A Chapter of Life - 1. A Chapter of Life (Short story)

I’m twenty years old and about to head into my junior year at Ohio State University, yet I still don’t have the faintest idea what I want out of life. In less than two years I’ll be facing another major crossroads—but honestly, a few years ago I never would have imagined I’d end up in this kind of limbo. Back then I was pretty confident I knew exactly where I was headed.

But that isn’t me anymore.

It was two years after I’d enrolled in college that Mom and Dad finally told me the secret they’d been keeping: they could no longer stay together. I was stunned—I thought they were joking, that this was some cruel prank. Learning that the twenty years I’d spent calling them “Mom” and “Dad” had been built on lies cut me to the bone. They’d long ago stopped loving each other.

Once the truth came out, they split their lives almost perfectly in half. Dad stayed in Columbus only a few nights each week; the rest of the time he was with his new girlfriend. Mom moved back to Flint, Michigan—her hometown—where she’s set to return for good.

And here I stand now, two years on, at the Greyhound station in downtown Flint, wondering where I belong.

Mom came back the day after her mother died of heart disease. She packed everything up and drove home immediately—and now I have to decide whether I’ll stay here with her or go back to Columbus with Dad.

I love them both equally. They’ve been the two most important people in my life. But finding out their marriage was a sham felt like a hurricane tearing our home apart. I feel betrayed—like everything I knew was a fairy tale layered over an empty shell.

Because it’s summer break, I decided to come see Mom here in Flint. It’s not that I’ve chosen to live with her forever—and it’s not that I know what I’ll do next. I just wanted to see one of my parents face to face before the new semester sends me back to my dorm at Ohio State.

Before her mother passed, Mom bought two adjacent three-story townhouses—modern places that look more like sleek urban lofts than the old homes I remember. She asked me to help pick out furniture and plan the interiors, so I hopped on the bus for the five-hour ride up from Columbus.

Pulling up in her Honda, I saw Mom already waiting on the front porch.

“Hey—what do you think? I figured we’d go furniture shopping today. The cleaners just finished, so we can move in as soon as the tables and beds arrive.”

I set my duffel on the porch floor and glanced up at the brick-and-glass façade. From the outside it looked great—and inside, the open layout and big windows promised plenty of space.

“Mom,” I said, “aren’t you going to ask if I’m tired? I just sat on a bus for five hours.”

She laughed. “You sure you don’t want to crash at Grandma’s old place first?”

“Nah, I’m fine. That house is way out of town—I’d rather sleep here. Hand me the keys and I’ll drive. Just point the way.”

So we spent the next three hours picking out sofas, lamps, and appliances. By late afternoon, we were ready to head to our favorite diner for dinner, and Mom finally brought up the question I’d been dodging.

“So—what do you think, honey? Could you live here?”

“I told you—I still don’t know. Let me finish school first.” I sighed.

“But you’ll graduate in just two years. Finding a job here wouldn’t be hard.”

“Mom—two years, yes. But I’m studying engineering; my prospects in Columbus are far stronger. If I moved here, I’d have no idea where to start.”

“So you’ve already decided you’ll stay with your father?” Mom’s voice tightened.

“Yes,” I admitted. “I actually decided that three years ago—before I even started college. But ever since then, I haven’t made a single choice. I still don’t know where my life is supposed to go.”

“Sweetheart, if you don’t live with me, I’d be all alone.”

“I love you both,” I said gently. “You’re both my family. Asking me to choose so easily—it’s not fair. And honestly, I don’t want to choose right now.” I took a deep breath. “Can we just drop it?”

For the rest of the drive to the diner—and through our quiet dinner—Mom kept trying to chat, but I couldn’t pretend to enjoy small talk. Her question had shattered whatever good mood I had left. In truth, I haven’t felt happy since the day they told me the truth.

That night, after the furniture store called to say everything was en route, we drove back to sit in our new living room while boxes were unloaded. By the time the movers left, the place looked lived-in—my home for the next two and a half months.

Mom and I talked late into the night about her plans: she’s not going back to Columbus; she’ll just need to return once for a final trip to pack up. She’s going into business with an old friend to open a tutoring center here in Flint—and she even suggested that when I graduate, I could teach there as well.

