BooksBarbecue
Back First Comes Love
Chapters (92)
  1. First
  2. Love Connection
  3. Zero
  4. One
  5. Two
  6. Three
  7. Four
  8. Five
  9. Six
  10. Seven
  11. Eight
  12. Nine
  13. Ten
  14. Eleven
  15. One Month Later
  16. Twelve
  17. Thirteen
  18. Fourteen
  19. Fifteen
  20. Six Months Later
  21. Sixteen
  22. Seventeen
  23. Eighteen
  24. Nineteen
  25. Twenty
  26. Twenty-one
  27. Twenty-two
  28. Twenty-three
  29. Twenty-four
  30. Six Months Later
  31. Twenty-five
  32. Twenty-six
  33. Twenty-seven
  34. Twenty-eight
  35. Twenty-nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-one
  38. Thirty-two
  39. Thirty-three
  40. I Have Never
  41. One
  42. Two
  43. Three
  44. Four
  45. Five
  46. Six
  47. Seven
  48. Eight
  49. Nine
  50. Ten
  51. Eleven
  52. Twelve
  53. Thirteen
  54. Fourteen
  55. Fifteen
  56. Sixteen
  57. Seventeen
  58. Eighteen
  59. Nineteen
  60. Twenty
  61. Twenty-one
  62. Twenty-two
  63. A Christmas Date
  64. One
  65. Two
  66. Three
  67. Four
  68. Five
  69. Six
  70. Seven
  71. Eight
  72. Nine
  73. Ten
  74. Eleven
  75. Twelve
  76. Thirteen
  77. Fourteen
  78. Fifteen
  79. Sixteen
  80. Seventeen
  81. Eighteen
  82. Nineteen
  83. Twenty
  84. Twenty-one
  85. Twenty-two
  86. Note from the Author
  87. Sneak Peek – To the Stars and Back
  88. Two
  89. Three
  90. Four
  91. Also by Camilla Isley
  92. About the Author

I walk back to the kitchen and open the fridge. The only things inside it are a huge ice cream tub and some cans of diet Coke. I couldn’t have hoped for anything better. I don’t care that massively enlarging my derriere with ice cream probably isn’t a good idea. I need comfort food. I sit on the couch and scarf down as much cookie dough as my stomach can hold. High on sugar and fats, I wander into my bedroom and take a box out from under the bed. On the lid, I’ve glued a picture of a jukebox. Where the word ‘jukebox’ should have been, a name’s spelled out of letters cut from magazines: Jakebox. I know, my teenage self had a cunning sense of humor.

I take the Jakebox into the living room, put ‘Since U Been Gone’ by Kelly Clarkson on replay on my iPod, light a fire in the fireplace, and sit in front of it. I take a deep breath before lifting the lid of the Jakebox. My heart starts beating violently as I stare at all the mementos of my life with Jake, years’ worth of memories. I’m glad I have physical things I can burn. What do teenagers who have grown up in the era of Facebook do when they break up with the love of their life, plan an assassination on Mark Zuckerberg?

On a first look inside the Jakebox, I see some solid items I can’t burn, so I take the trash bin from the kitchen, bring it back to the love-bonfire, and start sorting items.

First out of the Jakebox are the tickets from our first movie night, Kill Bill: Volume II. Also the night of our first kiss. Fire.

The Kill Bill: Volume II DVD itself is the next item. Bin.

Next is a sheet of crumpled paper Jake passed me in class the first year we dated. On top, it says, “Prom?” Below are two choice squares, one says, “Yes,” and the other says, “Yes.” I marked both of them and stamped a lipstick kiss underneath. Fire.

Next, little plastic golden miniatures of the Little Mermaid and Prince Eric from a Happy Meal surprise. I was obsessed by the Little Mermaid miniature because I couldn’t find it anywhere and Jake ate McDonald’s for a month to get me one. Bin.

Next, a blank card sprayed with his aftershave. I made it when I moved to Boston. I remember sniffing it whenever I missed Jake. I lift it to my nose. It’s faint, but Jake’s aftershave’s still there. Fire.