Sparrows Song

Chapter 2

The drive was quick, giving him no time to change his mind, and soon Blake found himself on Jane's front doorstep. He knocked, nervous to finally be face to face with Jane again but determined not to turn back now.

Jane answered the door before he had a chance to completely compose himself. She was wearing an oversized knit sweater and she gripped the front door in obvious surprise at his unexpected visit. Blake was only vaguely aware that he was staring at her, seemingly just as surprised to see her standing right in front of him. She was different than he remembered her. Thinner maybe? Almost frail looking, he thought, noticing how her shoulders seemed to hunch forward slightly. But still beautiful, definitely still beautiful. He remembered himself then and he wished he would have thought in advance about what he was going to say to her.

"Um, hi Jane...I..." he stammered nervously, drawing a complete blank.

"Hi Blake. Wow, what a surprise. It's been awhile. What brings you around?" she came to his rescue, filling the awkward silence and giving him a tight smile. It did not escape his notice that she didn't exactly seem thrilled to see him.

"I just wanted to see you and tell you I got a new job. And I went back to school. For computer programming," he blurted. Blake could hear how stupid he sounded and he grated his teeth in frustration at how awkward he was. Ugg, what an idiot he was! Conversation was never his strong suit, but Jane seemed to take pity on him.

"I don't have very long, but you can come in for a little bit if you want," she offered, opening the door and allowing him entrance. Blake stepped inside and looked around the bright, clean townhouse. The place had an open layout and clearly Jane had free range with the decorating. Everything matched with easy elegance and the effect was calming, except for when Blake's eye caught the grouping of photographs of Jane with her fiance hanging on the wall. The guy in the picture was handsome, with sandy blond hair and a charismatic smile, and his arm casually slung around a sweetly smiling Jane. Blake hated him, and he looked away from the pictures quickly, suppressing the shudder of rage he felt building up at the sight of his hands on Jane.

She led him to the kitchen table and gestured for him to sit down. "Would you like some coffee?" she asked him.

"No thanks," he replied, his eyes following her as she grabbed her own cup of coffee off the counter and took the seat across from him.

"So," she prompted him, "you said you went back to school?"

"Yeah," he began, "I got a bachelors in Computer Programming from UMD. Got a good job as a programmer at a small company in town."

"That's great, Blake. Really," She said, smiling at him, and maybe it was just his imagination but it seemed like her smile lacked the usual warmth that he remembered. She seemed a bit nervous to be with him, and he hadn't realized he would be so nervous to actually be in the same room with Jane again too. He was over analyzing every detail. Blake felt tension in the silence between them and already couldn't help but feel this visit was not going well.

Blake was drawing a blank for conversation topics as his mind desperately grasped for anything appropriate to say. Jane glanced at the clock in the kitchen behind her.

"How is teaching going?" He settled for. That was good, he praised himself inwardly. Asking about her was a good choice and seemed personable.

"Oh, good", Jane replied. Blake thought to himself that her response sounded less than enthusiastic, but maybe he was just over analyzing things again. "I'm sort of in between jobs right now though. I'm looking for a new school, and thinking about maybe even going back to school myself."

"Oh yeah, that's cool". He could think of nothing better to say, and silence hung between them for a moment, before Jane gracefully steered to conversation in a different direction asking him about his job and what sort of things he worked on.

But it was all small talk, cool and civil, but lacking the depth and intimacy Blake so desperately craved from Jane.

Jane clutched the now cold coffee cup in her hands rigidly, her eyes continually darting to the clock on the stove as if she were impatient for him to leave. He followed her gaze. It was 4:45 and he had only been there for 10 minutes. Disappointment could not even begin to describe how Blake felt.

"I'm sorry, Blake, but you really should go now," Jane said, rising from her spot and opening the front door to usher him out. Her abrupt dismissal shocked him. Oh, how he craved her understanding, her warmth, and it stung that she had been so distant and removed during their brief visit. Blake rose slowly, taking his time and observing Jane's posture, before taking a step towards the door to stand in front of her. Her stance was tense and she seemed suddenly so anxious. Was she really that afraid of him? Was that it? She had really never forgiven him?

"I..." he started, "I know I shouldn't have came here today. I didn't mean..." he stuttered, trying to grasp at anything to smooth over what a disaster this visit had been.

But she smiled at him then, one of her true trademark smiles all warm and reassuring, and she had no way how deeply it affected him. This is what he had missed.

"It's alright. It was good seeing you, Blake. It really was. I'm really happy for you and what you've accomplished. But you can't come and see me again. I'm getting married. You understand, right?" she said.

He swallowed, nodding slowly. Blake lingered a moment, his gaze burning into her, desperately trying to memorize every detail of her. Realizing his reluctance to leave, Jane's eyes suddenly grew larger in alarm. Again she glanced behind her at the clock.

"Please," her voice bordered on pleading, "you have to go now."

Those eyes, large and doe-like, mesmerized him. "Ok," he replied softly, "Sorry. Bye, Jane."

And with that he slipped through the door as she closed it quietly behind him.

Stupid. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Blake mentally chastised himself as he hung his head in defeat and trudged back to his car. Why had he gone there? What had he really expected? He certainly hadn't expected her to be so afraid of him. Clearly, he decided, she still hated him. It would have been better off if he'd never known how she really felt about him and he'd never felt more like an idiot in his life.

Blake went straight home, ate a couple pieces of leftover pizza from the fridge, and switched on the TV. Slumping onto his futon, he stared blankly at the screen although he wasn't paying much attention to what was on. Instead he stewed over his visit with Jane, tormenting himself with the realization that he would never be with her. It hurt so badly it made his chest feel tight and it was difficult to breathe. After a while even the noise of the television began to bother him, so he switched it off.

Listless and unmotivated, he figured it was better to go straight to bed to sleep off his depression. He drifted off quickly, but his sleep was plagued with nightmares, and the dreams were strange ones he hadn't had in a long while. He dreamt he was a child again, small and frightened, listening, hiding, and waiting. Sometimes under the bed, or in a closet, sometimes in plain sight as his mother fought and screamed at one of the faceless abusive men that always seemed to surround her. Helpless, all Blake could do was wait and try to stay invisible. Wait until he leaves. Wait until it stops. Waiting, waiting, always waiting.

Because back then that was all he could do was wait for it to go away. That was until the day he was old enough to do something about it.

Blake awoke with a start. Dawn was just breaking, and he shook his head to clear the memory of the last dream. Even in his sleep he was plagued with the reminder of what he was, and the very reason that Jane hated him. Annoyed, he drug himself tiredly out of bed. It wasn't a good way to start the day.

Still, something nagged at him in the back of his mind. Something half-remembered as he replayed his run in with Jane from the previous day. He was missing something. He wasn't sure exactly what it was, but there was something that wasn't quite right.