My mom’s car. She drives a twelve-year-old Honda. My parents are always talking about replacing it, but it still runs well, so they’re too practical to justify the expense. I’m almost positive it has a CD player.
I tiptoe out of my room and back down to the entryway. My mom’s keys are hanging by the door on a nail next to the coat hooks. I slip my feet into my shoes and open the door. At some point in the hour since I arrived home, it started snowing. Our ordinary suburban neighborhood has turned into a magical sparkling wonderland with snow dusting the lawns and Christmas lights blinking on houses. My spirits lift, just slightly. I didn’t used to believe in miracles, or second chances but, well, here I am living this year over again. So, maybe there could be a chance for me and Jacob.
Out in the car, I back out of the driveway and head down the street. When I’m around the corner and out of sight of the house, I pull over and park. If anyone in my house wakes up, I don’t want them to find me in the driveway listening to Jacob’s CD. I can tell them I forgot my toothbrush and ran to the twenty-four-hour pharmacy or something.
I leave the car running, and with shaking hands, I carefully pull the CD from the case. After a bit of trial and error, I figure out how to open the player, and a little plastic tray comes sliding out. I lay the CD on the tray and the dashboard sucks it back in. There are a few clicks and whirs, and then the digital display blinks the words Track 1. And suddenly, the car fills with the first gentle chords of a piano.
It takes me a second to register what I’m hearing. But when I do, my heart bursts open like molten chocolate cake.
Chapter 35
I’d know that haunting melody anywhere, the beautiful chords of the song Jacob played on the piano that night in his apartment.
That song was for me? He wrote it for me?
Tears well in my eyes, and I’m filled with an overwhelming longing to be there with him again, on that night, on the couch in the semidarkness. He loved me then, I know he did. Before I screwed it all up, before I wished away that year and wished for this one instead. I’d wanted Alex and my job and so many things that I can see with such clarity were wrong for me. When what I really needed was right there in front of me. If I could go back, I’d do it all differently. I’d never let him walk out thinking everything that happened between us was a mistake.
I turn up the volume as the music swells around me.
I’d never let him walk out at all.
A few more bars of the music play, and then—Oh God, what’s happening?—the player starts to rattle. I lean in, searching for a power button to switch it off. But there isn’t one, and the noise grows louder, sort of a creaking now. I frantically hit the eject button to get my CD out. The disk stays in the machine, but now it’s making a horrible, scratching, metallic whir. I try the eject button again, over and over. Oh please.
Finally, the CD player jerks open with another terrible screech, and my disk comes flying out with a pop. I grab it, and when I do, it cracks into two pieces.
“No!” I shriek.
Noooooooo.
I clutch the halves in my hands, trying to piece them back together. But even if I could somehow make that work, the whole disk is marked with wide scratches, as if it were clawed by a lion who hates me.
It’s toast.
It’s gone, and I’ll never get it back. And maybe that’s a metaphor for everything that mattered before I stupidly tanked my old life and chose this one instead. Maybe Kasumi is gone, and Jacob is gone, and my dream to be a pastry chef is gone. And the old Sadie—the one who was pretty great but talked herself into not believing it—maybe she’s gone, too.
I flop my head down on the steering wheel with a low moan.
Thump. Thump.
My head flies up and swings toward the noise on the driver’s side window. I let out a scream. All I can see is a gloved hand and an arm in a blue coat, but it’s clearly a man—tall and broad—standing next to the car, knocking on the glass. I reach for the gear shift so I can peel out of here. But right before I do, the man calls out, “Sadie?” It’s muffled through the window. How does he know my name? And then—“It’s Jacob.” Ah, okay, that explains it. He takes a step back and holds his hands in the air as if to show me he’s harmless.
I roll down the window. “Jesus, Jacob, you scared me to death,” I yell. My heart bubbles like doughnuts in hot oil.
“Shhh. Don’t wake the neighborhood,” he whispers. “What are you doing here?” Jacob bends down to peer into the car, and little droplets of melted snow sparkle on his dark hair. What if I got out of the car and threw myself in his arms? But then I remember the CD on my lap. I quickly shove the pieces onto the floor mat to hide the evidence.
“What are you doing here?” I ask. Maybe my longing for him somehow sent a wish into the universe and he appeared? Believe me, stranger things have happened. But next time, the universe and I need to work on our wish-delivery system. I can’t take this kind of excitement.
Jacob hitches his chin toward the Craftsman bungalow across the street from where I’m parked. “That’s my parents’ place.”
Oh right. Jacob grew up only a couple of blocks from Owen and me. I probably would have recognized the house in the light of day, but tonight, I had my mind on other things.
“I tried calling when I saw you sitting out here, but you didn’t answer,” Jacob continues.
I look around the car. “I think I left my phone at home.”
“So, are you here looking for… me?” he asks.
“Yes.” Yes, I’m here looking for you. I will be looking for you for the rest of my life. “Uh, I mean, no. I mean, I was just out for a drive. You want to come?” I kick the CD farther under my seat.
He hesitates, and I’m seized with wild hope. Finally, his shoulders droop, just a little. “I can’t. Paige is here, and we were in the middle of a movie. I just came out when we noticed your car.”
“Oh.” I look back toward the house, and Paige is standing in the doorway now. I mean, of course Paige is here. That’s how it works. When you’re dating someone, and they’re important to you, you invite them home for the holidays. It’s not like Owen didn’t warn me. She waves, and I lift my hand weakly in return. “That’s so nice that Paige is here with you for Christmas.”
“Well, her family is in California, and she couldn’t get the time off to fly out there. I didn’t want her to be alone.”
“She’s lucky to be with you.” So lucky. “I’ll let you get back to your movie.” I shift my body so I’m facing the front windshield.
Jacob takes a step back, away from the car. “Merry Christmas, Sadie.”
“You too, Jacob.” I put the car in gear and drive off.
Chapter 36
It’s amazing how much heavier your body feels with half of your heart missing.
I drift through the rest of the holiday in a daze, which, in the end, is a blessing. When I make the announcement to my family that I didn’t get the promotion, I have a new level of detachment that I’ve never been able to achieve with my parents before. I guess they’re upset, but you know what? That’s their problem. I’m dealing with my own heartbreak over here, and I don’t have the energy to suffer through theirs.