Crossroads
Disclaimer - The following story is a work of fiction. Archie Comic characters were created by John L. Goldwater and are copyright © by Archie Comic Publications, Inc. The characters' names are the exclusive trademarks of Archie Comic Publications, Inc.
Summary - How many roads must a man walk down before you can call him a man? Jughead x Betty
Chapter Eight
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Six missed calls in one day. I don't return them. I need to stay away from her.
Yuki sets a mug of chocolate on the table; this is what she does when she's about to have a serious discussion.
"Right, our exams are in a month-"
I block her out. Exams are the last thing I want to hear about. How could I possibly think about exams when my centre of gravity has been violently and suddenly shifted? Since when have I been cut up over a female? Since when have I cared about what a woman might say or do? Since when have I been such an emotional wreck?! God damn women! God damn life! And just because I can, God damn the French!
I pull myself out of my state of hysteria, proud that I have been able to fool Yuki with my calm façade, and tune back in to reality, where I find that she's still ranting with a vengeance.
"-so you can't afford to muck around!"
I sigh, and turn to face her.
"You know what, Yuki?" I say, "You're absolutely right."
She blinks. "I am?"
"You are."
She narrows her eyes. "You've never given in so easily before. What's going on?"
"Nothing." I rise to my feet and place my hands, at arms length, on her shoulders, and gaze somberly into her eyes.
We stare at each other in silence. My mind is a whirlwind of thoughts. My hypothalamus is in overdrive. I think this is me having a revelation. I think this is me having an epiphany. I am oddly both elated and downcast at the same time. I can practically hear Eliza Dolittle yelling 'by George I think he's got it!' in my brain. Yuki ruins the moment, as usual.
"God, you're not going to kiss me, are you?"
I try not to roll my eyes.
"No, Yuki. I'm not. Sorry if I disappointed you."
"Don't flatter yourself," she says. "I'd rather kiss a pig."
I smile. "It'd be practically the same thing, anyway."
She laughs.
I know what needs to be done.
Withdrawing myself from Betty Cooper is a lot more difficult than I expected it to be, but I've made it past three weeks now. I'm very proud of myself. At the same time, a little voice keeps calling me an idiot for letting her go, but… I'm satisfied.
For the first time in my life, I'm doing the unselfish thing.
Now she and Harry can concentrate on building a wonderful life together, and soon they'll be married and having pink, fat babies who puke in unison by the bucketful and everyone will be happy.
Everyone will be happy.
Everyonewillbehappy.
Maybe if I chant it like a mantra I'll believe it?
I've actually been studying. Anything to get my mind off Betty, ANYTHING. Yuki keeps me up until all odd hours of the morning and force-feeds me coffee and donuts.
'Double your caffeine and blood-sugar levels!' she says, with the vain hope that we'll maintain our drive. But sugar and caffeine can't beat Betty. Every time I think I see her out of the corner of my eye, or get a sudden whiff of her perfume, or feel the brush of her hand against mine, I fight to triple, no, quadruple my concentration.
"I'm really proud of you, Forsythe," says Yuki, eyes scanning a mock paper she'd set for me. "I think you're ready."
"No."
"Excuse me?"
"I'm not ready."
I can't be ready. I still dream about her, for Christ sake!
"But you know everything! You're almost as smart as I am, now!"
"Er…I'm still not sure when it comes to…er…this section in…er…"
"Is something the matter, Jones?" asks Yuki, unusually perceptive.
I consider lying, but decide against it.
"Everything's the matter, Yuki," I say wearily.
"Well," she says, reaching forward to grab another donut from the box, "it appears that you have just maxed out my solution to all life's problems…that being pretending that nothing is more worrisome than passing your exams."
I sigh. "What do I do now?"
She shrugs. "I dunno. Soul searching?"
"Please."
"Chill, Mr. Sarcasm. Here, have a smoke."
"Thanks. Aaaah…"
When the smoke fills my lungs and the nicotine floods my system, my hysteria wanes.
"Good. Now that you're properly sedated we can have a serious discussion."
"Ha ha."
"Meditation?" she suggests. "I have a cousin who's the last surviving victim from his family of the Kobe 'quake and he controls his violent emotions through intense self-reflection and meditation."
Then I have a brainwave.
"Now, inhale…and…exhale…like this…whooooo…WHOOoooO!!"
I smile tentatively at my 'guru', clad in a simple white linen pants and cotton t-shirt. He's let the wilderness take over; his beard reaches halfway down his neck, his hair has been swept into a tight ponytail. His skin is weathered and tan. His feet are cracked and his palms are rough. He looks nothing like the round-faced boy who sat next to me in chemistry.
But he still has the same blue eyes.
"Thanks for this, Dilton. I know you're only in town for a week."
"Anything for you, brother. Now, breathe…"
I inhale.
"So," asks Dilton, "how did that last paper go, hmm?"
I exhale. "It went okay. I passed."
"That's good," he smiles. "And your classmates? Are they satisfied?"
"You know, you talking to me completely defeats the purpose of meditation."
"And what purpose is that?"
"So that I can achieve a higher level of being by not being distracted by petty things?"
He laughs.
"Oh, no, Jughead. You're wrong. And I'm not a fool."
"Why?" I ask, feeling slightly offended. What, I'm too shallow to want to achieve Nirvana???
"Jughead, you want to meditate to escape a worldly fear."
I wince.
"Am I that obvious?"
"Only to me, my brother. Want to talk about it?"
"When did you realize…?"
"I knew from the moment I first spoke to you, Jughead."
"What?!"
He merely smiles.
"You mean you came here all the way from India…?"
"Because you needed a friend, Jughead."
I think I cried.
