She Loves Him
It was during second grade -- was that it? -- when she first noticed him. Jenny, as she was known then, heard Derek answer a question the teacher had put to the class, and it was then that she suddenly noticed he existed. The school year was still young, and several other girls seemed to notice him as well. Many of them jockeyed to sit next to him whenever they were shown a film, which was often. The teacher would wheel-in a television set, put in a tape of a cartoon -- always educational -- and the frenzy to sit next to Derek would begin. Jenny always demured.
Fifth grade, still at the same elementary school, Jenny and Derek were again in the same class, Mrs. Harris, whose room was on the lower level, and felt almost cave-like to be in. Derek was still popular, though Jenny sometimes caught him sitting alone, staring off into space, and she wondered what he was thinking about. Perhaps it was nothing? Or maybe he had stuff going on in his life. Maybe his parents argued a lot, loudly, kind of like hers did? She managed to say "Hi" to him as she walked by one day. She didn't even stop, she wasn't even sure he'd heard her, until he replied back with, "Hey." It made her day.
*
The next three years would see Derek and Jenny separated, as they both went to different middle schools. She found it odd, when she thought of him at all, that they never seemed to run into each other around town. Perhaps he'd moved away? Maybe he was just so darn popular that they didn't run in the same circles? Jenny's popularity -- what there'd been of it -- had evaporated during middle school. Her taste in music, movies, and pop culture simply didn't gel with most of her peers. At the time it had felt like a millstone. Years later, looking back, she wished she could have told her younger self to embrace who she was, and to have been proud of her uniqueness and idiosyncrasies. She had one close friend, Margaret, and together they'd listen to their favorite songs, compare their favorite books, and sometimes watch Julia Child cooking shows on PBS. It wasn't the most exciting life, but it somehow felt authentic.
*
Upon entering high school, Jenny found herself weak at the knees one day when she saw Derek in the hallway between classes. There was break in the throng of classmates going to and fro, their eyes met, and he flashed her a smile and a head nod. The intervening years had been kind to him. Well, they'd been kind to both of them, if she were being honest with herself, which wasn't always easy. She was still an outsider, but more comfortable in her own skin than the last time they'd met so, within a few days, she'd found a moment to re-introduce herself to the young man who still managed to make her feel butterflies after a three-year absence, and things had gone well. Derek was approachable, mildly flirtatious, and open to meeting-up after school sometimes.
For the next couple of years, Jenny and Derek were the best of friends. Margaret had moved on to a private, Catholic high school, but still made time to hang out. Derek would occasionally join them. Afterward, Margaret would nudge her friend about when things were going to get serious between them. Jenny both liked and felt depressed by the playful banter, as it brought to the fore the elephant in the room: why were a teenage boy and girl who spent a great deal of time together not dating? He wasn't gay, she was fairly certain of that. So what was it? Finally, Jenny decided to ask. It obviously made Derek uncomfortable, after the initial surprise of the query had subsided. "I dunno," he'd said, sheepishly, "I guess I just think of you as a really good friend."
Jenny didn't react well to Derek's honest appraisal of their relationship. Granted, their time together had been quite chaste, with no physical contact aside from the occasional hug, yet the bluntness of the reality caused her to feel morose. In time, their friendship faltered, growing more distant with every passing week, month and year, until they merely nodded to each other at graduation, both cracking a smile at the other in an attempt to bridge the silent canyon that had developed between them.
*
Time moved on, as it always does. Jenny went to college, majoring in English Literature, and ended up getting a teaching job at the very high school she'd left just a few years earlier. She rented an apartment for awhile then, when she felt more certain of her career stability, purchased a cozy little bungalow in one of her favorite neighborhoods. Margaret had gone to a different college, states away, and was now living approximately 200 miles from her home town. They stayed in frequent contact, however, and met up at least once a year. Jennifer (as she now preferred to be called) dated on and off -- mostly off -- but never felt that any of the men, or women, she was with felt like long-term relationship material. Felix was the main man in her life, a corpulent tabby whom she spoiled frequently and often. She rarely ever thought of Derek.
*
Jennifer skipped her 10-year high school reunion. All of the people, save one, who she cared to keep in touch with, she made the effort to. Her teaching career had its ups and downs, but at least it was stable. She enjoyed being part of an amateur astronomy club, and spent a few hours each weekend reading at a local coffee shop, sometimes bringing her laptop along so she could continue working on a novel that she feared would never see the light of day. A consistent romantic connection with that suitable partner continued to elude her, but overall she was happy.
