Jesse

23: Jack's, and the Titanic

23: Jack's, and the Titanic

…

            "So you applied at Jack's?" Emily asked me the following Monday at lunch.

            Our relationship that had been little marred by what I told her that seemed ages ago, seemed to have improved because of the hospital trip. She seemed more depressed lately; and I knew it was because of her Dad’s condition. She had told me she picked up her smoking habit again through one of her older friends. And she didn't look at many people in the eyes anymore, but she did to me.

            I nodded as I stuck my fork into the macaroni and cheese, and ate some. After I finished chewing, I told her, and only her, since well, the other two were absent today, "But they haven't called me yet, so I don't know if I'll get the job or not. I know Ian will; he's a lot better than me. I mean smarter, and all."

            "Hey, that isn't so? And how do you know that?" Emily asked as she braved the school's roast-beef.

            "Because he's in my first class, told you that."

            "Oh, yeah," she said after swallowing, and making a face. "I don't know why I'm eating this…"

            "Have you been to Jack's?"

            "Oh, no," she said, "just saw it, while in town."

            "We'll see if I get the job, though," I said, smirking.

            "Yeah, I'm sure you got it," she said, actually pretty certain. Which surprised me. "They'd be dumb not to hire you."

            I laughed aloud. "Thanks."

            "Mhmm," she said, before tipping her soda into her mouth. I watched Em carefully, and she blinked, staring at my neck. "Got a new necklace Jess?"

            A small smile eased up my lips, and she nodded. "It's not so bad," Emily said, making a thoughtful face now.

            "What, my necklace?" I asked confused.

            "No, the beef-roast," she said flouting a grin. "But, your necklace is nice. I like it…But it looks like it's missing its other half…"

"Oh," I said, and I realized what she was getting at. "It came like this," I lied quietly.

            Emily didn't say anything, but she kept looking past me; maybe she was thinking to herself. I did not want to know. We finished our lunch in silence. But somewhere in me, I was afraid of what she was thinking. She was suspicious. Curious. Maybe she would forget about it. I was hoping so. More than anything.

…

            That Wednesday while Harold and I were eating dinner, the phone rang. This rarely happened. He looked at me oddly first, making a face, and slowly put down his fork, chewing.

            The phone rang again, and he didn't make any motion to get it, and quietly I sighed.

            "I'll get it," I said, standing from the table. The walk to the phone felt longer than it should. I answered, said hello, and when I realized it was Jack's manager, I couldn't believe it. I was stunned. I spoke more polite. He introduced himself as Mr. Hans Brown, son of Jack Brown, who was the original founding cook and manager. He went on about that for awhile, and I just let him talk. Finally, he got to the point about why he called me, and he said I was supposed to meet him tomorrow, for an interview. When I hung up, I still couldn't believe it.