Lucky Caller(58)

And then I stopped. It stopped, we stopped, but I didn’t stop saving them. I just stopped giving them. And if that wasn’t me in a nutshell.

I told myself it was out of habit. It was a habit that had become mine. It was my thing now. But seeing the jar in Jamie’s hand, all those neatly folded rectangles packed in on each other, shiny and incriminating, I knew that I was really only fooling myself into thinking that they were anything other than a way I could tell Jamie I loved him without saying it out loud. And I never stopped collecting them because I never stopped loving him, and the idea of me convincing myself I had would be laughable if it weren’t so pathetically sad.

You still save the wrappers? hung between us, a question I was meant to answer.

The word caught in my throat a bit, but escaped nonetheless: “Yeah.”

Jamie held my gaze. “Why?”

I shrugged, trying to look nonchalant, or something other than absolutely read to hell.

“Just … got in the habit.”

He looked at me another moment more.

Then he reached past me to the shelf. Stuck the jar of wrappers back up there.

“You can have them,” I said, my voice hoarse.

He just smiled a little. “Nah. I couldn’t take your collection.”

It’s your collection, I wanted to say, but I didn’t.





55.


JAMIE LEFT BEFORE ROSE CAME back. He said he wanted to call Gram and see if she needed anything.

“Let me know if we can help at all,” I said, standing in the doorway. Jamie paused in the hallway. He had his coat back on. I wondered if he was planning on going back to the hospital, despite Gram sending him home.

“Thanks.” He nodded. “Thank you.” And then he was gone.

Rose came in a few minutes later. I was on the couch, some cooking show playing on the TV.

Your mystery ingredients? Scallops! And … Honey! Dew! Melon! Chefs, you have FIFTEEN MINUTES!

Rose took off her jacket, stuck it in the coat closet, kicked off her shoes. Sat down on the chair across from the couch and regarded the TV.

“Ugh, scallop gazpacho? That sounds gross.”

It was quiet for a few minutes.

The flavor palate is … unconventional.

Thank you, chef.

I’m not saying it’s a good thing.

“Jamie’s grandpa had a stroke,” I said eventually.

Rose looked over at me sharply. “Is he okay?”

“I think so. Jamie said he was doing all right, but he has to stay in the hospital for a couple days. It was a … mini one, apparently.” A pause. “I didn’t know they, like, came in sizes. It’s like they shrunk a regular stroke in the wash.”

“Jesus, Nina, is there ever one second where you’re not working on your stand-up act?” Rose looked exasperated.

“I’m not trying to be funny, I’m just—” I shook my head.

“What’s going on with you guys?” she said.

“Nothing. I was keeping him company. We were waiting for you, actually.”

“That’s funny, ’cause he seems to have cleared out now that I’m here.”

Chefs, the entrée challenge today involves everyone’s favorite cruciferous vegetable … BOK CHOOOOOY!

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don’t know. Just … be honest with me.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know,” she said again. “How about, were you having sex with Jamie just now?”

“Agh! No! Geez! I don’t want to talk about this with you.”

“If you can’t talk about sex with me, who can you talk about it with?”

“No one. Ever.”

“Wow, not one single person? Not even whoever you’re having sex with?”

“No, we’ll communicate solely through pictogram.”

Rose rolled her eyes but didn’t respond. The chefs were bringing up their bok choy entrées for judging when she spoke again.

“Just saying, there were … pictogram vibes in the room when I walked in.”

I’ve never had a vegetable with such a … meaty mouthfeel before.

“Just … be responsible, is all I’m getting at,” she said.

“There’s literally nothing to be responsible about.”

“The Conrad family motto,” she muttered. I didn’t reply.





56.


JAMIE MISSED CLASS ON MONDAY. I had texted him that morning: Everything okay?

He sent back a thumbs-up emoji a few hours later, but that was it.

I couldn’t stop thinking about him. Wondering how Papa was doing. Replaying everything about last night over and over again in my mind, to the point where when Joydeep asked, “Where’s Jamie?” as he slid into his seat before radio class started, it was almost a shock to hear his name out loud—like I had somehow summoned it—and a relief to be able to talk about him.

I told them what had happened with Papa.

“Shit,” Joydeep said. “Is there … like can we do anything? To help? Should I text him? I’m gonna text him.”

I looked over at Sasha as Joydeep pulled out his phone. I knew it was astronomically unimportant compared to what was going on with Jamie, but I couldn’t help but bring it up. “Look, about the whole thing with my dad … I’m really sorry.”