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CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR | FIRST TIME FOR EVERYTHING
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how lucky we are to be loved / for even a moment
-letter to a lost friend // barbara hamby
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Peggy left for work a few hours ago, and Jackie had never felt more alone. She'd finally spoken to her aunt about moving in with Steve at the end of the summer after their conversation about the argument, but Jackie wasn't sure if even that could make up for the argument they'd gotten into. She knew it wasn't the end of the relationship by a long-shot, but she also didn't know what more to do than just apologize for making him feel like he wasn't worth much to her. Because, God, he was worth more than the whole damn world to her.
Jackie sat on her bed in pajama shorts and an old "Virginia is for lovers" shirt that Peggy once got on a trip. Fleetwood Mac's self-titled album — their first with Stevie Nicks — was playing softly from her record player and she thummed mindlessly through some depressing Margaret Atwood novel that Laura had lent her — The Handmaid's Tale. Jackie wasn't sure if she could stomach reading the whole thing, but Laura insisted that she at least try. Really, Jackie just wanted to read Audre Lorde's latest book, Sister Outsider. She also had Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins waiting to be read, sitting atop her vanity. All in all, Jackie wanted to be reading anything but the depressing crap Laura recommended to her.
The sound of tiny rocks hitting her bedroom window broke Jackie's train of negative thought. Sighing, she closed the book and tossed it aside. She made her way over to the window and threw the curtains back and opened the window. Sure enough, Steve was standing in the grass.
"What light through yonder window breaks, dear Juliet?" he called up at her, charmingly, as if they hadn't just had their first major fight and had yet to make up.
Cracking a grin, Jackie shook her head at him. "What are you doing?"
"A grand romantic gesture!" he yelled up. He shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and glanced around her empty yard. "Can I come up?"
"You know where the spare key is," Jackie told him.
Sucking in a sharp breath, she closed the window and curtains. She ran her fingers through her slightly damp curls and sat back down on her bed. Dear God. She'd really have to talk to Steve about the argument. She'd really have to address the issue when she just wanted to run away and hide under the covers.
Barely a minute later, she heard his footsteps coming up the stairs. When the footsteps reached her front door, he didn't knock right away. Knowing he was there, afraid to come inside broke something in Jackie's soul. She closed her eyes and waited. She didn't know how long it was — seconds, minutes — but he forgoed knocking and just opened the door.
