“Jon?” Greta yelled when she walked into the apartment with Mina later. “Go grab your bag, I packed it for you, kiddo. Jon.”
There was no answer, and the house had that peculiar sense of absence to it that occurred when he was gone. Where is he? She thought he would like to say goodbye to Mina. Surely he’d walk in any second, probably with wine for after she got home. Which would be so very super welcome. She could use (another) friendly shoulder to cry on, and nothing was better for a good wallow than wine.
Wallows, celebrations, Tuesdays … wine was her best friend. She decided not to tell Amy and Summer about this epiphany. Not that they were speaking to her, anyway.
She wandered over to Mina’s bedroom; there was something she really needed to do.
“So kiddo?” She asked from the doorway.
“What?” Mina was attempting to jam every stuffed animal from her bed into her carry-on. It was going as well as everything else was lately, which was to say it wasn’t going at all.
“We’ve been talking about you maybe coming back to live with me.” Her throat was closing already. This kid had been disappointed so many times, and here she was about to be another time in a long list.
“Yeah?” Mina tried sitting on the bag like a cartoon character would do to close a suitcase.
“It’s just—I don’t know—Mina, it isn’t the responsible decision. I’m so, so sorry. I want you. I really do, don’t ever think for a second that I don’t want you, it’s just…” Maybe Greta would eventually drown in her own tears like Alice. How they just kept coming was nothing sort of supernatural.
“I know.” Mina hopped up from the suitcase to hug her guardian.
“You know?” This was surprising. She herself hadn’t known.
“Yeah. It was just like the what-if game. But it made me feel better that you did want me. I guess I’ve never had a bunch of people want me before.” Solemn words, too true. It was the closest Greta thought she’d probably ever get to admitting Bob wasn’t an ideal father. In another year or two, only the curated happy memories would remain, probably; that was the way of things. And maybe that was only right. If he’d loved his daughter in a way she couldn’t fathom, who was she to dictate what his legacy would be?
“But—okay. Yeah, I guess I haven’t really either.” She thought about it for a minute. Nope, Mina was definitely more popular than she’d ever been. And that was good, she deserved to feel like a hot commodity for once in her little life. As long as she also remembered all the lessons she’d learned from watching Doctor Who: always be kind, and be humble, and try to help when you can. And never, ever, power up a cyberman.
“I guess I just wanted to say sorry, though, because I would have had a special night with you last night if I’d realized this would be the last time we see each other for a while.” She sagged into the doorframe. Angie had been right. She wasn’t even a good enough guardian to make the last night in San Francisco one to remember.
“Oh, that’s okay. Jon took me out for ice cream and then we went and looked at the Bay for a while and talked about things.” Mina returned to the plush toy job.
“You did? No one woke me up.” That was an extremely thoughtful gesture. Why hadn’t she been included? A little voice in the back of her head reminded her that she’d gone to bed at an unreasonably early hour. That she hadn’t picked Mina up, instead leaving it for Jon. That she’d rather go to sleep at dinner time than figure out what was going on with him, because she was upset about her friends.
Ugh, her friends. When the Mina thing was over with, she would have to try and convince them to take her back. But she could only deal with one giant emotional blow at a time.
“I try to only wake you up if I have pizza,” Mina said, and Greta could not help but approve.
“Hey, anything that doesn’t fit, I’ll send. And if it’s stuffed animals you need, I can always send them ahead of the rest of your stuff.” She pushed off from the door and smiled through the lump in her throat. Maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay in the end. As long as Mina wasn’t mad at her, she could keep calm and carry on.
Or at least keep calm and cabernet on. Where the hell was Jon? Maybe he was asleep. She headed back to their room to double check. If he’d kept Mina out late he may well have decided on a nap. Heaven knew she certainly loved a good nap herself. Even if she hadn’t been up late.
He wasn’t lying on the perfectly made up bed, but something else was—an envelope, with her name on it.
Sigh. He knew this was going to be a rough day for her, and he’d let her something—a letter? A poem? A gift card to a spa that served wine? She felt so much less like crying as she walked over to the bed and pulled out the sheet of paper inside.
