22. Bonds So Tight Tabby

O nce everyone finished with their ice cream, we moseyed through the bears and wolves, stopping to take a few pictures as a group. I stood in the center next to Rob and tried to make sure no one felt left out. That was a challenge since I hadn’t so much as spoken to Jax all day—I didn’t even try to make eye contact long enough to nod at him. He might as well have been absent.

Megan continued to rasp on my mind every time she spoke, and so did Ethan. But by the time we made it to the kangaroo exhibit, they bothered me because they spoke to one another, not to Jax. His voice wasn’t anywhere in the mix. In fact, he fell behind, reading every info sheet like he was taking a field trip quiz when we were done.

I couldn’t focus on him. This was my day. When Rob squeezed my hand and said, “Let’s look for peacocks,” I was with the right guy once again. He didn’t tell me how he knew, but he did. That’s what mattered. Like always, his wins made up for all the losses, each one a new tally in the pro column.

Cordelia insisted on stopping again at the main cafeteria on our way out, in front of the flamingos. We all crowded inside to find something more filling than ice cream. People bustled all around us; their voices echoed off every hard surface, making conversation next to impossible. A wave of fatigue from my early morning caught up with me. I wanted to sit down, sleep, rest my eyes; the dark sunglasses made it worse. Even if I avoided Jax inside, I couldn’t take the glasses off because Annie wouldn’t stop snapping pictures that she shared on the group text chain.

Overstimulated and needing some air, I patted Rob on the shoulder. “I need some air. It’s stuffy in here.”

“Alright. Don’t go too far.” He didn’t offer to come with me, which I expected, so I took it as a win for privacy when he chose to pay more attention to his cheeseburger than to me.

Beyond the flamingos, I stopped at a bench outside the antique carousel. Dissonant tones of the old-fashioned music leaked from inside the turntable of horses, reminding me of almost forgotten days with Dad. It had been so many years, I could barely remember what he looked like. But he loved the carousel. This carousel. A truth I didn’t even tell Rob: San Francisco was where I was born, and as such, this zoo was my childhood comfort. He thought I was being immature to want to be here. I was simply nostalgic. I missed my dad.

My phone buzzed in my pocket. I expected to see a snarky message from Rob about how long I’d been gone, but it was a surprise relief instead.

Psst. Meet me at the bug house.

I smirked, then looked both ways on the path and snuck past the carousel to the kid’s section. A playground and petting zoo paved the way to a small research building covered in acrylic, colorful insects. Unchanged by time.

The doors opened wide to a quiet space, no larger than a typical classroom. To my delight, it was how I remembered it, lined with terrariums and fascinating creatures. My first stop was a small box that allegedly housed a black widow spider. When I couldn’t find it, I moved on to the next, which was filled with stick bugs clinging to a black netting.

Jax, having turned his baseball cap backward, looked at me from the other side of the enclosure. “Well, well, well. Fancy seeing you here,” he said, smirking with his whole face.

I poorly fought back a smile. “Yeah, what a coincidence.”

We didn’t break eye contact, though through my glasses, I wasn’t sure what he could actually see. It didn’t matter, though. The pull between us was magnetic, out of our control. He stepped to the right, and I stepped to the left, until we were face to face with no barriers.

“Happy birthday,” he said, with a drop in his tone that was almost a whisper.

“Thanks.”

Awkwardly, he tipped his whole body to the side, then opened his arms to invite me in.

For a split second, I was paralyzed, wishing for more, but I chuckled to break the tension. “Come here.” I hugged him tight against my chest and breathed in the scent of his skin.

Clean. Tide. Maybe a little cologne? For Megan. Right. I released faster than I wanted to.

He put his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. “Well, it’s not The Butterfly Pavilion. But it will have to do. What’s your favorite thing in here?”

You . Resisting the urge to flirt with him outright, I glanced over the walls. “Is it too much if I say I like watching the caterpillars?”

