Their Broken Pieces by Jessica Gomez

Chapter Forty-Seven

Alex

 

 

I waited until the last possible second to gather my luggage from the hotel room, half praying Jasmine would still be there, and half praying she was already gone. It took me two minutes to cram all of my belongings back into my bag.

Jasmine left nothing behind, except for the flowers I’d given her, feeling like a punch to the gut when I see them resting at the bottom of the garbage. I deserve that and more.

I exit the elevator, mixing with my classmates, and yes, searching for Jasmine at the same time. When I finally spot her, I can’t believe what I was seeing.

Jasmine talking to Andrew in the lobby, after all he’s done, pisses me off royally. My legs lock, the only way I’ll stop myself from walking over and beating the shit out of Andrew for talking to my girl. I want to sit next to her on the shuttle and ask what she’s doing talking to him, but she somehow gets on a different bus. By the time we reach the airport, I no longer think it’s a good idea to talk to her. Having any contact other than what’s necessary is only torturing us both, so I decided against it.

I waste twenty minutes looking out the gigantic windows next to the runway, giving Jasmine the chance to take the window seat since she enjoys the view. She’ll love to see Hawaii from the air again, a small gift, without her knowing.

When I finally make my way to my seat, I brace myself to see her again. The top of her head is poking over the chair by a few inches, her hair shining like black silk in the sun that streams through the window. She’s wearing a thin-strapped sundress, leaving her arms and legs bare, knocking the wind right out of me.

As I slam my carry on in the compartment above our seats, my breathing returns to normal. The air is charged with electricity, and I wonder if she feels it too, or if I’m only hoping that I didn’t kill everything between us.

We finally take off. The entire time, Jasmine is looking out the window, throwing off the universal body language sign for, DO NOT TALK TO ME! I take the hint and keep quiet. I shouldn’t want to talk to her, anyway.

You forget what you did to her, Navarro?

I want to beat my own ass for being such a pendejo. Of course, she’ll never speak to me again. Not only did I humiliate and flat out dis her by walking out the morning after I took her virginity, but I also made sure she saw me making out with another girl the next night, so why would she just forget about that and chat it up.

The attendant comes and takes our dinner orders, offering teriyaki chicken or none other than the famous flaming burger. I glance at Jasmine, even though I know she doesn’t want me looking at her, and smile. She’s hiding it, and hiding it well, but I can see the smile she’s trying her best to keep concealed. Our moment is short-lived when she realizes she’s letting her guard down, so the wall slams back into place, blocking me out.

Her soft, mechanical voice says she’ll have the teriyaki chicken and then turns back to the bright sky. I look after her for a moment before I agree and have the same thing. The attendant leaves and I relax back into my seat. The surrounding air seems to lighten and come alive.

Battling my inner pull to keep from looking in her direction is pointless. I’ve already glanced her way a thousand times. Full-on, some side-glances, every way you could observe someone, I’m doing it now. Self-control is completely lacking when it comes to her. It’s pathetic, going as far as opening my mouth, letting it hang like a baboon, only to close it again without a word. Thank God, the logical part of my brain wins out and stops me before I make more of an ass out of myself, or cause Jasmine any more pain. It’s probably taking everything she has to remain seated next to me. I must repulse her. My stupid mouth opens again; my heart aches because of what I’ve done. My body and soul beg for her forgiveness; I crave it. My chastising brain is the only part that keeps me silent.

The attendant is a welcome interruption. “Here you go.” She sings and sets our food down in front of us, then turns and grabs our drinks.

Before the attendant can move away, Jasmine thanks her. The sound of her voice fills my heart, but I concentrate on the food in front of me to avoid making an ass out of myself.

“Mmm, this looks good.” The words slip through my lips without permission. Even during the drama, which is our lives right now, I’m completely at ease sitting next to her.

She stiffens and makes it a point to ignore me, so I finish my food slowly, and in silence.

After Jasmine finishes her food, barely any of the meal touched, she lays her chair back and pulls a little pillow up next to the wall where she scoots as far away from me as possible.

Her breathing slows minutes later, indicating she’s fallen asleep. Leaning my head back against my headrest, I close my eyes, envisioning her in my bed, laying on my chest as she falls asleep. The deeper she slips into dreamland, the slower and more rhythmic her breathing becomes. I’m still gazing at her like a lost puppy found in a rainstorm when the attendant comes by and asks if I’m finished with my plate.

“Yes. Thank you.”

The attendant takes Jasmine’s plate and stacks it on top of mine, flipping her tray into place on a second pass. Jasmine seems to sense it and cuddles down deeper.

“May I please have a blanket when you get a chance?” I ask the attendant.

“Yes. I’ll be back in a jiff.” She returns within a matter of seconds. Fastest service ever. “Here you go.” She smiles, a little too in my face for comfort.

“Gracias,” I say to her backside, since she’s already halfway down the aisle.

Unfolding the blanket, I lay it gently on Jasmine’s legs, then up the rest of her body, hoping the entire way she didn’t wake up. Later, if she asks, I’ll tell her the attendant laid it on her.

Operation blanket is a success. She didn’t budge an inch. Returning my head to its rest, I close my eyes again to listen to the rhythmic sound of her breathing. This is going to be the last time I’ll ever get to be this close to her, to hear her breath beside me.

Time warps and before I know it, the wheels touch down.

Jasmine stirs and sits up, folding the small throw blanket the best she can in her confined space, then resumes her normal posture of staring out the window until we come to a stop and deplane. Even then, she waits until I’m completely unpacked and heading out with the crowd before moving away from the window.

When I glimpse her getting on the third bus, I climb on bus two, granting her silent wish not to have to ride with me again. When we unload, she’s nowhere in sight, not that I’m looking for her or anything.

With nothing left to do but head home, that’s exactly what I do, not wanting to conversate. Mi madre left a note, letting me know she’s working late, and that she’ll be home as soon as possible.

My bag gets thrown next to my bed as I flop down, laying on my back. Because of the time difference, it’s late here in the states, three hours ahead of what I’ve become accustomed to over the last week.

Exactly thirty seconds later, I fall asleep, clothes and all.