Chapter 14 #2
“Is that a yes?” he asks, frowning as if my answer could determine the fate of the universe.
“Ask and you'll find out,” I try playfully. When was the last time I behaved this way? He towers over me and gets even closer, his voice hitting a lower tone.
“Alaska Jenkins, would you d-d-do me the honour of c-coming on, on a date with, with me?” An honour. My smile falters, his words reminding me that I'm not worthy of his interest. “Hey,” he murmurs, cupping my cheek. “What did I s-say? Where'd you go?”
“I'm just, I'm just not sure…” I'm not sure I'm good enough. Enough for him. Enough to give him the same butterflies.
“Not-not sure of what?” he asks softly, narrowing his eyes as if he was sharing my pain.
“Not sure I'm good enough,” I admit painfully, baring myself to him, to a man I barely know yet trust more than anyone else.
Instincts.
He doesn't go on a rant about why I'm worthy and so on, and I'm thankful for that. I don't need pity.
“I-I-I know you are. Told you, it's the-the other way around that is qu-qu-questionable.” He deadpans, a corner of his mouth wincing.
“I’m not-, I’m not sure you’ll like who I really am.” I warn him, wishing I’d never had to do that. But if anything with Jack, I don’t want to lie to him. At least I don’t want to make him see someone that isn’t there. He searches in my gaze, looking for answers in the deepness of my pupils.
“T-tell me then,” he rasps, “the thing, the thing that’s holding you b-back.
” His voice gentle yet firm. Tears well in my eyes and my head moves in a soft no.
It’s too soon. I like this feeling and I don’t want it to go yet.
He takes a deep breath and then drops a light kiss on my lips.
“You d-d-don’t have to tell me, Alaska,” he pauses, letting out a shaky exhale.
“Whatever you d-did or didn’t do be-before today doesn’t matter.
” I nod eagerly, even if his words are difficult to accept.
I wish there was an eraser thick enough to wipe away the past. But I have to live with what I’ve done and look at myself in the mirror each day without wanting to crush the glass.
A clean slate. That’s what the therapist said when it happened.
He told me I was anxious by nature, and the incident had triggered me to a point that I was now in constant survival mode.
I remember him telling me, putting his notebook back on the table between us as I was barely hearing him, “What you are craving is a clean slate, Alaska. Only it doesn’t exist. All you can do is, well, decide that this is behind you and simply move on.
It’s up to you. No one is coming to make it better; no one can help you but you.
You can either decide to be done with life and slowly drift away, or you can choose to live. It’s your choice.”
“What if what I did is so wrong you’ll run away the minute you find out…?” I murmur, feeling raw, more naked than if I weren’t wearing clothes.
I never told this to anyone. Not even Jared, when he brought me to the station after the event.
I hadn’t lied, I just didn’t tell the whole truth.
Remembering the cold gray room I was put into, I’m hit with another truck of reality.
Jack’s a cop too. Once he knows, he won’t have any other option but to report me.
What felt like the sea parting to let me through is now closing in on me, crushing my existence, water filling every inch until there’s nothing left. In a desperate attempt to hold on to the fleeting happiness life just gave me, I rise on my tiptoes and kiss him one more time.
Whatever I do, I’m damned.
Jack
Why is she kissing me as if it were the last time? I break our kiss, her apple pie scent intoxicating me.
"I-I told you, whatever you d-did doesn’t matter," I assure her, because I know what bad guys look like and Alaska ain’t one.
She’s a good person who perhaps was at the wrong place at the wrong time and can’t live with what she did or did not do.
That’s what I’m guessing. It doesn’t make her unworthy of happiness, nor does it turn her into a bad person.
She raises her chin, eyes on me as if I was holding the moon in my hand.
I won’t lie, I’d do everything in my life all over again, even the ugly parts, if it means I can get that look one more time.
"Look," I tell her, wincing because I don’t like the tears in her eyes, and I would do anything to remove them. "There’s no such thing as g-good or b-bad, t-t-trust me. I’m dealing with it every day at work.
We all have a p-part of darkness, some more than others but—" I stroke her jaw with my thumb. "I’m n-not perfect, Alaska. I-I think it’s a good thing you’re not the angel you-you l-l-look like, ‘cause otherwise, uh, I wouldn’t-wouldn’t stand a chance.
