Make a Wish
Chapter 7
It has been nine days since Jay drunkenly staggered into the bakery and nine days since she found out that her boyfriend had cheated on her. When she returned to her dorm, she barely mustered enough energy to entertain her roommate who gushed, quite literally gushed because she couldn’t shut up for at least two hours, over her lab partner, how considerate he is, how smart he is, how hardworking he is, how cute he is, and all the possible signals he has been sending her over the past weeks. Nana had politely nodded along, agreeing and humming at the appropriate times, frowning and reassuring when she had to. Her mind was swarming, and she feels the rise of panic and anger in her heart. She was waiting for Michael to text her, to explain, to apologize. Currently, she is still waiting. Nothing. She drops her pencil softly in annoyance as the professor at the front of the lecture hall continues with cell membrane potential and whatever threshold she should probably be noting. She huffs. She wonders if it’s time for her to shoot him a message, playing this waiting game obviously isn’t working-if anything, it’s hurting her mental state. She hasn’t been able to concentrate during class, unable to sleep, and binge eating plain bagels. Her roommate tried on several occasions to get her to talk, to spill a few drops of troubles; but she remains stubbornly closed. This is my own problem, she reasons. Besides, she doesn’t want anyone else to judge Michael. They don’t know him.
Suddenly, her seemingly socially dead phone vibrates. Jay: Hey!
She frowns at the simple greeting. Jay had slipped from her mind, tucked away under as a memory too ridiculous, too strange, too bizarre to consider real. Sure, she gave him her number, but she didn’t expect him to actual text her. Friends, he had labeled them. Not that she can pay much more attention to the lecture, she swiftly responds with a similarly simple text: Hi! As soon as the text is sent, she can feel the familiar sensation of anticipation and nervousness building in the stomach. The teacher drones on as she waits for a reply. The classroom is half empty as they just had midterms last week, and most students decided they have met the quota for attendance for the month-maybe even the semester-meaning spring is right around the corner. To many, spring indicates the end of a school year, and for those graduating, the end of a chapter to their young adulthood. For Nana, spring is the one-year anniversary of her long-term relationship with Michael. Just a few weeks ago, he promised her his presence and time in April. She isn’t sure if that is still happening.
Her phone buzzes again, and quickly another buzz in succession.
Jay: How are you?
Jay: Do you wanna grab coffee or something?
Nana stares at the open text in hesitation before another text bubble pops up.
Jay: Just wanting to get to know my new friend :)
She purses her lips. She hates the nausea-like sensation in the pit of her of stomach, almost like butterflies. But no, they are definitely not butterflies. She is just confused because Michael has yet to speak up and she is looking for a distraction. Jay is not the best form of distraction, and she is well aware, but here he is, offering an invitation, as friends. For once, she wants to underthink the situation and do something for the instant gratification.
Sure! Her fingers type before her mind fully registers her decision: Like today?
Jay: If you’re free?
The sudden noise and rowdiness in the room jostle Nana to start stuffing away her notebook and laptop. She swings her book bag across a shoulder, and with her thumb flying across her phone, she follows the crowd into the main hallway. She has one more class for the day. The classroom is in a building which lays tucked behind the school’s mini garden funded by the botanical association-her secret chill-out spot which she discovered the first semester of college. The garden is no secret to the students, but due to its distance from the major clustered buildings in the center of campus, the garden remains secluded and exclusive to those who have business around this part of campus. In her two years (one actual year if you only count the time he was here) of relationship, she never has gathered enough courage to bring Michael. At one point, she told herself it’s because Michael is not a student here, but in reality, she knows she is scared of tainting a place solely meant for her. She has learned to not share every bits and pieces of herself with a partner because when they leave, she ends up losing those pieces. When Michael gently took her into his arm and asked her to be his girlfriend, she wholeheartedly agreed, never feeling so safe and cared for, yet she guarded her heart in a very thin case of glass, transparent yet impenetrable. If he ever noticed it, he never mentioned it.
By the time Nana reaches her class, she is clearly out of breath as small beads of sweat collected around her hairline. She glances at her phone and is shocked to see she is fifteen minutes early. Her earliness explains why she is panting, for she has practically jogged from the central campus to the most northern part of the campus. She looks at her phone once more and only slightly less surprised that she has agreed to meet Jay at 4:30PM for coffee. What an awkward time for caffeine. With time to spare, she plops down on a bench. The garden is slowly coming back to life, the first signs of flower bulbs emerging, tender green tendrils poking through the damp soil. She relishes in the quietness, just a little before a wave of students rushes by her, filing into the worn building.
