I.
The streets were colored in the familiar hues of an early morning summer, the surrounding houses frozen in an aura of orange and yellow.
How appropriate,
I thought, considering my destination. More than any other day, it felt like life was on my side, showing me signs, pointing me in the right direction. Assuring me that I had made the right choice. I drove along under the speed limit, wanting to savor the journey, to give myself the time to appreciate the positive head space I was presently occupying. It was a certainty that was so foreign to me, and I wanted to simmer in it.
You're going to show her,
I told myself again.
You're going to show her why this isn't goodbye.
This was quite ironic, considering how soon I would be leaving. I was mere days away from beginning my freshman year at East Shores University, and my nerves were buzzing with excitement. I was finally ready, because I knew I now had the tools and wisdom to navigate the unknown, my fear tempered by the recognition of the many opportunities headed my way.
All thanks to her.
I had spent the past week getting everything in order with my dad, packing and picking up last minute supplies—including a new laptop he had surprised me with—and stuffing it into the back of his pick up truck. We were prepared, locked and loaded and ready to go, leaving the remaining few days open to relax and make the most of what little summer I had left.
This included my last day at the library, which hit me harder than I had anticipated, a feeling exacerbated by my boss's insistence on throwing me a going away party. I wasn't surprised in the slightest; Sandy's kindness was expected by all those who knew her, but it was still overwhelming saying goodbye to the people I had worked with for two years.
I'm really going to miss this place,
I realized. The smell of old books, the metal rumblings of an empty card, hell, even the incessant noise of overexcited children, it had all become so routine for me. It was strange to think it was all over.
She
was there of course, making sure to put up a show of friendly indifference you'd expect from a coworker. She shook my hand and wished me well, just like the others, but in her eyes I could see it, that hidden wall of hers holding everything back. It took all my effort not to throw aside all caution and give her a hug, for everyone to see. We had worked together during Summer Reading after all, literally side by side, so it's not like a little extra affection would have been out of place. Instead though I merely lingered, our fingertips curling ever so slightly as we parted, reminding us both that it wasn't quite over yet for us.
At one point that day, as I was finishing up my second helping of cake, it dawned on me just how significant my decision to apply at the library had been. If it wasn't for me taking that job, I never would have met
her
, and who knows how my life would have turned out. I thought about it, about how the tiniest of decisions can have profound consequences, taking root and blossoming into something unexpected and extraordinary.
The sun hung higher in the sky when I finally arrived. I reached into my pocket and fished out the excuse I had for visiting
her
one last time. The flash drive was only an inch long, and weighed nothing, and yet it sat heavy in my hand. It was near impossible to believe that something so large, so momentous, could be contained in something so small, and yet it was, replicated and ready to be shared with the one who had made it possible.
The house announced my arrival as I approached, just as it had the first time months ago, wind chimes jingling and jangling to the light breeze traversing the humid atmosphere, and just as I did the first time, I stopped to take it in with a few long steady breaths, preparing myself for what was to come.
You have your plan,
I reminded myself one last time before turning the handle to her door. There was no turning back now. By the end of the day, I would know, one way or the other, and one way or the other, I was ready to accept my fate.
You put in the work. The rest is up to her.
II.
"Miss Amber?"
"In here Jake," I heard her say softly from the living room.
I strode in to find Miss Amber sprawled out on her couch, wearing a worn out looking Nirvana shirt matched with a pair of plain sweat pants, her hair a frizzy copper mess, watching television. It was the first time I'd seen her like that, I realized, so unprepared for my arrival, and for whatever reason I couldn't help but smile.
"What?" she asked.
"Nothing," I said. "It's just, I've never seen you watching TV."
Her eyes shifted quickly to the side. "Huh, I guess you're right."
Studio laughter burst through the television speakers. "What're you watching?"
"
Cheers
," she said. "It's my favorite."
"I've heard of that show but I've never seen it."
"Well, we're just gonna have to correct that."
Miss Amber sat up and scooted over, making room for me to take a seat next to her. It only took a few moments for our bodies to inch closer together, for her head to rest against my shoulder, and for a short while we never moved, our silence broken only by periodic bursts of laughter.
"So what do you think?" Miss Amber asked when the episode had ended.
"It's not bad for an older show."
She looked at me with exaggerated disbelief. "Way to make a woman feel her age Jake."
"I'm sorry Miss Amber, I didn't mean—"
"Relax, you're fine." She laughed and tapped me on the nose with her index finger. "Gosh, you're so gullible sometimes. It's cute."
"Can you blame me?" I said. "I never know what to expect with you. Especially after last time. For all I know you've got another surprise waiting for me right now."
Miss Amber shook her head and drifted her eyes downward, drawing attention to her disheveled appearance. "Afraid not hun. What you see is what you get this time."
"Oh, I'm not complaining. Which reminds me." I pulled the flash drive out of my pocket and held it out for her to see. "Here it is."
She gingerly snatched it out of my fingers, inspecting it with a long, thoughtful pause. "Have you watched it?"
"I have."
"And?"