I feigned tiredness and slipped upstairs before she could ask more.

That night I barely slept. My future felt more tangled than ever. Mom wants me here; Dad expects me back in Columbus. And what about the home I grew up in—my house in Columbus, the only place I’ve really known for twenty years? Mom’s sure she won’t go back there, and Dad hardly spends time there anymore—he should know I won’t let another woman move into my Mom’s (old) bedroom. I love them both, but I’m not sure where I fit.

And I still don’t know which way to turn.

Everything felt like an unsolvable problem. No matter how crushed or disappointed I was, they were still my parents—and whichever path I chose, I’d end up breaking somebody’s heart all over again.

The next morning, I was up at five. I dressed quietly and slipped out in Mom’s car before she woke, planning to grab breakfast at the little café just down the street from Greenfield’s Market. But because I’m still not used to the roads here, I circled around for what felt like forever—what should’ve been a ten-minute drive took me twenty.

I finally parked curbside and went in to buy some ready-to-eat breakfast sandwiches and a few fresh items. Back at my car, I tossed the bags onto the back seat, fished a pack of cigarettes from my pocket, and lit one. I only smoke when I’m really stressed—and right now everything with my family was as stressful as it gets—so I’d been nearly chain-smoking since I arrived.

Leaning against the car, I exhaled and watched the empty street. Then I turned to open the driver’s door—without looking—just as two 110 cc off-road dirt bikes came roaring up behind me. Each bike carried two teenagers: one riding solo and one piggyback. The first bike barely swerved in time to miss my door and nearly went down.

“Fuck! Are you blind or something?!” the lead rider shouted, skidding to a halt.

I stared at all four of them—late-teens, tops—half-shell helmets clutched in their arms.

“What the hell are you glaring at?” the first kid spat. “Can’t you hear me?”

“Look, I’m sorry—really—but you were the ones almost clipping my car,” I said, matching his tone more than I intended.

“Yeah? You think this is anywhere you like? I don’t recognize you around here,” another kid sneered.

“I don’t care where this is,” I shot back. “You nearly wrecked your own bike. And I’m not scared of you.”

“Damned kid with an attitude,” they muttered, edging closer.

“Okay, fine,” I said, flicking my cigarette onto the pavement. “I’m not in the mood to sweet-talk you. We’re all adults—so knock it off and move on.”

As the four of them lunged at me, a deep voice cut in.

“Hey—what’s going on here?”

We all looked up to see another dirt bike pull up beside my car. The rider killed the engine and stepped off. He was too good-looking—clear skin, tan, short undercut, sharp eyebrows, dark eyes glinting in the early light.

“Jack,” one of the four rasped.

“What did I tell you about causing trouble here?” Jack’s voice was calm but carried an edge.

“They almost hit my bike,” the first kid grumbled.

“So he nearly kille you, but you survived,” Jack shot back. “And now you’re harassing a stranger? Not the time or place, remember?”

“And what about this jerk?” the first kid pointed at me, still angry.

“It was an accident,” Jack said, turning to me. “Did you apologize yet?”

“I did,” I mumbled.

“Then what the fuck are you four thinking!? No second chances,” Jack snapped at his friends. “Get out of here—now. Before I really lose it, you hear me?”

In an instant, the four sped off on their dirt bikes. Jack turned to me, and for a moment we just stared at each other. I felt like saying thanks, but it sounded too corny. Apologizing again felt pointless. I reached into my pocket for another cigarette.

“Go ahead,” Jack said, rolling his eyes. “You’re gonna die faster that way, sweet-face.”

I froze. “Sweet-face?”

“Yeah—and watch yourself next time, out-of-towner,” he said, swinging a leg over his bike. As he revved up, he grinned. “Don’t expect me to show up if you pull this stunt again. Take care of yourself, okay, sweet boy?”

He roared off into the distance, leaving me standing there stunned. I’d barely known him a minute and I already had three new nicknames—plus that first one stuck in my head all day.

I do look younger than my age, and my hair is cut so short that people almost always guess me for a teenager. Sometimes they think I’m still in high school. And though folks often tell me I’m handsome or cute, I never imagined anyone would call me “Sweet-face.” My rough, blunt manner seems at odds with that nickname.