***
Jay runs a hand through his hair once again as he bounces a leg absentmindedly. His laptop propped opened forgotten as he stares to nowhere in particular. He brings the mug in his hand to his lip to find it empty. He bites his lip in frustration and sets the mug down too abrasively causing a few startled glances in his direction. His embarrassment brings him to focus on the present. In the past week or so, he has, on more than a few occasions, trashed his room, swiping everything clean off of his desk. Even now, his room is in a state of chaos. But he had to escape. He had thrown on a maybe clean hoodie over a pair of somewhat presentable sweats and drove to a café almost 30 minutes away. He didn’t realize how familiar the surrounding is until Nana suggested the same café not too long ago. The area seems familiar because it’s down the street from her campus. He finally closes his laptop, accepting that no matter how hard and sternly he glares at the Excel spreadsheet, those numbers are not going to magically decrease into something much more manageable.
He presses the home button on his phone and the display shows 4:17PM. He wonders if asking for coffee at 4:30PM was weird. He can’t help it. He spent the last three nights out of four out drunk with his friends, and he is sure his liver has been protesting. And, even more truthfully, Nana has captured his attention the first time he set eyes on her. He doesn’t fantasize her laying on his bed, caged beneath him, nor does he imagine a perfect newlywed life. He doesn’t feel like a moth to flame because she doesn’t burn. There are no volatile red emotions promising tantalizing nights and enticing games. She draws him in like a good book. Once he flips open the first page, he wants to continue to read, to find out what’s next, what more is there to her. He doesn’t need to make up fantasies because whatever she has to offer is much more interesting than what he conjures. The bell above the door jingles, and he cranes his neck to see Nana delicately step inside, her eyes darting around hesitantly. He casually waves a hand when she turns in his direction and beckons her to his table.
“Hi. You’ve been here long?” She drops her book bag next to the chair and settles down before him, her hands politely folded on the table and her legs shift to cross under the table.
“Not at all,” he breathes. His voice comes out sounding breathless, and he doesn’t know why.
“Are you sure?” She nods toward his laptop and finished drink.
“Ok, yeah, I’ve been here for a bit. Had to get out of the house,” he chuckles lightly. Now that she is here, he has no idea what to do or what to say. He had messaged her out of whim, in need of a distraction, and her very presence is a distraction enough.
“Rough day?” She rests her chin on a hand and waits for an answer. She takes in his outfit. Compared to his previous primped suits, he looks more boyish and playful with a hoodie and un-styled hair.
“You can say that,” he leans back to stretch his arms overhead. He tilts his head to one side to look at her through his fringe and inwardly smirks when he sees a light blush creeping up her cheeks. Still got it.
“If you called me out just to stare at me, perhaps I should name my price,” Nana quips. She mentally praises herself for an unafraid tone, but the heat in her cheeks nullifies all her efforts. When Jay raises an eyebrow, she has to physically resist the urge to shift farther up in her chair to accept his challenge. Instead, she slinks back.
“People pay to look at art,” her lips tremble and her cheeks feel tight before bursting forth an embarrassed giggle. “Sorry, that was terrible.” She can’t keep her voice steady, so she covers her mouth with both of her hands, hoping desperately for anything to save her from her own train wreck.
“Best I can do is coffee, maybe,” his eyes are full of mirth as he leans closer. He doesn’t miss the flash of apprehension in her eyes and the hiccup in her laughter. As much as he enjoys this, he decides he wants to be friends first. As suddenly as he is close, he is back to giving her the appropriate amount of personal space.
“Great, I want a macchiato,” she says without missing a beat. She may not be the most decisive person, but when it comes to food, she always knows what she wants. And being a college student, she will never reject free food, unless her danger alarms are going off; but so far, Jay has not given her any reason to be scared of him. At least, in the danger sense. As for metaphorical danger, she pushes the thought away before it is fully formed.
As if on a cue, a young barista approaches their table.
“Hello, would you like anything to drink, miss?” she asks as she takes away Jay’s empty mug.
“One hot macchiato with coconut milk, please,” Nana gives Jay a quick look as she orders. Though she may jump on free food, she is not one for taking advantage of anyone.
“And a slice of your dark mocha chocolate cake. All on one tab, thanks,” he smiles at the barista brightly, the kind of smile that renders you star struck, as with the poor barista.
