"I don't mind," he assured me. "You deserve a break from all the cooking, anyway." I knew he was just relieved that I was still acting like a normal person, and he was not about to rock the boat.
I checked my e-mail before I started on my homework, and there was a long one from Renee. She gushed over every detail I'd provided her with, so I sent back another exhaustive description of my day. Everything but the motorcycles. Even happy-go-lucky Renee was likely to be alarmed by that.
School Tuesday had its ups and downs. Angela and Mike seemed ready to welcome me back with open arms–to kindly overlook my few months of aberrant behavior. Jess was more resistant. I wondered if she needed a formal written apology for the Port Angeles incident.
Mike was animated and chatty at work. It was like he'd stored up the semester's worth of talk, and it was all spilling out now. I found that I was able to smile and laugh with him, though it wasn't as effortless as it was with Jacob. It seemed harmless enough, until quitting time.
Mike put the closed sign in the window while I folded my vest and shoved it under the counter.
"This was fun tonight," Mike said happily. "Yeah," I agreed, though I'd much rather have spent the afternoon in the garage. "It's too bad that you had to leave the movie early last week." I was a little confused by his train of thought. I shrugged. "I'm just a wimp, I guess." "What I mean is, you should go to a better movie, something you'd enjoy," he explained. "Oh," I muttered, still confused. "Like maybe this Friday. With me. We could go see something that isn't scary at all." I bit my lip.
I didn't want to screw things up with Mike, not when he was one of the only people ready to forgive me for being crazy. But this, again, felt far too familiar. Like the last year had never happened. I wished I had Jess as an excuse this time.
"Like a date?" I asked. Honesty was probably the best policy at this point. Get it over with. He processed the tone of my voice "If you want. But it doesn't have to be like that."
"I don't date," I said slowly, realizing how true that was. That whole world seemed impossibly distant.
"Just as friends?" he suggested. His clear blue eyes were not as eager now. I hoped he really meant that we could be friends anyway.
"That would be fun. But I actually have plans already this Friday, so maybe next week?" "What are you doing?" he asked, less casually than I think he wanted to sound. "Homework. I have a… study session planned with a friend."
"Oh. Okay. Maybe next week."
He walked me to my car, less exuberant than before. It reminded me so clearly of my first months in Forks. I'd come full circle, and now everything felt like an echo–an empty echo, devoid of the interest it used to have.
The next night, Charlie didn't seem the smallest bit surprised to find Jacob and me sprawled across the living room floor with our books scattered around us, so I guessed that he and Billy were talking behind our backs.
"Hey, kids," he said, his eyes straying to the kitchen. The smell of the lasagna I'd spent the afternoon making–while Jacob watched and occasionally sampled–wafted down the hall; I was being good, trying to atone for all the pizza.
Jacob stayed for dinner, and took a plate home for Billy. He grudgingly added another year to my negotiable age for being a good cook.
Friday was the garage, and Saturday, after my shift at Newton's, was homework again. Charlie felt secure enough in my sanity to spend the day fishing with Harry. When he got back, we were all done–feeling very sensible and mature about it, too–and watching Monster Garage on the Discovery Channel.
"I probably ought to go." Jacob sighed. "It's later than I thought."
"Okay, fine," I grumbled. "I'll take you home."
He laughed at my unwilling expression–it seemed to please him.
"Tomorrow, back to work," I said as soon as we were safe in the truck. "What time do you want me to come up?"
There was an unexplained excitement in his answering smile. "I'll call you first, okay?" "Sure." I frowned to myself, wondering what was up. His smile widened.
I cleaned the house the next morning–waiting for Jacob to call and trying to shake off the Litest nightmare. The scenery had changed. Last night I'd wandered in a wide sea of ferns interspersed with huge hemlock trees. There was nothing else there, and I was lost, wandering aimless and alone, searching for nothing. I wanted to kick myself for the stupid field trip last week. I shoved the dream out of my conscious mind, hoping it would stay locked up somewhere and not escape again.