That entire day, I can’t stop replaying this morning’s incident—Jack’s face, his voice, the things he said. I find myself wondering whether I’ll ever see him again during the next two months I’m stuck here.

The next morning, I’m up at dawn and back at the same breakfast spot, secretly hoping to run into Jack again. But a week passes without a glimpse of him. I feel a flicker of disappointment, and my mom’s subtle pressure about my future decision only adds to my gloom. At least I stay busy—shopping for the house, talking business plans with Mom and her friends—so I can push through this rough patch.

The next week I kept returning to the same routine—early café run, hoping to bump into Jack again. But day after day went by without seeing him, and I started to feel a pang of disappointment. Mom’s subtle pressure about my future carried on in the background—one more thing weighing on me.
Then one morning Dad called, inviting me back to Columbus to have dinner with him and his new girlfriend. Of course I said no. I wasn’t ready to meet some stranger moving into my life that fast.

Or maybe it was time, though.

I settled into my usual table at the corner café—this time ordering a double espresso and hot tea, craving something strong and bitter. The barista, an older woman, set to work while the man at the counter arranged doughnuts with his partner. As I sipped and waited for my ham-and-cheese croissant, my mind drifted back to everything I was trying to avoid.

I lit another cigarette—half-thinking, half-out of habit—when I heard that familiar voice again.

“You looking to kick the bucket early? Puffing on that cancer stick?”

I turned and saw Jack standing there, holding my croissant on a plate.

“Why waste money killing your lungs?” he said, snatching the cigarette from my fingers. He studied it for a second, then ground it under his shoe and tossed it in the trash. “Give me the rest of that pack.”

I blinked, surprised—but when I saw how serious he looked, I handed over the half-empty pack without a word.

“Good—keep it simple. No need for back-and-forth,” Jack said, dropping the pack into the trash. He walked around and sat down opposite me, then reached over and nonchalantly grabbed one of my breakfast sandwiches, tearing into it as he lifted my cup of hot tea and took a sip.

“Hey—aren’t you eating?” he asked.

I picked up my coffee and took a slow drink.

Jack stared at me for a moment. “Cat got your tongue? You haven’t said a word.”

“What am I supposed to say?” I managed, surprised at myself for smiling. “You just show up and steal someone else’s breakfast.”

“Let’s start with your name, then,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching. “Or would you rather I keep calling you Sweet-face?”

“Dylan,” I said tersely, lifting my coffee again. “Dylan Tyson. Now why are you hanging around here—eating other people’s food?”

“Why not? This is my turf,” Jack shrugged.

“Jack Holloway!” the man behind the counter’s voice cut in from behind the counter. “How did you end up sitting there? I thought you were helping me out. And now you’re eating my customer’s order—who’s this, your friend?”

“No, Jake. I just met him five minutes ago.”

“Well, get back to work this instant, you little brat! Bothering customers now?” Jacob stalked over, grabbed Jack’s collar, then turned to me. “Sorry about that. Did he give you any trouble?”

“Not at all. He was just talking with me.”

“See? I told you I don’t start fights in here.” Jack hopped to his feet, flashed me a cheeky grin, and headed back inside.

Jacob shook his head. “He owes you an apology.”

“It’s okay. Just breakfast—it’s fine.” I stood and looked toward Jack, who was serving another table.

“I’m Jacob. I run this place with my fiancée, but you call me Jake.” He introduced himself.

“I’m Dylan. I’ve just arrived here not long ago to visit my mother.”

“Nice meeting you, Dylan. I see you every day. Say I’ll just charge you for the drinks,” Jacob said. “Keep the croissant and I’ll give you one extra donut as my apology for Jack’s trouble.”

“You really don’t have to do that but, thanks.” I paid for the coffee and the tea, bid Jacob goodbye, and started to leave—when Jack reemerged and called after me.

“Leaving already? Why so quick?”

“My mom’s waiting at home.”

“Then come back tomorrow,” he said. “Or else. And don’t forget you still owe me.”

He didn’t wait for my reply before ducking back inside. Oddly, though it sounded like a threat, I found myself genuinely looking forward to tomorrow’s coffee.

