If any hat could be made for Kim, it was the ridiculous atrocity she’d placed on her head. Kim was above average in height, a head taller than my five feet, seven inches. Her short, caramel-colored hair framed her face in care free waves. Crazy and unpredictable as she was, people were drawn to her. I knew we would be friends the moment I met her in the hallway of Andrews; I couldn’t fathom having someone more interesting in my life.
Kim walked with me across campus to class, keeping my mind from more somber thoughts by regaling me with her most recent week of fantastic mishaps and blunders. She never failed to entertain me with her unbridled honesty and lack of brain-to-mouth filter.
Once in class, Kim leaned toward me and kept her voice low. “So, the funeral….”
I squirmed in my seat. “I...don’t really want to….”
“Oh, right. Yeah. So…it was yesterday?” Unlike Beth, Kim didn’t avoid unpleasantness. At times she seemed to slam face first into it with a smile on her face.
“Yes,” I sighed. “It was very nice.”
“Very nice,” Kim echoed, nodding. “I tried to call you last night. You didn’t answer.”
“I didn’t get in until late. I missed the last bus and ended up taking a cab.”
Kim eyed me with disbelief. “The last bus? I didn’t know public transportation had a curfew.” I considered that for a moment before she continued. “Why didn’t you drive? Your mother picked you up, didn’t she?”
“I ended up sharing a cab.”
“With your mom?”
“No, Kim. Not with my mom,” I deadpanned. “I met a man at the bus stop. We both missed the bus.” I didn’t confess that I’d had a momentary conscious black out and let the bus pull away.
“You shared a cab with some random guy at the bus stop? Interesting.”
“Not everyone’s stories end with a dramatic punch line like yours. We just shared a cab,” I said, trying to make my answer sound final.
“Was he old?”
I rolled my eyes. “No.”
“Ugly?”
“No, Kim. He was nice.”
“I didn’t ask if he was nice. So…he was cute, young…and?”
“Jack’s funeral was yesterday, Kim. I was a mess,” I said, feeling my eyebrows pull together.
“Why do you do that?”
“Do what?” I asked, exasperated.
“Call your dad ‘Jack’? I thought you were close?”
“We are. We were. I don’t know…because that’s his name?” Kim stared at me, unimpressed with my answer. I began again, “It’s always felt weird calling him Dad to other people. Just like I wouldn’t call a boyfriend ‘Honey’ to you. It’s just…personal.”
“That’s weird, Nina.”
“Well, you are the authority on weird.”
Kim nodded, unaffected by my insult. “So who was the mystery guy? Does he go here?”
“I don’t think so. His stop was after mine,” I murmured, rolling my pen between my fingers.
Because my stop was first, I was curious if he resided near the university, and if I might run into him again. I cringed at the thought of that prospect. What would I possibly say to him? “Hi, Jared. Remember me? The Alice Cooper look-alike that you shared an awkward cab ride with for twenty minutes?”
“What’s with the face?” Kim’s expression screwed in a way I could only assume mirrored my own.
“Nothing. I just…,” I shrugged, “he probably thought I was nuts.”
“That could possibly be the most boring story I’ve ever heard,” Kim said, deflated.
“I tried to spare you the non-details. He did have a nice smile, though,” I mused.
Kim looked up at me with renewed interest and opened her mouth to say something, but Professor Hunter walked in the room. I hadn’t noticed the numerous empty seats. Some of the students were tossing their papers on his desk and leaving the way they came instead of meandering to their seats as usual.
“What are you still doing here? Turn in your papers and get out. Your grades will be posted on the web site. Happy Holidays,” he said to those of us still peppered across the room.
As finals week came to an end, the nightly ritual of curling into a ball to cry seemed to be a permanent fixture in my life. The first week of break, I had a bit more control over the emptiness when it hit. After that, there were a few nights that I escaped the sadness all together. The grief found new strength Christmas night, but to my relief falling asleep without tears became a bit easier after the holidays came to a close.
I found it disconcerting that although time provided some relief, I was also further from when Jack was a part of my life. Each passing day was that much longer since I’d been able to call him or hear his voice. With time, relief and apprehension intertwined.
When the spring semester began, Jared had become a blurred image from a day I wanted to file away, so it was a surprise to see him standing a few feet away from me in line at the Urban Outfitters off campus. I wasn’t confident that it was him at first, but when he accepted his receipt from the sales person and turned, I stared at him long enough to be certain. He didn’t suffer from the same hesitation that I did.
“Nina?”