Chapter 20 Jimmy
Jimmy
Chili-cheese fries and a turkey club. The lunch of champions.
I didn’t think to ask her what she wanted to eat, so I just went with what I knew.
I picked it up as close to eleven as possible, hoping to avoid the fries getting soggy.
I also didn’t think about how it would look—me coming in with food, so I put it in a canvas bag. There could be anything in here.
It helps that Selena is on maternity leave, so we have a rotating group of managers from other locations filling in for her. It’s almost never the same person at the desk.
I’m still contemplating whether this is a good idea or not, but it was definitely a great thought at the time. Now I’m nervous, but I can’t tell if it’s nervous to get caught or nervous to spend more than twenty-five minutes with her. Probably both.
Room 306
I send to her when I get to the room.
Be there in 5? Just walk in?
Yeah. Just wave and go to the right. To the elevator. They'll think you're already a guest.
She reads it but doesn’t respond. I’m nervous again. Or maybe excited. I wipe my palms on my jeans and set the food out on the table. As I sit down on the bed, it suddenly feels as lame as it looks. Take-out containers on a hotel room desk. Not even a table.
Speaking of the hotel, this is the next location that could really use some updates.
The carpet is old, and there are a few stains that will probably never come out.
These walls, too. Are they ever really cleaned?
Or is this tan color just ugly? At least the bed is clean.
I lie down and take a deep breath in, enjoying the clean, bleachy scent that everyone looks forward to smelling when they jump into a hotel room bed.
Four quick knocks on the door bring my attention away from the flaws of this room. I jump up and run to the door, and through the peephole I see that it’s her. A sigh of relief leaves my lungs as I turn the door handle.
Autumn smiles when she sees me, but her smile appears as anxious as I feel. “Hi,” she says once the door clicks shut.
“Hi,” I grab her hand and pull her in for a hug. Hoping it calms us both. “I got us lunch.”
“I hope so. That’s what you invited me here for, isn’t it?”
The scandalous look that appears on her face leads me to believe her nervousness is gone. Her laugh as she grabs the meal that she knows is hers and sits down confirms that.
“So what’s your favorite part about this job?” she asks as she takes her last bite. She puts her fork in the empty container and pushes it to the side.
“Well. Now I’d have to say that this is my favorite thing about my job.”
She rolls her eyes. “Besides this.”
I smile and pop a fry in my mouth. I don’t tell her my office being at home, because I’m hardly in it anymore.
“Fine. The people. Most days. Especially ones who are passing through. When I get a chance to talk to some, it’s cool hearing about different places, different reasons for traveling, things like that.
A lot of the time, it’s families coming to the lakeside area for a trip, but occasionally someone comes through with a cool story. ”
“That sounds like you.” She says, nodding.
“What about you?”
“Obviously the same.”
“That sounds like you, too,” I say sarcastically, and we laugh.
“No, but really the babies. I absolutely love when they’re all brand new and squishy and all look the same. I can’t get enough of them.”
“Do you want your own someday?” I surprise myself with the question. I think I may have surprised her, too, because her eyebrows crease for a quick second.
“Yeah, of course I do.” She starts. “One day. My mom was worried that my taking this job and witnessing so many different labors before having my own would scare me off, but it hasn’t yet.”
The laugh that follows her own joke relieves me. At least I didn’t make her too uncomfortable. “What about you?”
I guess I should have expected her to return the question. “Sure,” I say, now a little uneasy myself. “One day.”
Maybe in a normal relationship that wouldn’t be an uncomfortable topic to talk about, but this isn’t normal, and I think she realizes that the rest of that answer involves more than just what I want. She changes the subject.
“Another favorite then.”
“Okay. Shoot.” I tell her.
“What’s your favorite thing about me?”
“Your laugh.” That one was too easy, and she seems disappointed.
“Seriously? I hate my laugh.”
“I’m aware.” I smile, knowing she was going to say that.
“It’s loud and obnoxious.” She argues.
“It’s loud and infectious.” I correct her. “When you’re happy, everyone around you is happy. They can’t help it. At least I know I can’t.”
Her cheeks blush, and she stands up. “I want to show you something.” She grabs an envelope out of her purse and then sits on the bed. As I join her, she pulls out a stack of pictures.
“Oh God,” I say. She laughs.
“Oh God is right. Look at these.”
She hands me one of hers, and I with backpacks on.
We’re standing outside my house, and I can’t be any more than twelve or thirteen.
My hair is spiked, yes, spiked, and it looks as ridiculous as it sounds.
Even though facial hair is relatively new to me, seeing the lack of it in these pictures makes me happy I’ve decided to grow some out.
This is also the year that puberty really started and was not kind to me, as the zits on my face would prove.
I almost say something about her pigtails, but it’s nothing compared to what I have going on.
She knows I look ridiculous, because she isn’t saying anything.
Just sitting there with a grin on her face.
“My first day of middle school.” She says. “When we finally went to school together again.”
So, she was in sixth grade, and I was in seventh.
That checks out. She hands over another one, this one is of me and her at a bonfire.
We’re sitting on a haybale across the fire, leaning into each other with matching smiles for the camera.
This was a few years after the first one.
Her braces are gone, and I grew into my teenage features, having shed most of that early teen awkwardness and the spikes.
“I think this was my sophomore year.” She says.
I nod in agreement. I can see the shirt I’m wearing, and it is the one from my junior year spirit week. The remnants of black paint on my cheeks mean this was another post-game party, probably after the homecoming game.
There’s another one under that. It’s both of us swinging on swings at the park. We’re swinging in opposite directions, leaning as far back as we can, our bodies making an “X” shape.
The next one looks like it’s from the same day, but not on the swings.
It’s a candid shot where we’re both standing, but she’s curled over in laughter with her hand covering her mouth.
Even behind her hand, you can see her big, beautiful smile.
In the picture, I’m laughing too, but I’m looking right at her.
"See,” I tell her. “I’ve always loved your laugh.”
She smiles and hands me two more, and I recognize them instantly, from her prom.
Both pictures are of the two of us, standing in her front yard.
We are smiling in both pictures, but our gaze is only on the camera in one of them.
In the other, they are locked on each other.
Maybe I realized I loved her before we got to the beach.
“I remember this day,” I say.
“Me too.” She whispers.
“I might sound like a real jerk for this, considering how long we were friends, but this was the night I realized how lucky I really was to have you as a best friend.”
It’s not entirely true, but I’m not sure if either of us is prepared to hear what I really think said out loud.
She doesn’t say anything back but looks at me with the same look she did that night, a look that suggests that she knows without me saying it.
I push the pictures to the floor and finally pull her in for a kiss.
There are more pictures to see, but we can look at them later. It’s time to enjoy my new favorite part of my job.