TILL DEATH DO US PART | JENLISA

TEN

JENNIE

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Without You

August 20, 2011

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I have a confession.

When I opened this book and began this part of my and Lisa's life, I firmly believed I knew the end. That was why I gambled my heart and soul on it. I would be a liar if I said I thought the end of my life, our life, would come anywhere other than a wet grainy road in the future. I certainly never would have believed the end would come in the middle of her parents' kitchen, after a day of telling her how much I love her.

I'm utterly devastated by the magnitude of my entitlement and ignorance, because I bought into my own delusion-that I could foretell how the story would end. It was pure arrogance, blind self-preservation and selfishness on a level that I didn't think I was capable of. Living as an adult in a teenage world didn't give me the right to manipulate life like a magician. And I have now, only to reap my punishment.

Because, I've missed the story.

And I forgot that not every story has a happy ending.

I didn't see the writing on the wall, the inevitable end that was coming. It was whistling toward me with the acuity of an arrow's arc. And now that I'm pulling my head out of the fog, the damage I've done leaves a wreck around me. It leaves me bleeding, wounded, and pierced through to the very center.

I realize this, all of this, as I stand staring at the Stanford University early acceptance letter in my hand.

Lisa smiles at me. "Okay, so you look surprised. I have a reasonable explanation for applying."

I can't even speak because the rationale doesn't matter, it's the fact that the letter exists at all. It might as well be a barbed projectile in the space between my ribs.

"It's so you can apply to U.C. San Francisco. And you can congratulate me any time you're ready." She grins smugly before she takes a long gulp of water. I watch the liquid swirl in the glass when she pauses to breathe and then drink more. She empties the glass and sets it on the counter where her letter was sitting innocently a moment ago. "I'm only this thirsty in testament to your skill Jennie." She gives me a lazy, sexy smile. It is a smile that would melt me if I wasn't shattering apart.

"What is this though?" I ask numbly, and the paper rattles in my hand. "You are going to music school in New York, not California."

She looks surprised, off guard, and leans on the counter sliding in close to me. Her fingertips worry the edge of the paper in my hand. "Well, I did some research and found that U.C.S.F. is the top school in the nation for General Practitioners, and they run huge studies in Alzheimer's treatment."

"So?" I hear myself say. "What does that have to do with you going to school in California?" I know I should be able to put it together, but my brain isn't working.

She stares at me, dumbfounded, but she presses on after a moment. "So I was thinking, since that is your dream-to be an amazing doctor and change people's lives-that you should go to the best place possible." She frowns.

I can tell it bothers her that she has to spell it out for me. We are normally so in tune.

"I was thinking about going to Stanford so we could be together. It's about forty minutes away."

"I don't think they have music there. Well, nothing like in New York." I set the letter aside and firm a smile on my face. "Congrats, but it doesn't matter because you have to go to college in New York so you are close to the Broadway scene."