White Lines

PROLOGUE:

SOME PEOPLE SPEND THEIR WHOLE LIVES SEARCHING FOR THE MOMENT EVERYTHING CHANGED.

THE CRUEL PART IS THAT IT RARELY FEELS IMPORTANT WHILE IT'S HAPPENING.

— PERSEPHONE

SPRING 2013

Graduation always looked happier in photographs.

Years later, no one would remember the speeches echoing across the football field or the names read from neatly folded cue cards. They would remember what came after. Parents crying into each other's shoulders. Graduates holding diplomas like proof they'd made it. Smiles preserved forever beneath the warm June sky.

Photographs never captured the silence that came afterward.

The football field at South Shore Academy had begun to empty. The sun was slowly setting behind the school, casting a warm golden hue across the field. Teachers congratulated students, chatting with proud parents about everything they'd accomplished. Maintenance workers dismantled the stage, stacking rows of metal chairs into neat piles along the fence.

Clusters of graduates lingered near the track, posing for one last picture before slowly disappearing into the parking lot, stepping into their futures.

Everyone seemed to know where they were supposed to stand.

Everyone except Jacqueline.

She'd taken photos. Smiled. Laughed. She hugged her parents and waved goodbye, staying behind as though there was still something left to hold onto. Memories flooded her, moments replaying over and over.

She hung back by the bleachers, her diploma tucked beneath one arm, absentmindedly turning her silver rings as they clicked softly against one another.

She'd picked up the habit years ago.

One she never seemed to notice until she was already doing it.

It grounded her every time.

Change was difficult. Starting over meant creating a new version of yourself. The future was supposed to feel larger than this.

Instead…

It felt heavy.

A warm breeze drifted across the field, carrying the scent of freshly cut grass. Jacqueline closed her eyes and breathed in slowly. Every time she looked at something, she pictured him. Their friendship. Their memories. She could feel him still, his body pressed up against hers the very last time they spoke.

Her eyes opened slowly and drifted towards the parking lot. He was already looking at her. Her stomach churned as her fingers spun her rings faster.

Dominic.

He studied her.

She studied him.

The world didn't stop.

Someone laughed nearby.

A camera shutter clicked. Lights flashed.

Life carried on around them as though nothing extraordinary had happened.

Maybe because nothing had.

It was only two people looking at each other.

He stood across the field beside his parents, near staff parking. He was hidden among a crowd of other graduates she recognized as his soccer teammates, huddled around him.

With every glance, she noticed how loosely his gown hung over broad shoulders she hadn't noticed before. The late afternoon sun caught the side of his face, casting a glow around his jawline. He looked unfamiliar in all the ways that mattered.

They hadn't spoken in months. Since the fall of their final year.

Not properly, anyway.

Not the way they used to.

Since the night he told her he couldn't keep living the way they had been.

That he needed to change.

That she did too.

Jacqueline hadn't needed him to explain what he meant. They'd spent too much of high school making the worst decisions, partying with people older than them, and getting too involved in things that neither of them had any business being around.

Dominic had finally decided he'd had enough.

She didn't.

So he left without her.

She wasn't angry that he chose himself. If anything, she wished she'd been strong enough to make the same choice. Dominic told her she was. He was the only one who believed in her, more than she believed in herself.

She never thought he'd walk away.

She always thought he'd come back.

She couldn't pull herself out.

Some part of her still wanted to pull herself down.

Jacqueline couldn't take her eyes off him. She wanted to remember every detail of their last time on the football field. Dominic stole another glance at her. He didn't want to break contact either.

Dominic smiled first.

Uncertain.

Not the effortless, goofy grin she'd spent years memorizing, but something quieter. Something careful. He moved between a few other students, stepping away from their conversation as he kept staring. For a second, she thought he might walk towards her. Instead, someone tapped him on the shoulder and said something. He looked away and laughed, rejoining the group.

By the time he looked back to meet her gaze again, Jacqueline had disappeared.

****

He found her nearly twenty minutes later.

Not that he'd been looking.

But because some people had a way of existing in your peripheral vision no matter how determined you were to look somewhere else.