“N-no problem,” she stutters and hurries to make their orders.
“My, my, what a charmer,” Nana teases. She understands exactly how the other girl feels.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” while his eyes are wide and innocent, his voice drips with sarcasm. Again, she feels like he is challenging her to fall for his trap. She knows if she responds with what she has in mind, she’ll be crossing a line a she can’t retreat; and as much as she wants to, she will not allow herself.
“But really, you look rough. Are you still stressed out about your company?” She asks in sincerity.
“Yeah. I…” He hesitates. “Say, if you fell into a deep dark hole-the is a serious question!” He feigns annoyance when Nana’s mouth twitches in amusement. “Right, and you tell those who are watching you from above that you are ok, that you can get out. But after a really long time, someone drops down a ladder. Would you take it?”
“Well, of course.”
“But you already said you can do it.”
“So? You’re allowed to change your mind. Would you not take it?”
“It doesn’t mean you’re weak?” Jay’s voice is the quietest Nana has ever heard.
“No, of course not. It would be stupid to not take it. You end up wasting more time down in that dark hole struggling all by yourself. Why reject help when it’s offered. No one can do everything alone. You help and you receive help. That’s normal isn’t it. It doesn’t at all undermine who you are and your strengths.”
Jay stares at Nana as she finishes, oblivious to the barista placing down their orders on their table and Nana’s soft thank you. He wants to slap himself awake, to rip his eyes away from her, but he can’t. He feels only slightly creepy when he thinks all he wants to do is watch her. Perhaps they are closer to strangers than friends that he feels unabashed to voice his doubts to her, or perhaps she gives off the aura of comfort and understanding-the way she remains attentive, the way her brows knit that day in his car, or the way she shows true concern for him. His heart quickens in his chest and a wave of pink washes over his eyes. He doesn’t believe in love at first sight, never has, and he thinks he never will. But when Nana whispers his name ever so gently, his resolve is only shaken a tiniest bit.
Nana isn’t sure what to do as Jay remains silent. She worries as she takes in his unmoving body, wondering if she sounded too cliché or sounded too close. They are barely acquaintances. But she sees fear and guilt flash across his face, and her heart clinches; he looks so vulnerable. His name slips out of her mouth as an escaped sigh, and she almost claps her hands to her stunned mouth but she is so caught off guard from herself she freezes. Quick, she panics, say something before it becomes weird.
“Tell me more about yourself,” Jay beats her to it. His eyes bore into her as she struggles (again) to find words. The impulse to question her about the slip of his name burns at his tongue, but the deer in headlight look she sports dampens the twinge as he decides to steer away from the topic to save her from further embarrassment. He reminds himself to ask about it later if he gets the chance.
“I’m not really all that interesting,” she focuses on the macchiato in front of her, relief flooding through her body as a new feeling of anxiety follows. Small talk and self-introduction are not her forte.
“It’s doesn’t have to be jaw-dropping interesting. How many people can tell impressive stories of near life or death experiences, or exhilarating memories of climbing Mt. Everest or swimming with sharks. Those are really cool stories, but your life and you are unique to yourself. So, let’s begin with the basics,” the gentle lift of the corners of his lips and the slight downward slant of his eyes give a soft glow to his face.
The interest swirling in Jay’s brown orbs is obvious, and, to Nana’s dropping heart, tempting. She knows where he is going with this, and as much as she wants to follow, as much as she wants to know the basics of Jay as well, her conscience pulls the reign. This is the motif of today, she thinks, how many times have I had to stop myself. Despite the internal panic, Nana keeps her face as friendly as possible. Yes, that’s the key, just be friendly. Nana relaxes as the words echo in her head. She did not grow up having many male friends, not because she doesn’t relate to boys or that they didn’t like her, boys and her never stayed just friends. Being platonic friends with boys is only one step away from a foreign concept. But practice makes perfect, right?
And so, Nana starts, from the beginning. She playfully recites her full name, birthdate, favorite color, and horoscope, earning an incredulous look from Jay. She retaliates with “you asked for it.” When Jay gestures with open palms for her to continue, she recalls her childhood, raised as a single child by her loving grandparents in the suburbs where they still reside. She reminisces the mischief she and her younger cousin often caused and every time without fail, tried to blame it on their older cousin. Throughout her story-telling, Jay has his arms crossed, leaning on the table, giving her his full attention, his cake forgotten for the moment. He watches her with subtle fondness as she gesticulates wildly, describing in detail of the time her older cousin accidentally set the Christmas tree on fire, and huffs indignantly when she gets to the part where her family unanimously thought it was her doing.