Greta,
I know it’s a bit cowardly to write this instead of say it, but I can’t look at you without losing my nerve. I heard you talking to your birds. I know you’re never going to tell me you love me. I know you’re never going to do what I thought you would—feel the same.
I’m not mad. I just can’t go on as such. I want more from life, from my partner. And mostly, I just want you gone when I get back. I’ll be at the Jamz Fest in Vegas for the next several days, so you have time to move.
I’m sorry. I love you. I wish you felt the same.
-J
* * *
The ride to the airport was a blur of numbness. Her time with Mina was moving too fast, almost gone, but there was too much left to say. Her time with Jon … Greta couldn’t process it, she needed time to think, but she didn’t have that either.
Turned out Jon and Mina’s big date was his goodbye. Turned out he didn’t think she’d merited one. Of course, she probably didn’t deserve one.
Attraction and affection. Convenient. You’re just mad your matchmaking skills suck. She remembered every word she’d said, that he’d heard, with a sinking feeling. It wasn’t like she’d ever lied to him. She’d been as honest with him as she’d been dishonest with her friends. And she had definitely lied to Summer about those matchmaking skills. They didn’t suck, just her. So why did she feel like such a heel?
“You know what the greatest thing about Boston is, is the cream pie,” she turned to Mina. The child needed her wisdom now more than ever.
“You’ve been to Boston?” She looked impressed and inquisitive.
“Well, no.” Greta was quiet for a minute. “But I have had the cream pie, and it’s pretty solid. I also watched Crossing Jordan when I wasn’t too much older than you, which I wouldn’t advise, and I often celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. My favorite Julie Johnson books take place there. So I’m basically a Boston expert.”
Mina gazed at her silently, but there was an air of skepticism to her stare.
“I was kind of hoping you’d teach me what you learn about Boston soon.” Greta ruffled Mina’s hair.
“I’ll email you,” she promised.
“No you won’t. That was why I did this.” Greta had planned to wait until just before boarding to show Mina her surprise, but the cab was as good a place as any. After all, she’d never been great at surprises.
She pulled out her cell phone, opened her email, and presented Mina with the itinerary she’d bought just an hour ago. An airplane was scheduled to take her across the country, coast to coast, in just one month.
Greta had done the adult thing after speaking to Angie, and called Shea to confess all of her concerns and hopes and rants. Between them, they’d worked out a plan where Greta would play more of an aunt role than Shea had been able to—there would be trips home to the Bay on school breaks, and Greta was welcome to Boston any time as well. She planned to abuse that already. Particularly with the check that had come through that morning burning a hole in her pocket.
It was even bigger than Jacob had indicated it would be. It was kind of the only good thing in her life right now. Because if you couldn’t drink champagne with your two best friends—scratch that. Your three best friends, Jon had sort of snuck his way into that one, too. If she couldn’t celebrate with them, then what was even the point?
As Greta collected Mina’s bags from the trunk of the car and was assured that the driver would wait, the hurt set into her heart again. At first she deflected by making sure Mina knew exactly where to go and what to do once past security where Greta couldn’t help her; she knew who to ask if she got lost or confused.
Then she kind of just wanted to curl up and sob.
“Hey Mina, what if your airplane is secretly a TARDIS?” she asked.
“What if I’m a disguised Dalek?” the girl immediately responded.
“Dark, kid. Are you nervous?” Greta was nervous. If Mina wasn’t, she was inhuman. Maybe she was the Doctor Who villain Dalek after all. Dun dun dun.
Mina didn’t answer, she just nodded and then crashed into Greta like a burning building. Her arms wrapped around Greta’s waist, and the dampness of her tears soaked through almost immediately.
“What if I hate it? What if Aunt Shea is mean? What if—what if,” she sniffled so hard Greta could hardly understand it, “What if she isn’t anything like I remember my mom?”
Time to be a fucking grownup. No—an adult, a reasonable adult, she reminded herself, swallowing her own inevitable tears. No one needed to see those now. They could wait.
