To say that High School passed in the blink of an eye would be an understatement.  James couldn't believe it on Graduation Day...  All of their ups and downs.  It was within the week that Sasha suggested they officially break up.  Sure, they'd had their separations and the like, but it was mostly because they were so busy with school work or family obligation.  He kept every single story she ever wrote for them too; the improvement in her writing was spectacular.  It was always cute and well-articulated, sure, but each one was better than the last.  Her handwriting had even evolved from the cutesy-teen to a flowing, almost calligraphic style.  James always poured over every word, admiring her courage to share them with anybody.  He, on the other hand, had kept the same chicken scratch he always had – he just worked so fast with his homework that it was more for himself than anybody else.  Teachers grew more furious by the day with his shorthand when they checked his notes or wanted him to show his work, but who were they to judge if he got it right?

He’d be lying if he said that he didn’t see the break-up coming, to be honest.  She was pragmatic and he had always loved how grounded she could be.  He just didn’t expect her to be going to school all the way in America.  Still, to be accepted to the prestigious Johns Hopkins…  He couldn’t blame her.  He’d be attending his father’s alma mater: Imperial College in London.  The campus was lovely and the programs very highly rated.  It also allowed him to stay near his family, which would prove essential in the coming years.  Shortly after he started staying on-campus for the university, James’ parents decided to get separated.  Tension in the house had been growing over the past couple of years and everybody could feel it.  The divorce rate in the UK had actually been on the decline, but some just couldn’t be helped.  On the other hand, the Delacourts never saw through the divorce.  In the summer following James’ junior year in university, his brother was in a car accident on the Audubon while stationed in Germany.  He was killed instantly and a newly widowed Anaïs moved in with James’ parents for help raising the young son she had once shared with the English soldier.  She spent several months barely speaking to anybody and even the young boy began to see less of his mother.  Nobody but Matt in the house had known of Anaïs’ arrhythmia, but she had forgotten to take her medication for a couple of days in her depression and the family lost her too.  Needless to say, it was possibly the year for James in which he got the worst grades he’d ever seen, but still he passed.

After securing his job and a new flat in Canterbury, about an hour and a half’s drive from London, James’ parents asked him what he wanted to do about Matt’s son, Nathan.  Officially, James was named next of kin and godfather of the young boy…  but it was a responsibility he never thought he’d have to take so young.  Rachel and Peter had offered to continue taking care of him.  In a rather shocking decision, James actually decided to try it – now that he had a secure lifestyle, he wanted to at least see if he could handle it.  Matt trusted him, after all, and he knew that his mother’s heart broke seeing her son’s face in the boy every day after only a year without him.  Since the implementation of more high-speed rail than in previous decades, it would only take about twenty-five minutes to get to work, covering an immense sixty-five (American) miles in such a short time.

“You’ll be good for Gran, right kiddo?”  He asked with a smile, taking a knee in front of his nephew.  The boy was six now, it was amazing how quickly time went by.  Matt had him when he and Anaïs had gotten married after graduation.  They lived so quickly that it was still unreal that he was gone.   James supposed most of them still struggled with the realism of that every day.

“Of course, Uncle Jimmy!”  The dark-haired boy beamed.

James smiled softly…  He had Matt’s everything.  How did ma do it for so long without going insane?  The engineer could barely stand it every time the little guy opened his mouth, in the best way possible.  “Now when did your da tell you to start calling me that?”  He asked somberly, ruffling the small boy’s hair.  He always hated when Matt called him Jimmy, but he was the only one who got away with it.  Just another one of those things.

Once they reached his childhood home, where his parents still lived, James’ mother made sure that he was all proper for seeing Sasha again.  The woman spent about five minutes straightening his sports coat and collared shirt.  She huffed, “James, I told you to wear a tie, didn’t I?  You’ve got this top button all open and…  God you couldn’t at least dress up for this?”

“Ma, I did dress up.  Ties look dumb.  I wear one to work and I’m not going to wear one just to see an old friend, I’m comfortable.  Besides, I’m pretty dressed up for ‘just hanging out,’ right?”  The woman sighed, shook her head, and ceded.  He had a point; at least his shirt was tucked in and he did have the coat on, as well as a nice pair of black jeans and a clean pair of shoes.  Peter had already snatched up his grandson and taken him into another room to find something to do, wishing him a hasty ‘have a good time.’

“Fine…  You win, now go have fun,” She finally decided, waving her son off.  He kissed her cheek and got back into the cab he called, taking it on the last leg of the journey to the pub where Sasha had agreed to meet him.  Tipping the driver, he stepped out of the taxi and stuffed his hands into his pockets, stopping outside the doors and pausing for just a couple of minutes to pull out a B&H Silver fag, lighting it between his lips.  Did Sasha know he’d picked up smoking..?  Probably not.  Cigarettes had changed a lot in the past few years and it was still hardly a surprise that most people in Europe still did it, especially considering there had been a big ‘health’ push sometime after the war.  To be honest, James couldn’t remember when he’d started doing it, but sometimes he just needed one.  No more than one or two in a day, but rarely was it more than four or five in a week depending on how stressed he got.

They’d been in touch, she knew mostly what had been going on, but the two hadn’t seen each other since they left high school.  It just never really happened on account of being so busy.  Of course, she was fairly aware of the things that had happened in just the past couple of years, but they’d not spoken in depth about it.  He already felt nervous as hell and he finally sucked the fag down to its butt, pitching it in a receptacle.  Finally entering the bar, he wondered if the girl would recognize him.  His hair wasn’t white like it had been in childhood anymore, though he knew it would start to grey out again for him before his mates as they aged.  His dark blond was a coloration he was relieved to get into his senior year of high school, it just started to… change itself.  Strange, yeah, but his father said he had the same thing.

James went straight for the bar and placed a few bills on the counter, ordering a simple rum and coke before turning around to find his ‘date.’  He couldn’t help but smile when he saw her…  There was no way that he went to high school with her.  Once he saw Sasha in person, it was hard to say that she was the same girl, now holding a tall glass of Guinness with a plate of chips in front of her.

Head in the game, man… c’mon, it’s no different than anything else.  She’s an old friend…  Oh, gross,  He sighed, wiping his hand on his pants quickly before taking a breath and finally approaching.  Once he got to the table, he placed his drink down.

“Sasha?”  He asked, looking her over skeptically, “Wow, look at you!”  He said with a grin, “Can’t believe it’s been so long.”  Of course, he looked a lot different too.  Apart from his hair, he’d switched from contact lenses to glasses most of the time.  He was a bit less lanky than he used to be.  Even when he first started college, he had a pretty awkward build, but he filled out a bit more and had a more ‘normal’ build than he used too.  “So, how’s the new job?”