Page 89 of Last Call at the Local

“It is normal.”

There’s a beat of silence before he speaks again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Did you really mean it when you said you’d play your song for the pub?”

I don’t fully understand the look he gives me. It’s hopeful and pleading, and I don’t want to disappoint him. “Yes.”

“Wednesday? Could you do it then?”

“I don’t see why not.” Even though the thought of it already has me nauseous.

Jack grins at me, but then his smile falters. “I know you were hoping I’d tattoo you before you go.”

“Jack, it’s okay.”

“I’m going to work on it in therapy. I didn’t even try last time, but... I do miss it. I just won’t be ready before you go. But I do want to be able to give you your beetle tattoo one day,” he says. “Maybe right... here,” he says, and kisses me on my neck where I’m ticklish.

I roll over and try to wriggle away, but he pulls me closer. I bury my face in his neck, and for a while just listen to the rhythm of his breathing, thinking about how soon, it’ll just be me and my guitar again. Which is exactly what I wanted when I left Boston. It’s exactly what I wanted when I stepped inside the Local for the first time. So why do I feel like I want more for my life? I wanteverything.I want travel and music. But I want home and a family too. I want to always see something new, but at the same time, I want to find a place that is so familiar, it feels like a part of me.

I don’t want to feel heartache right now. I already spend so much of my time feeling bruised. I don’t want to ruinnowby thinking about what’s to come. Because when I’m with Jack, I feel like something wonderful. He makes me feel perfectly at home in this body. In my mismatched socks and dingy brown boots with faded red laces. In his hoodie and his gloves. In nothing at all. With Jack, I feel perfectly at home in who I am. In my music and unfiltered words and careless mistakes. I don’t know if I can take the feeling with me when I leave, so just in case it stays behind with him, I decide to immerse myself in it now.

I don’t want to let go.

But I know that sooner than I’d like, I won’t have a choice.

—

On Monday morning, Jack and I take Clara to the airport. I stand beside her as she checks in for her flight, and we stop outside the entrance to security to say goodbye.

“I’m really going to miss you, Rainey,” Clara says.

“I’m going to miss you too. But you’re going to kick med school’s ass, so at least I’m giving you up for a good cause.”

She laughs. “Yeah, we’ll see. At least I’ve got being a human statue as a backup career.”

“I wouldn’t count on it,” I say. “But you don’t need a backup career.”

“Thanks,” she says.

“Go before I start crying,” I say. But it’s no use, because when I notice Clara wiping the tears from her eyes, I start laughingandcrying.

“Ugh!” she says, tipping her face to the ceiling to hold more tears at bay. “You’ve infected me with your feelings.”

After one last forceful hug, I watch as Clara disappears through security, then go outside to find Jack.

“You okay?” Jack asks when I slide into the passenger seat with a sigh.

“I think so.”

He reaches over and squeezes my hand before letting go to pull out of the airport. When I leave, I wonder if he will come inside with me, like I did with Clara. Will we linger beside the check-in counter? Or will he drop me off at the curb for an unceremonious goodbye? I try to imagine that but can’t. At the very least he would step out of the car to help me unload my gear, even though I don’t need the help. I’ve carried everything on my own before and will carry it all on my own again.

It would be nice to have a little help, though. Some company in all those new places.

Jack must sense me watching him. He looks over and smiles.

“I’ve heard Vienna has some cool street art,” I say. “A lot of surrealist stuff.”

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