Chapter Eight: Chasing Jean

Over the weekend I hung out with Jean as usual. We just stayed home and watched movies. It was finally Monday, which meant that it was time to put my plan in motion.

In the morning before school, I excused myself from Jean for a moment to meet up with Kaylee. We met up behind the gym.

"Why we gotta meet up in secret like this?" questioned Kaylee.

I looked around to make sure there was no one else there, and the only witness around was a whistling janitor, who I'm willing to guess took no part in teenage drama anyway.

"I need your help," I said. "About Jean."

"You couldn't text me?"

"I'm not really a texter."

"Anyway, whatchu need, fam?"

"I want . . ." The words had trouble escaping my throat, because I was honestly still coming to terms of this situation. "I want to do something special for Jean, and since you're her closest female friend, I thought you could help me out with some ideas of how to do that."

"Ooo lala," Kaylee teased. "Is it gonna be her birthday soon or something?"

"No, I just wanted to do something to show that I care."

"I know you, Nick. Don't lie. You're not the kinda guy that does something for no reason. So what's the reason?"

"Okay, fine. Since you ask, I really want her to like me."

"I'm confused about y'all's status. Don't you already have like a thing between you guys?"

"It's more complicated than that." It's not like I could just stand there and explain to Kaylee about how Jean was actually a genie and I was about to set her free but I ended up liking her and I didn't want her to leave first chance she could. I had to explain it in the simplest way I could. "I'm going to tell Jean I love her, but before that I want her to love me back."

"OH!" Kaylee squealed, smacking a nearby pole repeatedly.

"So what can I do to get her to fall in love with me?"

"I mean, I think it would be better to come up with an idea by yourself. If you ask me it makes it less special."

"Please, Kaylee. If you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly the type of guy that is romantic and spontaneous like those guys in the books or in the movies. I can't do this on my own. Do you have any ideas? Did Jean ever tell you a gesture she always wished someone would do for her?"

Kaylee thought. "To be honest, no. Like, she's pretty simple and go with the flow."

"Well what about you? Is there anything you wish a guy would do for you?"

"Oh my God, so many things." She rambled on. "Like I wish a guy would sing to me in the cafeteria while everyone was watching, and buy me like little gifts like bracelets and necklaces and stuff just to show me that he cares. And also flowers. Lots of 'em. And I would love a guy to listen to me. Like, really listen to all my drama and not just pretend to care, but actually friggin' care. Oh and a guy that could cook is hot too. So yeah."

I took notes of everything she listed. "Thanks, that was all really helpful."

"But that's just me though. I don't know how Jean would feel about all that."

"I'm a bit desperate and pressed on time so I'll try it all anyway. At least one of those things are bound to make some sort of positive impact. Thanks."

The bell rang, and then we dispersed to class.

I went through this school day as usual, hanging out with the group at lunch. After school, I didn't hang out with Jean as I normally did. Instead I dropped her off at home, and headed to the mall to buy something for her.

The next day, I had my plan ready to go. I went to Jean's house and knocked on the door.

She opened it. "Hey, Nick," she said.

I took out a small box and handed it to her.

Jean smiled. "Aww, Nick. How did you know it was my birthday?"

I . . . I honestly had no idea. I didn't tell her that though. I just awkwardly smiled back. "Open it."

She did as told, and inside was a sparkling diamond necklace. I spent nearly all my savings to buy it, but it was worth it.

I was expecting her to smile or something, but her facial expression drooped. "Nick, is this real diamond?"

"It is," I proudly proclaimed.

She handed it back. "I can't accept this."

"Sure you can. You don't need to be polite."

"This must have cost a fortune."

"I don't mind."

We went back and forth for a while, but eventually I won and Jean hesitantly accepted it.

"Can I put it on you?" I asked.

Jean sighed. "Sure"

I clasped the diamond necklace around her neck, and she looked down at it, frowning.

"You don't like it?" I asked

"It isn't that. It's just, I really didn't need anything fancy, you know. I would've been happy with something small and personal."

Did that mean she was unhappy with a gift that was expensive and impersonal? Of course, what was I thinking? How could I please a genie that's granted all the riches of the world hundreds of times over? Luckily, I had more in store planned out.

At lunch Jean, Ryan, and Kaylee were sitting at the same table we always sat at. I was to join them too, but first I was going to make a dramatic entrance.

The cafeteria lights went off, and a spotlight (a flashlight in actuality) was on me. I had a microphone on my ear, and on my guitar. I walked inside slowly, playing guitar and singing. The whole cafeteria was cheering. This production wouldn't have been possible without the cafeteria staff, whose permission and help I asked for beforehand. They all thought it was 'sweet' I was doing this for my 'girlfriend' and they were happy to help me out.

