Disclaimer: I don't own Jasmine. If I did, I would force everyone to read it. It's a really good underrated and unappreciated book.
For part of my fall exam in 11th grade, we had to write several essays. One option was to write a continuation of the book we were currently reading, Jasmine. I thought I would upload it, even though it's short and a bit rough; just wanted to show you all that I still exist.
I'll try to write more over Thanksgiving break, but no promises.
Bud sat there, motionless, hands pressed firmly together in his lap.
"You're leaving," he muttered, his lips barely moving, his eyes not even reaching my own. "You're leaving."
I didn't know what to say. I knew that this talk with Bud would have to have happened at some point. I still felt affection for the man, but still, I felt more acceptance and love for Taylor instead. It wasn't the poor man's fault; he was fixated in his own, small little world. But I had been so much farther and experienced so many different lives, and hopes, and dreams, and tragedies. He was so trapped in one place and in one time, confined in his little chair with wheels.
The chair that you put him in, a part of me whispered, and the wave of guilt came crashing over me again.
I wondered if this, this confrontation with your mistake, is why Willie left without saying much to Taylor. It would have been easier to just have run away, run away with Taylor the moment he knocked at my door. But while I was Jase, I was also Jyoti. I had responsibilities, duties, that I could not escape from.
"Bud," I said, reaching for his hand, "I have to do this. I need to leave."
He squeezed my hand so hard my fingers began to turn white. I didn't want to tell him to loosen his grip.
"What about our child?" He said, only raising his head high enough to gaze at my large belly.
"Bud, did you even want this baby?"
His eyes dropped again, but he said nothing.
"Karen can take care of you," I softly continued. He let go of my hands and put them around himself. "I'm sure… I'm sure that she would be happy to see you. She still loves you, she decided to stay here in Iowa for you, she—"
"Jane." He finally looked me straight in the eyes, which I could see were raw and damp. I was sure that he hadn't absorbed a word that I had just said. He reached for me, arms trembling, wanting to pull me close. "Please. Stay."
"I can't." It took all of my will to keep my eyes on his face, to keep my voice strong and steady.
When Kali descended on Half-Face, he was covered by a sheet. Bud's face was in the open, and I could see every bloody stab wound to the heart.
Taylor reached for my bag and placed it in the car next to Duff, who was practically destroying the car with all of her bouncing. I couldn't help but give her a small, wistful smile.
"So, are you ready to go?" Taylor asked.
I peered behind me at Bud's decaying, mismatched house. It seemed too quiet and lonely without Du, without me. Too dull and too flat. I could see Bud's face through the window, cupped in his hands. You could still go back, I thought, lightly fingering the handle for the car door. Still be Jane.
But then Taylor said, "Are you ready, Jase?" and the thought cleared from my head.
When we drove away, the house disappearing slowly behind us, the astrologer's warning of exile cackled in my ears.
I didn't understand whether it was ominous, or reassuring.