Chapter 1 #6
It’s the perfect job for him. He’s charismatic and kind, passionate about the details of the world around him.
I don’t need to see him in a classroom to know he’s a teacher that makes sure to make eye contact with the kid slouching in the back row and finds ways to make his lessons relevant to the lives of his students.
“Come on, Tess,” he says now, goading me. “Who made you want to throw a chair on live TV?”
I tuck my feet under my butt. “Okay, it was Chuck Bakersfield, he’s a Senator from—”
“Georgia, right?”
“You still stay up on politics?”
Jack shrugs. “As much as I can. I’m looking for the balance between being informed, involved, and knowing so much I fall into depressed complacence.”
“If you find the balance, let me know.”
His smile is smaller this time. Jack and I had such big dreams together, so I know he mourns that future we pictured just like I do. Over time, what I’ve imagined is possible has shrunk and shrunk.
Though I never imagined it would be possible to sit and laugh with Jack again, so maybe some of my assumptions about the future need adjusting.
“Anyway,” he says, “Bakersfield.”
“Yeah,” I say, coming back to his question.
“I was on some segment about the female vote, and how women have participated in politics over time, and he started on his bullshit about the role of women in the family, and how he feels sorry for families where the women insist on quote, worrying about things that don’t pertain to them.
” I roll my eyes just like I did then. “Because, you know, why would women worry our little heads over things like gun violence in schools and hard-working people getting healthcare?” I shift a little, tensing as I remember the conversation.
“He said he felt sorry for me, because I hadn’t gotten to fulfill my true calling and become a mother. ”
Jack’s jaw drops. “That motherfucker.”
“Yeah.”
Rage rekindles in my chest from the memory. I’d never wanted children, and had never once regretted not becoming a mother. But I had been forced through dozens of conversations from well-meaning people worried I’d regret not participating in that particular aspect of womanhood.
“As you can imagine,” I continued. “Having my personhood—and the personhood of millions of people alongside me—boiled down to whether I was a mother or not didn’t bode well for me.
But the producers must have anticipated my next words, which were somewhere along the lines of, You stupid motherfucker, and they cut to commercial. ”
“Jesus.” Jack shakes his head. “I can’t believe you subject yourself to that.”
“Sometimes I can’t believe it myself,” I admit. “I know I’m just part of a circus, but I’m also afraid if I don’t show up, that no one will. And the Bakersfields of the world will get to spout their bullshit unquestioned.”
Jack’s lids lower for a beat, then he’s looking at me again. “You’ve always shown up. From that first day I met you. I’m proud of you, Tessa.”
The compliment lights me up inside. I spend so much of my time trying to convince myself of my own power, and it’s nice to have someone do it for me, even for a moment.
I clear my throat. “Truth or dare?”
His eyes narrow, like he’s trying to figure out what I have in mind. “Truth.”
I should ask about his most embarrassing moment, or if his favorite flavor of potato chips is still sour cream and onion. But different words come out of my mouth instead.
“Do you miss me?”
As soon as I ask the question, I wish I could pull it back. If it wasn’t freezing outside and I wasn’t in my socks and yoga pants, I’d jump up and flee.
But Jack’s gaze pins me in place. He doesn’t waver or look away. He doesn’t squeeze his neck like he does when he’s nervous, or lick his lips like he does when he’s trying to think of what to say.
He just looks at me and says, “Yes. All the time.”
Weight lifts from my chest, and the next breath I take is fresh and hopeful. I don’t know what any of it means, but it’s a comfort that I haven’t been alone in this. That while I’ve been carrying the memory of us together in my brain and heart, he has, too.
When he speaks next, his voice is lower, the joking tone from just a few minutes ago gone. “Truth or dare, Tessa.”
Sharing more truth right now feels too scary, so I swallow and say, “Dare.”
Jack grins, his mouth a tempting curve. I get the feeling I stepped into a trap. “Go on a date with me.”
“Wait, what?” I grab a throw pillow from the couch and clutch it to my chest, like some kind of armor. “What are you talking about?”
He doesn’t waver. “I’m talking about you and me, on a date. Dinner, drinks, a hike, whatever you want. When the holidays are over, when the snow is cleared, when we’re out of this bubble and back in our lives. Go on a date with me.”