Jax cocked a brow. “Could you be any more gay?”

I burst out laughing. “Damn right. What can I say? Turning into something beautiful is kinda the whole point of my life.”

“Butterflies are so fuckin’ cliche. Let’s find something better.” He moved to the many dioramas by the walls that held pinned insects instead of live ones. Pointing to a black, horned monster no smaller than his hand, he hummed a victorious tune. “Look at this guy. You’re not a butterfly. You’re a rhinoceros beetle. I mean, I don’t know what you used to be like, but I know you now. So, I say, you went in a horrific, grubby creature, and came out something way more badass.”

Jax’s description was funny and beautiful, exactly the kind of thing he always excelled at. I’d take it. “Horrific, grubby creature, huh?”

He chuckled. “How about you focus on the badass part instead. Relax. You haven’t even taken your sunnies off.”

“Right.” We moved along to make room for a group of young kids who wanted to see the beetle board. I stopped again in front of the largest tarantulas, fascinated and terrified by their size.

“I can’t believe you almost skipped this place,” Jax said, half under his breath.

“Not everybody gets why it’s so important to me. Especially not—” I stopped myself, suddenly aware I was about to blame him by mentioning Megan.

No need. He already knew where I was going. “That’s on me. I brought a squirmy girl. Didn’t know she was squirmy until today.”

“Not your fault. I can sacrifice to make people comfortable. Got a whole life of practice for that.” I forced myself to say anything supportive, despite the way I had to mine my heart for it. “You better not screw that up, by the way. She knows we hang out. If you hurt her, I’ll have spit in my sandwiches for the rest of my life.”

Jax hissed in through his teeth. “Then I guess it’s a good thing I basically set her up with my roommate. They really hit it off today.” He shook his head.

“Are you, um...disappointed?” I asked.

“Not really. I said the first time we had lunch there that I didn’t feel anything for her. Don’t know why I tried to force it.”

It was a risk to mention what I knew, but I couldn’t escape it. “Not Megan. What about Ethan?”

Jax stopped cold and frowned.

“He told Rob...Rob told me.” I pressed my lips in a knowing line. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Jeez. Yes, I’m fine. It was nothing. Ethan was just...trying to make me feel better. It’s not a big deal.”

For all he said, there was so much he didn’t—like what he needed to feel better for. But I let it go. If I had any hope to restore the great bond we had the last time we were alone together, I couldn’t do it by invading his privacy. Instead, I tried offering up some of mine.

“Can I tell you something, Jax?”

He shuddered like the last topic needed to be brushed away. “Of course. Go ahead.”

I didn’t pause my exploring and walked from terrarium to terrarium. “I know coming to the zoo for your birthday as an adult is somewhat childish. But this was the last place I remember going with my dad before he died. He taught me to love this stupid little place.” Tears threatened, yet they didn’t manifest. My voice shook just shy of the breaking point. I rode the line of danger like I had every day since Jax appeared.

He stroked my arm with the back of his fingers. “Oh, Tabby...”

“Nobody knows that.” I faced him, glad again that my eyes were covered. “Nobody but you.”

He hardened his face. “Thank you. I’m honored.”

“I know things have been weird between us since...well—”

“It was stupid. You’re entitled to your life. I’m not a part of it.”

“No, Jax.” I took his hand with gentle touch. “I want you to be part of it. That’s the point.”

This time, Jax inhaled with a stagger. He squeezed my hand, then released it. “Can I tell you something, too?”

“Yes.” I gulped, praying he saw through my lies so I wouldn’t have to correct them out loud. Please know me, Wah. Kiss me right now.

“This day...”—he started, then stared at the floor—“...you’re the second person in my life with this birthday.”

“I am?” Yes. Get closer. Come on.

“October tenth was my first love’s birthday. The girl I told you about with the eye thing?” He bit his lip and turned his cap the right way around, probably to try and keep his cool. “Every year on this day, I look for her.”