“I may have come up with some stupid ideas, but generally I was a good child!” She pouts when he points out she did have a reputation.
She recaptures the highlights of the “good ol’ days,” the days which she regrets treasuring and appreciating when she had the chance. She voices her thoughts quietly, catching Jay’s gaze.
“That’s all of us. It’s a pity we only know in hindsight,” Jay sticks the first forkful of cake into his mouth, face lighting up in delight at how surprisingly good it is. He offers some to Nana who politely declines.
“You don’t like sweets?” He asks as he goes for another bite.
“I do, just not feeling cake right now,” she plays with the rim of her mug. “Now that I’ve completely overshared, what do you have to offer in return?”
“Overshared? I haven’t even asked about your deepest fears or your darkest secrets. This is child play,” he yanks the fork out of his mouth with an ostentatious smirk which quickly dissipates into a burst of hearty laughter in which Nana joins. Before she can reply, his phone buzzes and the phone screen lights up, showing an incoming call. He flashes her an apologetic look and answers the phone with a firm hello. A few terse nods, invisible to the caller, and vocal grunts in agreement, he ends the conversation telling the other person he will be there shortly. Nana finishes her macchiato without taking her eyes off him. Even in a hoodie, Jay looks professional as he tucks in phone in his hoodie pocket, lips firmly together.
“Sorry, I have to go. But uh, let’s hang out again?” He packs away his laptop nonchalantly, not looking at Nana.
“Sure.” Nana hums. She sees the millisecond pause in his actions as if he has heard something unexpected. “But next time, you do the talking.” She adds when he glances up.
Chuckling, he stands up and rounds to Nana’s side, laptop nestled between left his arm and body and right hand reaching into his pockets to fish out his car keys. “I’ll text you?”
Nana nods with a shy smile. She hears the jingle of the bell and knows he is gone. She looks at her phone, 5:48PM. For a brief moment she wonders what would have happened if the phone call did not happen. She drops her head to her arms with loud exasperated sigh, friendly my ass.
It has been nine days since Jay drunkenly staggered into the bakery and nine days since she found out that her boyfriend had cheated on her. When she returned to her dorm, she barely mustered enough energy to entertain her roommate who gushed, quite literally gushed because she couldn’t shut up for at least two hours, over her lab partner, how considerate he is, how smart he is, how hardworking he is, how cute he is, and all the possible signals he has been sending her over the past weeks. Nana had politely nodded along, agreeing and humming at the appropriate times, frowning and reassuring when she had to. Her mind was swarming, and she feels the rise of panic and anger in her heart. She was waiting for Michael to text her, to explain, to apologize. Currently, she is still waiting. Nothing. She drops her pencil softly in annoyance as the professor at the front of the lecture hall continues with cell membrane potential and whatever threshold she should probably be noting. She huffs. She wonders if it’s time for her to shoot him a message, playing this waiting game obviously isn’t working-if anything, it’s hurting her mental state. She hasn’t been able to concentrate during class, unable to sleep, and binge eating plain bagels. Her roommate tried on several occasions to get her to talk, to spill a few drops of troubles; but she remains stubbornly closed. This is my own problem, she reasons. Besides, she doesn’t want anyone else to judge Michael. They don’t know him.
Suddenly, her seemingly socially dead phone vibrates. Jay: Hey!
She frowns at the simple greeting. Jay had slipped from her mind, tucked away under as a memory too ridiculous, too strange, too bizarre to consider real. Sure, she gave him her number, but she didn’t expect him to actual text her. Friends, he had labeled them. Not that she can pay much more attention to the lecture, she swiftly responds with a similarly simple text: Hi! As soon as the text is sent, she can feel the familiar sensation of anticipation and nervousness building in the stomach. The teacher drones on as she waits for a reply. The classroom is half empty as they just had midterms last week, and most students decided they have met the quota for attendance for the month-maybe even the semester-meaning spring is right around the corner. To many, spring indicates the end of a school year, and for those graduating, the end of a chapter to their young adulthood. For Nana, spring is the one-year anniversary of her long-term relationship with Michael. Just a few weeks ago, he promised her his presence and time in April. She isn’t sure if that is still happening.
