Page 13 of A Love Letter to Whiskey
Jamie doubled over that time, and I spoke even louder over his laughter.
“I’m terrified of the dark, Jamie! It was awful! And so I jumped up, scrambling to find a towel so I could turn the light back on. But because I’m a genius, I yanked on the shower curtain to help me stand up, but that only took it down and me along with it. I fell straight to the floor, but I broke my fall with my hands instead of my face.”
“Luckily.”
“Oh,” I chided. “Yeah. So lucky. Except guess where Rory’s litter box was?”
Jamie’s eyes widened and he tore his eyes from the road to meet mine. “No!”
“Ohhh yeah. My left hand landed right smack in the middle of a steaming pile of poo. And Rory laughed inside that little manic head of hers as she watched the whole show.”
“This seriously has to be made up,” Jamie wheezed as we pulled up to a stoplight, his free hand gripping his stomach.
“I only wish I was that creative.”
We both laughed together, the silence in the car finally warmed over. When the light turned green, Jamie eased on the gas, but didn’t reach for the volume to crank the music again.
“So. Baths, huh?”
I nodded, untucking my legs and resting my bare feet on his dash. “Yep. I do my best thinking submerged in a tub of hot water. Bubbles are an added bonus.” I winked.
“Baths are to you as driving is to me.”
“Mm-hmm,” I agreed. “Which brings us to the purple elephant in the car.” I leaned my head back, eying Jamie as the smile slipped from his face. “Care to tell me the reason we’re driving around this dead ass town in the middle of the night?”
It was the small movements that always gave Jamie away. He never really exaggerated anything — but there were subtle shifts that always tipped me off to when something was on his mind. His thumb would slowly slide along the steering wheel, or his left brow would dip just marginally before evening out again, and sometimes he would crack his neck — quickly and quietly. That night, I’d seen all three, and he knew to not even try to tell me there was nothing wrong. I knew better.
“I don’t know, B. I just… ever since school let out, I can’t stop thinking about how fast everything is changing. I mean, it’s Christmas, my last Christmas home with my family. In six months, I’ll no longer be in high school. In eight, I’ll no longer be in Florida. It feels like my entire life I’ve been aching to grow up and move on and now that it’s all here, I’m dreading it. It’s too soon. I’m not ready.” He swallowed, taking a left turn and steering us toward the beach. “I’m scared.”
“It’s okay to be scared,” I whispered.
“Is it?” he challenged, parking the Jeep in a free spot in front of a beach bar. He rolled down his window to check the parking meter, but I guessed it was probably free parking at this time of night. He didn’t make a move for cash, but left the window down, his elbow resting on the edge. “I’ve always been so sure of everything. Confident. And here I am at one of the most exciting times of my life and I feel like hiding.”
I rolled my window down too, and Jamie took it as a cue to cut the engine. The distant sound of the waves behind the bar replaced the cool hum of the engine and we both relaxed into the comfort it brought.
“I think it’s normal, to feel both excited and terrified of the future. And I’d be willing to bet every senior goes through what you are right now. You’re excited to get out of high school, but also sad, because as much as it’s sucked, it’s been fun, too. I mean look at you — you’re this big basketball star and you’re playing your last season, your hot little girlfriend is a junior, so you know she’s not coming with you, and you’re going from a familiar city and state to one you’ve only visited before now.”
He shifted when I mentioned Jenna, but I tried to move on quickly.
“What I’m saying is it’s okay to feel what you’re feeling. I’d be more concerned if you weren’t scared.”
For a minute we were silent, and Jamie ran both hands back through his long hair. I wondered if he’d cut it when we graduated. I hoped he wouldn’t.
“What if I fail? What if I hate college and all the pressure and I just crack?”
“You won’t.”
“But what if I do?”
“You won’t, Jamie,” I said again, leaning over the consul. I waited until he looked at me to continue. “Over the past few months, I’ve learned a lot about you. I know that when you want something — truly want it — there’s no chance in hell you’ll ever give up on it. Like when you wanted me to go watch one of your stupid basketball games even though you knew how much I hated it and you found new ways to pester me every day until I finally gave in.” I chuckled, but he remained stoic, so I cleared my throat and leaned in a little closer.
