The Red Thread (20 page)

I know they’d be right too. It’s what I think of myself all the time. Sometimes I wonder what exactly Adam sees in me. Not good enough.

But it’s not just Adam. My family too. My mom and sister have always taken care of me, but I never really am able to show anything back. How do they put up with me? Not good enough.

Not good enough.

Are we still on for tonight? :)

Yes.

Are you okay?

Fine.

What is wrong with me? Jess, just be happy. I feel the internal struggle inside my body as my two halves battle each other. The darkness wants to take me back, but my other half wants me to feel the happiness.

I’m excited to see you tonight
, I send him.

:) Me too! Is 8pm good???!!!

Haha, yeah. That’s great.

YAAAAYYYYY!!! :-D

Sometimes I really do think I might be dating a child, but hey, that childish attitude of his is a big reason why I like him. I just want to be good enough for him. He’s so sweet, that he deserves someone who isn’t moody like I am.

I spend the rest of the day only wishing for it to be 8:00 p.m., and when it finally rolls around, I hear the sound of his car pulling up outside my house. I grab his small wrapped gift, and I walk to his car with a skip in my step. He’s standing outside the car and opens the door for me, like the gentleman he is.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” I greet him as well.

He walks around the car and sits behind the wheel. I see that his hands are shaking. He blows on them, trying to warm them up. I take them in mine and rub them together between my hands. He smiles down at me.

“Th-thanks.”

“Of course.”

“S-s-s-s-s-s-so are, are you r-ready for the b-best n-n-night of your life?”

He smiles really big and wide, and I see the red in his cheeks from the bitter cold outside. He almost looks like a Disney prince right now.

“Yes, I am. Thrill me.”

The car ride is spent in silence. He keeps his eyes on the road, and I keep mine focused on the falling snow as it dances through the sky. The snow is so peaceful and beautiful. Watching the snowflakes fall is like watching your own personal ballet. Each flake is just a dancer of the sky.

His car pulls up to his apartment building, and he leads me to his door. As he unlocks the door, I take in the sight.

“You have to be kidding me… again?”

Inside the living room, he has built another blanket fort. He certainly does love these.

“Th-th-they’re c-c-c-cool.”

I look up at his big blue eyes, and I feel my heart beat. At this moment I desire to feel his body against mine, our hearts beating together.

“You’re a loser.”

“I’m your l-l-loser.”

“You’re my loser.”

I like the sound of that. He’s mine. I could live with that.

I take off my shoes and my coat, and I follow him into the blanket fort, his laptop inside, once again set up to the virtual fireplace. Two mugs of tea sit inside. It’s a good picture of what the last fort with him was like. I lie down beside him as he puts a fuzzy, warm blue blanket over us and wraps his arm around my waist. He pulls me close to his body as I lay my head on his chest. I feel his heart speed up as I wrap my arm around his waist.

“I-I-I’ve been th-th-thinking about this all, all d-d-day.” His voice is low, barely an audible whisper. He sounds like he is in heaven.

“Me too,” I admit.

I close my eyes, and I listen to the wind blowing outside and the sound of his beating heart. I listen to his even, rhythmic breaths. He runs his fingers through my hair and the touch of his fingertips on my scalp feels soothing.

I remember the small box in my coat pocket. I tell him I’ll be right back, and I rush to my coat to get it. I bring it back into the fort.

“Merry Christmas,” I tell him with a sheepish smile. I really hope he likes it.

He smiles wide, and he carefully unwraps the gift, pulling out the watch. His eyes seem to widen, and his mouth slightly falls open. Oh gosh, he must hate it….

“I l-l-love it.”

I did something right. Nice. He turns the watch over in his hand and sees the inscription.

“What d-does this mean?”

“It means forever and ever….” I hope it isn’t weird that I gave him a watch with that inscription. Maybe it’s too soon in our relationship for something so romantic like that.

“That’s b-beautiful, like, like you. P-p-put it, it on f-f-for me.”

I look away, unable to stop my smile. I don’t know what he sees in me, but I like that he does see something. He makes me feel beautiful, like he always tells me. No one has ever made me feel this way. I take the watch and wrap it around his wrist, making sure to touch his skin as much as I can with my fingertips. He looks down at his watch and smiles.