“Mina, she won’t be your mom. But she knows more about your mom than anyone else right now, and she’s going to want to honor that memory by doing right by you. She will probably tell you more about your mother than anyone, maybe even bore you with stories. But those are the things you’ll be grateful for later.”
“But what if I hate it?” Mina asked again, like she hadn’t heard any of the very super solid words of advice Greta had just pronounced.
“You won’t. But if you do, I’ll be there in a month and we can talk about it.” There. Not a lie, not a false hope. Damn it, why was now the moment where she suddenly grasped maturity?
“Okay. Is it time to go?” Mina asked, pleading the negative with her eyes.
“Mina. Do you remember the morning we lay in bed watching the Doctor and you asked when you could have an adventure?” Greta dropped to her knees to fully impart this to her ward, in their last seconds.
“This is it. This is where your adventure begins. That plane may as well be a TARDIS, because it’s a special craft taking you to the next place you are going to be. And once you get there, you’re going to do cooler things than you can imagine. Everything is waiting, and it’s waiting for you.”
Mina hugged her again, and now the tears were flowing freely from both of them. This shouldn’t hurt so badly. This shouldn’t—it just shouldn’t. Greta had cared for her so much, but she was being a gro—an adult. Adults didn’t get this worked up.
And then it hit her, so hard she actually flinched.
“I love you!” she told Mina.
“I know. Care about you too,” she said, in a perfect parody of Greta, as she joined the security line and slowly filed out of sight.
In complete disregard for the taxi meter running outside, Greta stayed by security and waited until long after Mina would have gone through. Love. She loved her. That was a thing she was capable of doing.
Whoever would have guessed?
* * *
“This was a mistake, I reckon.” Jon told Rust. His friend looked at him in surprise.
“Absolutely not! This was just what you needed.” He gave a gentle, awkward pat to Jon. Americans were always so squicky about touching each other. “Get your mind off her.”
“When I said that, I had something else in mind. Something like—well, working our way through your Belgian beer collection. Frankly, I didn’t think even you would come up with something like this. It’s concerning to say the least, mate.”
“Don’t be such an old lady,” Rust advised. “You gotta go into this with the right mindset.”
“What mindset is that, pray tell? The one where I’ve given up on life? The one where I’m a total nutter?” It wasn’t too late to back out, he thought. Not too late at all. Until the bouncer walked up to him, that was.
“Too late now, buddy,” the giant said.
Oh, bollocks.
Too late, officially, then. And then Jon was buckled into his harness and shoved off the side of a building.
Here it was, his death. Here it was, the last moments. Here it was—oh god. Here it was, the Skyjump off the top of a bloody building.
Why couldn’t it have been a strip club? A brothel? A meth lab?
The shrieking noises were most certainly coming from his own mouth, but there was no way to stop them. It was the hippo feeding all over again.
The kitschy neon of his tomb raced alongside Jon’s body as it hurtled through space atop the Strip. He supposed as ways to die went, this was a fairly rock-n-roll way in which to meet his maker. Then he remembered he was not, technically, a rock star and grew agitated all over again.
Stupid Rust. Although for almost thirty entire seconds, Jon had to admit, he hadn’t thought about Greta, or the sorry state of his heart.
It was going to be a doozy, this heartbreak, he could already tell. With Leah, it was like, well, they would never ever be compatible. The blow to his ego was the worst part there. With various other girlfriends in the past, there had been something similar—a real reason it could never work.
But Greta? She was perfect for him. She was everything he’d ever wanted. There was no reason they couldn’t be together, except for her own stubbornness. There would never be closure for that.
For a second, he closed his eyes, felt the rush of hot desert air slithering over his body, and remembered that falling for her was this same sense of freefall. And just like that, this could well end in disaster. His eyes popped back open, just in time for the ride to end.
If only someone could reassure Jon that the plummeting he still felt in his heart would end, too.