Her phone buzzes again, and quickly another buzz in succession.
Jay: How are you?
Jay: Do you wanna grab coffee or something?
Nana stares at the open text in hesitation before another text bubble pops up.
Jay: Just wanting to get to know my new friend :)
She purses her lips. She hates the nausea-like sensation in the pit of her of stomach, almost like butterflies. But no, they are definitely not butterflies. She is just confused because Michael has yet to speak up and she is looking for a distraction. Jay is not the best form of distraction, and she is well aware, but here he is, offering an invitation, as friends. For once, she wants to underthink the situation and do something for the instant gratification.
Sure! Her fingers type before her mind fully registers her decision: Like today?
Jay: If you’re free?
The sudden noise and rowdiness in the room jostle Nana to start stuffing away her notebook and laptop. She swings her book bag across a shoulder, and with her thumb flying across her phone, she follows the crowd into the main hallway. She has one more class for the day. The classroom is in a building which lays tucked behind the school’s mini garden funded by the botanical association-her secret chill-out spot which she discovered the first semester of college. The garden is no secret to the students, but due to its distance from the major clustered buildings in the center of campus, the garden remains secluded and exclusive to those who have business around this part of campus. In her two years (one actual year if you only count the time he was here) of relationship, she never has gathered enough courage to bring Michael. At one point, she told herself it’s because Michael is not a student here, but in reality, she knows she is scared of tainting a place solely meant for her. She has learned to not share every bits and pieces of herself with a partner because when they leave, she ends up losing those pieces. When Michael gently took her into his arm and asked her to be his girlfriend, she wholeheartedly agreed, never feeling so safe and cared for, yet she guarded her heart in a very thin case of glass, transparent yet impenetrable. If he ever noticed it, he never mentioned it.
By the time Nana reaches her class, she is clearly out of breath as small beads of sweat collected around her hairline. She glances at her phone and is shocked to see she is fifteen minutes early. Her earliness explains why she is panting, for she has practically jogged from the central campus to the most northern part of the campus. She looks at her phone once more and only slightly less surprised that she has agreed to meet Jay at 4:30PM for coffee. What an awkward time for caffeine. With time to spare, she plops down on a bench. The garden is slowly coming back to life, the first signs of flower bulbs emerging, tender green tendrils poking through the damp soil. She relishes in the quietness, just a little before a wave of students rushes by her, filing into the worn building.
***
Jay runs a hand through his hair once again as he bounces a leg absentmindedly. His laptop propped opened forgotten as he stares to nowhere in particular. He brings the mug in his hand to his lip to find it empty. He bites his lip in frustration and sets the mug down too abrasively causing a few startled glances in his direction. His embarrassment brings him to focus on the present. In the past week or so, he has, on more than a few occasions, trashed his room, swiping everything clean off of his desk. Even now, his room is in a state of chaos. But he had to escape. He had thrown on a maybe clean hoodie over a pair of somewhat presentable sweats and drove to a café almost 30 minutes away. He didn’t realize how familiar the surrounding is until Nana suggested the same café not too long ago. The area seems familiar because it’s down the street from her campus. He finally closes his laptop, accepting that no matter how hard and sternly he glares at the Excel spreadsheet, those numbers are not going to magically decrease into something much more manageable.
He presses the home button on his phone and the display shows 4:17PM. He wonders if asking for coffee at 4:30PM was weird. He can’t help it. He spent the last three nights out of four out drunk with his friends, and he is sure his liver has been protesting. And, even more truthfully, Nana has captured his attention the first time he set eyes on her. He doesn’t fantasize her laying on his bed, caged beneath him, nor does he imagine a perfect newlywed life. He doesn’t feel like a moth to flame because she doesn’t burn. There are no volatile red emotions promising tantalizing nights and enticing games. She draws him in like a good book. Once he flips open the first page, he wants to continue to read, to find out what’s next, what more is there to her. He doesn’t need to make up fantasies because whatever she has to offer is much more interesting than what he conjures. The bell above the door jingles, and he cranes his neck to see Nana delicately step inside, her eyes darting around hesitantly. He casually waves a hand when she turns in his direction and beckons her to his table.
“Hi. You’ve been here long?” She drops her book bag next to the chair and settles down before him, her hands politely folded on the table and her legs shift to cross under the table.
“Not at all,” he breathes. His voice comes out sounding breathless, and he doesn’t know why.
“Are you sure?” She nods toward his laptop and finished drink.
