Page 36 of Falling for my First Crush

I look out onto the dance floor and try to imagine dancing with Maia later. Instead, I grab Jackie’s hand, and I twirl her around onto the parquet tile. She laughs, but goes along with it. I tell myself I’m just practicing for later, but I get distracted by the sound of Jackie’s laughter. By the time we’re done spinning around the dance floor, we are both laughing and breathless.

“That was fun,” I say. “Maybe we can do it later. Save me a dance?”

Something that looks a lot like sadness flickers across Jackie’s face. She takes a step back out of my arms. “Sure,” she says, not looking up at me.

Here we are again. Jackie seems mad at me, but I have to remember that she might not be. It might be something else entirely. If there’s an opportunity tonight, I think I’ll try to actually ask her what’s going on. Note to self: The entire world does not revolve around me. The moment might have gotten awkward, but there is a loud crash from the dinner tent that distracts us. We hurry back into the second tent, relieved to find that it’s only a dropped lid. Nothing like a disaster averted to put us back on the right track.

The rest of the afternoon passes by in a blur of activity. I don’t have time to think about what might be bothering Jackie, although I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that she pops into my head more often than not. I find myself looking for her, even as I’m greeting people coming to the Tribute. By the time guests start to arrive, I’m feeling pretty relaxed.

Violet has arranged everything down to the last detail, so it isn’t until right before the Tribute is set to start, that I’m informed I will be seated on the raised platform next to Sabina. I had hoped that I could linger by the door of the tent to wait for Maia. She still isn’t here, but I have no choice. I climb the few stairs and sit down next to Sabina.

“Hey,” I say to her. Her gaze flickers to me, and I can see pure fear in her eyes. I reach out and take her hand. Giving it a squeeze, I ask, “How are you doing?”

She lets out a stuttery sigh. “Fine. Terrible. Terrified!”

“Is there anything I can do?” I ask.

Sabina shakes her head. Like me, she’s wearing her dress uniform, but unlike me, she’s swimming in hers. Now that I really look at her, she seems gaunt. I wonder how she’s eating, sleeping, and all the regular things that civilians take for granted. It’s hard for non-military people to realize how much of what you see in battle comes home with you. I realize yet again just how important this Tribute is.

“Listen, Sabina, I know that getting up in front of all these people is going to take a lot of effort,” I say. “So, if you need to be done at any point, just give me a nod and I’ll jump in. I’m sure I can babble for a few minutes.”

Sabina cracks a smile and gives me a surprised gasp of a laugh. “Thanks,” she says softly.

The opening comments start, and before I know it, it’s my turn to talk. I step up to the podium and gaze out at a crowd of people. I spot Jackie in the front row, and I decide to focus on her. I’m not nervous now.

“Thanks again for coming, folks,” I begin. “I’m honored to introduce our speaker tonight. I’ve known this young woman since she was just a kid, and I can honestly say that she is one of the kindest people I have ever met. Her empathy toward all creatures has always made her an easy friend to confide in. As adults, we followed similar paths into the military. Given our next speaker’s gentle soul, I can’t imagine how active service affected her, but I’m looking forward to hearing from her now. Ladies and gentlemen, Sabina Moretti.”

I sit back down, pleased with what I said, but wishing that I had said more. Sabina was always the steadiest of all the Moretti sisters. Gentle, quiet, kind. I really can’t imagine how she survived all she did in military life.

“Hi,” Sabina says. “First, I want to thank my sister, Jackie, for convincing me to be here tonight. And to the rest of my family for not giving up on me. Like Joe alluded to, I’ve been through a lot. And coming home hasn’t been easy. Sometimes I think it would be easier if I was still overseas.” She takes a deep breath.

“When I was on active duty, I was able to compartmentalize all the things going on around me. I could tell myself that I was part of a peace-keeping force, so I was doing what I had set out to do. I joined the military, because I wanted to help people around the world be safe from tyrannical governments. And when I was doing my job, I could believe in that mission.”

“Getting back stateside, though, has been the hardest thing I’ve ever done. I have nightmares and panic attacks all the time. Things I saw in combat and for a short time as a POW are constantly hovering around me. Memories of friends that were killed are never far away. So I sank into the blackness. It’s a very comforting place to be. And I would sink deeper every time I lost another friend to war or suicide. I have lost seven friends in the last year alone.”

“That’s why I’m grateful to the people at Cranberry Creek Hospital for putting this program together. They have helped things seem less bleak, more gray than black these days. I have a long way to go, but I know that, with their support, I will be able to continue to heal. Thank you for supporting this great cause.”

Sabina comes and sits down next to me. Her cheeks are flushed, and she has tears in her eyes, but she seems happy. “That was amazing,” I whisper to her.

“Thanks,” she says, looking a bit shell-shocked.

The rest of the program goes equally as well. I scan the audience a few times but don’t see Maia. She must have decided to sit in the back, since there are very few seats available in the front. My gaze does keep finding Jackie, though, and I swear every time I look at her, she’s looking back at me. Every time our eyes connect, a zip of electricity shoots along my spine. I’ve never felt anything like this before with anyone.

When the program ends and everyone heads to the dinner tent, I look around for Maia. She’s nowhere to be found. That’s when I decide to check my phone. I had it on Do Not Disturb mode when I was on the platform. Sure enough, I have three missed calls from Maia. No voicemails or texts.

I pull up her number and hit call. “Hey, Maia,” I say when the call connects. “Where are you?”

“That’s what I was calling you about,” Maia says. “I can’t come.”

“Oh? Why not?” I ask, waiting for the flood of disappointment that never comes. In fact, in a way, I’m surprised to feel something very different: relief.

“I just got an offer to write an article for a national news agency, but it’s due by midnight,” Maia says. “It’s too big of an opportunity to pass up.”

“Wow, congrats. That’s great, Maia,” I say. I mean it, too. That is a huge career step for her. I know that she’s wanted to be a journalist since she was a kid. I just didn’t know that she was still pursuing it. We haven’t really talked that much about anything substantial, I realize. I also realize that Jackie and I know a whole lot more about each other now. Jackie is the one I should be spending the Tribute with anyway. “No worries. I’ve got Jackie.”

“You do,” Maia says.

There is something in her tone that makes something else click into place in my brain; a realization, an epiphany. “Maia,” I say slowly. “I think I’m in love with your sister.”

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