COLE

I hadn't been to Jade's since before her parents died. They had had Oscar and Jade one after the other in their 40s and both passed before their 60th birthday. Oscar bought a cabin of his own with his share of inheritence, and it turns out, Jade renovated the 2-bedroom family cabin significantly since that jellyfish sleepover. The place was a haven for a hermit. I wasn't surprised, it screamed Jade, but it was fancier than I thought she could afford. Artistic photography and abstract, albeit dark paintings on the wall that must have cost a fortune. Cozy but sturdy couch and carpet in the living room. A black sculpture in the corner; looking both like a person and a willow tree, wrapping in on itself. Wooden floors. A large flat screen TV –with no cable or satellite, I bet– and a marble fireplace. A modern music set topped by an LP record player. A wall-to-wall, full library. In the back patio, a tub surrounded by glass walls. It must be drawing salt water from the sea before heating it up. Jade would think it a waste to use 140 gallons of fresh water every time. I promised myself to ask her that when everything was better. But somehow, I knew the answer, because I knew her.

She was leaning on the threshold on the hallway, watching me attentively with her arms crossed. "I see that you've started the tour. Do you like the place?"

"It's much different than our – Alison's cabin. Very tasteful, elegant. Very you."

She smiled and looked away from the compliment. "Thanks. Let me show you your room. I was thinking whether I should go out and buy you some clothes in a moment. It might be too early for you to visit home, even if she's not there. What do you think? It's your choice, of course."

"I was going to suggest that you and I go home during her shift at the Roll, but your idea might be better."

"For now I'll get you some sweats Oscar left here back when he was leaner." She gave me a once over from head to toe. "They should fit you."

Her guest room had a modern, European-looking decoration. Unlike the warm living room, the syle was simple and efficient. It was like entering another house. I quickly changed into Oscar's old clothes and came out. I tried to ignore that my wife might have peeled these very clothes off Oscar before. I'd take them off as soon as possible. New clothes would be best. Alison peeled every single clothing I own off me before. It would feel disgusting to wear any of them right now. Jade was behind her laptop on the dinner table when I appeared. I made a show of myself by doing a 360 with arms wide open, modeling the rags. She was trying not to laugh, biting her lip. "This'll do. Your hips are narrower, though. 32-35'' jeans, Medium underwear, large t-shirt, 10.5'' socks?"

"Exactly so. You have good eyes."

"You might consider taking a few days off from the Ranch, if you think your brothers can handle it. I know you like to oversee things. I don't mean to coddle you but I'm determined to make your state of mind a priority. Give you some time to think."

"Yes. Thanks, doctor. I'll call Caleb at the taxi rank."

She gave me a lopsided smile and got up. "Don't mention it. I'll come back in a jiffy. Try and get some sleep, OK? There's some Valium in the bottom kitchen drawer if you need it, but check the sell by date first; it's quite old."


JADE

In the last hour, I smiled more than I had the whole previous month. It had taken me years of escaping, trying my best to forget how charming Cole could be and now his warmth hit me again like a freight train. It was disturbing. Two hours alone with him was enough to suffocate me. Made me feel like writing. I was glad I could get out for some much needed air. He always closed off and performed for others' comfort even when he felt far from it, and he was doing it now. He was so lonely and he didn't even know it. He just accepted it as if that's how his life was supposed to be, the hand he was dealt. It broke my heart.

And what was that about liking me before Alison? I had no idea. Maybe our lives are different in a parallel universe; maybe there it's my face he sees when he closes his eyes. Maybe another me falls asleep to his scent every night, touching his bare skin.

He stood around in my living room like he belonged there.

Letting myself think this way again after all this time felt like I was betraying something. Made me feel nauseous. Was I trying to keep him for myself? Did I have an alterior motive? No, this was the ghost of Alison talking; the devil on my shoulder. I wouldn't do anything to hurt Cole deliberately or manipulate him. I swore to myself that I would keep myself neutral, help as needed, as he asked. The issue was, I knew him well. He wouldn't ask for help easily, from anyone. Well, he had eaten his pride and asked me to support him, hadn't he? I need to be patient. He is still my friend, and I am his. Monitor, not interfere. Help, not hope. Ignore your feelings. In all likelihood, he would soon focus his efforts on winning Alison back. She is the love of his life, the mother of his child, no matter who she is.


