Now, in my second life, the memory that had always worked to my advantage had become the bane of my existence. How was I supposed to keep two separate sets of memories straight when most people failed at remembering one?
Megan was angry at me. We had been eating salads for lunch because apparently in this life, I liked to deprive myself of real food. I was trying to focus on the conversation and not on the image of Luke’s upper arms flexing when he grasped the martini shaker, but I obviously wasn’t focusing hard enough because I slipped.
“We need to make plans to go dress shopping soon,” she said, spearing a chunk of lettuce from her salad and popping it into her mouth.
“Dress shopping? Why are we going dress shopping? You know I hate shopping. Make Dani go,” I complained, angry at shopping and his biceps and my salad.
When Megan let her fork drop with a clatter onto the table, I knew right away something was wrong.
“You know, Jillian, I know you’re having a tough time, and I’m trying to be understanding, but Jesus Christ, could you pretend to be excited about my wedding for just a minute, please?”
And I officially felt like an asshole. In my defense, in my first life, Megan wasn’t even engaged—nevermind planning a wedding. She mentioned shopping, and all I could think of was what happened the last time someone tried to dress me. It’s what got me into this mess in the first place.
After throwing myself at her mercy and admitting that I was daydreaming about Luke, she calmed down, and stopped looking at me like I was the worst bridesmaid that ever existed. To further prove my loyalty and devotion, I agreed to go dress shopping with her the next day. It would actually be a welcomed distraction because thanks to Danielle, I needed to write a piece on Luke’s renovation.
Contrary to what she said to him the prior week, there was never any article or any pictures that needed to be taken. Thanks to her “quick thinking”, I was spending my Sunday night in front of a laptop, deciding how I’d like to approach Luke’s story. I was pretty sure that the I-Fell-In-Love-With-the-Owner-When-I-Time-Traveled-Last-Month angle would be too much of a stretch.
Annoyed with my entire second existence and looking for something mindless to do, I launched Facebook. As I read through the timeline, I learned that Danielle was looking forward to a dinner party on Tuesday. I’m glad she was. Megan was sitting on the 50-yard line cheering on her future-husband—“the hottest show on turf”. Cue eyeroll. And Josh just topped his high score in Words With Friends. Nerd.
Just as I was about to scroll down, a new alert flashed at the top of my page. Luke Chambers had become a fan of Farmville. The hell?
I wasn’t sure which was more alarming—the fact that Luke was online at the same time I was, or that he was tending to an imaginary online farm. Clicking on the chat icon in the corner of the screen, the small box opened, revealing the friends who were currently online. There, between Suzanne and the boy who used to eat dirt in kindergarten, was Luke.
Impulsively, I clicked on his name, opening up a chat window. The Luke I knew would not be playing Farmville. I didn’t think twice as my fingers pounded the keys, typing into the chat box.
Tell me this is a joke and you’re not a Facebook Farmer.
It wasn’t until after I had pressed enter that I thought about what I had done. My relationship with Luke was tenuous at best. I was in no position to judge his admittedly awful taste in Facebook games. Mortified, I was about to log off when his response popped up.
What is this thing? Nate sent me some link, now there are alerts everywhere and someone wants me to water something. How the hell do you get rid of it?
I read his response, laughing at his obvious frustration. I also made a mental note to ask Nate how long he’d been farming and if Megan watered his crops when he traveled. That information would come in handy next time he decided to make fun of my “epic dry spell”.
Don’t ask me. I’m not lame enough to join Farmville. Maybe you should take that up with Farmer Nate.
I was still smiling after I had pressed enter. Our conversations were so strained in person. It was refreshing to have some form of interaction with him that wasn’t awkward and uncomfortable—even if it was about virtual livestock.
