How to be Forever Alone [#Wattys2020]

47.

After spending the entirety of Saturday huddled up together, Tess and I are in definite agreement that there was no way we were going to be spending another day inside. In fact, by the time Sunday came rolling around the sun was somewhat shinning on the dew-soaked leaves outside. It's gotten to be that specific moment in the year where it should be winter already, but for some reason, people still want to consider it fall. If you didn't know, once you pass Kingston, if you're coming up from the south the province, the weather is usually a couple of weeks ahead. The farther you travel north the faster the seasons' turn. I honestly feel pity for the poor souls who have to spend almost half their year in a perpetual snow dump. 

One of the perks of finally being back home was that I could choose something to wear that wasn't from my dad's old bag. I had maybe brought along a week's worth of clothing when I left home and when I ended up in Sudbury I slowly just started building up a second wardrobe, not to mention that I also slightly borrowed a few pieces from Tess, but now I didn't have to do that anymore. I was able to grab my one pair of ripped jeans, that my mom always yells at me for wearing, and one of my loose fitting buttoned-up shirts with an almost psychedelic pattern.

I met Tess downstairs putting her shoes on in our small foyer and gave her a peck on the cheek. She blushed ever so slightly before bending down again to tie a final bow in her laced up doc martens. I pulled my jean jacket from the closet and put my shoes on much more sloppily than she did.

"You ready?" I ask her.

"Yeah," she replies smiling, "let's go have some fun." 

I slip my fingers in between hers and draw her along out the front door and down to the sidewalk. It would be nice to say that we were skipping hand in hand, but I don't think either of us is in good enough shape to do it for more than a few steps. 

Tess said that she rarely travelled down to Ottawa and when she did it was never more than a day. It was mostly from having to tag along with her parents to business meetings and still being too young to stay on her own at the time. Now we can do whatever we want, and so I made it my mission to turn her into a tourist.

My house is pretty much in the middle of the downtown area and it's never been too hard to reach anywhere. It was only maybe a twenty-minute walk to Parliament Hill where I was able to catch Tess' reaction to how big it was.

"Wow! It's kinda big," she says, "and the roofs are really green, almost like mint ice cream."

"I heard they used moose pee to get it to oxidize faster into that colour," I state blatantly.  

She scrunches her eyebrows as she turns to me, "Eww!"

"I really don't know why I know that," I say returning the expression.

Soon enough she was smiling, laughing, at the random bit of information that may or may not be a complete myth. I don't even know where I heard it, probably from some stranger walking by me on the street. 

Eventually, I offered to take her picture in front of everything, but she insisted that I be in the photo too. So, we convinced one of the many other tourists around to take a picture of us, but Tess failed to mention that she was going to be doing a crazy face leaving me, for the first time ever, looking like an ordinary human being.

"You're insane," I tell her after we got the phone back with the picture.

"Insane to be here with you," she says.

I only smiled lightly at her comment, I wasn't sure why exactly. My mind was not entirely settled in the moment, part of it had wandered off. I think it was because of what I wrote the other night while she was sleeping. 

I was quick to shake myself off without Tess even noticing.

"Should we go down to the Byward Market?" I ask her. "We could go grab a hot chocolate, maybe some Obama cookies?"

"Obama cookies?" she questions back. "You people are crazy."

I take her hands in mine and plead, "I promise they're delicious."

"Sure," she says still a little skeptical. 

She followed me down over the bridge that went over the Rideau Canal and for a moment we looked out at the Ottawa river and took the cool breeze flowing over top of it. It wasn't sharp but smooth and pushed some of Tess' curls out of the way of her face.

"Do you hear that?" she asks me.

"Hear what?" I question.

She takes a second listening closely to something, "I think I hear music."

 I didn't even get to say anything before she had hold of my right hand and we were rushing over to the center of the market near the Beaver Tail hut.

The crowd was huge by the time we got there. People were clapping along to the beat of the song, and it sounded so familiar. The same repetitive words that bounced as if they were an ocean. It was the Beach Boys.

And that voice...

I know that voice... I've heard it before!

I let go of Tess' hand and at first, I try to look over everyone's head to see who was at the center. When that wasn't working I came back down to the balls of my feet and carefully I start squeezing my way through the crowd saying 'excuse me'  at every chance I got.

I was so close to the front and finally, I was standing right in the middle of it all. It took me a second to find my footing before looking up for the first time.

It can't be...

This can't be real...

When he sees me he stops dead in his tracks, he doesn't play another note. He almost drops his guitar on the ground, but then he just stands there looking at me.

Our faces must have said it all, terrified, lost, overwhelmed.

No one else had time to react before he came right up to me with his hand now cradling my cheek and his lips falling right to mine, colliding into existence.

 The explosion in my heart letting me use every part of him to fill this void within me. All my strain disappearing into ashes at the bottom of my soul.

I take a breath away from him and try to catch myself in the moment. 

"Jack?" I say making sure he was really here.