His parents were already in bed, but he was too excited to even sit down, let alone sleep. Tomorrow he would see his Jodie again, even if only once. He had decided it didn’t matter what happened then. At least seeing her one last time, he might be able to erase his last image of her crying and screaming his name as her father dragged her into the old house and shut the door forever. If he could just get rid of that image, that would be enough. Maybe he could move on then, cut his hair, start fresh. Or maybe—he was afraid to even consider it—but maybe she was coming to return his love. It was a possibility, even if it was far-fetched. He had rummaged through his closet and decided on a t-shirt with a button-up gray sweater and gray slacks for tomorrow. It was the nicest outfit he owned, even if it was from the thrift shop around the corner. It wouldn’t matter anyway. His Jodie had never been the judgmental type. So, as Mina was kissing her kids and cozying up to a fine man named Russell, John stood in front of his long mirror in nothing but his tightie-whities and a pair of orange socks.
