“Your boyfriend donated his corneas to our son.
We don’t know how to thank his family enough.
Please, take this…” They offered me a bank
card.
My heart lurched. I looked down at the little boy
with Jake’s bright, grape–colored eyes. Tears
welled up.
<
“What’s your name, sweetie?”
He nodded. “Mark, ma’am. My name is Mark.”
It hit me. I’d gotten it wrong. The Mark I knew
wasn’t the Mark I’d been searching for. He was
just…a placeholder.
The couple continued talking, but I couldn’t hear
them. I smiled, stroking the boy’s head. “Mark,”
I said, “it’s so nice to meet you. You grow up
big and strong, okay?”
- 9.
He nodded, then looked up at me. “What was
he like, Miss? The other Mark?”
“He was…cool. And kind. He’d beat up anyone
who bullied me.”
The boy offered me his umbrella. “Don’t be sad,
Miss. Here’s my umbrella. I bet he’s watching
く
I touched his head. “Thank you.” I didn’t take
the bank card. After they left, I knelt by the
grave, tracing the photo on the headstone.
“Jake,” I whispered, “will you be mad I got it
wrong?”
The Mark I found wasn’t who I thought he was.
He just happened to look…similar. When he
approached me, I went along with it, staring
into his eyes, trying to see Jake. But when his
eyes were closed, I couldn’t even bring myself
to smile. Now, my years–long obsession
dissolved.
Mark called. I hung up without a word. The wind
howled, rain pouring down. Jake’s face on the
headstone, sharp and handsome, his dark
lashes fanned out, his eyes soft and gentle.
This was the photo I’d taken of him. I never
imagined it would be in black and white, on a
cold headstone.
“Jake,” I whispered. “When are you going to
<
wear a suit for me?” “Is this all a dream? Will |
wake up and you’ll be alive?” “If you can hear
me, make the rain stop. Please?”
- 10.
The rain softened. The drumming on the
umbrella faded. It stopped.
The wind dried my tears. It felt so gentle, like
Jake stroking my cheek. Don’t cry, it seemed to
whisper. I’m here.
I remembered the summer I was seventeen.
Ashley and I had a huge fight. She moved her
stuff into my room, claiming it as her own. We
brawled. My stepmom couldn’t pull us apart.
When Dad got home, he slapped me without a
word, my head snapping to the side. “Look
what you did to your sister’s face!” he yelled.
I ran to Jake. I sat in his tattoo shop, head
down. He knelt beside me, rubbing my head.
down. He knelt beside me, rubbing my head.
“Why are your eyes so red? Who’d you fight?”
“Nobody,” I mumbled. “I just…fell.”
He got his first–aid kit, his tattooed fingers
gently dabbing antiseptic on my scrapes. “Tell
me who hurt you.”
I burst into tears, burying my face in his chest,
soaking his black shirt. He usually kept a
respectful distance, but that day, he held me,
stroking my hair. I fell asleep in his arms. It was
the warmest embrace I’d felt since my mom
died. I fell hopelessly in love with him. Secretly,
of course. He seemed cool and distant, but he
was the kindest person I knew.
- 11.
Ashley posted a photo of chicken soup and
congee on a hospital bedside table. The
caption: “Always feel safe with you around.”
<
Mark’s hand was visible in the corner of the
photo. He’d been at the hospital with her for
two days.