The strange thing about our visit to the bar on Saturday, though, was that suddenly there was a different kind of awkward between us. When I saw Luke at the reunion, he was so angry—barely able to look me in the eye. The expression on his face nearly shattered me. Then a few days later at Danielle’s opening, he seemed detached—almost defensive. I didn’t really know what to make of his behavior. Later that night when I was stranded at his house and forced to sleep in his bed, he was different—no longer aloof, but frustrated. It was the first time that I suspected that he was holding back. Then last night at the bar, I truly thought he was going to pummel that poor bartender. He could claim that he just wanted him to get back to work. He could claim that it had nothing to do with me. But something had changed. From the way he spoke to me about time being the key ingredient to the way he looked at me when we said goodbye, his resolve was slipping. Megan and Danielle were right. He didn’t hate me, and honestly, I think that pissed him off a lot.
I had assumed he was done chatting with me until a response showed up on the screen.
This is why I hate Facebook. Nothing makes sense. People keep trying to play word games with me. What does that even mean?
Nate wasn’t the only person doing ridiculous things on Facebook. I had probably thirty Words with Friends requests that I had been ignoring for months. I had no desire to play Scrabble in real life, nevermind in cyberspace. I just didn’t understand the attraction. But it was too good of an opportunity to pass up. I downloaded the application and clicked on his name to challenge him to a game. And as I looked at the tiles available to me, I couldn’t believe my luck. In a flash I had posted my first word: farm. Immediately after pressing enter, I logged off, giggling.
It didn’t surprise me when I dreamed of the Luke I knew in high school that night. I reveled in the sight of him with a little less stubble on his face and a few less laugh lines in the creases of his eyes. He was my Luke. The Luke who followed me to the cliffs, beautiful and furious. The Luke who so eloquently told me that he wasn’t going to wait for me to figure out my shit anymore. The Luke who knew I wanted him, too.
I could still see my Luke when I looked at him now. He scowled at me a little bit more than in the past, but he was still in there.
I woke the next morning to a thumping sound on my door and Megan’s way-too-chipper voice.
“Wake up, Jillian. Time to find you an amazing pastel-colored dress you’ll only wear once.”
“I’m up,” I groaned. “Now.”
Rolling out of bed, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand. I was about to drag myself into the kitchen for some breakfast when I saw the Words with Friends alert. Luke was playing the game with me. I opened up the app and checked out his response, but ended up just staring at the screen. He had played the word “of” for five points. Of? Really? Out of all of the imaginative things to say, he picked that? I immediately clicked on the chat icon and began to type.
That’s the best you can do? Are you in kindergarten? Seriously.
Using the M in “farm”, I played the word “lame”. When I pressed enter, I looked up into the angry eyes of Megan, standing in my doorway and glaring.
“Jillian! What’re you doing? We have an appointment at ten o’clock,” she exclaimed. “Let’s move.”
Powering down my laptop, I followed her into the kitchen for some breakfast before heading off to countless bridal shops in search of the “perfect” bridesmaid dress…that I’d only wear once.
Feeling guilty that I had been a less-than-attentive attendant, I chimed in when Danielle commented on color choices, and when Megan remarked about a certain style. I nixed a few dresses that would either make me feel wildly uncomfortable or paler than I already was.
When we had finished wi
th our first appointment and were halfway through our next, I took a quick glance at my phone as Danielle and Megan debated acceptable colors for February weddings. Luke had responded to my chat message.
So “lame” is your A game? I think I can handle the challenge of your first grade vocabulary.
I couldn’t stop the silly grin from spreading across my face. He had played “brat”. Before I attracted too much attention, I played “flask” and put the phone away.
An hour later, I was standing in the dressing room of bridal shop number five when I heard my phone vibrate. He had made his next move, playing “red” which again, I thought was pretty lame. And it went on like this all afternoon. I had never played Words with Friends before and we had practically finished an entire game in an afternoon.
While I was preoccupied with beating Luke, Megan chose a dress. It was chocolate brown and looked decent on me. Danielle looked better, but Danielle looked good in everything. It took effort for her to look bad.
As we were driving home, I got another chat message from Luke.
Is there a white flag I can wave on this thing? How did I end up with a bunch of vowels? Is that normal? I’ll willingly pronounce you winner of this round.