The next morning, I was back at the same time. Jack wasn’t there at first, but ten minutes in, I saw him pull up on his dirt bike. Jacob grumbled at him, then Jack strolled over and sat down in the same chair, immediately raising my tea to his lips and taking a bite of the croissant.

“Long wait?” he teased. “Thought I wouldn’t show.”

“No—why would I wait? I’ve only been here for five minutes,” I lied.

“Five minutes?” He smiled and glanced at the tea. “This place doesn’t sell iced tea, you know.” He put down the cup.

I blushed a little. “Shouldn’t you be working? You just sit and eat like this?”

“Nah, I’m feeling lazy.” He shook his head—and when Jacob caught sight of him, he hurried over.

“Jack Holloway! Are you helping me or not? And you’re eating my customer’s food again?”

“Not yet, Jacob. I’m lazy this morning—just hanging out with my friend. I’ll help after he goes.”

“If you eat, you pay. Don’t take customers’ orders like this.”

“It’s fine, sir. Really.” I said quickly.

“Go back to work—it’s going to get busy soon.” Jacob shot Jack a warning look and returned behind the counter.

Jack leaned back, sighing. “Such a nagging brother.” He turned back to me. “So, are you in a hurry again, Sweet-face?”

“My name’s Dylan,” I muttered. “Not Sweet-face. I told you yesterday.”

“I remember. But I like Sweet-face better. You don’t?”

“No—don’t like it.”

“Good. Because I’m going to keep calling you that.”

“Quit fucking around, you brat” I murmured.

“Say what?”

“Nothin’” I smirked and turned the othe way—sipping my coffee.

From that day on, my morning routine became: coffee at Jacob’s café, thirty minutes of banter with Jack, then back home. Jack was rough and mischievous, but he smiled easily and seemed genuine. Those short mornings gave purpose to my long days—enough to send me home in a good mood that even my mom noticed. And on tough days, I’d just bottle it up for one night, because I knew at dawn, everything would feel right again.

Until now, Jack and I had never really talked about anything serious. We’d just bicker—he teasing me, and me always giving in. We joked about everything under the sun, but neither of us ever asked about the other’s life. I didn’t know his age, what school he went to, or where he lived—and he never asked me, either. We were strangers who met every morning over coffee, bound only by our names. It was odd, but somehow comforting. I didn’t have to unload my worries on him—just those thirty minutes of banter made me feel better.

Then, one morning during my third week in Flint, I rolled up to Jacob’s café as usual and found Jack quieter than ever.

“You okay? You look down today—haven’t been your usual trouble-making self,” I said, taking a seat.

He sighed. “I’m annoyed—my mom signed me up for extra tutoring.”

“That’s good, isn’t it? You always said you were bored.”

“Sure—but it’s with some random kid, one of her friends’ kid. I’d have to sit there two or three hours a day with a stranger. It’s suffocating.”

“Don’t you find hanging out with me every morning suffocating?”

He glanced up. “Nah. You don’t pry into my life. I like that.”

I smiled. “Well, you’re still in junior year—SAT prep never hurts.”

Jack frowned. “You talk like you’re not in junior year. Look, if I wanted to study, I’d do it on my own. I hate being forced—and definitely hate learning from a stranger who never even asked if I wanted it.”

“We were strangers once,” I pointed out. “Give them a chance—if it sucks, drop it.”

He shrugged. “My mom’s not even sure which subjects or when it starts.”

“So why stress?” I asked. “Hey, would you mind if I asked something personal?”

“What now?”

“I’m curious—what college and major do you want?”

Jack hesitated, staring down at my tea. Finally he whispered, “I’d like to go to Ohio State...”

My heart leapt a little.

He looked up. “How about you? What do you want to study?”

I chuckled. “Probably engineering.”

“Really? Me too. I’d love to study engineering in Columbus.” He said with enthusiasm I never saw before. Then his face fell. “But my dad’s against it.”

“Hey—your future’s yours. Parents usually respect that,” I said—then winced at my own words, thinking of my own situation.

He shook his head. “Whatever. I’m over it. Let’s go ride this afternoon; I’ll talk to Mom later.”

We fell silent. After a moment, Jack stood. “Meet me at two in front of Greenfield’s. Don’t skip it—or you’ll regret it.”

