the last three days, Hanna had regained her position of Best Friend, like the Rodney incident had never happened.
Did Gabe have something to do with that?
She turned to look at him, and couldn’t see him. He wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen or near the dining room table. Probably he’d disappeared again—but she knew he’d be back.
Waiting by the door, Jessibelle shifted in her sandals, practicing moving in them, liking the feel of them. She twirled in a circle, like she had in the dance. And, finally, she could understand the attraction of dancing.
But would dancing with someone else be like dancing with Gabe? Even if she could dance as well as she had tonight?
A quick rap sounded on the door and Jessibelle stopped twirling. She opened the door for Hanna—who charged into the apartment.
“I’m so glad you’re home. I was afraid you’d be at your Spanish class.”
“That’s on Mondays.”
“Mondays, right. And today is Wednesday.” Hanna marched into the living room. “But I never know what you’re doing. Not anymore. Have you noticed that?”
“Noticed what?” Jessibelle asked as she followed her friend.
Hanna stopped in the middle of the room and spun around. “That we don’t do nearly as many things together anymore?”
“Well, yes,” Jessibelle stumbled on the words. “But—”
“But—?”
“You have Rodney.”
“I know!” Hanna spoke loudly, like she’d just figured that out. “Yesterday? When we were shopping for your dress?” She paced over to the dark living room window. “I had so much fun I forgot all about him.”
Beyond the window, across the bay, the lighthouse flashed its familiar beacon over the water. “That’s all right,” Jessibelle told her friend, wanting to reassure her. “I mean—”
“But when I got home—” Hanna threw up her arms in a gesture of futility.
“Yes?”
“He was upset!” She stomped her foot and stormed back across the room. “Because I was doing something without him! Can you believe that?” She turned and stood with her hands on her hips. “He was acting all hurt that I hadn’t watched television with him—that stupid car racing his cousin does. And when I told him I’d been shopping with you, he said I should not be spending time with you.”
“He did?” Rodney was more stupid than Jessibelle remembered.
“You know how I said I was only having my sisters in the wedding party?” Hanna was pacing again.
Now what? Jessibelle tried to keep up with Hanna. “Yes. You told me you wanted—”
Hanna stopped mid stride, whirled around and pointed at Jessibelle. “I wanted you in the wedding party. But Rodney said you would feel uncomfortable being my Maid of Honor.” Hanna paused, catching her breath. And then, “Were you?”
“Pardon?”
“Were you, I mean, would you have been uncomfortable? Being my Maid of Honor?”
“Well . . .”
“Tell me.” Hanna folded her arms.
“Sort of,” Jessibelle answered. “I guess.” Her confession floundered, and then took strength. “Yes,” she said, finally owning it. “At first. But . . .” The idea sunk in, at last. “But not anymore.”
Hanna blinked and her arms fell to her sides. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” Absolutely, completely, utterly.
“That’s what I thought,” Hanna said, and she flopped down on the couch. “But Rodney keeps telling me you’re not over him.”
She had not been over him. Not until today.
Jessibelle felt a sting of doubt. Had they seen through her careful mask of indifference? Should she confess her hurt feelings to Hanna? Should she admit that Rodney had broken her heart?
Be honest, she told herself. She sat beside Hanna and looked out the big living room window at the darkness, and at the beam of light shining from the lighthouse.
“For a time . . . for a long time, I was not over him.” And now she was, like her heart had never been broken, but only . . . confused. “And now, I most certainly am
Did Gabe have something to do with that?
She turned to look at him, and couldn’t see him. He wasn’t in the living room or the kitchen or near the dining room table. Probably he’d disappeared again—but she knew he’d be back.
Waiting by the door, Jessibelle shifted in her sandals, practicing moving in them, liking the feel of them. She twirled in a circle, like she had in the dance. And, finally, she could understand the attraction of dancing.
But would dancing with someone else be like dancing with Gabe? Even if she could dance as well as she had tonight?
A quick rap sounded on the door and Jessibelle stopped twirling. She opened the door for Hanna—who charged into the apartment.
“I’m so glad you’re home. I was afraid you’d be at your Spanish class.”
“That’s on Mondays.”
“Mondays, right. And today is Wednesday.” Hanna marched into the living room. “But I never know what you’re doing. Not anymore. Have you noticed that?”
“Noticed what?” Jessibelle asked as she followed her friend.
Hanna stopped in the middle of the room and spun around. “That we don’t do nearly as many things together anymore?”
“Well, yes,” Jessibelle stumbled on the words. “But—”
“But—?”
“You have Rodney.”
“I know!” Hanna spoke loudly, like she’d just figured that out. “Yesterday? When we were shopping for your dress?” She paced over to the dark living room window. “I had so much fun I forgot all about him.”
Beyond the window, across the bay, the lighthouse flashed its familiar beacon over the water. “That’s all right,” Jessibelle told her friend, wanting to reassure her. “I mean—”
“But when I got home—” Hanna threw up her arms in a gesture of futility.
“Yes?”
“He was upset!” She stomped her foot and stormed back across the room. “Because I was doing something without him! Can you believe that?” She turned and stood with her hands on her hips. “He was acting all hurt that I hadn’t watched television with him—that stupid car racing his cousin does. And when I told him I’d been shopping with you, he said I should not be spending time with you.”
“He did?” Rodney was more stupid than Jessibelle remembered.
“You know how I said I was only having my sisters in the wedding party?” Hanna was pacing again.
Now what? Jessibelle tried to keep up with Hanna. “Yes. You told me you wanted—”
Hanna stopped mid stride, whirled around and pointed at Jessibelle. “I wanted you in the wedding party. But Rodney said you would feel uncomfortable being my Maid of Honor.” Hanna paused, catching her breath. And then, “Were you?”
“Pardon?”
“Were you, I mean, would you have been uncomfortable? Being my Maid of Honor?”
“Well . . .”
“Tell me.” Hanna folded her arms.
“Sort of,” Jessibelle answered. “I guess.” Her confession floundered, and then took strength. “Yes,” she said, finally owning it. “At first. But . . .” The idea sunk in, at last. “But not anymore.”
Hanna blinked and her arms fell to her sides. “Are you sure?”
“Absolutely.” Absolutely, completely, utterly.
“That’s what I thought,” Hanna said, and she flopped down on the couch. “But Rodney keeps telling me you’re not over him.”
She had not been over him. Not until today.
Jessibelle felt a sting of doubt. Had they seen through her careful mask of indifference? Should she confess her hurt feelings to Hanna? Should she admit that Rodney had broken her heart?
Be honest, she told herself. She sat beside Hanna and looked out the big living room window at the darkness, and at the beam of light shining from the lighthouse.
“For a time . . . for a long time, I was not over him.” And now she was, like her heart had never been broken, but only . . . confused. “And now, I most certainly am
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