“You can have whatever theory you want.” I could hear his goofy grin over the phone. “I know that it’s all Brenna Blixen magic. I’m just glad you had some sort of mental breakdown and decided to date me.”
“Jake.” I giggled. It was easy to dismiss all of his humble talk when he had such a good sense of humor about the whole thing.
“So, what’s up with tonight? It’s gonna be dressy like Thanksgiving was, right?”
He had worn his blue button-down to Thanksgiving. And my birthday dinner. And every other occasion he had had to come to my house for. Jake’s wardrobe was depressingly small, but I had remedied that.
“Look under your bed.” I bounced up and down on my springy mattress, excited despite the impending bad news that I knew I had to tell him sooner rather than later.
“What?” I heard him put the phone down and move around in his bland, boring little room. He picked the phone back up. “Bren, what is all this? How did you get it here?”
“I snuck it in my big purse. You know the one. You make fun of it all the time.” I smiled with pride. “Open your presents up.”
I heard him tear wrapping paper. “Wow. Um, these are from Banana Republic. That’s just a stupid amount of money to spend on clothes for me.”
“Jake. I love you in blue, but if I had to look at that button-down one more time, I was going to rip it off of you.” I jumped up and ran my hand over the many, many gorgeous outfits hanging in my closet, and it was such a deeply satisfying feeling. I was well aware Jake probably didn’t feel it quite the same way, but there had to be some sense of happiness when he looked at his new clothes.
“Uh, you did. The last three times I wore it. I thought you were ripping it off of me because of how good I looked in it.”
“Shut up.” But I smiled from ear to ear. I loved that I found him so irresistible. “Do you like them? I kept the receipts, so you can take them back if you want.”
“No way. You have the better judgment in clothes and stuff. If you think I’m gonna look hot in this stuff, I’m wearing it. Not that you need any encouragement.”
“Haha.” I rolled my eyes. “At least you dropped the whole humble guy thing.”
“Well, I think you exaggerate about how smart and great I am. But as far as my hotness? There’s no debating that.” I heard him opening the packages. “You seriously just quadrupled my wardrobe.”
“Well, considering you had less than ten pieces of clothing in total, that wasn’t very hard to do.” I took a few pair of shoes out and assessed them. Shoes were always big space-takers in luggage. As much as I loved going through my awesome clothes, I knew I needed to come out and tell Jake about Paris. But our conversation was so fun and sweet, I was greedy for a few more minutes.
“You spent a lot of money.” Now his voice had an edge of grumpiness to it.
“I made a killing at the last two Folly shows.” I designed shirts for a local band, Folly, and got a cut of the profits they made from the sales. It was only a small amount per shirt, but it added up quickly. Especially considering their fan base had been growing in the last few months after a couple of incredible shows.
“You should be saving that money. Aren’t you going to Ireland this summer?” he reminded me. “You’re going to need it, Brenna.”
I sighed. The Ireland trip was looming, and I was upbeat about my chances to get into the program, but not positive. Mom and Jake, on the other hand, had no doubts and talked about it as if it were already set in stone. “It’s not for sure.” I fell back on my bed, pushing clothes away with my elbows. “Rotary still has two rounds of interviews. I can’t be sure about it until the end of next month.”
“Yeah, like there’s any way they’re going to reject you,” he scoffed.
And that was why Jake was so amazing and so frustrating at the same time. He really did believe that I was pretty perfect. If I told him that I was going to quit school to be a model or a racecar driver or an astronaut, he would not have one negative thing to say. He would be supportive and wonderful and…Jake.
“So, speaking of Europe,” I started. And stopped.
“Yeah?” I heard his steady breathing, the happiness in his voice, and I didn’t want Paris. I wanted Jake! I wanted Jake all winter break. I wanted to drive around in his big blue truck with no particular place to go. I wanted him to take me ice skating. I wanted to eat out at our favorite Japanese place and go see late movies and talk on the phone all night. And if I worked on him long and hard, I knew I could get him to sneak over, climb in my window and sleep with me, spooned around me all night and into the gray morning.
“Jake, I got another big present today.” I sat up and pushed the bangs off of my forehead. He waited. “I got a ticket to Paris.”
“France?” Jake’s voice rang with more genuine enthusiasm than I’d been able to muster.
“Yes.” I was about to spill the details, but his excitement for me eclipsed my attempts.
“That’s perfect, babe. You‘ve wanted to go to forever.” Jake knew how much I wanted to see Paris. “You and Mom going?” It was weird to hear him call her ‘Mom,’ but also kind of cute. He didn’t do it to her face. When he talked to her it was always strictly Mrs. Blixen. He just referred to her as ‘Mom’ with me.
“Yes.” I dragged the word out slowly.
“Cool.” He seemed actually cool with it. “When?”
“Day after tomorrow.” I rushed the words out -- like ripping a Band-Aid off in one shot -- and winced. In the second of silence Jake took to collect his thoughts or quietly freak out or hang up on me, I added the clincher that was sure to break his heart. And mine. “And I‘ll stay all winter break.”
Jake let out a long sigh. I knew what he felt. I pictured a big, bright, shiny balloon suddenly punctured by a sharp needle. “It’s so good for you and Mom to do this together. I’ll be able to pick up more work at Zinga’s. Can I call you?” There was an almost unnoticeable shake to his words, but leave it to Jake to put the best possible spin on the situation.
“Jake, you can be a little less perfect about this.” I fell back on my bed with relief. I prepared myself for a tantrum, because that was what I would have done. But Jake was on a different level when it came to cool and calm. He was like a saint. Or Buddha.
“I’m not gonna lie.” His voice sounded thick, like he was talking around a lump in his throat. “I’m gonna miss you so much. I was really excited about seeing a lot of you. A lot of you,” he added. His voice went husky, and my body screamed for him.
Why? Why did the choice have to be between Paris and Jake? How evil could life be? Correction; how evil could Mom be? God, her love hurt.
“I’ll miss you so much.” I closed my eyes and let the hot tears fill right up to my lashes and drip out the sides of my eyes. “I almost don’t want to go.”
“Are you kidding?” he practically screamed. “You can’t ever not do something because of me, okay? I think Mom thinks that I’m going to drag you down. If you didn’t do this, she would assume I told you not to, or that you didn’t go because of me. And I want you to go as much as she does. Maybe more.”
And I had nothing at all to say. Because Jake was dead on.
Mom had come out and said that Jake wasn’t headed in the same direction that I was. She peppered that lecture with lots of nice compliments about Jake’s good manners, his work ethic, his good looks, his kindness, and careful driving. But the message had been that all of that didn’t make up for what he didn’t have: the right upbringing and a solid drive for education. She would use any excuse to point out how Jake was ‘holding me back.’
I felt like Jake had so much potential, there was no box to put him in. Mom felt like people couldn’t escape their fates or what they were born to do. Mom said that I was too young to understand, that I was too idealistic. It made me feel like arguing, but what could I say? I was too young. And I guess too idealistic.