A Little More Personal

Jay slept on the way back to Midland; the drive was filled with his gently snoring, the quiet music, and the soft roaring of the engine. Two hours into the journey, he began talking.

"Taresa?"

"Yeah?"

"I really, really like you."

"Um . . ."

"I know you probably don't feel the same. And it's okay. You deserve better than me anyway."

"Jay---"

He shifted to a more comfortable position, and I realised he was still sleeping. My cheeks flooded with colour at his next words:

"You're gorgeous, funny, smart. I'm none of those. I'm just me Jackson. I don't deserve you. But I want to be there for you, with you, by your side every day."

Slowly, he became silent again, and I drove on with only the replay of this conversation in my head to keep me company.

"Where's Jay?" my mother asked as I opened the front door.

"Out in the truck. I'm going to drive him home later. Is it okay if he sleeps on the couch?"

"Of course, yes."

Jackson stumbled into the house, groggy; I led him to the living room and covered him up with a blanket. He immediately fell back asleep. I sighed and headed to my bedroom. Sleep was my best friend that night.

"Good morning, Taresa."

"Hey, Mama. Where's Jay?"

"He went back home this morning after hitching a ride with your daddy."

"May I go over there? I need to talk to him."

"After we work on the gardening."

Hot sunshine pressed down on us as my mother and I pulled weeds; she hummed while she watered the plants. I sat with my knees and shins on the ground, and my fingers raked through the soil. I watched her straighten up and stare toward the horizon.

"Mama?"

"Yes?"

"What are you looking for?"

"Just waiting for Deb to get here."

"She's comin' over?"

"Yes. I don't think she'll be bringin' Jay. Oh, there she is!"

"May I go see Jay then?"

"Yeah. Be home for dinner."

The drive to the Rathbone's took less time than when my father drove; a quick glance at the speedometer told me I was driving at 72 miles per hour. I pressed down slightly on the brake pedal, and the scenery out the window passed by considerably slower. Neil was reversing out of their driveway; I stopped and waited for him. He waved. Jay glanced up when I walked into the house.

"Hey, Reece."

"Hey," I sighed, plopping onto the couch. "How did you sleep?"

"I guess okay."

"Just okay?"

"Answer something, please, for me." He continued once I'd nodded, "Did I talk in my sleep last night?"

"Yeah."

"What'd I say?"

"Jay, look at me."

He finally glanced at me.

"You told me you like me a lot but felt I deserve better than you."

"Oh."

"Why would you think that?"

"Because I'm just. . . me. I'm not always around for those I love or care about. You deserve more than all the losers you've dated. I don't want to hurt you by not being all that you need."

"All the losers I've dated? Wh-what do you mean?"

His face drained, paled, and his eyes widened. "Um. . ."