“Ok, yeah, I’ve been here for a bit. Had to get out of the house,” he chuckles lightly. Now that she is here, he has no idea what to do or what to say. He had messaged her out of whim, in need of a distraction, and her very presence is a distraction enough.
“Rough day?” She rests her chin on a hand and waits for an answer. She takes in his outfit. Compared to his previous primped suits, he looks more boyish and playful with a hoodie and un-styled hair.
“You can say that,” he leans back to stretch his arms overhead. He tilts his head to one side to look at her through his fringe and inwardly smirks when he sees a light blush creeping up her cheeks. Still got it.
“If you called me out just to stare at me, perhaps I should name my price,” Nana quips. She mentally praises herself for an unafraid tone, but the heat in her cheeks nullifies all her efforts. When Jay raises an eyebrow, she has to physically resist the urge to shift farther up in her chair to accept his challenge. Instead, she slinks back.
“People pay to look at art,” her lips tremble and her cheeks feel tight before bursting forth an embarrassed giggle. “Sorry, that was terrible.” She can’t keep her voice steady, so she covers her mouth with both of her hands, hoping desperately for anything to save her from her own train wreck.
“Best I can do is coffee, maybe,” his eyes are full of mirth as he leans closer. He doesn’t miss the flash of apprehension in her eyes and the hiccup in her laughter. As much as he enjoys this, he decides he wants to be friends first. As suddenly as he is close, he is back to giving her the appropriate amount of personal space.
“Great, I want a macchiato,” she says without missing a beat. She may not be the most decisive person, but when it comes to food, she always knows what she wants. And being a college student, she will never reject free food, unless her danger alarms are going off; but so far, Jay has not given her any reason to be scared of him. At least, in the danger sense. As for metaphorical danger, she pushes the thought away before it is fully formed.
As if on a cue, a young barista approaches their table.
“Hello, would you like anything to drink, miss?” she asks as she takes away Jay’s empty mug.
“One hot macchiato with coconut milk, please,” Nana gives Jay a quick look as she orders. Though she may jump on free food, she is not one for taking advantage of anyone.
“And a slice of your dark mocha chocolate cake. All on one tab, thanks,” he smiles at the barista brightly, the kind of smile that renders you star struck, as with the poor barista.
“N-no problem,” she stutters and hurries to make their orders.
“My, my, what a charmer,” Nana teases. She understands exactly how the other girl feels.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” while his eyes are wide and innocent, his voice drips with sarcasm. Again, she feels like he is challenging her to fall for his trap. She knows if she responds with what she has in mind, she’ll be crossing a line a she can’t retreat; and as much as she wants to, she will not allow herself.
“But really, you look rough. Are you still stressed out about your company?” She asks in sincerity.
“Yeah. I…” He hesitates. “Say, if you fell into a deep dark hole-the is a serious question!” He feigns annoyance when Nana’s mouth twitches in amusement. “Right, and you tell those who are watching you from above that you are ok, that you can get out. But after a really long time, someone drops down a ladder. Would you take it?”
“Well, of course.”
“But you already said you can do it.”
“So? You’re allowed to change your mind. Would you not take it?”
“It doesn’t mean you’re weak?” Jay’s voice is the quietest Nana has ever heard.
“No, of course not. It would be stupid to not take it. You end up wasting more time down in that dark hole struggling all by yourself. Why reject help when it’s offered. No one can do everything alone. You help and you receive help. That’s normal isn’t it. It doesn’t at all undermine who you are and your strengths.”
Jay stares at Nana as she finishes, oblivious to the barista placing down their orders on their table and Nana’s soft thank you. He wants to slap himself awake, to rip his eyes away from her, but he can’t. He feels only slightly creepy when he thinks all he wants to do is watch her. Perhaps they are closer to strangers than friends that he feels unabashed to voice his doubts to her, or perhaps she gives off the aura of comfort and understanding-the way she remains attentive, the way her brows knit that day in his car, or the way she shows true concern for him. His heart quickens in his chest and a wave of pink washes over his eyes. He doesn’t believe in love at first sight, never has, and he thinks he never will. But when Nana whispers his name ever so gently, his resolve is only shaken a tiniest bit.
Nana isn’t sure what to do as Jay remains silent. She worries as she takes in his unmoving body, wondering if she sounded too cliché or sounded too close. They are barely acquaintances. But she sees fear and guilt flash across his face, and her heart clinches; he looks so vulnerable. His name slips out of her mouth as an escaped sigh, and she almost claps her hands to her stunned mouth but she is so caught off guard from herself she freezes. Quick, she panics, say something before it becomes weird.