It's not that I was nervous, but I just wasn't feeling my performance. Maybe it was the same reason I always felt stiff playing the guitar--because I didn't work for the skill, rather I wished for it--but it was different from that. I suppose it wasn't really my style to do flashy displays of affection like this. Actually, it wasn't like me to display my affection at all, let alone like this.

I ignored my discomfort and continued playing the song, slowly inching towards the table Jean and friends were at. Kaylee was giggling and fidgeting in her seat in flowery excitement. Ryan's mouth was dropped, and he raised her brows Jean was covering her mouth with her hand, her cheeks bright red.

Finally, I finished the song. "Happy birthday, Jean," I said.

One of the cafeteria staff walked over to me and handed me a bouquet of daisies, a tiara, and a sash that had the text 'birthday girl' that I then handed to Jean. I put the sash and tiara on her, but she didn't break out even the tiniest smile. Everyone in the cafeteria cheered, but Jean was unwavered.

"Hey, you guys should kiss," said Kaylee, making a megaphone with her hands.

The cafeteria started chanting. "Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!"

Jean and I exchanged awkward glances at one another. The yelling intensified as the seconds went on.

"I have to go," Jean said, putting down the flowers, crown and sash, running out of the room.

"Aww," everyone in the cafeteria said in unison.

"What did I do wrong?" I turned to ask Kaylee.

"I dunno. It seemed perfect to me. Maybe something else is wrong. You should go after her."

I went outside and found Jean curled up into a ball.

"Did I do something wrong?" I sat down with her.

She looked up at me, her eyes in tears. "Nick, I appreciate you for trying to make my birthday special, but please never do anything like that again."

"What do you mean? You didn't like it?"

"I get very bad anxiety when I'm the center of attention in big crowds. I can't handle that pressure."

"I didn't know . . . I'm sorry. That was stupid of me. It's just that when I asked Kaylee--"

"Kaylee is a beautiful, extraverted popular girl that has always loved attention and adoration. How could you assume I would like the same things she would like? Girls aren't a one-size fit all. I don't like huge gestures in front of crowds or expensive jewels. If you've lived the life I have and granted those things to others countless times, you'd see why. Those things don't matter to me at all. I just like things that are small and personal."

"I see . . ."

"Can I ask you something?"

"Go ahead."

"Why are you going through all these lengths to give me a good birthday? Why have you been acting odd these past few days?"

It definitely wasn't a good time to confess the truth to her. Not after the back-firing birthday gift. "Well why not? Do you think I'm a robot man incapable of attempting to give his friend a good day?" I defended.

"Yes, actually. You aren't the kind of person to go out all lengths and do these types of things. Not without a reason. Frankly you're a bit transactional."

The bell rang.

"I'll see you after school," Jean said. "And please, no more weird birthday surprises, okay?"

I nodded.

"It went terribly," I was explaining to Kaylee behind the gym the next day before class.

"Yikes. So whatcha gonna do to fix things?"

"Can I even fix things?"

"Well yeah. It's not like you were trying to hurt her. You were just trying to be sweet, but she had stage freight and never told you."

"What do you suggest?"

"Well she said she wanted something more personal right?"

"Yeah."

"Cook something for her. Eat with just you guys. That way there's no pressure."

"You think?"

"I know. Not all girls are gonna wanna have the same things, but I don't think there's a girl in the world that would say 'oh my man cooked for me, he's the worst.'"

"You have a point."

I went through the school day as usual, and at the end of the day Jean and I headed over to hang out at my place. I told Jean she could go up to my room and work on her homework or whatever, and I would catch up, but first I had to do something. Once she was upstairs, I went to work.

Admittedly, I didn't typically cook food any more complicated than a sandwich. It's not like it was hard though. All I had to do was look online and follow the instructions. I wasn't certain of what to make, so I used an app that asked for what ingredients I had available, and give me listings of foods I could make based on those ingredients. A few foods came up, but the one I decided to go with was spaghetti and sausage.

I cooked, following the instructions. It was easy. I made the sauce no problem, and I just had to wait for it to heat up. I then went to work on cooking the sausages by frying them. Suddenly, the sausages caught on fire, and the smoke alarm went off. I frantically threw the pan in the sink which caught on fire too. I was going to attempt to turn on the faucet, but the flames got too high. I got ice from the freezer and pelted it at the fire, but it wouldn't seem to go away.

Jean popped in the kitchen with a fire extinguisher and took out the fire. I plopped on the chair in relief. "Thank you, Jean."

She looked into the sink, perplexed. "Sausages?"

"Yeah, think we could still eat them?"

She coiled her head at me.

"Kidding," I said.

She wiffed around to follow her nose to the Italian spices of the spaghetti pot. "It smells really good," she said. "I didn't know you cooked."

"Clearly," I pointed my head in the direction of the lost sausages. "I don't do it often."

"I'll help. Do you have any more sausages?"

"Just one left. You should allow me. I'm the host, it's my obligation to make the meals."

"I'm not about to put out another fire, Nick. Just watch me."

