Jason

 

 

 

The streets have only been cleared for a day, and I'm not the only one who's eager to get on with his journey. I sit stalled in heavy traffic, barely moving an inch or two every few minutes, and I haven’t even reached the freeway.

This doesn't make it any easier, not at all. It gives me too much time to think, too much time to replay that last image of her. Her watery eyes, the way her lower lip trembled as she tried to push them away. She fought so hard to keep her composure. I thought it would make it easier on her if I left as quickly as possible, without looking back. I left behind the clothes she lent me and grabbed my bag, hurrying out the door as rapidly as possible.

The car was still where I left it, parked in front of the diner. I threw a quick look inside, a hiccup forming in my chest when I saw the girl who yelled at me at the convention. Her friend. I don't think she saw me before I managed to get inside the car and drive off. It doesn't matter either way.

What matters is Lena. Lena and her sad eyes. Lena, her cheeks flushed, but this time it was out of worry and grief and not excitement and unbridled lust. I prefer the latter, by far. 

If anyone had told me I would spend half an afternoon trudging through the snow, clicking with my tongue searching for a lost squirrel, I'd have declared them crazy. But I really wanted to find that damn thing. It was my fault that it ran away in the first place, and I wanted to ease her pain by finding it before I had to leave.

Well, that plan didn't work out very well, did it?

I'm sitting in my car like an idiot, checking my watch again and again. Even if the traffic doesn't clear up soon, I should still have plenty of time to catch that plane. I can still make it.

The question is, do I want to? Will this gnawing agony bludgeoning my chest ever end? Will I ever be able to truly leave all of this behind? To leave her behind?

The thought of her wandering through the snow, all by herself, searching for that damned little rodent with tears streaming down her cheeks, cuts through my chest like a knife.

"Fuck," I hiss to myself, my knuckles turning white as my grip around the steering wheel tightens. "Fuck! Fuck!"

I don't know what I'm trying to do, screaming at the turmoil raging inside my head. Will it go away if I curse at it loud enough?

It’s always been so easy to keep my distance, to make sure that I don’t have a pretty gold digger hanging on to my arm – unlike my naïve father. I was fine on my own, a player maybe, but never exploited like he was again and again.

But she’s different. Lena is pretty, but she’s no gold digger for sure. Even after just two days with her, I have no doubt about that.

Am I about to do the stupidest thing of my life?

The images still haunt me. Lena, beautiful Lena, plodding through the snow, crying about that squirrel - and for the asshole who left her there, all by herself.

I don't want to be that asshole. I can't.

There's an exit coming up, an opportunity that could lead me right back to her. If I don't take it, I will be forced to get on the freeway, and then there's no turning back.

I take a deep breath when the cars stop moving again, and the exit comes in sight. It’s now or never.

I steer the wheel to the right in one vicious motion, stepping on the gas before I change my mind. I know I'm driving way too fast, but I don't care.

All I care about is Lena. I need to see her smile again, and that's not going to happen if I take off like a fucking pussy. I was dumb to leave her there in the first place, and I wish I could turn back time to undo it.

I can't do that, but I can return to her. I can still make up for this.

The streets are less busy heading in this direction, making my return journey pass by a lot quicker. I pass the sign for Greymeadow and my chest tightens when her house finally comes into view.

And Lena. I see her, walking with her back turned, her shoulders tense and slouched. Her wet hair has frozen, and she's not wearing a hat. I'm sure she must be freezing. Next to everything else that’s going on, she must be freezing.

I park at the side of the road and jump out. She's about thirty feet ahead of me, still walking, oblivious that I'm right behind her.

I start moving.

"Lena!"

She freezes mid-motion, but she doesn't turn around. She just stands there, her back to me, her shoulders pulled up to her ears.

"Lena," I repeat, and when she still doesn't make a move to turn around, I stop walking.

Am I too late? Did I fuck this up?

I'm just about to gather the words for an apology, when she finally turns around.

She looks at me through pain-filled eyes. They are red and tear-stained, with a hollow expression that changes when she sees me. Relief suffuses her features, her shoulders relax and her lips curl into a smile.

It's only now that I see the red-grey ball of fur in her hands, a little creature with a fluffy tail, pressed against her chest and turning its black eyes to me, sniffing and chattering as it always does.

"You found her!" I exclaim.

The smile on her face widens when she casts a quick look down at her little friend before she looks back at me. Her lips are trembling, moving as she tries to speak, but no words come out. Instead, she's losing the battle against another wave of tears that start streaming down her pained face.

I'm helpless against her sorrow, and this time I don't try to fight it.

“Jason,” she says, her voice hoarse and soft.

I run toward her, both of us gasping in relief when I take her into my arms and steal a hungry kiss from her. Her lips are cold, but as soft as always, finding mine with loving familiarity.

She's still crying throughout our kiss, only interrupted by a giggle when the squirrel fights its way out of her hands and our embrace, making vexed noises as it climbs up on my shoulder.

I don't let it bother me at all.

Not this time.