Chapter Forty-Nine
CHAPTER
FORTY-NINE
Derek
The night is almost done. Anne says they’ll take the baby back to the hotel soon, and Jae clenches her jaw.
She looks on the verge of tears, but no one else seems to notice.
I get it. They’re feeding off the joy of the moment, laughing at William’s Jim Carrey impression—which, seriously, is so spot-on, it’s eerie.
I wonder what other sides of ourselves we haven’t shown each other.
But for me, the night is all about Jae, and I make my way around the table, ask Mr. Oakland to move down, and pull up a seat next to her.
“Hey,” I say, almost lost in the scent of citrus and sweetness coming off her skin. “They’ll be here all week, remember? You’ll see her again.”
She nods, and when she looks at me, she whispers Thank you, like that’s all the voice she has.
“How do you feel?” I ask.
She blinks at the empty plate in front of her, the unused fork, and puts her cheek to the baby’s hair. “Her breath smells like milk. I’m glad I didn’t miss that.” She breathes in the baby again. “I’m so happy, Derek. You’re the sweetest friend.”
Sweetest friend. I chew on the words, not sure I like the taste. But I swallow them, and tell myself that’s good enough. Jae’s happy, and we’re friends. That’s good enough.
The phone buzzes in my pocket, jangling my house keys. I pull it out, turn away from Jae, and answer it. “Yeah? Awesome! Come through the back.” I hang up, and she clicks her tongue.
“What now?” she asks.
Before I can say anything, the gate opens, and Walter and Ash walk through the yard carrying drums.
“We know those guys!” Jae almost yells, elbowing me.
They wave at us, leave, and come back with more drums and percussion instruments, as Jae rambles excitedly to everyone about the drum circle at the beach.
The baby whimpers for Anne, and Anne rushes to get her. Jae breathes in deep as she lifts the baby up and lets her go.
I take her warm hands and pull her up from the table. “She’s not gone yet,” I remind her.
“I know. I’m all right,” she says, smoothing out her yellow dress, which I’m so glad I get to see again.
Jae’s mom turns to Mr. Oakland. “Rowan, aren’t the neighbors gonna complain? Drums? In the suburbs?”
He stands up, stretches his limbs, and pats his full belly. “They’ve been told,” he says as he walks away. “Just have a good time, Paula. Can you manage that?”
Jae’s walking ahead of me to the gathering group, and I don’t know how I’m going to do this.
How I’m going to be a sweet friend when I don’t want to be sweet.
Not with her. CJ, Swan, and William are already sitting in front of their drums. Jae’s standing back, watching them, and I take my spot in front of a djembe.
“Grab an instrument,” I say, and Jae picks up two tambourines from the pile and hands one to her mom, who starts doing what looks like choir choreography while she hollers a few lines of praise music.
Mrs. Aldana and Ms. Rosette laugh at this and join in with maracas.
Then everyone laughs more when the baby crawls over and grabs a maraca for herself and gums it.
Mr. Oakland pulls up his pants at the crotch as he sits in front of the last djembe beside me. “I’ll follow y’all,” he says to me.
“That would be best, sir,” I reply. “You wouldn’t wanna hurt yourself.”
He chuckles. “You got jokes.”
Ash, the Lenny Kravitz look-alike, adjusts his suede fedora.
“We heard your daughter likes Bob Marley,” he says to Jae, and she turns and smiles at Anne.
Then Walter, with the giant dreadlocks, counts off, quiet taps on his drum.
And his voice, loud and raspy like a blues singer, shouts, “Don’t worry! ”
The rest of us join in, carefully tapping out the rhythms they taught us at the beach.
CJ looks up from his drumming with pleasant shock, like he’s saying, It’s working, guys!
It’s really working! Jae’s looking at the grass, and then she sets her tambourine down and starts walking away, lights and shadows passing over her as she moves through the garden.
For a moment, they stop drumming. They call her name.
