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Chapter Three
The Story of Jack and Jill
From Jack
Nashville, Tennessee, September 2009
When do you fall in love? Is there an exact moment, or is it like ice slowly melting in a glass of lemonade on a September afternoon? I know the moment I fell in love with Jillian. I was walking across the quadrangle on campus. It was adjacent to the Botanical Gardens, and the fragrance of pink and white roses filled the air. It was a hot day at the beginning of the semester. The wall of live oaks circling the quad was bursting with every shade of green, but a few streaks of crimson and gold were beginning to creep in. There was a noisy fountain, and kids were dancing in the water in various states of undress. I would have joined them, but I was on my way to meet with my junior year advisor to discuss my less-than-stellar academic record. There were about eight girls playing volleyball in a sand pit. Shrieks, cries, and laughter rang out. There was one unofficial cheerleader on the sidelines. She was a brunette, slim, pretty girl in a white sundress wearing orange flip-flops, with a blue bandana on her head under which wavy locks fell out. I stopped and stared at her. She looked at me, but she didn’t see me.
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