“Excuse me—I’m sorry. Is this seat taken?”
When I look up from my book—The Great Gatsby, one of my favorites—a man in his twenties stands next to the table. He wears dark jeans and a red flannel over a black t-shirt. While his light brown hair is disheveled, I wouldn’t consider it necessarily “messy”. It looks like he just crawled out of bed, got dressed, and left his house without looking in a mirror. In my opinion, the look suits him. I find myself imagining running my fingers through his hair.
“I’m sorry for bothering you. This place is pretty packed and I just wanted to sit down and read for a bit,” he adds, after a few moments of me silently staring at him. “Do you mind?”
Finally, I snap out of it.
“Oh, yeah. Sure—go right ahead,” I stammer.
The man smiles as he takes the seat across from me. I return to my reading, but he speaks again:
“‘So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back ceaselessly into the past.’”
I look at him, my eyebrows drawn together in confusion. “I’m sorry, what?”
He gestures to my book. “It’s a quote…from The Great Gatsby. It’s the last line, actually.”
I slowly close the novel, even though I am at my favorite part—when he speaks about the green light at the end of Daisy and Tom’s dock. A smile slowly spreads across my face, and I question, “You’re a fan of Gatsby?”
He nods. “Someone I cared about is.” Holding out his hand, he introduces himself, “I’m Jace—well, Jason. But you can call me Jace.”
I shake his hand. “I’m Alexis.”
“So, Alexis, would it be completely presumptuous of me to say that it’s unfair for you to be beautiful and smart?”
I chuckle, my cheeks growing warm. “What makes you think I’m smart?”
Jace shrugs. “You’re sitting in a café, reading The Great Gatsby, and barely notice when someone is checking you out.”
“Well, you’re…straightforward, aren’t you?” I respond, stunned.
Of course I have been hit on before by guys, even a few girls. I’m a twenty-three-year-old woman living in Boston, who has a social life. My friends and I have heard almost every pick-up line in the book from going out on the weekends. But, to have a guy hit on me in a café, while I’m dressed in an over-sized sweater and leggings with my hair thrown into a ponytail, this is a first for me.
“I’m sorry. I’m only being honest,” Jace says with a laugh.
“I like honest.”
The corners of my lips turn up in a smile. I prop my arm up on my elbow, resting my chin in the palm of my hand, leaning over the table. Any way to get closer to Jace, at this point. My plan to sit alone and read The Great Gatsby in peace has been completely abandoned. Jace and I start chatting, touching on just about every topic I could think of. We are interrupted a few times by the waitress, who gives me a concerned look and asks the same question every time: “Are you still doing okay?”
It’s about the twentieth time she's come over to our table. It’s a tactic I learned from serving at Bob Evans in college to give your tables a nudge to leave. I didn’t realize there was a high demand for tables, while Jace and I sat and talked. I also notice odd looks from other customers who sit near our table. We are probably being too loud; most people like a café to be quiet so they can concentrate on the work they’ve brought with them.
When I check my watch, it reads 8:45. I can’t believe it’s already that late. Jace and I have been talking for almost three hours, but it feels like we’ve only been here for twenty minutes. While talking to him, I feel like I’ve known Jace for years, rather than only a few hours. I never believed in soulmates. I always thought love at first sight was a load of bullshit, some fantasy women created to make themselves feel better about their crappy or non-existent love lives.
“Well, I should probably get going. I don’t like walking home too late in the evening,” I tell him.
“You’re walking home?” Jace questions. “Here, why don’t I walk you? Maybe you’ll feel a little safer.”
I smile. “Yeah, I would like that.”
On our way to my apartment, we walk side by side. It’s a nice fall evening, chilly, but not so cold that I have to wear a jacket. A cool breeze, however, causes me to hug myself as goosebumps break out on my arms. We walk mostly in silence, but it’s not an awkward silence. In fact, I find it peaceful.
“You know, you remind me so much of someone,” I break the silence, when we are only about a block from my apartment.
I want to try to talk to him as much as I possibly can. If I could make this day last longer just so I could speak to Jace for longer, I would.
Jace flashes me a smile. “Oh, yeah? Who do I remind you of?”
“That’s the weird thing—I’m not quite sure. You just…seem familiar to me. Like I’ve known you for years,” I tell him.
“Yeah? I feel that way, too.”
When we get to my apartment building, I stop at the door and face Jace. This is the first time I’m noticing how tall he is; he seems to stand almost a foot taller than me. Jace looks down at me, a smile spread across my face. We stand there for a few moments, quiet.
“Well, I guess I’ll see you around?” Jace finally says, forming it as a question.
I nod. “Yeah, maybe. At the café.”
My mood dampens as I make my way up to my apartment, after things with Jace ended a bit awkward. When I unlock my door and enter my apartment, I’m suddenly flooded with a memory—one that just occurred to me. I’m at the park, lounging on a picnic blanket, reading The Great Gatsby. Sitting next to me on the blanket, with his own book in hand, is Jace. I take a quick break from reading to admire Jace—the man of my dreams, the love of my life. He looks up once he feels my gaze and plants a kiss on my lips.
I hurry into the bedroom, my heart racing. After digging through my closet, in a box I can’t remember placing there, I discover a framed picture. A framed picture of me with Jace. We stand in front of a pond, our arms around each other, smiling at the camera. My hands shake as they grasp the picture tightly. Tears begin to blur my vision as I exit the closet, focusing on the picture.
“Jace…” I breathe, my voice barely above a whisper.
“Ali.”
When I look up, a tear rolls down my cheek. Jace stands in the doorway of my bedroom. His eyes are filled with pain. My brow furrows, and I look from Jace to the picture, back to Jace.
“But…you…I don’t understand,” I stumble over my words. “Who are you?”
Jace takes a small step towards me, but stops in his tracks. He takes a deep breath and says, “We were engaged.”
“Were? What happened?” I question. My heart pounds in my chest, so loudly it thumps in my ears. “I mean, why aren’t we engaged anymore?”
Jace looks defeated, his eyes filled with pain. “There was an accident. Last winter, we were on our way home from your parents’ house after Christmas. It was snowing, really badly. You were driving and lost control of the car and—”
“You died.”
My knees give out underneath my weight, and I collapse onto the edge of the bed. I cradle the picture in my lap, as if it’s a fragile animal I fear to hurt. Our smiling faces cause my heart to ache. A single tear escapes my eye and falls onto the picture frame.
Jace sits next to me on the bed but doesn’t touch me. He can’t touch me—not when he’s dead. In that moment, I would give anything to feel his touch once more. Even though I had no idea who Jace was this morning, now he’s everything to me. I can’t fathom how I forgot about him, the man I planned to spend the rest of my life with.
“I don’t understand,” I say weakly, my voice cracking.
“It’s okay; you don’t have to understand. At least not yet,” Jace responds. “You should get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow, Ali.”
Jace stands up and starts walking towards the doorway. I look up from my lap and question, “You’ll see me tomorrow?”
Jace smiles crookedly. “Yeah, at the café. I promise.”