She stood in the parking lot, graduation cap beneath one arm. A half-lit cigarette in hand. She stared off into the distance as he walked up beside her.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Cars pulled away from the school one after another. Families loaded flowers into trunks. Teachers embraced students they'd probably never see again. The sun slipped lower behind the school, and one by one, the streetlights flickered on, casting shadows.

Everything around them had already started to move forward.

Except for them.

"Congratulations."

His voice hadn't changed. It still carried the same quiet steadiness she remembered throughout their four years, as though every sentence had already been considered before it was spoken.

"You too," Jacqueline whispered.

The words settled between them, then dissolved into another comfortable silence.

Jacqueline glanced at the cigarette between her fingers. It had burned nearly to the filter. She took one last drag, then flicked it to the ground beside her shoe.

She slipped a hand into the pocket of her gown and found the opening to her pack. The cardboard had worn soft around the edges.

She'd have to buy another soon.

Pulling it out of her robe, she slid one cigarette free.

She tapped it twice against the pack before placing it between her lips. The lighter sparked on the second flick, illuminating her face.

She inhaled slowly.

Only then did she hold the pack towards Dominic.

He looked at it for a moment, then gave a small shake of his head.

Without a word, he unscrewed the cap from the water bottle in his hand and took a slow drink. His eyes seemed to take in every detail of Jacqueline.

She found his obsession with water weird.

Some things, she supposed, never changed.

Smoke drifted lazily between them before disappearing into the air.

"I heard you're going to Crescent Hills."

She nodded, taking another drag. "Bachelor of Fine Arts."

"You'll like it," he said.

She smiled faintly, unsure of what to really say.

"And you?" she asked.

He paused and bit his bottom lip.

"I'm heading out of town."

She already knew that.

Everyone did.

"You think you'll ever come back?"

She knew the answer to that too, holding on to a sliver of hope.

"I wasn't planning on it."

There wasn't any bitterness in his voice.

Just honesty.

She looked past him toward the line of cars leaving the parking lot.

"So…" she said. "This is it."

He nodded back at her.

Silence had returned.

It wasn't awkward.

It never had been.

Some silences were built over years, not minutes.

This one belonged to them.

Her phone vibrated inside her gown.

She grabbed it. The screen lit up the space between them.

Her fingers flicked the half-lit cigarette to the ground.

Jacqueline frowned.

NICO: Party tonight. Got your favourite.

Her thumb rested against the screen for a moment before she locked it again.

She hadn't realized Dominic had noticed.

"You're going?" he asked her.

Jacqueline shrugged. "I said I'd stop by."

Another breeze carried leftover smoke into the parking lot in front of them.

"You know," Dominic started, "Nico's good at making people think they're choosing."

"I am choosing," Jacqueline said sternly.

"I know." His answer came so quickly it almost caught her off guard.

He wasn't arguing anymore.

He wasn't judging.

He sounded… sad.

She looked away first.

Someone, somewhere, slammed a car door.

Families continued pulling out of the parking lot, one after another, until only a handful remained.

A few seconds passed before Dominic finally broke the silence again.

"Just…" He stopped and started again.

"If things ever stop feeling like your choice…" He glanced toward the road leading away from the school. "Don't be afraid to leave."

Jacqueline studied him for a long moment and sighed. "You always make everything seem easier than it is."

A tired smile crossed his face. "No. I know it isn't impossible."

Another silence.

This one felt different.

Heavier.

As though both of them understood there were things neither of them knew how to say anymore.

Someone called Dominic's name from across the parking lot. His parents waited beside their car.

Dominic looked over his shoulder before turning back to Jacqueline one last time.

"Congratulations again."

She smiled at him. "You too."

He nodded once before turning towards his family. Jacqueline watched him take several steps before her phone vibrated again. She took it out once more.

She didn't have to look.

She already knew.

NICO: Don't flake. Expecting you.

She slipped her phone back into her pocket and turned around, walking in the opposite direction.

"Jacs!"

That was the last time Dominic had called her name.

She stopped, fighting the urge to turn around.

"Stay safe."

She wanted to say… you too.

Instead, she raised one hand above her shoulder, never looking back.

****

Years later, Jacqueline would never remember which one of them walked away first.

Only that one of them did.

She would remember almost none of that day.

Not the weather.

Not the parking lot.

Not even what either of them wore.

She would, however, remember one thing.

That someone had once offered her another life.

And she had mistaken it for goodbye.