The Heartbreak

Chapter 26

When Jo came to have dinner at home, it was as if she had an exact idea of what to do and say. She and Mom – my sort of new Mom – got along so easily, it was a little scary. Delia already loved Jo, and by the looks of it, my mother was already falling for her.

Since Mom’s talk about getting help and a treatment to get better, I hadn’t dared to leave her alone. I knew she could become anxious, and the pressure of keeping herself away from alcohol was enough to make her nervous. I knew she thought about it a lot, about staying the furthest away from the bottle that she could. She was afraid of disappointing us and I was scared that if it happened one more time, we might lose her forever.

“Hey!” Mom laughed as she caught me away, thinking about everything that had happened lately. “Stop drifting into your own world.”

Delia was trying to pick a movie for us to watch and Jo was next to her, talking to her and laughing as they studied each option. Apparently spending time together had only helped with their friendship.

“She’s a real nice girl,” Mom told me in a hushed tone. “It’s a shame I hadn’t met her before, but I like her for you. I like how you are with her.”

I smiled as I stared at Jo. I liked myself around her, because she brought up a side of me that I had forgotten since before my father had left. I felt joy and love. When she smiled at me, I felt those butterflies I had thought were pure and utter bullshit. I longed to be with her, and I hadn’t realized how badly not having her was affecting me. Days were no longer full of that dull ache, of forcing myself not to think about her.

“Frozen!” Delia shouted in delight and then jumped next to Mom on the old armchair.

“Again?” I asked stupidly. Or at least it seemed it was a stupid question considering the glare she shot at me.

Jo giggled as she curled next to me on the couch. “You can’t never watch it too many times.” She leaned against my side and laid her head on my shoulder. I wasn’t a shy or prudish guy, but the intimacy of the gesture, the lovely way in which she placed her hand on my arm, sliding it down until she wove her fingers with mine, made me blush.

Mom smiled knowingly and as the movie began, she only nodded her approval at me.

We ate popcorn, made by Jo with different flavors, and also homemade cookies, even if Delia was saddened with the sight of the beautiful cookies being eaten. They were delicious anyway, so she forgave us – with her mouth filled with the same cookies.

After the movie, it became late, so I offered to drive Jo home. Delia was fast asleep, her mouth looking a weird mix of green and red after eating so much sugary food, so she would probably complain in the morning about not saying goodbye. Mom only hugged her until I thought she would break Jo in two, but Jo returned the gesture as fiercely.

“What did she tell you?”

I felt Jo’s gaze on me as I drove. I had always been able to tell when she looked at me, it had some sort of effect on me. I could tell it was her, even if I didn’t turn to see her.

“She thanked me,” she murmured. “But there was nothing to thank me for.”

Her tone couldn’t hide the embarrassment she felt. Once she told me the things she did, helping people, especially her friends and family, was something she did because it had to be done. She never asked for anything in return or even liked to make a fuss.

“Sometimes I think I have everything to thank you for,” I mumbled. I wasn’t good with words. Most of my life I had trouble expressing my emotions by speaking about them, so I worked on drawings and other forms to have an outlet. Lately, though, I had stopped working and things were piling up until I felt I was about to explode.