The Rock Chamber Boys : The Complete Series

by Daisy Allen

  "Hey, Paige," I call out to her, but she doesn’t hear me.

  I grab a cushion and launch it at her head. She barely notices it bouncing off her cheek but she does turn around.

  "Thank you," I say. And she grins.

  "Paige and Noémie, together again!” she sings, doing a silly dance.

  "Hey, shut up for a minute. Listen to me." She sits down and I take her hand in mine this time. "Thank you, for everything." She squirms a little, like the gratitude is uncomfortable for her. But I need her to know. "Thank you. I... I don't know where I'd be if it wasn't for you. There's no way I could've afforded all this. I’d be in some hospital, not knowing who or where I was. And God knows how long the insurance would’ve held out. I’m probably alive because of you.”

  "Hey. I'm probably alive because of you."

  “Well, that we know is true.”

  We grin at each other until our faces get sore, and go back to dancing around the room.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Jez

  I’m back in the backseat of the car again.

  This time Anca isn’t there.

  Slowly I can just make out the silhouette of the driver and the passenger in the front seat.

  I’m in the car with Mom and Dad again.

  On the same road.

  "Mom! DAD!" I yell out.

  And they laugh and turn around, looking at me.

  They look exactly the same as they did the last time. So young, so beautiful, so happy, so much love in their eyes.

  "Hey, Jezzy! Want to go get some ice cream?"

  "Of course, he does, when has he ever said no to ice-cream?" Dad says to her and she laughs, patting him on the arm.

  She turns again to the back seat, smiling at me, while Dad quickly looks at Mom, his eyes filled with adoration for his beautiful wife.

  I'm looking forward.

  And I'm the only one who sees it.

  "DAD!!! WATCH OUT!" I yell, but it's too late.

  Everything flashes bright as the headlights of a car coming right toward us blinds me.

  The last thing I see is Mom's smile turning into a look of intense horror and fear and Dad's head hitting the steering wheel.

  And then my whole body crumples onto itself, and then it's over.

  Everything is black.

  Except it's not.

  I'm awake.

  And everything is bright again.

  White.

  White walls, white bed linens, white plastic cup on the tray in front of me.

  I open my eyes and everyone is there.

  "Where are Mom and Dad?" is the first thing I say.

  And they say nothing.

  Because there's nothing to say.

  "Where are they?" I yell.

  And again, they say nothing.

  What do you say when you're the only one to survive?

  ***

  I wake up. My T-shirt is dark from sweat. The bed sheet kicked off and the pillow pushed onto the ground. But the memory of my nightmare is still fresh in my mind. I brush my hand over my face and it's wet. From sweat, I tell myself, but I know it's from tears.

  It wasn't a nightmare. It's reality.

  My parents were in a car accident. I was in a car accident of sorts.

  How come I'm the only one to survive?

  I lean over and try to reach for the pillow. My arms protest a little with stiffness, but I ignore it, trying to grip it with my hand. My wrists and fingers refuse to move, so I pull them back.

  And think of her. Breathe deep, and think of her.

  Make a fist, I hear her urge me. You can do it, Jez.

  And my fingers move.

  I reach over again, and my fingers grab the pillow. I push it under my head and close my eyes.

  Willing that the thoughts are done torturing me for the night.

  Only to be replaced by others.

  Of her.

  Belonging to somebody else.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Noémie

  There's no note for me, Robbie tells me, even though I don't ask. He can see it in my eyes, I guess. No note to explain what happened earlier this morning. No note with a song title. No note, to tell me that he's thinking of me like I’m thinking of him.

  And it is him that I'm mostly thinking of, when I should be thinking of Chris. Chris, who tells me we're together.

  Who tells me things he shouldn't know about me, and that I should know things about him.

  Who I have no recollection of, besides those few times he came onto me and I couldn’t get away.

  Who definitely elicits no feelings in me.

  No, it's all Jez. Jez is the one I want. Jez is the one I want to want me.

  There's a quiet tick, and I know the clock has just struck midnight.

  My second to last midnight here.

  This time two days from now, I’ll be back in my own bed, this place behind me. Maybe Jez behind me as well.

  I pick up my ukulele. My door is unguarded, since Mike left around 8 p.m., telling me there shouldn't be any more trouble since they've got plenty of people outside and someone outside of Jez's door in case I need anything.

  I walk to the family activity room, barely glancing at Jez's closed door, trying to push him out of my mind. I sit in the dark for a few minutes, enjoying the solitude that it brings. No light to interfere with my thoughts. And I sit and count my breaths.

  It's not going to be like this for much longer. Life will soon return to being hectic.

  Living with Paige is the very definition of hectic.

  But it is real. The last few months have been anything but normal. Quiet and restful and meditative and somewhat surreal. But definitely not normal. And it's time to go back to my life. Whatever it was. And whatever it will be.

  I quickly tune my ukulele and prepare to play.

  Whatever my life was before, at least now it will include music again.

