“Really? How come?” I never knew that about them.
“Just petty little fights,” Mum confesses, “I was not the best at dealing with fights back then. I always thought every little thing was the worst.”
“You’re lucky you had me to balance it out,” Dad laughs.
“Marlon and I aren’t in a fight or anything at all. Don’t worry. I’m just tired.”
“That’s right, why would they be fighting after their perfect anniversary date,” Ria chimes in.
That’s when Mum tells me to recount all the details, since I hadn’t been able to all day. With coloured cheeks, I tell them all about the bookstore trail, about our milkbar lunch and the overlook.
I leave out the part where we slow danced against the golden hour, atop the cliff. I want to pocket that memory for myself.
By the end, Mum is clapping, and Dad is smiling. Their enthusiasm fills me with that familiar sense of hope.
So when Marlon finally asks to call so we can watch Sailor Moon together after dinner, I’m floating. This time, I want the chapters to flow. I don’t want to be riddled with questions, to overthink why he isn’t doing certain things.
I want things to happen right with Marlon. Even if it all started out as a ruse.
We watch a couple of episodes of Sailor Moon, as normal. We laugh at all the right times, banter at the right moments. There’s no mention of our date yesterday, nor our almost kiss. I wonder if Marlon is as affected by it as I am.
It’s only when I’m about to press play on our third episode of the night, when Marlon says, “Hey, Garcia?”
“Hmm?”
“I need to call in your super-perceptive romance skills.”
I chuckle, hoping it hides the rapid thrumming of my heart.
“Love expert Jaslene at your service. Credentials are years and years of rom-com books and tv shows and movies under my belt, what do you need?”
“You’re such a dork.”
“You eat it up.”
“I can’t lie, I do.”
I grin, his words weaving a warm blanket around my chest.
“Okay, so what do you need?”
Shuffling is heard on the other side of the line, and I imagine Marlon shifting on his bed, the blanket bunching clumsily around his body. Then, I don’t want to imagine Marlon on his bed anymore.
“Well…” he begins, “This is going to sound so lame.”
“Your default.”
“Shut up. Well, okay, I’m just going to ask it so you can laugh at me and you can get it out of the way. But I guess…how do you know that you really love someone? Or,likesomeone, a lot?”
I let the question marinate, surprised that Marlon would ask such a thing. At first, I think,oh gosh, is this about me? Unless…
What if he wanted to know whether he felt this way for Christine?
A dawning cold clouds over me, encasing my body.
What if I got it all wrong?
I push away any speculations, trying to focus on the hope that had filled me the entire day, and the day before. I focus on the question.