“Forever,” he states under his breath.

“And ever,” I respond in a slight sigh.

“I-I-I got you s-s-s-s-s-something too.”

He reaches around and pulls something out from behind the pillow he is leaning against. It’s a long, thin box, not wrapped. He lays it on my lap, as I sit cross-legged.

“I-I didn’t know, know what t-to get you, s-s-s-s-so I hope you l-like it.”

I take the top off the box, and I pull out a long silver chain. At the end of the chain is a long silver key. It looks like a shiny, classier skeleton key. It seems to glow even in the dim orange light of the fake fireplace. The only word that could be used to describe the necklace would be amazing. It is beautiful.

I’m at a loss for words, and when I look up into Adam’s eyes, he has a huge goofy smile on his face, and I smile right back.

“S-s-s-s-so I did g-good?”

“You did fantastic.”

I put the necklace over my head, and I allow the key to dangle down. It falls to the middle of my chest. The chain is cold on the back of my neck, but right now I feel so warm that I am able to ignore the chill against my skin. Adam pulls me close to his body, and we lie back down underneath the blanket, so close he might actually be trying to meld our bodies together.

“I’m s-s-s-s-s-s-so glad we-we met.”

I nod.

“I-I-I mean we-we m-met s-s-s-s-so many t-times in, in one d-day.”

“Don’t you find it weird, how many times we met by accident that first day?” I finally say, asking him the question that always plagues my mind.

“N-n-not at all. I think, I think it w-w-w-was the world g-g-getting us to-to-together, like we were s-s-s-s-s-supposed to, to be.”

“You believe in fate?” I ask him.

He nods. “Yes, d-d-don’t you?”

“No. I believe in coincidence.”

He stops rubbing my head, and he looks down into my eyes. He looks so serious, and I wonder if I upset him with my pessimistic outlook on life. I just don’t see how fate can exist.

“I d-d-d-don’t th-th-think anything is-is a coincidence,” he remarks.

He gets up and walks away, leaving me alone in this dorky little blanket fort. I feel a chill run through my body without his warmth beside me. I take a sip of the hot tea. He really did a lot to make this all so cozy for us. It makes me feel good to know how much he cares about me. It’s different and unusual, but I’m learning to live life with a guy caring about me. He returns with a ball of red thread. I hope he isn’t going to actually try and sew us together or anything? That would really put a damper on this whole relationship.

“Do you just keep that lying around?”

“G-g-give me your, your hand,” he orders, and I follow suit.

He begins to wrap the red thread around my fingers. “There is, is this ancient p-proverb that I l-l-l-love. It g-g-goes like this: ‘An in-invisible r-r-r-red thread c-c-connects those who, who are d-d-destined t-to meet, r-r-regardless of t-t-t-t-time, p-place, or cir-cir-circumstance.’” He continues to wrap the thread through our fingers, tangling it as much as he can. “‘The thread m-may s-s-s-s-s-stretch or t-tangle, but it, it w-will never b-b-b-b-break.’”

When he is done talking, the long red thread is wrapped around both our hands, and he clasps his hands in mine. The thread is tangled between our fingers. Right now it feels as if we are one. With his hand in mine, as we are tangled in the thread, I, for the first time in my life, believe that maybe something did bring us together. Maybe there is such thing as fate, and maybe Adam and I are meant for one another.

“I think the w-w-w-world brought m-m-me you, Jess. S-s-s-s-s-some things a-a-a-aren’t c-c-coincidence.”

THE DAY
after Christmas I spend with a smile on my face. The memories of the night before and the mystical red thread stay in my mind. We kept our fingers tangled with one another and our hands caught in the thread like that for hours. It just felt nice to feel that much of a connection with someone. Never in my life have I felt something so strong for a person before. After only a few weeks of knowing Adam, I can officially say he is someone so incredibly special to me. I don’t want him out of my life.

Bzzzzzz. Bzzzzzz.

I look over to my nightstand as my phone vibrates. Why is it that when my phone is on vibrate, it sounds louder than the actual ringtone? When it’s settled on a table, it almost sounds like an entire construction crew is trapped inside my phone.