He walked off before I could answer—but I knew I’d be there at two. It was our first real appointment beyond morning coffee, and I wasn’t going to miss it.

When I got home, Mom was on the couch, looking worried.

“Dylan, come here,” she said.

“What’s up, Mom?” I sat beside her, heart racing.

“Your father called this morning. He says he wants you back in Columbus—but you refused. He thinks I’m the one holding you here.”

I felt a stab of guilt. They’d split amicably, but both of them still held tensions underneath—especially about me, stuck in the middle. Mom’s words made me realize this wasn’t small anymore. Left unresolved, it could spark bigger problems down the road—and I was right at the center of it all.

I swallowed hard. “Did you tell him I decided on my own? It’s not about you.”

“I did. I don’t even know when he asked—he doesn’t really believe me, though.”

“Okay, Mom. I’ll handle this. I don’t want to argue from the morning on. If I’m the problem, I’ll fix it. I’ll call Dad myself and tell him this is my decision—neither of you forced it.” I stood and kissed her cheek. “By the way, I’ve already eaten—can I go back to sleep a bit?”

But once I lay down, tears came anyway. I didn’t know when any of this would end. Would it be easier if I’d never been born? If neither parent cared about me? If I weren’t the cause of all this mess…?

I must have drifted off, because the next thing I knew, it was almost noon. I washed up and caught my reflection: my mother’s pale skin, my father’s dark brows, but also red, puffy eyes—and that familiar hint of sadness I’ve carried too long.

Downstairs, Mom and I talked about her tutoring center—she said I might help teach sometimes. It sounded fine: at least I’d have something to do. She also reminded me about that meeting tomorrow with her friend and his son. I agreed—it was better than nothing.

Two o’clock: I parked in front of Greenfield’s and leaned against the car. Soon Jack pulled up on his bike.

“Hop on,” he said.

I climbed onto the back, not even asking where we were headed.

He rode slowly through town—like a personal tour—until we stopped at a little Thai restaurant I’d never noticed.

“You hungry?” he asked as we got off.

“I’m not.” I shook my head. “You paying?”

“Keep dreaming,” he said. “Just asking.”

“Right—manners on you now?” I teased. “You steal my breakfast every morning.”

He smirked. “Sit down.”

We took a table. Jack flagged the waiter. “Two chicken-and-rice plates, please.”

“Hey—I said I’m not hungry,” I protested.

“Since when do I care what you say?”

I shut up.

We waited in silence—unusually quiet for us. I wondered what mood he was in.

He broke in, “What’s with the sighs?”

I glanced at him. “Thinking about family.”

He frowned. I shook my head just as two steaming plates arrived. He slid one toward me.

“Eat. Yours. Don’t make me regret it.”

“I said I wasn’t hungry.”

“Earlier, I didn’t order it for you. Now I order you to eat. I paid. Eat it.”

I took a spoonful of reice and chicken. It was better than I thought. Jack’s grin widened.

“Good. Simple. Eat well—don’t waste time crying.”

I looked up sharply. “What do you mean?”

“Eat now. We can talk later.” He turned back to his plate. I ate the chicken-and-rice—Jack finished every grain of his.

After lunch, he rode me out to a nearby park—almost empty at that hour. We got off and walked until he sat on the grass, patting a spot beside him.

“Okay—spill it. Why were you crying this morning?” he asked.

I swallowed. “Told you. Family stuff. Mostly from my dad’s side”

He nodded. “Fair. So—did you talk to your dad?”

I hesitated. “Not yet.”

He took a deep breath. “Tomorrow, I meet my tutor. If I don’t like it, I’ll bail.”

“Still want to study engineering in Columbus?”

“Yeah.” He met my gaze with a look I’d never seen from him—shy, uncertain.

He fidgeted. “I’ve never done this—talk, I mean. I don’t really have friends… Those jerks are not my friends. So I’ve never shared this with anyone but myself. You’re… different. So I—could you listen to me?

I smiled and sat closer. “Of course. I’ll listen. I won’t ask—you just tell me what you want.”

“No. I want you to listen to me. And I want you to talk with me as well.”

I was surprised, but I nodded, and Jack began to open up.

