Page 101 of Fade into You

“I think she broke up with me… or, orwantsto break up with me, and it’s over something so stupid and I can’t even—” I stop to take a deep breath. “Charlie, I… I can’t even imagine us not being t-to-together. I can’t…” And I collapse back in on myself, head in hands again, barely breathing.

He places his hand on my shoulder for a moment and says, “It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.”

And then he just lets me cry without saying anything or trying to make me stop. When I have run out of tears and raise my head again, he’s looking at me like nothing has changed between us. I’m so thankful that he’s here right now, with me, in this very harsh, messed-up reality.

“When you came to visit me,” he begins, “I could tell something good was happening to you. I wasn’t sure, but I thought maybe it was her.”

“Really?” I sniffle. “And you don’t think it’s, like, wrong or, or…”

“No! Bird, come on. You know I love you no matter whoyoulove, right?”

“Thank you, Charlie. I love you, too.”

“For what it’s worth, I like her.”

I nod. “Yeah. I thought you would.”

“You’re gonna be okay, no matter what happens.”

I scoff. “I’m not sure I believe that.”

“Well, believe this: There is no spoon, Birdie.”

“What?”

“There is no spoon,” he repeats. “FromThe Matrix, come on. There. Is. No. Spoon.”

“Your advice is weird, Charlie,” I say with a laugh. A real laugh.

He laughs too. “No, it’s not weird. Not really. It’s… you know, you have an obstacle that seems impossible, you’ve got to change the reality around it to create a new path.”

“Okay, Yoda.”

“Think about it,” he says.

I do. I think about it the whole ride home, but I’m not sure there’s a way to change this particular reality.

When we pull up outside the house, Charlie turns his car off and says, “Wait, Birdie. Before we go in…” He’s shifting in the driver’s seat to grab his wallet out of his back pocket, takingout a folded-up sticky note, and handing it over to me. “Here, I found this.”

I look down at Charlie’s handwriting. A phone number. A 617 area code. Boston.

“Is this…”

“Yeah.”

“Did you…”

“No,” he answers. “I wanted to wait for you.”

JESSA

Thanksgiving at our house ismore of a practice than a celebration… a quiet dance of everyone doing their own task, no one discussing much more than the floats in the Macy’s parade as it blares through the kitchen from Mom’s tiny under-cabinet TV. I think we’re all thankful for everyone keeping to themselves. Mack is winning, hidden in her room since Tuesday, and for a moment I wish I could go hide in mine.

Instead, I peel potatoes. Sweet and russet. Just me and a knife and a layer of paper towels for peels. I sit at the table and focus on trying to get most of the skin off in one big long strip. It keeps me from crying, because they’re potatoes and not onions. Because I initiated this break. Because I’m dying a little inside every time I think of Bird, and I fire back up every time I think of her not trusting me enough to tell me about Kayla’s cheating.

Kayla.

That bitch has now taken everything from me. First Dade’s time, then Dade entirely, and now pulling Bird away to her side, to whatever fucking evil ends she’s headed for.