  I tinker with a melody dancing around in my brain. It's simple, but emotional, dark and full of longing. Words start appearing and I sing along in my head. Songwriting has never happened so easily for me.

  But I guess I have a lot to say, and there's a very special way it wants to be heard.

  I strum the chorus again, humming along this time. But the words, the words stay in my head. Ready to come out only when it's time.

  I play the entire song again, embedding it in my mind. The last chord is played, and I lean back. Satisfied. I have a name for the song too.

  And it's perfect.

  It's much later now, I can tell from the position of the moon in the sky. One more night, I tell myself. I have one more night.

  I get up and tuck the ukulele under my arm, and step outside into the hall.

  I bump up against a hard chest, and look up into dark, green eyes.

  "Jez!" I gasp, purely out of surprise.

  "Sorry," he says. "I... I didn't know you were coming out.” His back is to the light and I can’t properly see his face.

  "Were you waiting for me?"

  He doesn’t say anything. Just keeps staring at me.

  "Why didn't you come in?" I ask him again.

  "Did you want me to?" His voice is low, husky, restrained. He’s trying to hold back on saying something. I wish he would just say it. I think I want to hear it.

  "Why else would I be here?" I say, giving him the answer even before it has occurred to me. Of course, that's why I was here. Waiting for him. Waiting for him to tell me he has come for me.

  He exhales hard and spins around, his back to me. Before I can stop him, he pulls his hand back and then thumps against the wall. I grimace, just as he hisses with pain, pulling his hand against his chest.

  "Oh, Jez!” My body hurts for him as I reach out to touch his back. “Are you okay?"

  He jumps as my touch, like I’ve burned him and he growls, "No! I'm not fucking okay! Fuck!"

  He spins back around and grabs my shoulders, pulling me against him.

  "Forgive me, god
, please forgive me," he whispers and he leans in, his breath, hot and sweet against my face.

  He's going to kiss me. He's finally going to kiss me.

  I hold my breath and close my eyes.

  And this time, all I can see is Chris's face. My eyes snap open and I press hard on his chest, pushing him away.

  'I can't... I... I have a boyfriend," I say, even though the words have no meaning to me.

  Jez squeezes his eyes shut and pulls away, leaning his head against the wall.

  "I know. That’s why I needed you to forgive me. I wanted to kiss you anyway.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Jez

  She said it. She said the words, and I can't ignore them now. She's taken. She can't be mine. All this dreaming and hoping, has come to nothing.

  I can't have her and I’ll have to live with it.

  It's a good thing I'm leaving. Because I don't think I could handle having her two doors down, and knowing that I can't do anything about it.

  "Jez, I'm sorry," she says, her hand against my arm.

  I turn to her and she takes a step back, pulling her hand away.

  She looks at me, her eyes filled with longing. I know she wants me. Boyfriend or not, she wants me just as much as I want her. Crave her. Desire her. Burn for her.

  To hell with it.

  I grab her by the forearm, ignoring the pain in my hand and pull her to me. Her eyes widen, and flood with heat. See? She wants me. Me.

  I know she does. Her body tells me, her eyes tell me. Her music tells me.

  She plays for me and only me. I take a step forward, pressing myself against her and almost every part of our bodies is touching.

  Her legs against mine. Her stomach against mine. Her chest against mine. I let go of her arm and slide my hand up around her back.

  "Forgive me.” I say again. “I’ll regret this for the rest of my life if I don't do it."

  And I kiss her.

  I press my lips against her so hard her teeth grazes against my mouth and the sting of my lip thrills me. I feel her arms reach up behind me and grip the fabric of my T-shirt as she melts into the kiss.

  God, I want her so much, it's like a sweet cyanide running through my body. Delicious and dangerous. Deadly. My tongue slips into her mouth and she tastes like wild berries. Her tongue soft and warm against mine.

  "God, Noémie," I hear myself moan her name and she sigh against my mouth before our lips find each other's again and we kiss.

  We kiss so long my lungs are empty and I pull apart only in the pure need for breath.

  Our mouth disengage, but our bodies are still pressed against each other’s, fusing into one.

  "Jez," she whispers, her hand coming up to touch my face.

  Her lips are plump, almost bruised from my kiss and I run my thumb along them.

  "Sweet Noémie," I say. And I want to say so much more, but I can't.

  She looks at me, her chest rising and falling as she gasps for breath. She looks like everything I've ever wanted and didn't know I needed. And she's here with me. Everything is perfect.

  I pull away, lean over and press a soft kiss to her lips and whisper what I came here to say.

  "Goodbye, Noémie. Take care."

  And I turn and walk to my room.

  Never turning back.

  Never looking back.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  Noémie

  I'm so shocked that it takes me a moment to realize that he's leaving.

  "Jez!" I call out after him, my feet finally on the move. I turn into the hallway, but he's already too far ahead. "Jez!" I call out again, just as I see him walk into his room and pull the door closed. But the time I get there, the curtain is pulled and I can't see into his room. The bodyguard stands up and gently touches me on the shoulder.

