Page 69 of Malaise
“Come on.” He stands and offers me a hand, which I accept.
Jasper and I find a quiet spot out in the middle of the large lawn that stretches between the curved driveway and road. He places his jacket down on the ground, ever the gentleman, and indicates I should sit under a large oak that spans most of the lawn.
“Makes it real, doesn’t it?” He drops beside me, arms hooked around his knees, and squints up at the bright orange display the late afternoon sun makes over the roof of the parlour.
“Yeah.”
“I wish I had some words for you, Meg, some inspiring quote that’s going to set it all right for you and erase the heartache. But the truth is that loss hurts like a bitch, and it never really goes away. It’s a splinter that you don’t quite get all out: it no longer hurts all the time, but press a little too hard on the sore spot and the pain returns as fresh as the day you got it.”
“Where’d you read that?” I tease, the insightful words sounding odd from someone as usually aloof as him.
He shrugs. “You’re not the only one who’s lost important people in their life.”
“I know,” I whisper, feeling well and truly put in my place as I think of Carver and his mum. “It’s just… well, you aren’t usually so philosophical.”
“I know.”
“Where’s Amelia? I saw her with you.”
He glances past the building to the adjacent car park. “Told her to wait in the Corolla.”
“And she did?” Good little bitch.
“Where’s Brett?” he counters. “Thought he’d be following you around like a rabid pit bull after the other night.”
I bristle at the venom laced through his words. “He wasn’t welcome here.”
Jasper chuckles. “Not surprising.”
The peaceful ambience of the tree is completely lost as my frustration grows. Why does everyone have to be so narrow-minded? Why do people continue to judge others based on face value alone?
“Any particular reason you wanted to talk to me, Jasper?”
He flashes me an annoyed frown, but then schools his features. “I wanted to apologise for the way I said things the other night. I could have used more tact.”
“Already forgotten.” Not really, but hey, more pressing issues with Carver’s probable arrest, right?
“I went about it like a real jackass, but seeing him there….”
“Carver’s got nothing to do with this.”
“What kind of influence do you think he’ll have on your future, Meg? In all seriousness. What good do you really think he can do?”
“What is it to you how I choose to live my life?”
He places both hands on the ground beside him, pushing his palms into the dirt hard. “Did it ever make you wonder how I knew the little things about you?”
“Like what?”
“Like what nights you work, where you go when you need escape, and that no matter how it’s cooked, you always refuse to eat broccoli.”
“You and Den were friends once,” I point out. “I’m sure it’s just stuff you picked up in the times you were at our house.”
His fingers twitch, as does the corner of his mouth. “It’s because I liked you.” He frowns, and then corrects himself. “I still likeyou.”
“And you’re telling me this now, why?” At my damn brother’s funeral? What the hell does he expect? That he’ll just turf Amelia out of his car and we’ll drive off into the sunset?
“School’s officially over. We probably won’t see each other again, and I kind of feel like this is the last chance I’ll get.”