COLE

Once Jade left, I called Caleb to tell him that I would stay with a friend for a while and made him promise for his discretion.

Then out of curiosity, I gave myself permission to enter her room before I went to bed. It was a much warmer and alluring space than the guest room. Especially the smell; soap mixed with something else, probably Jade herself. The room itself was almost fluffy. The bed thick, the headboard soft, the carpet shaggy and wooly, the furniture mostly white. The wall behind the bed was painted dark turquoise, the closest color to her eyes and mine. One of the shelves was used as a showcase for awards won by someone called Jace Olde. All of them literary prizes. Three short story awards, two of them first prize. Last one, from last year. Next to the awards, a framed page torn off The New Yorker; an article by Jace Olde, humorously titled "Hollow winters on the edge of Long Island, or how I stopped worrying and learned to love Montauk".

I took the frame and lied down on her bed to read the story. It was about surviving loss. It read almost like non-fiction, peppered with pieces of old Montauk the way only we knew it. Small details not noticed by tourists. Like the small cove right under the lighthouse that even most locals didn't know about; a place we discovered as kids. A memory of me and Jade came to my mind in a flash. She had taken me to the cove to hide me away from everyone right after I found my dad hung on the ceiling and ran to her in panic. I had forgotten about that. Then the article talked of a teenage love irrevocably lost to another. Thousands of slender willow branches ripping away one by one in the wind, the writer feeling each of them. It all came to loss. Loss was life, loss was what gave meaning to our gains, our longing, what we held in our hands, in our souls. The winter chill runs through our bones to make us realize we are still clinging on to life by the skin of our chattering teeth.

I finished the enticing story, an essay on my town; hopeful despite its dark tone, feeling the pain with the writer who was clearly Jade. This was her heart, her words, and it had me in it. I fell asleep on her bed while reading her article for a second time, misty-eyed in awe of Jade's depths.


JADE

I was alarmed when I couldn't find Cole in my house, until I thought to look in my own room. Such a relief to find him still here. I walked on tiptoes and lowered myself on my office chair to watch him sleep. There were white flakes around his eyes. Salt. All because of me. He was fine in the morning. I wanted to kiss the flakes off. Wipe it all away, turn back time while I was at it. He had invaded my privacy, apparent from the frame he held in his arms. My first published article, ambitiously sent to The New Yorker and unexpectedly accepted when I was only 17. Nobody knew about it until now, but somehow I couldn't feel annoyed or invaded by his presence. I wouldn't mind if he never left again.

A while later, he stirred and slowly opened his eyes, finding me across him. "Hey sleepyhead, I hope my bed is comfortable."

Instead of looking sorry, he grinned and stretched comfortably, his belly and happy trail showing. "It is. It's the most comfortable bed I've ever slept in." He was beautiful, even more beautiful when he acted self-indulgently. Made me want to spoil him more.

"Good to hear. I've got your stuff, added some toiletries while I was at it. They're in your room. I promise the guest bed is also comfortable."

"Noted. Thanks for shopping for the fugitive. Very kind of you." He sat up on the bed.

"Don't mention it. Pfft, your hair looks ridiculous." I couldn't help but ruffle it. "I also left my mp3 player on your bed. I don't know about you but music helps me calm down."

"Thanks for singing to me in the car. It fixed me somehow."

"…For the moment. Don't mention that either. I'll be much more comfortable if you stop thanking me. It's really irritating. Helping you makes me feel better, so if anything, it's a selfish act."

"Yeah, right. You're the most selfish person I've met." He got up. "I'll go have a look at what you got for me and test your guest bed. Otherwise I might steal this one from under you."

"Be my guest. I'll be in the living room if you need me."

"Will you be writing? Your piece moved me. Do you write a lot?"

I looked away. "You caught me."

He walked closer into my personal space, which demanded me to look at him. "I had no idea you wrote. I'd love to read more of it. Just like your cabin, your writing is also very you. Delicate and honest at the same time. Like the words will crumble in my hands if I'm careless with them, if I don't give them the value they deserve."

I'm sure I flushed purple at that. "Thanks. Now can you please cut it out and go to your room?" I turned away towards my already tidy desk, looking for a way to tidy it more. I took the stapler from the right side and put it on the left.

He walked away. Before closing the guest room door behind him, he said "What can I say, watching you blush is a hobby."

What the hell was that?