“I got it,” I say, waving my hand for them to continue as I slide out of my seat and run after her.
I grab her hand at the balcony stairs and pull her toward the side of the house, where we walk the white path made of pebbles that crunch beneath our feet. I stop and face her.
“What’s wrong?”
She’s blinking fast, gaze down. I gently lift her chin, and I’m lost in all the angles of her face, in the fleshiness of her mouth. Her eyes meet mine, and my heart is completely rended. They’re dark and shimmering and wet.
I know what I’d do if I could. How I’d hold her face just like this, tilted up at the stars, how I’d press my lips against hers and melt, melt, melt into her. Just like that night in her room. Except this time, I’d kiss her until we were both out of breath, until the universe said Enough.
She sniffles, then scrunches her nose like the cutest rabbit.
“You feel like crying?”
She shakes her head.
“You can cry. I’ll stay with you.”
“I don’t want to cry.” She laughs through tears and wipes them away with the back of her hand. “It’s just … I feel so … I dunno.”
“Overwhelmed?”
She nods, shaky breath. “Yeah. That’s it. But not in a bad way. It’s Sarah June and all those people—I can’t believe I have so many people—and it’s you, and what you did for me. And … it’s you. It’s you.”
Her lips are trembling, and I brush my fingers against them, mesmerized by her mouth and how soft it is. My heart twists when she closes her eyes and parts her lips. And then her warm tongue grazes my finger, sending electric surges through my body.
“Hey,” I warn her. “Don’t do that.”
Her eyes open, and she blinks at me, and she says, “I like you so much.”
My heart flutters madly in my chest. “I like you, too.” But that’s not true. Like doesn’t feel this way. It doesn’t make you ache this way.
“It’s like you said in that poem. Something ravenous that could destroy us both? I feel that with you.”
“Me too.”
“Sometimes it’s too much, though. It’s like I’m not even human anymore, I’m just hungry.”
Those words on her tongue. I’m just hungry. The memory of her touch is all over my skin now and I want more. More of her on me. Teasing me with her eyes, her voice, her wet mouth on mine. I want to be hers.
“Destroy me, then.” I grin and step closer.
For a second, there’s a spark, a glimmer in her eyes, a tug at her lips. My breath is straining.
“Jae. Don’t take this the wrong way. But I want you more than I’ve wanted anything. Every piece of you, I want it.”
A small gasp. Something in her wavers. Then she steps back. She’s quiet. Looks at me with lamplight glowing in her eyes. “Be my friend,” she says.
“What?”
“Tell me that’s enough.”
I laugh, and my voice comes out in a whisper. “You’re killing me. Seriously, Jae, you’re killing me.” I turn around, take a few steps down the path. Everything inside me is straining, pulling itself apart. I’ve never wanted anything so much in my whole life. “Why?” I ask her.
And then her words come out slow, like she needs for each syllable to be understood. “You said I’m perfect. I’m not. It’s like a cut that hasn’t healed yet. It keeps opening up. It’s so much! All of it. And I need time. You know what I mean?” She looks at me intently.
“I think so.”
“I don’t want to lose you. So please. Be my friend.”
I close my eyes, take in as much air as I can. Let out a long sigh and let the tightness inside unravel. I don’t know how to do what she’s asking, but I nod anyway.
She takes a few steps down the pebbled path, then turns back when she doesn’t hear me follow.
“For what it’s worth,” she says, “I’ve never wanted anything more, either.” Her smile is empty, and she walks away toward the drums.
I’ve missed her, I’ve wanted her, I’ve craved her. And now that she’s back in my orbit, I can’t get too close. It’s like a chisel is pressed against my heart, and each second, it’s struck deeper. And deeper. And deeper.
Be my friend. Tell me that’s enough.
If she asked me to, I would lasso the moon, pull it close enough for her to hold it in her hands. But being her friend—just her friend—feels like something I can’t do.
But I will.
For Jae?
Anything.