Hey sexy boy

Hey, Jill.

The usual. Same shit, different day yo!

I never understood people’s love of using the word
yo
. It’s a weird word if you really think about it. Yo. It reminds me of a child’s toy, the yo-yo, so how did that get turned into a cool phrase for people to say. When I hear a word that is reminiscent of a child’s pastime, I don’t usually think “Hey, that’d be a cool phrase to say.”

Do you want to do something today? I know you’re not working

How did you know that?

Peter was passed out in his office, so I took a peek at the schedule book on his desk

Oh, that’s not creepy at all.

I wonder how Peter does the schedules
, I respond, trying to ignore her stalkerish personality.

Oh he makes Laurie do it

Makes sense. Yeah, let’s hang out.

Awesome sauce, send me your address and I’ll pick you up in an hour. Get dressed Sexy

I quickly dress in a sweater and a tight pair of skinny jeans and tie on my pair of beaten-up low-top Chucks. I brush my teeth and run a hand through my mop of messy hair. I’m not even going to bother. I just allow the hair to fall into my eyes as I put on my glasses with their thick black frames.

A little over an hour later my phone vibrates in my pocket.

Get your cute ass outside

Today should prove to be an interesting day. I’ve never actually spoken to, let alone hung out with Jill outside of work before. I wonder if her personality is as flamboyant as her hair indicates she’d be.

I look outside my bedroom window to see a silver Volvo sitting in front of my house. Music is pounding from the speakers, the vibration traveling all the way into my room, and suddenly it’s as if I’m in that scene from
Jurassic Park
when the two kids are trying to eat Jell-O. Now the image of a Tyrannosaurus rex driving a car with its tiny hands is stuck in my brain. I grab my coat and walk downstairs. Dad is at work already—his job doesn’t believe in extended vacations—but Mom is sitting in the living room watching television:
The People’s Court
. She is addicted to her court shows. I swear if there is a new court show, my mom is in high heaven. My father hates these shows.

She puts the show on mute. “Who
is
that?”

“That is Jill, a girl I work with.”

Mom and I look through the window to see her hot-pink hair and her giant gaudy purple sunglasses, which seem to cover half her face.

“She looks… nice,” Mom states, unsure how to describe her.

“She is, I think.”

“You think?”

“I think.” I mean, I’m pretty sure at least. Again, all I know about her is what I’ve gathered from the times we’ve worked together.

“Oh God. Be safe.”

“She’s fine, Mom. Don’t worry.”

“Again, you think.”

“I think.”

Is it bad I’m finding this moment kind of humorous? I want to place bets on how many more times we can use the term
think
. Where are gambling addicts when you need them?

She kisses my cheek and tells me she loves me, and I walk to Jill’s car.

“Hey, sexy,” she greets in her low raspy voice, which if I was straight I would admit would be pretty hot. She sounds like she could be an old-time jazz singer. I wonder if she can sing.

“Hi, Jill.”

“Dude, you need to speak louder, show some confidence. Show everyone your bad self, yo.”

I simply nod, not knowing what to say. She puts her foot on the gas and races away from my house. If I consider Tommy’s driving unsafe, then Jill’s driving is downright hazardous. She doesn’t even give me a chance to buckle my seat belt, so I’m fumbling around to get myself buckled in. I don’t feel like dying today. Well, that’s a new idea.

“Where are we going?” I ask her, a little bit scared.

“To the mall.”

Sad, but true fact of life: Wilshire has never had a mall. We must be going to the next town over, Newton, which is a bigger town than ours and has more life than ours. Newton is usually a half-hour drive, but Jill does it in less than twenty minutes. When we reach the Newton Mall, my hands are clasping each other so hard my knuckles are whiter than usual. I never knew my skin could be any paler until today.

“You okay?” she asks.

I can’t find the words, so I just nod once again. I’m almost afraid to step out of the car, fearful I might just fall to the ground after that paralyzing experience. I follow her into the mall, and soon we’re going from store to store, like shopping is going out of style. The way Jill drags me around, one would actually think she must shop to survive or she would die otherwise.