1:43 p.m.
She takes the bus to her neighborhood stop. Nobody dreaming this afternoon.
Walks to Cabel’s.
He’s painting the garage door now.
Janie stands in the grass at the side of the driveway and watches him.
Thinks about all the things that have happened in the past days. The whole journey she’s been on. The lows, and the lowers.
She thought she’d have to say good-bye.
Forever.
And now, she doesn’t.
It should feel so good.
But there’s still the matter of his dreams.
She clears her throat.
Cabel doesn’t turn around. “You’re quiet,” he says. “Wasn’t sure how long you were going to stand there.”
She bites her lip.
Shoves her hands in her pockets.
He turns. Has paint on his cheek. Eyes soft and crinkly. “What’s up? You okay?”
Janie stands there.
Tries to stop the quivering.
He sees it. Sets down his brush.
Goes to her. “Oh, baby,” he says. Pulls her close. Holds. “What is it?”
Strokes her hair while she sobs in his shirt.
2:15 p.m.
In the grass, under the shade tree in the backyard. They talk.
About his nightmares
And her future
For a very, very long time.
4:29 p.m.
It’s all so complicated.
It always is, with Janie.
It’s impossible for Janie to know what will happen, no matter how hard she tries to figure it out.
No matter how much Cabe convinces Janie that he had no idea he was having such disturbing dreams, and admits that maybe he is scared. But also that he really is dealing with things—he really is.
No matter how much they both promise to keep talking when shit like this comes up. Because it always will.
There’s just no happily ever after in Janie’s book.
But they both know there is something. Something good between them.
There is respect.
And there is depth.
Unselfishness.
An understanding between them that surpasses a hell of a lot else.
And there’s that love thing.
So they decide. They decide to decide each day what things will come.
No commitments. No big plans. Just life, each day.
Making progress. Cutting the pressure.
There’s enough damn pressure everywhere else.
And if it works, it works.
She knows one thing, deep down.
Knows it hard. And good.
He’s the only guy she’ll ever tell.
IT IS WHAT IT IS
5:25 p.m. Still the last day.