Letters to Nowhere #1 (Completed!)

Letters to Nowhere: Part 30

My phone rang about thirty seconds after I sent the last text. I answered it with a pounding heart. I had gone too far this time. Jordan would probably tell me I needed professional help, though technically I was already getting help.  

            "Hey," I said after the third ring.

            "Hey," Jordan said, and just the sound of his voice put butterflies in my stomach. "It's not a stupid question, I just didn't want to answer it by text."

            "I'm not pondering this twenty-four-seven or anything, it's just...sometimes . . ."

            "You think about it," he finished for me.

            "Yeah."

            "I don't know, Karen." He sighed. "I'm not sure what I believe. I want to think about my family in Heaven, but it's so out there. So much fantasy and not enough reality. Hell seems more believable than pearly gates and angels floating around in clouds."

            "That's my problem, too." I slid under the covers and pulled the blanket up to my chin.

            "Maybe I believe in ghosts...not that I have any evidence or proof, but it seems a lot more possible than Heaven or Hell."

            "Memories are like ghosts for me," I said.

            Silence fell over both of us for a long moment, then Jordan finally spoke again. "New subject?"

            I laughed. "So...have you seen any more of Sara? Or had any other random make-out sessions lately? Or should I say study sessions?"

            "I did mention there is currently a very old lady residing in my home, didn't I?" he said. "Besides, we're young. We're supposed to kiss a lot people, figure out who's superior. I'm sure someone like you can appreciate that. You probably give scores."

            My cheeks flared up even though no one was around to see me blush. "Okay, you've obviously learned nothing at all from me," I said, laughing. "Think about it, Jordan...do you really think I have any experience with this subject whatsoever?"

            "Wait," he said. "You mean you've never kissed anyone?"

            "Not a nonrelative," I said. "It's not like I go around advertising this to people, but I figured you would get that I'm a little behind in that area. If I had known you thought otherwise I probably would have been happy living a lie just to avoid this conversation."

            "Seriously? Not even during an innocent game of spin-the-bottle? Or seven minutes in heaven?"

            "No," I said more firmly this time. "Nothing. I went to parties with kids from gymnastics and we talked about Disney Channel movie star crushes and gymnastics—that's it. No boys. No spin-the-bottle or whatever that other game you mentioned is."

            "Well," he said. "I think it's cool."

            "No you don't. It's weird, even I know that, but I'm okay with it."

            "Really, it's kinda cool." His voice held no hint of the patronizing tone I'd expected. "I wish I could have my first kiss all over again, but better. Or just that feeling of anticipating something that seems so ordinary to me now. Once you cross that line you can't take it back." He laughed. "And I don't mean that in an abstinence, wait-for-marriage kind of way, but in the sense that...I don't know...it's like the feeling you got on Christmas morning, as a little kid, looking at all the wrapped gifts and endless possibilities that came with not knowing what was in them. Once you open the gifts, that feeling is gone."

            "So what you're saying is, anticipating a first kiss is better than the kiss itself?" I asked.

            "Sometimes," he admitted. "Depending on who you're kissing. But I think my jealousy of your lack of experience stems from my resistance to the whole growing-up concept. I'd rather not. Just between you and me."

            I smiled to myself. "I'm sure ninety-nine percent of people our age feel the same way. But I doubt many are able to admit it like you have or even realize it at all."

            "Admitting you have a problem is the first step, right?"

            "Right," I said, smiling again. "I should get some sleep. Tomorrow is going to be hard enough without adding sleep deprivation."

            "Talk to you later, Karen."

            I hung up my phone and tucked it under my pillow, my ears still lingering on the sound of my name...Jordan saying my name...it rolled off his tongue, smooth and fluid and I was pretty sure I'd be happy listening to him saying it over and over again.

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