* * *
It was beyond weird to be sleeping alone in Jon’s apartment, especially after the harsh reminder that it was Jon’s apartment. Nothing about it was hers except for a few stray bottles of wine and the big splat of paint she’d carefully hidden beneath her suitcase until such time as she could find alone to sand it from the floor. Probably now would be a good time, but Greta didn’t wanna.
In fact, she wished there was more. In fact, maybe she would just paint a bunch of stuff on his floor.
How dare he. Like a petulant child, Greta kicked all his blankets off in her irritation. He knew what a terrible time this was for her. He knew how much she was going through. He knew she was going to have to say goodbye to Mina and then basically die of her sadness.
All she wanted to do was marvel with him about the newfound depths to her feelings. This was even worse than not being able to celebrate the book. Because she’d done it all to herself. She may as well have sent him an engraved invitation to leave her. She’d worked so hard to push him away that he’d proved her right. They always leave.
Now she wondered how often they’d left through doors she’d opened for them.
The problem with kicking the blankets to the floor was that she had to retrieve them all by herself when her toes got chilly. Jon had never minded her chilly toes. She’d stuck them against the back of his knees, between his calves, once inside his armpit until he told her it was creepy … So weird to be in this bed without him.
Without knowing that he’d be home soon, that a gig or studio session had run over. Without the comfort of knowing Rust or Matt would drop him off soon enough, and he’d come warm into the bed, smelling of beer and sea-salt and leather, waking her from her doze into something better than a dream.
Something else that wasn’t fair was how fast she’d grown accustomed to it, even enjoyed herself. That wasn’t what was supposed to happen.
It was just too much, all at once. Every time she got her balance, a new rug got yanked out from beneath her feet.
Greta pulled the blankets over her head and screamed into them. She wished she’d never met the man who’d just cracked her open and left her feelings spilling out everywhere. If she’d never taken his jacket, none of this ever would have been a problem. She could have just left that stupid wedding with nothing more than a case of the shivers. Then right now, she’d be crying over Mina in a single small room with her roommates Amy and Summer.
She had told him this would happen. His own fault, for getting so hurt when what she’d said was nothing more than the truth. They were going to break up at some point, weren’t they? Just because she loved Mina didn’t necessarily mean she was going to fall for Jon. Right? She wanted to ask Mina so badly that it hurt. Although, she supposed Angie would say that was an inappropriate place for a grown woman to be asking advice. She supposed it was also true. But who could she talk to? Who would back her up now?
She’d lost Mina, Summer, Amy, and of course she couldn’t ask Jon. Angie had made it abundantly clear that she thought Greta needed to grow up. She kicked the blankets off again at just the thought. She had been an adult for too long today. She’d made the hard decision with Mina. She’d done the right thing.
She just thought there would be a little more satisfaction in knowing it. Instead, she just felt lonely.
It wasn’t all that long ago she’d fervently wished on a coin for a private loft apartment, in which to enjoy nothing but alone time all the time. Here she was now, though, all alone in a gorgeous apartment. And all she could think about was the empty space next to her in bed.
It was too cold, too quiet here without him. Plus she kept running across funny things on the internet she wanted to show him because no one else giggled like a madman the way he did only he’d say, “I sound daft,” because he was all British and cute.
Greta was never ever going to sleep at this rate. Her thoughts were just little gears, always turning but never going anywhere. How could she have been so cruel, Jon was a dick, she was a bad friend, Jon was stupid, where was Jon, why wasn’t he here. As much as she kept trying to redirect her thoughts to making up with Amy and Summer, they just kept circling back to Jon.
His face, his laugh, his kiss, his bad jokes. How he always had a glass of wine, a hot bath, a long hug waiting. The way he was never afraid to stand up to her, to challenge her. She hated Jon, she lo—oh God.
She did.
She loved Jon.
“Son of a sea lion!” Greta said aloud, sitting bolt upright. “I am a stubborn idiot.” She’d been thinking of falling for him as though it was a future event, as though it hadn’t started the minute he grinned that crooked-toothed smile at her in a coatroom. How could she have missed it all along? The attraction and affection—it was there. But it was only one thread of the tapestry. And she’d managed to unravel the whole thing before she even saw the big picture.