Not the One

I woke up to the early morning sun, shining through the tiny glass window of my bedroom, illuminating every dark area of the small space. I didn’t feel like getting up, but the chirping birds were calling out to me to get up out of bed and help prepare for Dad’s birthday celebration. It was his 50th birthday, and my mom was making a huge deal out of how important it was when someone turned 50. I didn’t see what the big deal was, but I didn’t want to disappoint her by suggesting we just have a quiet dinner together.
I got dressed and made myself look presentable, and then I headed to the kitchen to find my mom making waffles.
“Good morning, Mom. Do you need help with the food?” I asked.
“Oh, no, that’s okay. I’m fine. How about you clean the bathroom instead?” My mom always made me clean the bathroom on important days like today.
Like the good son that I was, I didn’t say a word and grabbed the cleaning products. She knew I would do as she said. I never disobeyed her before, and she would not expect me to disobey her ever.
I was in the middle of cleaning the toilet when my mom came in.
“By the way, Jane and her parents are coming over in an hour. We’re having breakfast, lunch, and dinner together. Actually, I’m not so sure her mom’s coming. We’ll see.” My mom sighed and went away.
Jane was coming. I was always nervous when she came over. Sometimes, I felt like I needed to impress her in some way. Other times, I could be a total dork and she wouldn’t care. She actually liked it when I was that way, but it really depended on her mood.
After an hour, the doorbell rang. They were here. I was still not finished cleaning. Damn, I didn’t want Jane to see me looking like a maid or plumber on the bathroom floor. I quickly got up and tidied up myself and the bathroom. Too late. She was at the door.
“Leo, hi,” Jane greeted me.
I coughed. “Oh, hey, Jane. You’re here… early,” I muttered. I stepped forward, trying to get her away from the bathroom so she wouldn’t know I was in there cleaning.
“Did your mom come?” I asked, curious to know because her mom hardly ever come over.
“Yeah. Only because my dad convinced her. She’s outside right now,” she told me.
“Really, huh?” We were now in the living room. “What did he tell her?”
“That your mom was making a lot of apple pies. Did she?”
“I’m not really sure. I’ll go ask.” I went to the kitchen, and saw my mom putting an apple pie into the oven.
I went back to the living room, and saw Jane fixing her dress.
“Leo, can you come help me button the back? I think it came off,” she said, tugging her dress lower.
“Um, okay.” I was nervous. This was one of those times I needed to impress her. I was not going to mess up.
I got close to her. Her body smelt like fresh flowers. Her hair was still damp. She probably took a shower not too long ago.
“And yes, my mom is making apple pies. I can’t say she’s making a lot though,” I said, moving closer to her, trying to get a better sniff of her beautiful scent.
I buttoned her dress. Yes! I didn’t mess up. I was so glad.
“Thanks, Leo.”
“You’re welcome. I really like your dress. It’s pretty.” I was about to add “like you” at the end, but I couldn’t bring myself to saying it.
“Yeah, I really like it too. My dad’s friend got this for me last week. Apparently, it was made in London and shipped here. I love the floral print against the yellow background,” she spoke with awe in her voice.
Jane got up and did a little twirl. She looked beautiful.
We were sitting on the couch, looking out the window. The cornfield was in front of us. We used to always just sit here, watching the corn. We thought if we stared at them long enough, they would be pressured to grow faster. That never happened, but we still loved to do this.
My mom broke the silence. “Breakfast is ready! Jane, tell your mother to come inside… if she wants to.”
“Okay, Mrs. McNelly,” Jane replied.
We were gathered together in the kitchen, finding appropriate places to sit down.
“So, Barbara, you came,” my dad started. He always began the conversations when there was obvious awkwardness in the room.
“Yes, I did. By the way, happy birthday, Mark,” she said blandly.
I was not one to hate, but Jane’s mother got on my nerves. She could have pretended to be enthusiastic.
For the rest of breakfast, we ate silently. It was mostly my father and Jane’s father who did all the talking because they were best friends. Usually, Jane and I would start our real conversations away from the table.
Jane and I finished our breakfast of waffles and apple pies. We walked outside.
“So, a picnic for lunch, huh?” Jane stated.
“Yep,” I said.
“That’s different.”
“I think my mom might be trying to change things up for the sake of your mom, but I really can’t tell,” I told her.
“Well, my mom isn’t a big fan of picnics because of the dirt and ants, but a change is nice.”
Now we were at the end of the cornfield, our favorite spot ever since we were kids. We sat down, Jane on my left, the growing corn behind me.
Jane took a deep breath. “Leo, what are your future goals?”
I was not expecting her to ask that.
I coughed. “Um, I mean, well…”
Jane turned to look at me. “Well?”
“Uh, I plan to just stay here. At home, in Iowa. You know, just helping my dad with the corn and my mom with her baking,” I mumbled.
“Oh.” That was all she said.
“Yeah, I know they’re not big goals, but that’s what I want to do. At least for now. I can’t imagine doing anything else.”
Jane looked up at the sky and sighed. “Okay, if that’s what you want to truly do, Leo.”
“Yeah,” I said.
After a couple of minutes of silence, I decided to ask, “What are your goals?”
“To go to Paris. Become a famous fashion designer.”
“Really? Since when? You never mentioned this to me. I always thought you wanted to be an elementary school teacher,” I said, surprised by this new information.
“That was what I wanted to do when I was in 6th grade. I’ve always wanted to be a fashion designer. I was afraid to tell anyone because I didn’t think anyone believed I could do it. But now, things are different. I told my dad about it and he instantly told me he knew someone who might hook me up to an internship,” Jane told me, excitedly.
“Oh.” Now it was my turn to be unsure of what to say.
“Aren’t you happy for me? I might have a shot at fulfilling my dream, Leo.”
“I am happy. It’s just… you never told me. And, I’m just shocked to find this out now,” I said, disappointment in my voice.
“Well, I think at times, I made it obvious that I was into fashion.”
“You did talk a lot about clothes and where they came from and all the details, but I thought you just liked talking about them, not wanting to create them yourself.”
“Sorry I kept this from you for so long, but I was afraid you were going to talk me out of it,” Jane said.
“I wouldn’t, if it was something you really wanted.”
We sat there, taking in everything that we just said. We weren’t sure what to say to each other now.
We sat there for so long; the sun was setting in front of us.
“Crap!” I quickly got up. “We forgot to go back to eat lunch.”
Jane laughed. “Yeah, and now it’s time for dinner. We should go back.” She got up and we ran all the way back to the house.
My mom saw us running back. “Where have you two been? You skipped lunch. Jane, your mother was impressed by my turkey sandwiches.” My mom smiled.
“Aha, that’s great!” Jane replied. “Are there any left?”
“Only two. They’re in the fridge. Eat them after supper though.”
“Got it,” said Jane. “Let’s hang out in your room, Leo.”
“Sure.” I was sweating. It has been a while since Jane went in there. I wasn’t sure if all my private, weird stuff was out.
When we went inside my room, she situated her butt on my bed comfortably. It was too cute. I took a seat on the floor.
“Not much has changed since I was last in here. How long was that? Like, three months ago?” Jane stated.
“I think so.” My palms were sweaty.
At times, I couldn’t believe I have liked Jane for so long. It was on my bed when we had our first kiss in 5th grade. Seeing her on that bed right now brought back memories that I would never forget. After that kiss, I realized I was in love with her. What did a 10-year-old boy know? Not much. But at 19, I knew a lot. I knew I loved her. I was just afraid of telling her.