“I wasn’t my parents’ biological kid,” he said, staring at the grass. “I’m my dad’s adopted son. I don’t even know who my birth parents were. When he married my mom, I suddenly got Jacob—my mom’s son from her first marriage—as a stepbrother. That’s why Jacob and I look nothing alike and why there’s such an age gap.”

He shrugged. “My mom runs a furniture store, and my dad’s in the military. They don’t want me studying engineering—they want me back home helping out at the shop. And honestly, my mom’s never been thrilled with me. She thinks I’m some hoodlum and wants to straighten me out by signing me up for extra classes. My dad just goes along with whatever she says—and since I’m not his biological son, why would he care about some troublemaking kid like me?”

“But you don’t actually want to be that kind of person, do you?” I asked.

Jack tensed for a second, then exhaled and nodded. “I guess not. But how would you know how I really feel?”

“Look—if you were hopeless, you wouldn’t be talking about an engineering degree in Columbus, of all places. That means you’re no stupid hoodlum. You’d be happy just sticking around Flint Community College, right? But you’re talking serious about this, and your eyes lit up when you said you meant it. My mom says most kids around here only dream of going to State U in nearby towns, not all the way to Columbus. The fact you’re so hung up on it—and everything you said this morning—tells me you really care. You’re not the lost cause your mom or whoever thinks you are.”

“So what am I supposed to do, then? It’s not that I hate tutoring—I may not look it but I actually do well in school—but I can’t stand being forced into it.”

“Then do exactly what you want: crack the books if you’re serious about engineering and Columbus. Don’t go tutoring with a stranger. Or drop the ego. And give it a try. The end goal is pretty much the same. Don’t worry about what anyone else wants for you—focus on what you’ll get out of it. You’ve got a year of high school left; make the most of this chance to learn.”

Jack was quiet for a moment. “A year, huh…? I’ll try.”

“Trust me,” I said. “In Columbus, the competition’s fierce—even school alone won’t cut it. Your mom’s paying for tutoring because she actually cares—at least she’s investing in your future.”

Jack snorted, half-smiling. “I’m not sure she loves me, but you’re right. I’ll choose my own path—and seize every opportunity.” He punched my shoulder with a grin. “Thanks, Dylan. I never thought I’d talk this way with someone. Now it’s your turn.”

“My turn for what?” I asked, feigning cluelessness.

“I’ll fucking punch you. You think I’m the only one with secrets? You think I can’t tell something going on with you?” Jack shot back. “Plus you have just said about your daddy issue.”

“Hey!”

He smirked, “now spill.”

Actually, I didn’t mind sharing—he was the only person I felt I could trust. So I told him everything from the bus station to my fight with my parents this morning. He listened so quietly I wondered if he was even still there.

When I finished, Jack stood up and started to walk off. I jumped to my feet and followed.

“Where are you going?” I asked.

“I’m taking you to find the answer,” Jack said.

He led me out to a quiet stretch of canal. “What do you see?” he asked, pointing at the water.

“I don’t see anything,” I said.

“Look again, you dumbass” he snapped. “Do you see our reflections?”

I leaned over. “Yeah—I see us.”

“Earlier I asked you a question,” he continued. “What was your answer? You don’t have to speak it—just think it. But while you think, stare at our reflections in the water. Then tell me: did you find your answer?”

I stared at the rippling images of Jack and me. Our outlines were similar—and yet our features differed sharply. We both stood at a life-changing crossroads, but Jack’s reflection looked sure of itself, resolute—while mine looked uncertain, hesitant. I realized then that Jack had taken his answer and run with it; I’d known my answer all along, but I was still afraid to believe in it myself. I should’ve known the answer all along.

He seemed to sense my struggle, because without another word he guided me back to his bike and rode me back to the Greenfield’s Market parking lot.

That night I lay awake thinking about Jack’s words and my own dilemma. I wanted to make that decision myself—but I also longed to hear his voice again. I didn’t have his number, and I didn’t know if I dared ask.

The next morning I forgot about my tutoring appointment until Mom reminded me: her friend Rosie Holloway would be dropping by with her son. “Be gentle with him,” she warned. “He’s got a short fuse.” I nodded, then dozed again until it was time.