She put the sausage in the pan and set the fire to a medium-low heat, and mixed it around for a few minutes.

"You're not going to put any oil to keep it from sticking to the pan?"

"Nope, it's oily enough on its own. Also, did you turn the fire all the way up while you were cooking?"

" . . . Perhaps. I just thought that it would cook faster if I turned it up more."

"That's not the way cooking works. If you turn the heat all the way up then things aren't going to cook faster, your food is going to burn."

"I got that."

She placed the sausage on the cutting board, and to my amazement, she swiftly chopped the sausage up into equal chunks at a rate that was absurdly fast.

"You're really good at this," I complimented.

"I've been cooking for masters for as long as I can remember, and I've had some extremely picky masters in my day," She placed the sausage chunks into the spaghetti pot, and drained the noodle water into the sink. She then mixed the sauce and noodles together in a glass bowl. While she did this, I set the table for two. She came over and put the spaghetti on the table, and sat on the chair across from me.

"So what's the occasion this time?" she asked, piercing me with her eyes.

"What? I can't make dinner?"

Her eyes narrowed. "I feel like you're up to something."

"I just wanted to do something nice for you. That's all."

We began to eat the spaghetti, talking casually as we usually did. Once we were done, I slipped the dishes into the dishwasher and we headed upstairs to watch tv.

We were in my room watching tv, but I couldn't stop myself from repeatedly glancing back and forth from the tv to Jean. I wasn't getting anywhere with these romantic gestures. She wasn't getting the hint.

It finally hit me. My own words. 'Be raw. Be real. Be honest'. I was in a situation where I was too nerve-wracked to take my own advice--advice that defined me for the longest amount of time. I understood now. I understood why people couldn't be honest so easily. It's easier to be honest when you don't care about the outcome. It's difficult to be truthful when you've got so much that could collapse if you told it.

We sat there watching the show for hours, until we both fell asleep.

"No. Don't wish for that. DON'T WISH FOR THAT! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?"

I woke up and looked at the carpet where Jean layed. She was drenched in her own cold sweat, worming around, yelling and mumbling.

"Jean," I said, grabbing her arm.

She woke up, spiking her upper half into the air. "Nick . . ." She looked around. "What time is it?"

I checked my phone. "It's 11:11."

She took a deep breath, and settled herself back on the floor.

"Are you alright? What were you dreaming about?"

"I was dreaming about . . . Past wishes of my previous masters. Horrible wishes. The kind that caused thousands of humans to suffer relentlessly."

"Do you dream about that every night?"

"Every night since I regained my memories, yeah. I just want to forget about all those things so badly, but I can't. It haunts me every time I close my eyes."

"It's late. Do you want to go home?"

"If you don't mind, can I stay the night?"

I was shocked by her words. Of all the times we've hung out over the past few weeks, neither of us ever spent the night at each other's place.

"I'm sorry," she said. "That was a stupid things to ask. It's just that I'm so tired of spending all my nights alone and waking up to my nightmares."

"You can stay," I said. "I don't mind."

Her face filled with relief. "Really?"

"Yeah." I got out of my bed and sat on the carpet. "You can sleep there."

"You don't have to do that."

"Just take the bed," I said with authority.

Without arguing with me any further, she layed on my bed and I layed on the carpet.

"Good night," I said.

"Nick?"

"Yes?"

Jean sat up and faced me. "Can I ask something?"

"Anything."

She fiddled with her hair. "What do you intend on doing with the third wish?���

"Don't worry about it."

Jean began to bawl, so I got up on the bed next to her. "What is it?"

"I'm scared, Nick! I'm scared about what's going to happen to me once you make the third wish!" She continued to sob into her hands. "I'm sorry. This is selfish, but I'm afraid of you making a third wish, and me and the necklace being transported to a random part of the world, and losing this life. I'm afraid of being stuck having to be a genie to awful masters for the rest of eternity."

I instinctively held her in my arms. "I won't let that happen to you."

She pulled away. "Don't hold me, I'm a mess."

"I don't care." I pulled her back to me and let her cry into my shirt. I smoothed my hand over her back and babied her, cradling her in my warm embrace. "I'll never let anything bad happen to you."

She held on to me even tighter, but said nothing.

In that instant, I wanted all her pain to go away. I wanted her sorrow to come to an end. I knew I loved her. Me, someone labeled as cold and non-emotionally-receptive could say without a shadow of a doubt, that I was for certain in love with Jean. And it was because of my love for her that I decided then and there I had to let her go. For real this time. I planned to set her free the next day. I was going to make a wish that would set her free from both her slavery, and her memory. I had to. She was suffering too much. If she wasn't going to be my genie anymore and she didn't remember being my genie then she wouldn't have reason to be around me anymore, but her needs were greater than my own selfishness.

But if tomorrow was going to be my last day with her, I was going to make it count.