" I confess, hoping she’ll get it. That it doesn’t matter.
Alaska isn’t repulsed by who I am; she embraces it, and I need her to see that I’ll do the same for her.
"Now, sit over there. I’ll b-bring your tea," I command her. She doesn’t hesitate and follows my lead, color painting her cheeks as she makes her way to the two chairs tucked against the wall.
Large, pink, cushy armchairs. Not what I’d choose to put in my home, but for some reason, the idea that one day I could have one of those in my living room doesn’t bother me in the least. She sits, her dress rising mid-thighs, crossing her legs with her leather boots that only make my imagination grow by the second.
Then she leans back, comfortable around me. My chest sets higher knowing that.
"Here," I tell her once I’ve reheated her tea and poured myself a cup of coffee, making sure to put everything away with a clean cloth and putting the kettle back where it was. Clean, organized, like I like things to be. Glancing at her and her neat bookstore, I’m guessing she’s a tidy one, too.
Better to have a bit of control over small things than nothing at all.
"Thank you," she says with a small smile, taking the cup in both hands and blowing on it. I sit in front of her, the small table with a blue vase and wildflowers separating us.
"The storm did-didn’t get t-to you," I notice, her store looking just like before, whereas others didn’t get that lucky.
She hums in approval. "Just the leak near the window. I’m glad there wasn’t more water otherwise all the books would have been irrecoverable.
" Looking at her shelves with a spark in her eyes.
"Sherry got more trouble, her oven broke.
I came by to help her this morning, a lot of people from the community did. "
"I know. The big thing short-circuited, b-but she should be okay with her insurance," I assure her as I notice her lips wincing on one corner. It’s cute how much she cares her community. I didn’t realize I’d care that much when I asked Jared this morning how we could do to help the owner of the bakery.
He looked at me with round eyes and a smug grin.
"Good, thank God," she says, putting the tea back on the table.
"And your folks? Are they okay?" She blinks, a nervous veil passing over her gaze.
"Yes, my dad had everything prepared days ago. He has a generator and enough food to last until the apocalypse." She rolls her eyes, but there’s a hint of amusement in it.
"What about your brother?" I ask, noticing a panic in her pupils, even though she’s trying to hide it beneath a smile.
"All good," she trails.
"Ain’t he living d-downtown?"
"Yep, but he’s got a flat, so the water couldn’t get to him," she delivers.
"What does he do?"
"Pianist," she fires back, a hint of defensiveness in her tone.
"Do they need those in L-Lakeside?" I raise a brow because it’s more of a carpenter-slash-baker kind of town. What would a pianist do here? There’s no big stadium or opera anywhere near.
"He composes in his home studio and sends it to cinematographers or people who make ads," she explains, biting one of her nails. "He’s very talented."
"Okay," I tell her, the energy in the room strangely tense. "You guys must be close." Sipping from the cup of coffee, my gaze studies her every move, the cop in me getting all his alarms on.
"We’re twins," she drops as if stating the obvious.
"Doesn’t make you close," I frown. "I g-g-got sisters and we, we didn’t get close until we all, uh, g-grew up," I tell her.
"There was another fa-family with twins in our neigh-neighborhood and they couldn't stand each other." Reminding myself of it, the kids couldn’t be more different. Being twins, or brother and sister, doesn’t make you automatically close. It's weird she puts it this way.
"Matthew always says we’re like the same person," she murmurs. "One and the same, because no one can have what we have. We were in the womb together. It’s…a special bond," she recites. Who talks like this about their brother? Jared was dismissive about him. I get the reason now, it’s ‘cause the guy isn’t as kind to her as a brother should be. I’ll research him once I get back to the station.
"Sure is, b-but doesn’t make you the same, same per-person," I frown.
"No one’s like-like you, Alaska." Lighting up the subject, hoping to put a genuine smile back on her angelic face.
"I hope you’ll n-n-never think that again," leaning in, locking my gaze with hers.
"There isn't anyone like you." Her shoulders relax, her gaze rounding on me with a bit of acceptance.
She takes her cup of tea back in her hands.
"Tell me about…the date," she whispers, and I grin, ‘cause I’ve been thinking about this since I saw her in her home. The excitement takes me off guard, and I sense a wave coursing through my arms. I try to block it reflexively, but it isn’t effective.