At ten o’clock, Rosie arrived—and to my shock, her son Jack was seated beside her on our living-room couch.

“Dylan, this is Mrs. Holloway,” Mom introduced, “the woman whose furniture store we shopped at. And this is Jack—her son.”

Jack and I locked eyes in mutual surprise—and for a flash, I saw annoyance cross his face. Then he masked it with indifference, as always.

Mom and Rosie talked business and teaching plans. I poured four glasses of water and set them on the coffee table. Jack and I sat side by side, silent—and now that he knew I was a college junior, his usual smirk flickered when Mom mentioned my major. When Rosie described her hopes that Jack study business to help with the family store, tension crackled between us.

“Jack hopes to go to Ohio State,” Rosie said. “His father and I want him to study business, so he can take over our shop one day.”

Jack’s jaw tightened. I realized we faced the same battle: parents’ wishes versus our own dreams. And somehow, sharing that silent understanding made me feel less alone than I had in weeks.

“Business major?” I asked, looking at Jack and knowing exactly what he was thinking. “Why not try considering what he really wants first? A business degree doesn’t suit him—not that I judged him from the cover, but it’s four years of his life—and his whole future career. If he’s forced into something he hates and ends up doing poorly or acting out, it’ll ruin him and make life hard for his parents. Also he still has a choice to study MBA after the graduation if that is still on the table and what he prefers. Mrs. Holloway, if you truly care about Jack’s happiness, let him choose his own path. Right, Jack? What do you want to study?”

I turned to Jack and smiled warmly. “Honestly, I think engineering would suit you with your passion—plus I’m studying it myself, so tutoring you would be easy. But if you really want business, I can teach you the freshmen-year basics. Which path will you choose?”

Jack cracked a small, genuine smile. “Engineering, Dylan—if I can. I believe I can handle it. But in the end, it’s up to my parents. They’re the ones paying for my education.”

Mrs. Holloway cleared her throat. “Well… we’ll need to discuss this with your father. For now, keep studying and build up your knowledge. As for the SAT, you still have time—next year is fine.” Her voice trembled just slightly, but Jack gave a relieved nod.

After they left, I felt a thrill of excitement—and a pinch of nerves—knowing our relationship was shifting. The next morning, I woke earlier than usual, dressed a bit sharper, and headed to Jacob’s place. I waited over half an hour, but he never showed. Slightly worried, I returned home to prepare for our 10 a.m. tutoring session.

When Jack finally arrived, we went up to my third-floor bedroom and closed the door. He sat on the bed and gave me that teasing look.

“So, Dylan—what’s next? Anything else I should know?”

I knew he didn’t only mean about tutoring. I took a steadying breath. “I’m sorry, Jack—I ‘d had no idea about this tutoring shit either until I saw you yesterday. I should have at least told you about myself, my age and shit. Were you so mad at me you didn’t show up at Jake’s café this morning?”

“So you waited.” He smiled. But this time it was a genuine smile, not a sneer nor a smirk. “Okay, fine. I’m not mad at you anymore. My fault as well I never asked shit about you. Though gotta admit seeing your face yesterday here made me a little annoyed.”

Now it was my turn to smile.

Anything else I need to know, Sweet-face?”

“Sure. I’ll tell you everything,” I replied, sitting down beside him. “But you have to tell me everything, too.”

Instead of tutoring, we spent the next two hours really talking—about his life here and mine in college. For the first time, we got to know each other. When I asked if he’d still feel reluctant to learn from me, a stranger, he said he wouldn’t. And when I suggested he call me “Dylan” instead of teasing nicknames, he laughed.

“Dream on, Sweet-face.”

From then on, Jack and I saw each other almost every day—each morning at the café and every afternoon at my place. On my days off, he’d take me for rides around town, or we’d walk through different neighborhoods. He even asked to extend our tutoring sessions from two hours to three—on his own initiative. I had to admit: at first I doubted him, but he was clearly one smart kid—a perfect blend of brains and brawn.

Nearly a month later, I had to head back to Columbus sooner than planned. My father was hospitalized, and I was the only one who could look after him and manage things at home at the same time because his girlfriend had to work two jobs.

