Jake hadn’t replied to my messages for three days.
While I pondered how to lure him out, my
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roommate told me a handsome guy named
Jake was downstairs.
My excitement plummeted.
It was Jason, Jake’s brother.
He looked just as I remembered, much as he
did when he died.
He was handsome, but unlike Jake’s rugged handsomeness, he had a more refined, gentle
look.
Once, I was captivated by his appearance, going to great lengths to be with him.
Now, I felt only indifference.
But he had never visited my college before. Was this a butterfly effect from my rebirth? Calmly, I approached: “Jason, what’s up?” Jason smiled, offering a bag of fruit: “I’m in town on business, and I thought I’d stop by.”
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He seemed surprised by my reaction.
After a moment, he said, “Are you free to go
hiking this weekend? With Jake.”
I agreed.
Since I couldn’t get Jake to meet, this was my
best shot.
Jason smiled, “See you then.”
As soon as he left, my smile faded.
I pursued him for a year before he agreed to be with me.
Our long–distance relationship lasted less than a month before his fatal accident.
I didn’t even get to see him one last time. Later, Jake told me Jason’s wish was for him to marry me and take care of me.
As an orphan, I craved affection, assuming Jason couldn’t let go of me even in death.
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To grant his wish, I married Jake.
If it hadn’t been for Jake’s diary, I’d still be in
the dark.
Jason had a girlfriend when he was with me. He hid it from me, and from Jake.
Jake’s diary entry read: “I fought with him,
called him a loser, and he laughed, calling me a coward who couldn’t even confess.”
The entry was from a week after Jason and I became a couple.
4
The hiking weather was perfect.
Jason drove.
He gallantly opened the passenger door: “Hop in.”
I went to the back, “Jason, Jake and I will sit
here.”
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Both brothers looked at me.
I said, “If I sit in the front, your girlfriend will
be upset.”
Jason chuckled, “I don’t have a girlfriend.” Ignoring him, I stared at Jake, “Jake, only I can sit in your passenger seat, got it?” Jake looked away, his ears turning red. After our marriage, women often tried to sit in his passenger seat.
He always refused, saying only I could sit there.
Some accepted it; others didn’t.
Later, if I wasn’t with him, he’d lock the
passenger door, barring anyone, including his parents.
When I learned this, I said, “You don’t have to, it’s just a seat.”