“Tell me more about yourself,” Jay beats her to it. His eyes bore into her as she struggles (again) to find words. The impulse to question her about the slip of his name burns at his tongue, but the deer in headlight look she sports dampens the twinge as he decides to steer away from the topic to save her from further embarrassment. He reminds himself to ask about it later if he gets the chance.
“I’m not really all that interesting,” she focuses on the macchiato in front of her, relief flooding through her body as a new feeling of anxiety follows. Small talk and self-introduction are not her forte.
“It’s doesn’t have to be jaw-dropping interesting. How many people can tell impressive stories of near life or death experiences, or exhilarating memories of climbing Mt. Everest or swimming with sharks. Those are really cool stories, but your life and you are unique to yourself. So, let’s begin with the basics,” the gentle lift of the corners of his lips and the slight downward slant of his eyes give a soft glow to his face.
The interest swirling in Jay’s brown orbs is obvious, and, to Nana’s dropping heart, tempting. She knows where he is going with this, and as much as she wants to follow, as much as she wants to know the basics of Jay as well, her conscience pulls the reign. This is the motif of today, she thinks, how many times have I had to stop myself. Despite the internal panic, Nana keeps her face as friendly as possible. Yes, that’s the key, just be friendly. Nana relaxes as the words echo in her head. She did not grow up having many male friends, not because she doesn’t relate to boys or that they didn’t like her, boys and her never stayed just friends. Being platonic friends with boys is only one step away from a foreign concept. But practice makes perfect, right?
And so, Nana starts, from the beginning. She playfully recites her full name, birthdate, favorite color, and horoscope, earning an incredulous look from Jay. She retaliates with “you asked for it.” When Jay gestures with open palms for her to continue, she recalls her childhood, raised as a single child by her loving grandparents in the suburbs where they still reside. She reminisces the mischief she and her younger cousin often caused and every time without fail, tried to blame it on their older cousin. Throughout her story-telling, Jay has his arms crossed, leaning on the table, giving her his full attention, his cake forgotten for the moment. He watches her with subtle fondness as she gesticulates wildly, describing in detail of the time her older cousin accidentally set the Christmas tree on fire, and huffs indignantly when she gets to the part where her family unanimously thought it was her doing.
“I may have come up with some stupid ideas, but generally I was a good child!” She pouts when he points out she did have a reputation.
She recaptures the highlights of the “good ol’ days,” the days which she regrets treasuring and appreciating when she had the chance. She voices her thoughts quietly, catching Jay’s gaze.
“That’s all of us. It’s a pity we only know in hindsight,” Jay sticks the first forkful of cake into his mouth, face lighting up in delight at how surprisingly good it is. He offers some to Nana who politely declines.
“You don’t like sweets?” He asks as he goes for another bite.
“I do, just not feeling cake right now,” she plays with the rim of her mug. “Now that I’ve completely overshared, what do you have to offer in return?”
“Overshared? I haven’t even asked about your deepest fears or your darkest secrets. This is child play,” he yanks the fork out of his mouth with an ostentatious smirk which quickly dissipates into a burst of hearty laughter in which Nana joins. Before she can reply, his phone buzzes and the phone screen lights up, showing an incoming call. He flashes her an apologetic look and answers the phone with a firm hello. A few terse nods, invisible to the caller, and vocal grunts in agreement, he ends the conversation telling the other person he will be there shortly. Nana finishes her macchiato without taking her eyes off him. Even in a hoodie, Jay looks professional as he tucks in phone in his hoodie pocket, lips firmly together.
“Sorry, I have to go. But uh, let’s hang out again?” He packs away his laptop nonchalantly, not looking at Nana.
“Sure.” Nana hums. She sees the millisecond pause in his actions as if he has heard something unexpected. “But next time, you do the talking.” She adds when he glances up.
Chuckling, he stands up and rounds to Nana’s side, laptop nestled between left his arm and body and right hand reaching into his pockets to fish out his car keys. “I’ll text you?”
Nana nods with a shy smile. She hears the jingle of the bell and knows he is gone. She looks at her phone, 5:48PM. For a brief moment she wonders what would have happened if the phone call did not happen. She drops her head to her arms with loud exasperated sigh, friendly my ass.