Page 110 of The Moon Also Rises
I stay silent and watch as the furrow in Jenna’s brow deepens. “Do you think Jake would invite our dad to his fortieth birthday party?”
Considering Jake barely wants to attend his own party, I’m not confident in answering that question. “I think that’s up to Jake.”
“You’re right.” Jenna nods and moves to pick up her wine glass, but she pauses before taking a sip. “What about our mother? Has Jake told you much about her?”
“Only that she died,” I say. “When Jake was younger. I’m sorry for your loss too.”
Jenna’s smile is composed and genuine, reaching up to her eyes, but I don’t miss that they also mist over. “Jake was thirteen when she died. Did he tell you that it was by suicide?”
Stunned but not sure why exactly, I fall silent and feel my neck muscles work when I swallow.
Jenna continues, “It was complicated further because our father was already in a relationship with the woman he’s now married to. We don’t know the full details but basically our father lived a double life with Carol, and he re-married very quickly after Mum died.”
Part of me is perplexed why Jake never told me this, but a bigger part of me has this strange sense of confidence that he would have, eventually, so I try not to let my surprise show.
“That must have been very hard on you both,” I say.
“It was harder on Jake,” Jenna says, and I understand now why she wanted to bring this up. “He was closer to Mum. I know this is probably over-stepping, but I often think it would do him good to talk about Mum with someone. He and I… we do talk about her sometimes, but never as often as we should. I know he has a therapist, but it’s not the same. I was only really able to talk about her properly when I met Marty. It would make me very happy to know he was talking to you about her.”
The weight of her loaded comments is noticeable immediately and I half expect myself to attempt to shrug it off, to change the subject, but I don’t. If anything, I feel more full, more ready and more eager to help Jake with this. I don’t know how I’ll do that yet, but I know I want to.
“I’ll see what I can do,” I tell Jenna and I’m about to ask her more questions about her work and life in Dublin, but I turn to see Jake and Marty approach us carrying plates and big smiles.
I always want to make Jake smile. I don’t know how I’ll do that yet, or even if he’ll want me to, but I know I want to.
Chapter Thirty-Five
Jake
Iam fighting the urge to be annoyed. Annoyed with Rami. Because he is too good. He is too good at all of this, and by this, I mean charming the pants, socks and any other possible undergarments off my sister and Marty. And I’m annoyed because it feels good. It feels so wondrously good to have two people I care deeply about laugh, smile and joke with the man I am starting to care about in a way that is far from shallow.
But it’s still annoying, because the sooner we admit our feelings for one another, the sooner those feelings will fade on one or both of our parts. And I’m not ready for that. I don’t want to lose him, which means it will likely be his feelings that fade and not mine. Therefore, if I go any further into this, I am just taking more steps closer to my heart possibly breaking into little shards that will be so small and so lost who knows if I can ever piece them all back together again.
It's remarkable that I can have such devastating thoughts while pouring us all cups of after-dinner coffee.
“Sugar, anyone?” I point at the sugar bowl as I place the cafetiere back on the table.
“I’m sweet enough,” says Marty, picking up his cup. “Besides, I have another important job to do.”
“Oh, God, please don’t tell me he brought a board game.” I glare at Jenna. “I still haven’t recovered from Risk at Christmas.”
Jenna chuckles, shaking her head. “Ryanair’s meagre luggage allowance barely allowed us to bring enough pants let alone entertainment.”
“I’m talking about the washing up.” Marty stands.
“Oh, sit down! You don’t have to do that! Rami and I will do it in the morning,” I say, only feeling the clumsiness of the words after they’re gone. I look at Rami. “You are staying, aren’t you?”
“Good to know you only want me here for my washing-up skills the morning after,” Rami jokes and I’m about to defend myself but he continues, “Yes, I’m staying over. I packed my toothbrush.”
“Don’t you have one here?” Jenna asks and it’s an innocent enough question and yet it feels like a bit of a bullet wound, because it only goes to highlight how fake this thing between us has been. Until now… Maybe.
A little at a loss of what to say, I keep my eyes on pouring milk into my coffee.
“I’ve been trying to leave one here since the first time I stayed over, but my red toothbrush didn’t match Jake’s bathroom aesthetic,” Rami says.
“Pah! I was just surprised your toothbrush and toothpaste weren’t black like the rest ofyouraesthetic!”
“I’m still going to make a start on the washing up,” Marty says and heads to the kitchen sink. “Least I can do to thank you, for that incredible meal, Sweet Cheeks.”
