The Invisible World

Chapter 19: Who Can It Be Now?

Things were very normal from then until Jenny's hearing. I kept living in Jack's house since it's only a matter of time before the book ends. Why bother moving into an apartment when it was going to cease to exist with the rest of the town sooner or later?

Jenny got real serious about moving into Brian's house real fast. She must have been waiting for that signal from Brian that he was just as interested in her as she is in him. She lived in her old place for such a short time that she's going to use the money from selling it to pay off the mortgage she took out to buy that same house. "It's a net zero of money, just about," she explained.

It's kind of a party-like-it's-1999 move to come from her when she keeps telling us to keep living like the world wasn't going to end. Is that what love does to people? Or maybe it's not love. Maybe it's some passing infatuation that sprang from Jenny's sense of duty and urge to nurse Brian back to health after she injured him. Maybe it's a Florence Nightingale situation. Either way, it didn't seem like her, and it didn't seem like enough reason to move out of the house you just made your first mortgage payment on. Was it your "something to live for," Jenny, or was it eating you up entirely?

Now, though, we were all driving up to "Provo," or whatever version of Provo exists in this godforsaken novel. This time, it was Jack driving Brian and Jenny driving me. I didn't think it would be possible to get the two lovebirds apart, but here we are. It took Jack insisting he drive Brian with a speech about how Brian's his friend, too, and he wasn't going to tolerate being a third wheel to the two of them, and Jenny was surprisingly accepting of his argument. She'd drive me instead. Brian seemed kind of flattered that he was being fought over by his two great loves: his brand-new girlfriend and his best friend since childhood. He's weird like that.

"It makes no sense, though," Jenny was monologuing to me. "You live with Jack. I live with Brian. We could have just driven together that way. Instead, I had to drive all the way to Jack's house to drop Brian off and pick you up like some kind of prisoner exchange. It wastes time, and it wastes gasoline."

"Okay, I get it," I nodded.

"Plus, Brian is in Jack's car without his wheelchair. What if he has another accident, and he can't walk? How is he supposed to move then?"

"He said he's confident in his walking now," I commented. "I think you're worrying too much."

"But you're supposed to worry about the people you love, right?" Jenny replied. "Kind of like how your mom bugs you to get a jacket before you go out, but you'll be like, 'I'll be fine, Mom,' but she still insists on it because she knows there's a little bitty chance you're going to get cold?"

Oh, great. She's bringing up moms. She just has to remind me that I have yet to talk to my own. Still, there was something else that I had to say. "Jack likes that you're so independent," I told her.

She paused for a moment. "What?"

"You said the only person whose thoughts I know for sure, and he thinks that your refusal to care about what others think is the best thing about you."

"Well, there's a difference," Jenny rationalized. "I hate that there were so many people in my life growing up who were like, 'Oh, you're going to find a nice husband and become a wife and take care of the house and kids.' Like, it's not 1952 anymore, Mom. I can have a career if I want. This way, I found a life partner on my own terms, someone who meets my high standards of companionship, and sure, he needs taking care of, but I actually want to take care of him. It's not like I'm having kids because I feel like I have to. I'm not dependent on Brian. If anything, he's dependent on me."

"He has healed from his injuries, Jenny," I reminded her, putting emphasis on each word. "Now it's you who's dependent on him for your sanity."

Jenny's voice began to shake. "You should get more than anybody that I'm scared, okay? Everything you've seen before now, it's all just a front. I didn't even have people telling me growing up that I was going to be a housewife because I never grew up. I just spawned fully formed into the newsroom of the Allwine Inquisitor. I have been born into a world that I know is going to end. I only get a month's worth of existence, and you think I'm supposed to be okay about that? I need something–someone–to keep me sane, and if it's not going to be Brian, then who is it? And don't volunteer yourself. You've never cared about any of our feelings, and you know it."