I gave a short laugh. “Things are fine,” I said.
“Really?” He turned his head to look at me, and I shrugged. I knew what he was asking, I just wasn’t sure how to answer. Was he hoping I’d tell him that Matt and I were even more miserable than last week? Or that things were better?
“No, not really,” I finally said. “Nothing’s worse, I guess. I think it’s just going to take time.”
Jimmy nodded and said, “That makes sense.”
The house was dark when we got there, and Jimmy turned on the lights as we walked through each room. “Is Ash staying at her parents’ tonight?” I asked, and Jimmy said, like he didn’t care one way or the other, “I don’t know.”
We walked through the kitchen, where Jimmy stopped at the refrigerator. “Want a beer?” he asked, and I said, “Sure, why not?” He grabbed two and opened one before handing it to me. It was one of the leftover pumpkin beers from Halloween and it was a little too sweet, but I took a long drink anyway.
I cleared my throat, trying to think of something to talk about, and then finally said, “I should get my stuff.” And as I headed toward the basement, Jimmy walked with me like it was a normal thing to do, followed me down the stairs and sat on the couch outside the bedroom as I went in to grab the dress I was planning to wear the next night. When I returned, Jimmy was reclining on the couch with his feet resting on the coffee table. I draped my dress over the back of a chair and then sat on the other side of the couch, picked up my beer, and took a sip.
In all the months we’d lived at the Dillons’, they almost never came to the basement—I could count the number of times Ash had been down there on one hand, and that was only after I’d called upstairs for her to come and give me an opinion on what I was wearing. And I was pretty sure Jimmy hadn’t stepped foot in there once. They did this on purpose, I’m sure, trying to give us privacy to make it feel like it was our own space. And they’d done such a good job that I’d almost forgotten this basement belonged to them. Jimmy seemed out of place in it.
“What time does everything start tomorrow?” I asked, at the same time that Jimmy said, “You must be ready to get out of here.” We looked at each other, both smiled just a little, and then I answered, “Maybe. It feels sad now that it’s all ending, doesn’t it?”
“You have no idea how sad,” Jimmy said, and I felt like an idiot.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Of course, I didn’t mean—” But Jimmy held up his hand.
“It’s okay,” he said. “I know what you meant.”
“How are you feeling? I mean, I guess that’s sort of an obvious question.” I felt like I was tripping over my words.
“Not that obvious. Do you know that no one’s asked me that? Not Ash or my parents. No one.”
“I’m sure they just don’t want you to have to talk about how disappointed you are. They already know.”
“Yeah,” Jimmy said. “It just sucks though, you know? That’s really all it comes down to.” He set his beer on the table and put his head in his hands and the first thing I thought was, Oh God, please don’t cry. But I didn’t see his shoulders moving and his breathing sounded normal.
“Hey,” I said, getting up and moving next to him, putting my hand on his back. “It’s okay.”
He looked up then, and I was aware of how loudly my heart was beating. I hoped he couldn’t see it. My mouth felt dry as I said, “It won’t seem so bad with a little distance.”
“I know,” Jimmy said. My hand was still on his back, and he put his hand on my leg. “You should listen to your own advice sometime.”
It had been over ten years since I’d been in this particular type of situation, and I was surprised at how familiar it still felt—those seconds when you’re with a guy and know something is about to happen, when both of you feel the possibility, the electricity between you; but you also know it’s still early enough to get out of it, that one of you could shift or look away and let the moment pass, leaving you to wonder later if you’d made up the whole thing in your head. Our eyes met and I told myself this was a bad idea, that I should stand up or walk out, or just do something.