When I told Jack, he barely blinked. His indifference stung me more than I expected—after all, I’d fallen hard for him, harder than I’d ever felt for anyone. The time we spent together was so much fun and he made me feel so free. There were many times I wanted to initiate something, but wouldn’t dare. I still didn’t know how he felt about me, or even whether he was attracted to guys. He never talked about girls or love stuff, but he also never showed any interest in me either, I thought. So, I wasn’t ready to risk asking him.

“So… have you decided what you’re going to do about your parents?” Jack asked one afternoon.

I felt a pang of disappointment—he hadn’t asked about me or how I felt at all. But I squared my shoulders. “I don’t know yet… but I’ve realized I need to live my own life. You’ve taught me a lot, Jack: to think for myself and trust my own path. Even though you’re younger, you carry yourself like you’ve already grown up. And… you—”

“Yeah?”

“Never mind. The day after tomorrow I leave, so I won’t be able to tutor you tomorrow.”

“Right. Pack your things properly. No need to teach me.”

“Will I ever see you again?” I blurted.

“That’s up to fate,” Jack said, shrugging.

That evening, after he left, I felt a hollow ache. I was torn between worrying about my father and missing Jack. The next morning we met at the café as usual—but he didn’t come to my house that afternoon, as we’d arranged. I must have looked so down that even my mom noticed—and she understood it was because I was anxious about Dad.

On the day I was to depart, I still walked into the café at dawn—hoping one last coffee—but Jack didn’t show. In all our weeks together, it was only the third time he’d missed our morning meet, and the first time I’d asked after him. Jacob told me Jack must have crashed at a friend’s place. I worried, but felt more wounded. I’d half-expected him to see me off, forgetting that Jack and I were, at heart, “familiar strangers.”

On the five-hour bus ride back, I replayed our month together: I’d only been to Flint a handful of times in my life, but those weeks taught me more than I ever imagined. I learned to face problems and truths, to meet new people, and—most of all—to know a single stranger named Jack, who became my friend, my tutor, my confidant… my secret crush.

Back in Columbus, I faced Dad’s partner on my own terms. When my father was discharged, I called my mom and asked her to come back here temporarily. I told both parents I’d decided to choose neither of them over my own future. I loved them both too much to pick one. I explained that if they forced me to choose again, I’d choose only myself—because sooner or later I’d have to walk my own path anyway. I’d live on my own, right now, and get used to it. They listened in stunned silence—but they understood. It took a bit of time, but slowly, the pressure eased. Dad stopped pushing me into his company, and Mom let go of her hopes for me to move in with her.

Over the next year, I never spoke to or saw Jack again. It’s strange—though we’d been so close, yet I never had his phone number. He arrived like a sudden summer storm and then vanished without warning. Every storm leaves its mark, though, and Jack left me with a memory I’ll never forget. Not a painful wreckage, but a brilliant, beautiful whirlwind—my most beloved gale.

Those weeks remain a fleeting, precious dream: his face, his voice, the way he teased me, the secrets we shared. A love I never voiced, a caring I wasn’t confident enough to accept. Those unspoken words, those lonely nights of tears—they’re part of me now, a bittersweet reminder that sometimes the strongest storms change you forever.

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I sit alone by the village pond, remembering one year ago. Those beautiful memories will never return—but they’ll never fade from my heart either. Yet I no longer shed tears. Now I wear only a faint smile, a quiet gift to those happy moments.

“Why are you sitting here grinning by yourself, huh, Sweet-face?”

I turn toward that familiar voice and see his teasing smile—his handsome face unchanged. The only things different are that he’s now my freshman at the same university, living together with me, and that our relationship has grown far beyond what it was over a year ago.

It was not fate that brought together again. It was his effort.

“I’m just lost in old memories,” I tell him with a smile.

“What, already reminiscing like an old man?” He offers his hand. “Come on—let’s go to the coffee house.”

I take his hand and let him help me up. Jack glances around to make sure no one’s watching—it’s still early, and the lane is empty—then leans in and pecks my cheek. We walk together to our new regular coffee shop. It isn’t nearly as cozy or delicious as the Jacob’s place, but it’s ours—a bridge between past, present, and future.

Unforgettable memories, and a love that will never fade.