Page 5 of Jesse's Girl
“Wow,” I deadpan, crossing my arms over my chest. “You know, I’m racking my brain for how that was appropriate to say to me. And I’m comin’ up short, Kyle. Real short.”
He holds out apologetic hands. “Ada. Dude. You know what I mean. You do your own thing. You make art, you work in a bar, you’ve got blue hair… You’re always talking about feminism and shit. I dunno. I guess I never pictured you wanting that.” He pauses. “Do you?”
I scowl. “I don’t know. Maybe. No. Yes? Ugh, why are you making this about me? Can’t I just be happy for Katie?”
“Are you?”
“Of course I am,” I say quickly.
He seems skeptical.
“And feminism isn’t about not wanting to get married. It’s about equal access to?—”
Kyle drops his chin to his chest and fakes a loud snore.
“Kyle!” I snap.
He lifts his head and winks.
“You’re such a prick.”
“You love me.”
“I barely tolerate you,” I reply as I approach my next customer.
Kyle grins and returns to his phone.
I pull a pint of beer for the man waiting at the counter while Kyle’s question rolls around in my head.
Am I happy for Katie?
I try to feel it but, the truth is, there’s been a weight on my chest lately. And, if I’m honest with myself, it’s something more than the inconvenience of having to find a new roommate.
People all around me are doing adulthood: taking steps, getting degrees, making career moves. Even our bar manager, Ros, and her wife are expecting a baby. Katie’s engagement will just give my parents yet another angle to argue I’m not measuring up—not taking those same steps. At twenty-five, I might have plenty of time to figure my shit out, but they don’t see it that way. Hell, they were married at twenty-two and expecting Marcus a year later.
This is probably why I haven’t told them about Katie and Dimitri yet, though I’ll have to bite the bullet tonight if I want to stay ahead of the rumor mill in this town. But one thing’s for sure: my parents will have a fucking field day when they hear the news.
2
JESSE
Marcus’ double take is almost cartoonish when I finally get close enough for him to recognize me.
“Jesse? Whoa! Hey!” He falters for a beat before yanking me into a tight hug. When he pulls away, he holds me by the shoulders and leans back. “Wow. I didn’t even recognize you under all that hair.” He seems to shake it off. “Any update about your mom?”
“Yeah. Claire emailed. Mom made it out of surgery. She’s stable for now.” Not knowing how she was for the entire flight had been agonizing. When my phone finally connected to Wi-Fi as I got off the plane, the relief was so visceral I needed to sit down for a few minutes.
“Oh, thank fuck,” he says, then lets go. He stares for another beat before gesturing for me to follow him toward the baggage claim.
I fall into step beside him, adjusting the strap of my carry-on. “I’ll find out more when I get there, I guess.”
He nods. “Still good you came.”
“Yeah. Didn’t know if…” I trail off, rubbing my forehead. “Didn’t know which way it would go, you know?”
My older sister had raced home from Seattle as soon as she’d heard. I thought I might be hallucinating when she called me as I was standing in the Brisbane airport, preparing to board a different flight for a different trip.
Abdominal aortic aneurysm rupture.