*
Life changed for Jennifer the year of her 20-year high school reunion. This time, she decided to go. It was like biting into a Madeleine, with all sorts of memories rushing back to her, some good, some bad. Margaret was there, husband and daughter in tow. Jennifer found herself spending perhaps too much time with them, so she moved on to mingle with others, and that is when she happened across Derek. There he was -- blue jeans, a black t-shirt and jacket -- looking almost the same as she'd remembered from high school, but of course with the wrinkles, lines and random strands of grey hair that come with almost being forty. They looked mildly unsure at seeing each other, but both made the effort to say hello, and the ensuing conversation simply melted the years away. It wasn't romantic, but very friendly. They exchanged numbers at the end of the night, and Jennifer wondered if anything would come of it.
A few weeks after the reunion came frantic texts, then calls, from Derek. He was in a bad way, having been laid-off from his job and on the brink of eviction. Jennifer knew from their conversation the night of the reunion that he was doing seasonal construction work and living on his own in a small apartment. The sudden dire circumstances came as a surprise to her. While he asked for money to see him through, Jennifer found herself inexplicably offering for him to live with her instead, just until he could get back on his feet. While initially expressing reluctance at the suggestion, Derek had moved-in within the week, and Jennifer found herself in a situation she would have dreamt of two decades previous, but in the present found herself unsure what she'd gotten herself into.
*
As the months went by, Derek found steady employment and paid Jennifer a sort of rent for staying there. He seemed in no hurry to leave, nor did she find herself wanting him to go. As before, their relationship was platonic, with no hint of it going any further. They would share nights on the couch together, eating pizza and watching a variety of movies on streaming platforms. Jennifer introduced Derek to some of her favorite British period dramas, and he in turn would have her watch some of his favorite action movies. Occasionally, she would read to him, mostly Jane Austen or George Eliot, and he would sit in the chair in her living room, laid back, looking up at the ceiling. She could never tell if he was bored, or simply contemplating the words she read from the page.
Derek developed a persistent cough that Jennifer urged him to have looked at. He finally went to the doctor, and the news wasn't good. Lung cancer, spread to the liver. Derek tried to continue working, but eventually it became too much for him. The chemotherapy took its toll, and he didn't leave the house much, aside from doctor appointments and whenever Jennifer took him out somewhere, which she tried to do as often as possible. Medical treatment is expensive, and Derek didn't have insurance (even when he was working), so they made the rather perfunctory decision to marry, so she could add him to her benefits. It was a sexless marriage, one born of necessity and, perhaps ironically, of love.
In those last days, when Derek was on hospice care, drifting in and out of consciousness, laying in the hospital bed that been arranged in the living room of the house they shared together, Jennifer would look over at him in wonderment. She thought of the boy she used to stare at in grade school, who she'd wanted to sit next to during film time, of the young man who'd been her friend through part of high school, and whose inability to love her in the way she'd wanted had caused them to drift apart. There he was, in her house, looking older but the same. Even in sickness, with an oxygen tube clasped to his nose and heavy medication coursing through his veins, he looked beautiful to her. She'd long ago stopped wanting him romantically. What she ended up feeling for him was so deep and abiding that it startled her.
*
Derek died, five months after his diagnosis. Jennifer handled the funeral arrangements, as his parents had pre-deceased him, and he had no siblings. Margaret -- always there as a friend -- came to comfort Jennifer and tend to her needs during the following weeks. After she left, Jennifer felt at a bit of a loose end. She went back to work, rejoined the astronomy club meetings, and even began working again on her novel. Images would sometimes flash through her mind of Derek in his final days, but she would quickly replace them with thoughts of when he was younger, strong and healthy, flashing that smile that used to make her go weak at the knees.
He'd never said he loved her. Those words had never crossed Derek's lips. Jennifer sat thinking about that one day in the coffee shop, looking up from reading a poem by E.E. Cummings. 'I love you,' had been a particular set of words she'd wanted desperately to hear from him at various points in their youth, though that desire had faded with the onset of adulthood. She remembered, holding back tears at the thought, when Derek, just a few days before his death, had looked over at her and mouthed, "Thank you." That had been enough, more than enough, almost unnecessary.
And so she put her book of poetry down onto the table, looked around the coffee shop, and happened to see the younger-middle-aged woman with short cropped blonde hair who was also a regular patron. She was curled almost cat-like at her table across the room, staring intently at whatever book it was she was reading. What was it? Jennifer squinted but couldn't make out the title. The woman looked up and caught her staring. They both seemed mildly embarrassed, smiled awkwardly, and looked away from each other. This had happened before, quite a few times, actually. With a faint, though rising, sense of hope, Jennifer thought she might find some excuse to say hello.
*
© 2020 by Matt L. Gladney, from the forthcoming short story collection, Love Stories.
Happy Valentine's Day
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