Page 100 of Fade into You

This is definitely a cheer-Bird-up outing. And I’m fine with that.

The movie opens with a computer screen. A blinking cursor. Already I feel like Jessa would love this. I’m sure she did love it. Such a movie buff.

Okay, focus.

Hot woman in vinyl, kicking ass. Secret agents? There’s a phone. I’m very much confused. Yeah, Jessa would love this.

I wish she was here right now, next to me.

But I manage to find many pockets of time throughout the movie when I do not think about Jessa and our break. Particularly during those moments when Charlie is tapping my arm, making sure I’m paying attention, muttering “sick” and “sweet” under his breath during the action scenes.

And okay, even I can admit the bullet-dodging rooftop thing was both sickandsweet.

When the credits roll and the dim lights come on in the theater, revealing that we’re the only ones here on Thanksgiving eve, Charlie is sitting, literally, on the edge of his seat, staring at me, intense eyes all wide, searching my face.

“Right?” he says, bringing his fists to either side of his head, then extending all ten fingers with an explosion sound effect. “Mind blown, right? In. Sane. Right?” He pauses before adding another, sugar-rushed, “Right?”

I have to agree. “Right. Y-you were right, Charlie.”

On the car ride home, I can feel him watching me. I look out the window and try to keep my cool.

“So, which pill would you pick, Birdie?” he asks.

I shrug like I’ve been doing all night, and I’m afraid if I look at him I’ll start crying.

“Come on, pick one. Would you rather the awareness of a harsh, messed-up reality of a world that is nothing like you thought it was or blissful, mundane ignorance?”

“Right now?”

“Yeah,” he says, though I sense something has shifted in his voice. “Right now,” he adds, more seriously, like this isn’t just a hypothetical game to him, either.

“I don’t know,” I finally answer, and I can’t hold back any longer. I can’t hide it. I’m crying—sniffling, gasping, head-in-hands crying.

“Hey,” Charlie’s saying. “Bird? All right, tell me what’s going on with you.”

He pulls the car off onto a side street and parks.

“What’s wrong?” He places his hand on my shoulder.“Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that, right?”

“Y-yes, I—I know,” I say through the shallow breaths and tears that I’ve been holding back for a lot longer than just the last two days.

“Talk to me, then.”

“I-it—it’s—it’s hard.”

“I know, Bird. But it’s okay.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, you can tell me. And it’s okay,” he says calmly, quietly.

“It’s Jessa.” There’s no going back. “We’re not just… friends. I—I—I’m in love with her.”

He’s nodding. “And…?”

“And?”I repeat, laughing through my tears.

“Yeah, and…” he says, unfazed. “You’re in love with her, so why are you crying right now?”