After reading his response, I immediately felt disappointed. I had been having such a good time sparring with him. I didn’t want it to end. Any interaction with Luke where he wasn’t scowling at me or ignoring me was a huge improvement. I also didn’t want to push it, though. When I first emailed him, I never imagined that six hours later, it would have evolved into this. I was about to type a response, when Megan interrupted.
“Jillian, your eyes have been glued to that phone all day. What gives?”
I looked up from the screen to see her staring at me through the rearview mirror, eyeing the phone in my hands. Danielle spun around from her seat in the front, narrowing her eyes at me suspiciously.
“Yeah, Jillian,” she added. “What’s going on?”
For a moment, I considered deflecting and not telling them that I had been playing a game I had previously avoided like the plague all day with Luke. I couldn’t think up anything believable in response though, so I decided to fess up.
“It’s nothing. I’ve just…Luke and I are playing Words with Friends…but it’s nothing, really,” I replied, feeling the heat rise to my cheeks.
“Luke?” Danielle cried, bouncing in her seat. “Do you play this game with Luke every day?”
“No! NO,” I exclaimed. “Just today. We’re just messing around.”
“Messing around?” Megan asked. “Did you hear that, Danielle? Jillian and Luke were messing around today.”
“You two are ridiculous,” I replied, rolling my eyes at their cackling.
“We’re just teasing you, Jill,” Danielle said, still fighting back the giggles. “Seriously, that’s good that you’re…playing games together.”
“Or whatever it is that you want to call that,” Megan muttered.
“I’m not speaking to either one of you anymore,” I announced, crossing my arms over my chest and pouting.
“Oh, don’t be that way, sweetie,” Danielle replied. I could tell she still wanted to laugh, and it only fueled my annoyance.
“Have you thought at all about what you want to say to him on Tuesday night?” Megan asked, wisely changing the subject.
“He wants space. I’m not going to bring up anything that will make him uncomfortable.”
“Well, don’t worry too much,” Danielle added. “We’ll be there to help.”
I smiled at her declaration, but knew that was part of the problem. I had enough of their help.
By the time Tuesday arrived, I was a wreck. I had messaged Luke back, accepting his forfeit and congratulating him on passing Words with Friends 101. Unfortunately, I hadn’t heard from him since then. Like a crazy stalker, though, I logged onto Facebook a few times a day, first checking to see if he was online, and then reading the comments on his wall. Each time I did it, I felt stupid and ashamed.
I spent an embarrassingly long time staring at the clothes in my closet on Tuesday night. I needed something that looked good, but wasn’t too obvious. Something that said “I’ll give you time”, but also said “Hurry up”. I really wasn’t a patient person, and I didn’t want to waste any more time.
I tried on three different outfits, flinging the discarded options onto the floor as I switched to something new. Megan had left for Nate’s earlier in the day so I had no one to tell me what looked good and what made me look like a hooker. I was pretty sure Luke was anti-hooker. I finally chose a sweater that was tight, but not salacious, and a pair of jeans that were fitted, but not obscene.
On the way to Danielle’s, I stopped to pick up a bottle of wine. Aside from the glass I had at Luke’s bar on Saturday night, I hadn’t really been drinking at all. Poor Joan sat alone and untouched on my bureau at home. I think I had proven after the prom night fiasco that overindulgence wasn’t particularly helpful in any situation.
As I made my way across the city to Danielle and Josh’s house in Magnolia Park, my nerves began to get the better of me. Maybe I wasn’t reading Luke right at all. I was so sure that he was holding back—sure that despite how cold he acted at first, that he still had feelings for me. After two days without any messages, I wasn’t feeling as certain.
With the wine in hand, I started up the brick walkway, noticing the line of cars out front. It looked like I was probably the last to arrive. Awesome.
