The midnight meeting

I couldn’t sleep. It was a perfect night to stay up. The air, the autumn breeze, the deep blue sky full of stars, and the moonlight. I was sitting on my cramped table near the window and imagining the horizon when it became morning, wondered how magnificent the breaking dawn could be.

Then I detected a tall shadow moving towards me. I kept looking at the shadow until I could clarify what it was. I kept glaring at the guy, hoping he soon recognized that he wasn’t the only one who stayed up that late. But, the man stepped forward with an extraordinary calmness. At that flash, I resisted my concern and decided to lock the small exit. But in a second, he stood under the moonlight; I jumped out of the minor table and fell into the grass. I acknowledged him: his white and pale skin, his chocolate brown, dark curly hair. His familiar face had reminded me why I looked at the midnight sky every fall day. 

“I’m dreaming.” I expected it. I set up. My knees ached. But I didn’t care. I started the walk to him and suddenly, he faded away. I stayed still, trying to figure out what had just happened.

“It can’t be him” I hoped. “I must be sick. I must go straight to bed earlier…”, I paused. I met his eyes, again. There, right in front of me, I peered at him and believed that was him. He wasn’t a separate individual anymore. He was the weave of the autumn breeze, with a soft and breakable body. I hurried to go through the path, passed the trees, and crawled over a hole under the fence. Down the street, I saw the handsome face was smiling at me. I stopped and waited for a signal.

“I don’t think you should be here, Jelly,” - He whispered.

His words froze that moment. It broke down all my senses and abilities. All I could do in that suspended time was staring at him as he was a missing piece of my memories that I had dropped several years ago.

“Jelly…” He continued. His voice, it was his voice. So smooth, so melodious, and so real. Not the sound I remember I dream, not the sound I struggled to imagine every moment I heard his name. It was the voice of the day he died. 

“Jelly… go home. Mother is waiting.” He murmured. 

I opened my mouth. For the first time, I realized that I was unwilling for the midnight breeze. It scared me. I knew it would take my fragile sound wires and break them before they could go through my brother’s ears. I was afraid that it would crash, not only my glimmering voice but my whole senseless body. - “Jam” - the only word I could say, at that moment, the only word that could break down that frozen present and bring my senses back to life. His nickname. It was his name.

“Jam” - I shouted. - “Is that you?” 

He smiled, and again, I woke up. I realized how important his gentle smile was. It was everything.

“Jelly,” 

He called me Jelly. He was the only one in this world who called me Jelly. How long did I avoid calling myself Jelly? How long did I stop hearing anyone call me Jelly? How long was it?

“Jelly, go. It’s late.” - Jam said.

I did not move. I could not let the autumn breeze take him away. In conclusion, I knew I was dreaming, and I didn’t dare to admit it.

“Go home.” My illusion brother repeated. He was losing his patience. Fine. I was the best at making him angry.

“I miss you, Jam,” I mumbled.

Jam looked at me again and walked to me quickly. He took my hand carefully and pulled me. I realized nothing. All I felt was the warmth of his hand. His hand was too warm, too gracious to be a dream.

“You’re home.”

I woke up. I was in my bed, remembering his voice, his smile, his cozy hand, and his face. “I miss you, Jam,” I told myself.

…

   When I saw my mother in the morning, I suddenly felt sorry for her. If only she was there with me last night. She missed Jam a lot. 

   “Hi, Jennifer.” She smiled. She looked at me and smiled. She was so beautiful, just like Jam: her white skin, wavy blonde hair, her lovely brown eyes, and her smoothie voice… Who can believe that she was 38 years old?

   “Hi, mother,” I answered. 

   “Did you sleep well, honey?” She asked.

   “No.” I paused for a second. Should I tell her about Jam? Yes. She would love to hear it. “I dreamed about Jeremy.” I continued.

   It was an awful decision. The room was full of silence. Mother didn’t answer me. I should have known that. I shouldn’t open my mouth and say “Jeremy”. Thank god, I didn’t call him “Jam”. She would cry if I did.

   “What did he do?” My mom asked.

   “He told me he misses you, a lot. He hopes you are happy.” I lied. I couldn’t mention that Jam said nothing about her. She loves him, a lot.

   “He’s a good boy.”

   “Yes.”

   “Anything else, honey?”

   “No, mother. That is it. He didn’t have time.” I told her. “If you come home tonight, I will make you go see mom.” I thought.

…

     Mother was sleeping. I was sitting on the small door waiting for Jam. Eleven o’clock, he arrived. I stared at him, tried to listen to him, but nothing happened. I waited and waited. We kept looking at each other until I was fear that he would leave me again. I stood up and climbed the window. 

    He stepped forward to me and asked:

    “Who taught you to climb the window?”

    “I learned it myself,” I answered. “Why are you here?”

“Visit you”, he laughed.

...

We went inside the chamber. I turned on the miniature lamp, hoping the mother won’t notice that I was still awake. After that, an awkward silence took over the room. I watched Jam and wondered why we had so many things in common: light skin, wavy hair, and chocolate brown eyes. Sometimes, I tried to imagine “our” father, and I saw a tall man with pale skin, brown hair, and blue eyes.

“How can you get here?” I asked.

“I walked.” He responded.

“From the middle of the Pacific Ocean to L. A?” 

“Yes. For 8 years, right?”

Eight years. Yes, it has been eight years since the moment we got on the stupid ship and lost him. It has been eight years since the day I lay in my mother’s arms and cried. Eight years since the day I started looking up the stars and remember what he told me moments ago. His words were still so clear. I could hear everything he expressed that day.

“It has been a while, right?” I whispered.

“Sixteen years since the moment I found you.” He grinned.

“At the rubbish dump,” I responded. “Thank you for bringing me to the orphanage.” I continued, tried to hide my disappointment about my past “You should see mother.”

He smiled and held my hands:

“Thanks for reminding me. I won’t live that long without her.”

I knew what would happen, so I grabbed my chance and said:

“I miss you, Jam. I won’t forget you, forever. I promise.”

“I’ll be there for you. I promise.”

“I love you.” We added, together. And he faded away.

       …

"Hi, honey," Mother said

“Hi, mother.” I smiled.

 She passed me the toasts and looked at the way I put all the jelly we got and ate it. That reminded her of the reason Jam called me Jelly every breakfast.

“I dreamed about Jeremy last night.” She intoned. “He called you Jelly. He came to say thank you…”

“For adopting him and me with love and kindness.” I finished. “He loves you, mother.”

  She stepped forward and kissed my cheek. She had been here for me until the end. Like how Jam will be there for the people he loved, like what he announced that autumn day: “I’ll be there for you, sister. I promise.”