She points to the empty chair beside her. “Take a seat, tell me how you're getting on.” I reluctantly sit down and think of where to start. Its almost been a whole year since I last saw her. I told her I'd see her again but so much happened – I guess I forgot about her. I don't know what to say. Its weird, no one has ever really asked me how I've been getting on. I start to think of everything since leaving St Clares. It flashes before my eyes so fast I'm overwhelmed. Emily and I. Our first kiss. Keith's unexpected arrival into my life, and Chris' return. The car crash. The coma. Mom's illness. It's too much.

     I let my head fall to hide the sudden tears streaming from my eyes. My head finds comfort on Amelia's warm shoulder. She places her hand on my head and assures me. “It's okay, Jack. Tell me what's wrong.” I lift my head up and laugh, embarrassingly. Pull yourself together, Jack!

“Nothings wrong. For once in my life, everything seems to be going just fine. And its weird and I'm not used to it. I fall asleep and I wake up to see the sun rise and everything is beautiful and fine. It's all fine,” I blurt out, stopping every so often to wipe away a tear or two.