  "He doesn't want to see anyone right now. I’m sorry."

  "Please! I really need to..."

  "Sorry. I can't let you in," he cuts me off. And from the look on his face he really is sorry. I know, though, that there's nothing I can say or do that will change his mind.

  I stand there for a moment, my forehead leaning against the cold glass, willing him to surprise me and appear on the other side. But he doesn't.

  I sigh, and walk back to my room, trying to make sense of what has just happened.

  He kissed me.

  And I kissed him.

  He might've made the first move, but there was no question, it's what I wanted. Maybe even more than he did. And now I want him even more. My body is still zinging with the emotions from being pressed against him.

  His breath was my breath. With one kiss, he brought me alive, and destroyed me all at once.

  ***

  He's not at the elevator the next day at the time for his PT appointment. His curtain and door were pulled closed whenever I peeked out of mine to see if he might be available to talk. But I thought he'd at least make it to his PT appointment.

  But he's not there.

  I wait for over half an hour.

  Toni gives me a long look as I stand there, but she says nothing.

  Eventually I go downstairs and Brian tells me that Jez has organized his own PT and won't be using the hospital's services anymore.

  He gives me a look similar to Toni's, and tells me that I've been really helpful in Jez' sessions.

  And thanks me.

  He thanks me for helping Jez. And I have to hold in a snicker. I'm helping Jez for me. Because I want him well and healthy. For me. Everything I do for Jez is for me because I care about him so much. This mystery man from my past that I don't remember has become my reason for everything.

  ***

  "So, I’ll be back around 5 p.m. tomorrow, okay? To pick you up. I'll take what I can today, and grab the rest tomorrow." Paige rambles on as she has all day.

  "Okay," I say, absentmindedly. I'm not really listening to what she's saying, just staring out the window.

  "Oi!" she yells, finally getting my attention.

  "Wha?"

  "What’s wrong? Are you feeling okay?"

  "Argh. Paige -- when we get home, you will only get to ask me that once a day. If I'm not lying on the floor unconscious or bleeding from the head, just assume I'm okay."'

  "Fine, sorry for caring." She pouts and I roll my eyes and poke my tongue out at her. "Ugh. you're lucky I love you."

  "Very lucky, the luckiest." I shoo her away and start packing the last of my clothes and things into the suitcase she left for me. There's not much. Just a few pairs of jeans, a book or two.

  And my ukulele. I didn't let her touch that.

  I run my fingers over it, and the song from last night instantly appears in my head again. It's still early and I don't want to bother the other patients, so I just sit and listen to it in my head.

  Grabbing the music manuscript paper that's always in my uke case, I start writing it down.

  Note by note the song appears in front of me. Like words on a page, but better. I play the music over in my head, checking my mistakes, and then I add the lyrics.

  I can't help but tear up as I write. This song is the best thing I've ever composed.

  The truest, most honest. The simplest.

  And a part of me wishes that I could play this song for the world, because then they would understand me.

  It's done.

  I print the title on top and place it on the tray.

  Finish packing, Noémie, I tell myself. It's time to go home.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Jez

  There's an envelope on the floor by the door when I wake up; it must’ve been slid under there sometime during the night. I can see my name scribbled on the front. But there's nothing else that tells me what's inside.

  Well, it's not a bloody bomb, I think. No reason to be so scared.

  I sigh and get out of bed and pick the envelope off the floor.

  I brace myself for my fingers to scream with pain, but they don’t ache more than a little. My progres
s gives me a little hope to start the day. I hold the large envelope in my hands, turning it over. It's thick, maybe 4-5 pages of paper inside. I hold it up to light but there are no extra clues.

  I take a breath and tear it open, pulling the flat sheets from the yellow envelope.

  It's from her.

  I can tell from the handwriting. Sloped, large loops, deeply romantic.

  It reads,

  Dearest Jez,

  I'm leaving today.

  Apparently my brain's problems are not physical, and if it weren't for not forgetting you, I'd think everything was back to normal.

  But it may never be.

  Anyway, I'm leaving today.

  But I have something for you.

  I hope it tells you everything we never had the opportunity to say.

  Take care.

  - N

  I peel the front sheet from the stack and place it gently on the bed.

  It's music.

  She's written a song. She’s written me a song.

  The notes play themselves in my brain when my eye scans over them, like the rest of the world reads words.

  It's the piece she was tinkering with the other night while I stood outside listening.

  It's beautiful.

  And then I read aloud the words written underneath.

  Pour Jeremy.

  For Jeremy.

  For me.

  I hug it to my chest. A piece of her to keep with me, forever.

  ***

  "So, we're going to take you to the Beverley Wilshire for a while, give you some time to adapt to not being in the hospital and having round-the-clock care. Then you can decide if you want to stay here or go back to London. Wherever you decide, you name it, we'll be there,” Dennis tells me.

  "Fine," I tell him, not that it matters.