Page 144 of Maybe You

I think I might be a lost cause.

“It’s not working,” I finally say when we’re way too far away from home already.

Jordan turns to face me. “What’s not working?”

I gesture around us with my hand. “This. I don’t feel better. In fact, I might be feeling worse. It still hurts, okay? Everything… everything sucks. And it hurts. And nothing’s ever going to be better because Sutton’s gone, and I’m just… I hurt! Okay?” My shoulders slump once I’m done with my outburst. “I hurt,” I repeat.

Jordan lets out a breath and looks at me with nothing but sympathy.

“I know it sucks,” he says. “Believe me. I know.”

He doesn’t say anything else, just throws his arm over my shoulder and steers me into a bakery one street over. I watch him buy a big box of donuts and flirt with the girl behind the counter. She laughs, and her eyes wander up and down Jordan.

I wonder if he still misses Kira sometimes.

I wonder how long it took him not to miss her every second of every day.

I wonder if I should ask.

I wonder if knowing would help at all.

Once Jordan has his donuts, he steers me out of the bakery and down the street until we reach Prospect Park. He moves through the masses of people enjoying their weekends and finds us a spot on the grass. He plops down and looks at me expectantly until I follow suit.

I shake my head when he holds the box of donuts out toward me. I don’t think I can force anything past the lump in my throat. The thing’s been lodged in there pretty firmly for a solid week now.

Jordan shrugs and pulls the box away. “Suit yourself. More for me.”

We sit in silence for a long time after that until Jordan aims his gaze my way.

“Do you want to talk about him?” he asks.

I open my mouth to say no. No. That I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.

Instead, words start to come out. One after another. Halting at first, then the whole story.

It would be nice if talking helped.

If it set me free and on the road to recovery.

It doesn’t.

Honestly, I think I feel even worse. Talking just makes everything feel fresh and raw again.

Jordan hasn’t said a word until now. I kind of expected some fatherly advice. Big brotherly knowledge, at least.

“Do you remember when I went skydiving for my twenty-fourth birthday?” he asks instead.

That’s a sudden jump from my personal crisis, but I nod anyway.

“It was right after Kira started dating that idiot, Brock,” he says.

“Yeah?” I say slowly.

“And she brought him to visit and to introduce him to Theo,” he says. “And they showed up with a shitload of gifts, and then for that year they were dating, they took Theo to do all this exciting shit, like ride on a hot air balloon and see F1 Grand Prix on Brock’s private jet, and so on. And Theo was so impressed, and he was going on and on about how cool Brock was, pretty much foaming at the mouth about how great he was, and he went on and on about all those super cool things he does. And I was the one who sent him to bed on time and made him do homework, and the only exciting thing I did was choose fries instead of vegetables for dinner on Saturdays.”

“Brock was a douche, though.”

He waves me off. “That’s not the point.”

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