Taking a deep breath, I rang the doorbell. Josh must have been right near the door because it was opened moments later. As he stepped aside for me to enter, I was able to see right into the living room and hear the laughter filtering out. Directly in my line of sight, I saw Luke, lifting a bottle of beer to his lips and tipping it back. No one should be that sexy just drinking beer.
“Jillian!” Danielle exclaimed as I walked into the room. I chose to focus on her and not scan the room. I couldn’t look up at him yet. I felt like I needed to get my bearings first. She enveloped me in a warm hug.
“Relax,” she whispered in my ear. “He seems nervous, too.”
“This was a bad idea,” I muttered through clenched teeth.
“This was a fantastic idea,” she said softly. “Jillian,” she began, now in a louder voice, “Josh was just talking about the time he almost lit Luke’s jacket on fire in chemistry.”
“Do I have to start all over?” he complained, looking mortified.
“Oh, c’mon,” she replied. “It’s hysterical. I can’t believe you never told us this!”
“Yeah, I wonder why,” he pouted, glaring at Luke, who I assumed had spilled the beans.
Looking across the room, I was finally able to take in his appearance, and immediately wished I hadn’t. When I saw him at the bar on Saturday, I thought I was unable to form proper sentences around him because I could see a hint of chest hair in the opening of his shirt. At Danielle’s opening, I thought it was because the muscles strained underneath the fabric of his arm. But I was wrong. It was just him. Because tonight he was wearing a dark blue jacket with a light color shirt. There was no chest hair and no straining muscles, and I was still incoherent.
“So, I was a little uptight in school,” Josh began.
“A little?” Luke asked, smirking and taking another scandalous sip of his beer. Well, maybe it wasn’t scandalous, but it felt that way.
“I was nervous about this particular lab because it was going to account for a large portion of our grade,” he explained, ignoring Luke’s remark. “We were supposed to use certain chemical compounds to alter materials and report on the result. Despite his claims to the contrary, Luke was distracted and barely paying attention. When I asked him to pass me the rubbing alcohol, it spilled.”
“Like…a drop,” Luke countered, laughing as Josh scowled. “And Josh was so nervous that we’d get points deducted for wasting chemicals that he cups his hand and tries to sweep the alcohol back into the beaker—in the
process, making a trail of rubbing alcohol all over the table.”
“So, we get all of the chemicals prepped, and I’m about to light the burner. Just as I squeeze the spark lighter, I hear a pop. When I look down, the trail of alcohol is on fire and a blue flame is racing across the table. And this one,” he added, pointing at Luke, “is staring off into space, leaning over onto the table completely unaware that the flame is about to reach the arm of his jacket.”
“He lets out this yelp,” Luke interjected, “and I stand up just as the flame would have hit the sleeve.”
“Yeah, Pruitt comes running over to us with water, putting the fire out. Freaking out. I thought I was going to hyperventilate.”
“When did this happen and why wasn’t this story broadcasted to everyone in school?” Megan exclaimed, wiping the tears from the corners of her eyes.
“Like the last week of classes,” Josh replied. “Luke was suffering from senioritis.”
I looked up and for the first time met Luke’s gaze—his cheeks slightly pink. It was the last week of school and Luke had been distracted. Maybe it was wishful thinking—maybe I was over-estimating what we were—but I wondered if I had played a role in their lab disaster. I wondered if maybe Luke had been thinking about us.
“All right, everyone,” Danielle announced, carrying a dish of chicken, broccoli and ziti into the dining room. “Dinner is served! I hope you don’t mind the carbs. We had a request from number fifty-three over here.”
“What can I say,” Nate replied, with a shrug. “I get hungry after games.”
I hung back as Josh, Luke and Nate walked into the dining room, feeling that it would be easier to choose a seat once I knew where Luke would be sitting. I was still feeling uncomfortable and self-conscious. Plus, I didn’t need him seeing pieces of broccoli stuck in between my teeth.
“Relax, Jill,” Megan said as she passed by me. “You look amazing and he almost choked on his beer when you walked in.”
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment,” I replied, following her into the room.
Living Backwards Page 34
