Page 40 of When There Was You
“Later,” Kit says, sending Jas a pointed look, probably because she thinks I’m fragile. “We need to motor or we’re going to be late.”
As I sitthrough the ceremony, it’s easy to zone out. Even though my roommates and I are all part of the School of Mass Communications, we’re still seated alphabetically and there are thousands graduating today. Now that speeches are over, students are queuing by schools to walk onstage to receive their degrees and shake hands with the muckety mucks. Thoughts churn as I await my turn. I’m proud of myself for earning a bachelor’s degree. After working hard, scoring the magazine job seems like a hell of a payout. Living with Kendra adds icing on an already epic cake.
When they finally announce our school, I’m all smiles as I inchmy way to the stage, up the steps, and collect my diploma. My roommates’ obnoxiously loud cheers amidst polite applause make me grin even wider. I totally return the love when it’s their moment.
Once all the diplomas are distributed, we’re directed to cross our tassels to the opposite side, pronounced graduated, and we launch our caps to the heavens. It’s a grand sight, and the symbolism isn’t lost on me. Each one of us is taking flight. When the caps fall to the earth, our journey here is officially complete.
Our families congregate, sharing hugs and congratulations while Jas, Kit, and I luxuriate in the attention and our accomplishment.
“You did it!” my mother says, looking remarkably clear-eyed. She’s still wafer thin, and her attempt to camouflage it with her A-line dress doesn’t fool me. But when we hug, I gasp. She’s bony and sharp angled, covered by a nearly translucent layer of flesh…literal skin and bones. Hiding my distress—this isn’t the time or place—I don’t squeeze her too tightly.
My father steals me next, holding me at arms’ length. “I’m proud of you, Jacqueline. You made it to the finish line, and now you’re moving to the city and starting a terrific job. You’re really on your way.” A genuine smile crosses his face, and I can’t help my answering grin as he pulls me in for a close hug.
After more congratulations, we disperse and reconvene at Original Joe’s. My boss saved us a table and treats us like royalty. I’ve already worked my last shift, and he had nothing but praise for how much he appreciated me being a part of their close-knit staff. I’ll never forget the people or incredible chow.
Our three families mesh well enough. Despite my worry about how my parents will come across to others, they put on a good show, and our dirty laundry stays buried, where itbelongs. Jas and Kit’s families have known each other for years, and it’s my pleasure to finally meet them in person.
It’s impossible not to be dazzled by Jas’s parents. Mr. Singh sports a ruby turban with his navy suit, and has a pitch-black mustache, long beard, and striking eyebrows. His wife is resplendent in an amethyst sari and flat sandals. Her hair is as dark as her husband’s and coasts down her back. I’ve never seen a woman of her age with hair so long. Jas told me once they don’t cut their hair, something to do with their culture. Her parents also had an arranged marriage—and even descend from Indian royalty. It’s honestly fascinating. Kit’s parents are dressed similar to mine. Mr. Varisano wears a black suit, and I easily see the Italian in his facial features, olive skin tone, and dark brunette hair. His wife is the opposite with fair skin, blue eyes, and brown hair that veers auburn.
Our graduation is celebrated by our collective parents in style, with easy conversation, heaping plates of food, and delicious desserts.
My roommatesand I say our goodbyes a week later. It’s rough. In our own way, we were also the Three Musketeers, and our little band of heathens is breaking up as we begin our next chapter of life. There are tears shed, promises made, and hugs we can’t seem to end.
Even so, as I drive to my new home, my heart brims with excitement, anticipation, and the thrill of the unknown.
One thing is certain. I’m desperate for change—anything to take my mind off what I’ve lost…and show me everything I stand to gain.
Twenty-Five
April 1987, almost two years later
Jay touches a spot on his lower lip. “You’ve got some ketchup here.”
I dab my napkin on the same area on my face, then lift my eyebrows, looking for confirmation.
He nods, a shock of his curly blond locks falling across his pale blue eyes. “Back to your ridiculously gorgeous self.”
Before I can respond, his gaze shifts behind me, smoldering, as he finger-combs his hair into place. “Oh. My. Cheese. And. Crackers.” His hushed tone is effused with praise, wonder, and the inflection that is decidedly Jay.
I’m going to assume my coworker has spotted yet another man who’s stoked the always-burning fires of his libido.
“Who isthat?” he purrs, mostly to himself.
I pivot and find the object of his desire. He’s handsome alright. And Jay’s type. The verdict’s out on whether he’s also gay. “You’re drooling.”
His eyes snap back to mine. “I could and would do a lot more with that hunk of male virility in the flesh.”
“Mm-hmm. How are things with Rory, by the way?”
Jay rolls his eyes. “It’s not illegal to look. And he’s fine,nosey Parker. What’s happening withyourlove life? Are you still dating what’s-his-name?”
I fight a sigh, using my straw like a plunger to agitate the sugar pooling on the bottom of my iced tea. “Nope. I’m not sure a guy in finance is ever going to be the right fit for me.”
A guffaw erupts from Jay. “Oh honey, was he too small?”
Flashing him a flat look, I prop my elbow on the table and rest my chin in my hand. “We didn’t get that far. He bored me to near tears.” And I’m not exaggerating. Much. “Why do the numbers guys always want to talk about the nitty-gritty details of their boring-ass jobs? Math isnotsexy.”
“Unless he’s nine inches with a girth that would choke a whale.” Jay’s eyes flare as he checks out the cute guy behind me again.
