Until she saw me.
I’m not sure which one was more surprised to find the other, her or me.
I knew there was no sense in trying to hide, so I put on my big girl panties and got out. It wasn’t like I was going anywhere anytime soon.
Reluctantly I walked up the steps. Only when I came closer could I see the resemblance.
“I didn’t know Nixon was with a friend,” she said as she took me in.
This was the girl who had Nixon dropping everything just to come to her as soon as possible. Smalls. She was the girl from the photo, but at the same time she wasn’t anything like her at all.
She looked both younger and older at the same time. The happiness that was radiating from the photo was nowhere to be found in real life. She was still pretty, but it was obvious she’d been crying. Her eyes were red-rimmed, her whole face blotchy from tears. The lines of her face were hard, but overall she looked tired.
So damn tired.
It was a feeling I could relate to all too well.
“I had some car issues, and Nixon picked me up,” I offered as an explanation. “I’m Yasmin.”
I could see the wheels turning in her mind, trying to place me somewhere, figure out what I am to Nixon, but I gave nothing away. With those blue-gray eyes fixed on mine and looking at her now, up close like this, I knew what she’d say even before the words left her mouth. “Jade, Nixon’s sister.”
“I suck at cooking, but I make a mean coffee,” Jade says, breaking me out of my thoughts. I blink away the memory and offer her a small smile.
“I’d love some coffee.”
She tips her head, silently asking me to follow her, so I do. I don’t mind the quiet since I’m the same. Just give me coffee, and let me wake up before you bombard me with questions and the need to chatter.
When we get to the kitchen I sit at the chair at the bar dividing the dining from the kitchen area, not wanting to get in the way.
Jade works quickly, opening the cabinets to grab two cups. She puts them under the machine and checks that everything is ready before pressing the button to start the coffee maker.
As she waits for the coffee to brew, she opens another cabinet and starts going through the bottles piled in there. Medicine. She’s going through different medicines, I realize, doing it like she’s done it a thousand times before. It’s probably because she has. Then she grabs a kettle, fills it with water and puts it on the stove to heat. When she turns around she finds me observing her.
“These are Mom’s,” she explains, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “She used to love coffee, but it falls hard on her stomach so I make her tea instead.” She chuckles sadly. “She hates it, but I read somewhere it could help so she drinks it all the same.”
“Well she must love you a lot to take that torture,” I try to joke to lighten the mood.
A smile flashes across her face, but it’s gone almost as soon as it appears. “She does, especially considering we both know it’s pretty useless.”
I open my mouth to say something, although I’m not sure what exactly, but the coffee machine beeps, signaling the coffee is done. Jade turns her back on me, effectively shutting down the conversation.
“Creamer?”
“If you have it.”
She opens the fridge and pours a little in both cups before handing one to me. Jade leans against the counter and takes one long sip.
I do the same, enjoying the first caffeine jolt to my system. My eyes fall shut as the taste of coffee spreads over my tongue. It’s addicting. I don’t even remember the first time I tried it, because it’s been so long. Hell, maybe my mom gave me coffee when I was a baby.
“So, you and Nixon,” Jade comments after a while.
I open my eyes to look at her, but keep my face neutral. It’s not like there is anything for me to hide. “What about us?”
“Are you like, dating?”
“What?” I almost spit the coffee. “No. Where did you get that idea?”
The idea of Nixon and I dating is so absurd I’m not sure if I want to laugh or cry. Probably a little bit of both.
Jade shrugs, completely unfazed by my reaction. “He never brings girls around here.”
“Trust me, me being here has nothing to do with Nixon actually wanting me here. As I told you, I had car trouble, he picked me up, and just as he was taking me home, you called and here we are.”
“And here you are,” she hums. I’m not sure what she means by it, but I don’t ask. “So how do you know him?”
Taking another sip of coffee, I put the cup down on the counter. “We have a class together. Plus his teammate is dating my roommate.”
“So you hang out a lot?”
The conversation seems to perk her up a little, and it pains me not to be able to give her what she wants. I’m not sure how close the two of them are, but I can’t really imagine Nixon telling his little sister all the gory details of his college life.
“Not really.” I’m not sure what we are exactly. Acquaintances? I don’t think so. He knows my secrets, and now I know his too. Secrets, by the looks of it, that neither of us has shared with anybody else. Not even our closest friends. But if we aren’t acquaintances and we aren’t friends, where does that put us? The hell if I know. “Why do you ask?”
Jade looks away, as if embarrassed, and gives me another shrug. “I’m just trying to see how his life is when he’s at college, that’s all.”
So I was right. Although can I really blame Nixon for not opening up completely to her? He seems pretty protective of his little sister, it’s normal he doesn’t want to talk about wild parties in his house and hooking up with girls.
“Don’t you guys talk?”
“We do, but it’s not the same.”
“What’s not the same?”
In unison we both turn around to the woman standing in the doorway.
“Mom! You shouldn’t be up on your own,” Jade chastises her, going straight to her mother. Her arms wrap around the woman’s slender shoulders, helping her toward the chair.
“I can still walk on my own, young lady,” she admonishes, but doesn’t refuse her help getting to the table. I’m not entirely sure if it’s because she wants to make Jade feel useful, or if she actually needs the help, but doesn’t want to ask for it.
If I thought Jade is skinny, she has nothing on her mother. She’s practically all skin and bones. Her complexion is pale, making the circles around her eyes stand out.
Once she’s seated, her eyes, those familiar, sharp blue-gray irises that match the woman in the portrait, find me. “I didn’t know we had company.”
She slides her hand over the beanie covering her head self-consciously. It’s instinctive, although there’s nothing she has to be self-conscious about. This is her home, after all.
“I’m so sorry to intrude,” I say softly, trying to keep my voice steady.
Jade shoots a grateful smile my way.
“Mom, this is Yasmin. She’s Nixon’s friend.” Jade makes the introductions and goes to the stove where the kettle whistles.
Her words snap me out of it and I jump to my feet. Crossing the room, I offer her my hand, which she accepts. “I’m Yasmin, it’s so nice to meet you, Mrs. Cole.”