Where Light Meets Dark

Chapter 9 - Just Like . . .

"Hey, this is Alex Sameron. Since I obviously can't take your call, that means I'm probably sleeping or off doing something incredibly stupid. So please call me back later, or leave a message or something. Thank yoooouuu—"

Jakira lowered her phone to her desk, disappointed for at least the hundredth time that week. She stood up, walked over to her bed, and flopped heavily down onto it, exhaling. The last time she'd talked with him, the day before, he'd seemed tired out and sad almost the whole time, then somewhat nervous towards the end of the school day.

When she'd first really met him, he hadn't struck her as one to be emotional, but as she reflected on the times they'd spent together so far, she realized that he did seem to have a quieter, sadder side to him. It was hard to remember the recent time that she'd seen him as merely one of her classmates, yet still she recalled wondering why he always seemed down or upset about something, as well as being the exact opposite of talkative.

So maybe he was just naturally shy? Like her?

No . . . that's not it . . .

It was more like a constant grief over one particular thing, instead of a variety, as she thought more about it. And, adding to the strange feeling that they'd known each other before, even this sadness he had was familiar.

It was just like . . .

Just like . . .

"Jakira!" her mother suddenly called, startling her so much that she almost fell off the bed. "Time to go!"

"Go?" she echoed in confusion, then rose and pulled her door open a crack. "Go where?"

"The Samerons'!" Her mother walked down the hall to her daughter's bedroom. "Didn't I tell you about that phone call—" She paused mid-sentence and frowned, then muttered half to herself, "Oh, I guess I didn't; you were busy . . ."

"What phone call?" Jakira inquired, trying to get her attention back to the present but growing steadily excited at the thought of seeing Alex again; it was always fun to spend time with him, but she also wanted to check on him to see if he was doing better emotionally.

"Mrs. Sameron called me last night asking if we could come over today so our families can meet," her mother explained. "It'll be a good chance to build up this friendship. I haven't even met Alex yet!"

"I'll get my stuff!" She spun and raced back into her room, her heart beating wildly with excitement now. It took a heartbeat to find her shoes and coat, and the two were on the road within a few minutes.

-

Just a little later, they were standing on his front porch. Jakira had to knock twice for a response, but the one they got was unexpected: a little blonde girl who looked about six opened the door, immediately yelled, "STRANGERS!" and slammed it shut again.

Jakira glanced at her mother, bewildered, and was just raising her fist to knock again when suddenly the door flew open once more, except this time Alex was the one on the other side. "Sorry, hi," he said breathlessly, gesturing for them to come inside. "That was . . . that was Annah; she doesn't usually do that."

She stared at him for a moment; he looked like he'd just rolled out of bed. His black hair was messier than he normally kept it, and his clothes looked oddly wrinkled.

Obviously seeing her confused smile, he gave her a cheesy grin and leaned back against the wall. "Sorry, I just woke up."

So he had? "It's eleven!" she exclaimed, unable to stifle her laugh.

He shrugged, his unique blue eyes sparkling. "Just proves I'm not the perfectionist you claim me to be."

"Morning looks don't count," she retorted, wandering past him down the hallway but aware of him following her. Stopping at the end, she paused, then turned around and added, "And anyway, I want a hug."

He raised his eyebrows, smiling, then pulled her close briefly in an embrace that she easily returned. Barely a week ago, merely touching each other was the most awkward thing in the world, but now they just didn't care anymore. Besides, she liked his hugs; they made her feel happy and safe, and he did it just like . . .

Like . . .

"So why are we just standing back here?" he asked with a little laugh, interrupting her hopelessly reaching thoughts. He pointed into the room behind her and ventured, "That's the guest room . . ."

He'd already given her a tour last time she'd come here, so she gave him a puzzled grin before rolling her eyes and walking back up the hall. As they walked, he continued to randomly point things out to her in his purposefully lame attempt to give her an unnecessary tour, including a light switch and an outlet.

She halted suddenly by his bedroom door, remembering one of the reasons she'd been looking forward to this visit. Alex almost crashed into her from behind, then took a step back and asked, "You alright?"

"Yeah, but . . ." Taking a deep breath, she turned around and looked up to meet his intense gaze. "Is it okay if I talk to you for a few minutes?" Her eyes darted to his room briefly, then back to his eyes. "In private?"

He looked a little surprised, but didn't protest; instead, he nudged his door open further and let her in first, then followed inside and closed it behind him. After taking off her shoes, she sat down on his bed cross-legged, and he joined her a moment later in the same position.

"Alex," she began, almost uneasily, "I've been noticing lately that . . . Well . . . You've seemed kinda quieter than usual, and every now and then I'd find you looking really sad . . ." She hesitated as his eyes dropped from hers uncomfortably. "So, I wanted to know if everything's . . . okay?"

He seemed at a loss for words, and started fidgeting with his sheet in nervousness before she hastily added, "You have every right not to answer if you don't want to."

"No . . ." He kept his eyes down as he finally spoke, though still twisting the sheet around his fingers in apparent discomfort. "It's okay. We should be able to share secrets by now." He paused, then took a long breath and continued quietly, "Well . . . as you probably noticed, I'm—I'm adopted. This isn't my real family." Not noticing her stiffen in surprise, he went on, "But it was different for me; I wasn't really little when it happened. I was ten. So I remember what life was like before all this . . . and—" He stopped again, his voice cracking momentarily. ". . . let's just say the transition wasn't the greatest."

Her heart slowly sank in guilt as he spoke; the strange grief in his eyes she'd been seeing now looked stronger than ever. "I'm so sorry," she started apologizing, "I didn't know . . . !"

"It's okay," he replied quietly, though still not meeting her eyes. "I know you didn't." He paused for another few seconds before finally continuing, his voice trembling for real now, "But I . . . I made a mistake. I stayed . . . I kept thinking about it, and—and dwelling on it for . . . Well, since then. I know now that I shouldn't have; I should've known that a long time ago. But I didn't. I've been a total idiot, letting it affect everything about me . . . including the way I act with people. That's one part you probably saw in the last few school years. But recently . . . too recently, I realized my mistake. So . . . I've been trying—" He once again broke off, gripping the sheet more tightly than ever, his eyes glistening. "—trying to let it all go," he managed to finish, though seemed to be finding it difficult to speak. "And it's hard."

A sudden voice from outside the room made her jump, but he didn't move. "Hey Alex, Jakira, where'd you two go?"

"We'll be right there!" she called back quickly, then turned her gaze back to her friend. His head was lowered, his eyes down, and his shoulders slumped. "I really am sorry," she added quietly. "I know I can't change the past for you, but I'm glad you told me." With her last words, she scooted forward and gave him another hug, but this one was more than just affectionate; it was to give comfort as well. She felt him eventually slip an arm around her in turn, and heard him whisper hoarsely, "Thanks."

-

To Jakira's relief, the rest of that visit was smooth and upbeat. Alex did seem a little shaken up at first, but changed back into his normal self pretty fast. But the fact that worried her was that he hadn't really recovered; he was just pretending for everyone else's sake, and using humor to cover up for as much of it as he could manage. She hadn't known him long, but knew him well enough to be able to tell that he was the type of person who would say he was fine even if he had a knife in his chest.