“Jack.” I shake my head, afraid to grab onto the little rope of hope he’s throwing me. “We tried this already. We’re divorced, remember.”
His playful grin is gone as he stares at me. “I don’t know, Tess. I’m not sure we did try, not like we should have.”
“If this is about last night, maybe we shouldn’t have—”
“It’s not about last night, even though that proved we’re still hot for each other. It’s about the last 20 years, and how you should have been in my life the whole time. And you weren’t, because we were young and stubborn and hurt. But we know better now, Tessa. We could do better now.”
“And our original problem is still there,” I shoot back, amazed I’m actually humoring this conversation. “My career is still in California, and you live here.”
He rises to his knees. “And so fucking what?” He crawls to me slowly, eyes never leaving mine.
“So you live in California and I live in New Mexico. In the list of problems a couple could face, is that seriously insurmountable? There are cars and trains and airplanes, phones and video calls. I’ve wondered for twenty years what it would be like to have you back in my life, and now I’m here with you, experiencing it, and I don’t want to let it go.
I don’t want to go back to how it’s been. Do you?”
I was avoiding giving a truth, but he’s asking me for one anyway. “No, I don’t.”
Smiling, he sits back on his knees, now just a few inches from me. From here I can count the creases around his eyes, take in the shine of silver along his jaw. He’s been my blueprint for so long, and now he’s asking to be back in my life.
“When I left,” I say quietly. “When I left for grad school. I wanted you to beg me to stay.”
His hand reaches out slowly and takes the pillow from my death grip, then tosses it on the couch. “Would you have?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “But I wanted you to ask me. I wanted to know you cared.”
His gaze drops to the ground. When he blinks back up at me, Jack’s eyes are wet.
“I cared so fucking much, Tessa. I practiced a speech begging you to stay a thousand times, but I didn’t want to hold you back.
I never, ever wanted to hold you back.” His hand covers mine, warm and soft and remarkably familiar.
How does a hand feel the same after 20 years?
“I kept hoping you’d beg me to come with you. ”
“You said your whole life was in Albuquerque.”
“I know, and it was, but also—there was this part of me that wanted you to push me, to tell me you didn’t want to go without me.”
“I didn’t want to go without you. But I wasn’t going to pressure you to leave your life behind. I know how much your family means to you.”
Jack lifts his arms and skims his fingers along my jaw, sending skitters through my body. “You mean something to me, too. You have, all this time.”
We’ve each only said a few sentences about the past, but they’re the important ones.
The ones we should have said two decades ago, the ones we were too scared to say out loud.
I worry I’ve lost some of the edge and excitement of that younger Tessa, but I’ve gained something in those years, too: the bravery to be honest.
So with a sigh, I lean into his hand. “I don’t understand what’s happening.”
He inches closer, until there’s a brush of his lips on one cheek, then the other.
“What’s happening,” he whispers, the heat from his breath spreading through my veins.
“is that I’m daring you to go out with me.
One date. I’ll come to LA, you can show me your favorite places, we can see what happens. ”
Even knowing it’s foolish, I angle my head, giving him access to my neck. His mouth explores, lips still closed as he paints me with his touch. Heat surges through my body, followed by the rippling of anxiety.
“But then what?” I make myself ask.
He draws back, looking at me. “Then, if you want to, you come visit me. Or we meet in the middle. We get to know each other again, we fill in the gaps, we understand if what we’re feeling here is nostalgia or something bigger.”
I only blink at him as my heart races. Before I can question him further, he cups both of my cheeks in his palms and lays his forehead against mine.
My body sings at his proximity. “And if all of that goes well, then next year we meet back here, and we have the conversation we should have had 20 years ago. We let ourselves really talk about the future openly.”
The one where we’re honest about how much we need each other. “Do you think it’ll end any differently?”
“I do,” he whispers. “To tell the truth, Tess, if you asked me right now to move to California, I’d probably do it.”
“Don’t say that.” I tense with panic that he’ll make a ridiculous decision and blame me for it later. “You love Albuquerque."
“Sure, but I’ve always been there. Hell, I stay for my family while they beg me to go see the world, chase down happiness.
To tell you the truth, I’ve already been thinking about it, looking into what I would need to teach somewhere else.
If I left to be with you, my granny and abuela would work together to throw the farewell party. ”