Look for me? I blinked a few times. “I don’t understand.”

“Online. This is the day I spend searching the web for her name. Where she went to school. Mutual friends. Clues.” He shrugged. “I never find anything.”

That’s not an accident. “Lots of people don’t do social—”

“Yeah, but nothing? I mean nothing. No trace. No family. No pictures. She could’ve changed her name. Could’ve changed her look.” His crestfallen cheeks and lips all screamed defeat. “This morning, I finally figured it out.”

I couldn’t imagine where he was going with it. If he solved the riddle, he didn’t sound happy. “Okay...”

“Tabby, she and I made a promise. A promise we would give our love a chance someday and would search for each other. It’s why my dad was always certain she’d find her way back to me.” A tear fell down his cheek, which he quickly wiped away, trying to hide it from the kids in the room.

“I don’t get it. If you’ve looked, that’s all you can do, isn’t it?” Fear and guilt spoke for me, trying to justify my own broken false promise.

“That’s just it. Even if she wanted to stay hidden, I didn’t. I’m easy to find on purpose.” He folded his arms and looked at the ceiling. “I have a profile on every site possible. A single search will take you right to me, especially since I have a funny name.” Redness stained Jax’s eyes, obvious despite the dark cast from my glasses. “If she was out there, she would’ve found me. Would’ve wanted to, like she said. So now, on her thirtieth birthday, I have to accept that my Hwa is gone. Dead.”

No. Oh God, what have I done? My heart caught in my throat. He didn’t forget our special words; he really just didn’t hear me the time that I said it in the car when I had a burst of courage. I couldn’t pretend to ask him what it meant—now I stammered and sputtered, trying to backtrack. “Jax, no. N-no, you don’t know that. You can’t know that.”

“But I do. If she hasn’t found me, that means two things: either she’s gone, or she didn’t love me. And the latter...that’s just too hard to take.” He sniffed hard, then turned his cap backward again, trying to be strong. “If she found happiness somewhere else, she would’ve told me. That’s the kind of love we had.” Jax gently took my hand again. “So, while I’m heartbroken over her loss, today I’m grateful for something new.”

“What?” I whispered, still praying he’d figure me out.

“You live in the city where she used to live. It’s like you can read my mind sometimes. All my lucky pennies and stupid beliefs—none of it compares to this.” He ran his thumb over my knuckles. “We’re comfortable and have so much in common. I mean, look at you. You’re such a fun guy .” Jax smirked and nodded with his chin at my shirt; until that moment, I forgot it was covered in mushrooms.

I chuckled even though my mind spun in circles. So close, so far, so tragic and painful.

“I’m too superstitious to think this is an accident. Call me crazy or say what you will. When I learned this morning that you share her birthday...Tabby, maybe she brought me you.”

Jamie was dead—once to me, now to him. She perished in some stupid game I played to hide my teenage fear, which resurfaced at thirty years old as if it never faded. “Jax, I—”

“It’s a hell of a replacement, Tabby. I’m so glad you’re my friend.” He released my hand. Let me go. Gave me up.

Friend. Suddenly, I hated that word. All it implied. Nothing more than that.

“I have to get going. I told Ethan to take Megan for a drink, and I’d get a ride home. Your sandwiches are safe as long as he calls her again.” He patted my shoulder and turned.

“Wait, you’re not coming to dinner with us?” I grabbed his arm before he could get too far away.

He twisted to me and shook his head.

“Why?” My tone was more frantic than I intended, but with my low voice, nobody could tell.

His gaze drifted away, not focused on anything. “Tell you what. You do dinner with the crowd. Maybe sometime this week we can do lunch again. Just us.”

It wasn’t the door I wanted it to be. A window was enough. “Sure. But you have to promise me you won’t flake.”

“I won’t.” He pulled away and left. The bright light outside surrounded his body in a halo when he passed through the doors.

There I stood. Alone. Lost and broken in the bug house, the last place my father would want me to be.