restless, but we never went back to Jamaica.” Nola’s voice cracked and I thought she was going to cry, but she managed to hold it in. “My father is buried there. And I know it sounds nuts, but I’ve always wanted to visit his grave and say my goodbyes. I was so young and in shock when he died that I didn’t know how to deal with it. One day he was here, and the next,” she snapped her fingers, “he was gone. I’ve always felt like I didn’t get to say goodbye.”
I reached out and grabbed her hand and ran my thumb across the top of her skin; and to my surprise, she didn’t pull away.
“One day I’m going to go back,” she said. “I still have family there, but it’s hard to keep in touch when you have to move every year, you know? But one day…” Her voice trailed off and she was quiet for a long time. My heart banged around in my chest. I longed to wrap Nola in my arms and tell her I’d take her to Jamaica so she could say goodbye to her dad. The look on her face made me want to fix everything that had gone wrong in her life.
“Anyway,” she said wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm. “Sorry for being such a girl.”
“Shhhh. You have nothing to apologize for, Nola. Thank you for sharing this with me. I know how difficult it can be to talk about the not-so-good parts of our lives, so I’m honored. Seriously.”
She smiled at me, and my heart felt like it doubled in size. Shit . If she could make me feel this good so quickly, I wondered where we could possibly go from here. At this rate, I’d be confessing my undying love for her in less than a week. I needed to slow this shit down before I messed it up. If I freaked her out and she ran away I knew I would go chasing after her.
“I feel like I’ve been talking about myself this whole time. It’s your turn to over-share, Scout,” Nola said, chuckling.
I wished I could pour my heart out, but I didn’t want to drive her away. Mine wasn’t a story of a dead father and a grief-stricken mother. No, my story included two junkie parents and a whole lot of abuse, fights, and getting into trouble.
If I got Nola to fall for me before I told her all of the sordid details of my life she might not run screaming in the other direction. I know it probably wasn’t fair holding out on her, but I couldn’t take the risk. If I told her my life story now, Nola would probably think I was damaged goods, and honestly, she’d be right.
“Okay, but first I’m going to read this essay,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t notice I was dodging her question. I pulled the paper out of my back pocket and she tried to snatch it out of my hands again.
“Please don’t!”
“Oh come on, I’m sure it’s brilliant.” I flipped open the first page and read a few lines out loud before pausing. “You wrote this?
She cast her eyes downward and pulled a hand through her hair. “Unfortunately.”
“ Unfortunately ?” I looked at her like she was crazy. “This is great! I don’t even know what half these words mean,” I laughed and pointed to the page. “Like this, what the heck is Intersectionality? And this, what cisgender privilege?”
“They’re both terms you hear a lot in academic discourse on feminism,” she said like it was common knowledge.
Holy shit ; Nola was a brainiac. My face stretched into a wide grin, and I wondered how the hell I hit the amazing girl lotto—fucking gorgeous and smart?
“So, you’re some kind of genius?”
“Not hardly,” she said, her eyes back on the ground.
“Seriously, baby, this reads like it’s straight out of a textbook. You have a gift.”
“Tell that to my professor,” Nola grumbled. “She hates me.”
My eyes narrowed; how was that even possible?
“I don’t believe that. How can she hate you?”
“To be fair, she seems to hate everyone. But she totally hates me more. I worked so hard on this essay and she gave me a D+” Nola threw up her hands.
I scrubbed my face. It had been a long
I reached out and grabbed her hand and ran my thumb across the top of her skin; and to my surprise, she didn’t pull away.
“One day I’m going to go back,” she said. “I still have family there, but it’s hard to keep in touch when you have to move every year, you know? But one day…” Her voice trailed off and she was quiet for a long time. My heart banged around in my chest. I longed to wrap Nola in my arms and tell her I’d take her to Jamaica so she could say goodbye to her dad. The look on her face made me want to fix everything that had gone wrong in her life.
“Anyway,” she said wiping her eyes with the heel of her palm. “Sorry for being such a girl.”
“Shhhh. You have nothing to apologize for, Nola. Thank you for sharing this with me. I know how difficult it can be to talk about the not-so-good parts of our lives, so I’m honored. Seriously.”
She smiled at me, and my heart felt like it doubled in size. Shit . If she could make me feel this good so quickly, I wondered where we could possibly go from here. At this rate, I’d be confessing my undying love for her in less than a week. I needed to slow this shit down before I messed it up. If I freaked her out and she ran away I knew I would go chasing after her.
“I feel like I’ve been talking about myself this whole time. It’s your turn to over-share, Scout,” Nola said, chuckling.
I wished I could pour my heart out, but I didn’t want to drive her away. Mine wasn’t a story of a dead father and a grief-stricken mother. No, my story included two junkie parents and a whole lot of abuse, fights, and getting into trouble.
If I got Nola to fall for me before I told her all of the sordid details of my life she might not run screaming in the other direction. I know it probably wasn’t fair holding out on her, but I couldn’t take the risk. If I told her my life story now, Nola would probably think I was damaged goods, and honestly, she’d be right.
“Okay, but first I’m going to read this essay,” I said, hoping she wouldn’t notice I was dodging her question. I pulled the paper out of my back pocket and she tried to snatch it out of my hands again.
“Please don’t!”
“Oh come on, I’m sure it’s brilliant.” I flipped open the first page and read a few lines out loud before pausing. “You wrote this?
She cast her eyes downward and pulled a hand through her hair. “Unfortunately.”
“ Unfortunately ?” I looked at her like she was crazy. “This is great! I don’t even know what half these words mean,” I laughed and pointed to the page. “Like this, what the heck is Intersectionality? And this, what cisgender privilege?”
“They’re both terms you hear a lot in academic discourse on feminism,” she said like it was common knowledge.
Holy shit ; Nola was a brainiac. My face stretched into a wide grin, and I wondered how the hell I hit the amazing girl lotto—fucking gorgeous and smart?
“So, you’re some kind of genius?”
“Not hardly,” she said, her eyes back on the ground.
“Seriously, baby, this reads like it’s straight out of a textbook. You have a gift.”
“Tell that to my professor,” Nola grumbled. “She hates me.”
My eyes narrowed; how was that even possible?
“I don’t believe that. How can she hate you?”
“To be fair, she seems to hate everyone. But she totally hates me more. I worked so hard on this essay and she gave me a D+” Nola threw up her hands.
I scrubbed my face. It had been a long
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