Haze

by Andrea Wolfe

  "We're gonna be fine," he said. "If we can survive this, we can survive anything together."

  No matter how many mistakes we each thought we made, no matter how many ways we could have acted differently, he was right. I knew that I would probably forever scrutinize myself for walking toward that alley—Jack would have his own qualms as well—but then again, I did it because I was trying to be a good person, trying to help someone I believed was in need.

  Could I really be mad at myself for trying to help someone else? That was ridiculous.

  "Can we handle moving my stuff tomorrow?" I said, laughing in unison with my crying.

  "I think we'll take a rain check on that. It's after five now. We need to fucking sleep sometime."

  Holy shit. He was right. It had indeed been all night. We should have stayed and partied.

  "Can we do something weird?" I asked, struck with a sudden pang of hunger.

  "What's that?" he asked, concerned look on his face.

  "I want pancakes. Can we get diner food before we go to bed?"

  He smiled huge. "Yeah, that sounds better than anything right now."

  We checked out from the hospital and said our goodbyes to Jack's band mates. It was incredible that they had stuck around all night with us, trading their sleep for sitting around in a hospital.

  Once again, it was clear why Jack had chosen them for his band. Although we invited them to breakfast, they all politely declined due to sleepiness, and that was just fine with us. I wanted to soak up Jack all alone, just like my pancakes would soak up butter and maple syrup.

  And when the food arrived, bliss hit me like a drug and followed us home until we fell into a carb-induced slumber.

  ***

  As expected, we skipped moving on Saturday, instead sleeping until late afternoon. Jack got up before me, but I wasn't sure how much earlier. I only knew because he was standing in the doorway when my eyes opened.

  "I should call my parents," I said, the first words out of my mouth after achieving consciousness. "They'll hate me for telling them, but I have to. I want to." The decision felt somewhat impetuous and random, but I simply could not help it.

  "Do it," Jack said, fiddling with his phone. He was shirtless, the bandage on his side a painful reminder of what we had just survived. He sat down next to me on the bed, my body still buried under blankets.

  I don't know why that feeling of longing rushed in, but it did. Last night, I had only really thought about Jack, thought exclusively about the disruption of my immediate surroundings. Disruption of my current world.

  As much as it would trouble my parents to hear about their daughter narrowly escaping rape and murder, it would be a way to reconnect, a way to re-include them in my life in a very real way. I had barely escaped danger, and now I desperately wanted to hug them both, the people that had raised and protected me through the earliest portion of my life.

  My brain overflowed with memories of growing up, learning to ride a bike, Christmas mornings, family vacations to the beach. I was suddenly imagining my dad with a mustache and laughing inside. He had shaved it off almost a decade ago, but prior to that, it was a serious part of his appearance. My mom always jokingly suggested that he should grow it back and he always grumbled about it.

  Good, sweet, loving memories. Jack was my now, and they would always be my then. Stress made the desire to reconnect more poignant than ever before.

  I hadn't called my mom since I asked her for rent money, something I regretted every time I remembered it. Life had sped up after that, and I hadn't really wanted to get into the details of my love life. The money sat in my account the whole time, unused as Jack's finances covered us both—and my new job's very plentiful income sweetened things further.

  My phone was cracked again, so this call would be the last prior to repair/replacement. It felt symbolic, in a way. My life had been fractured similarly, and now I'd look to repair it as well.

  I couldn't believe how bad my luck with cell phones had been. Honestly, I had gone for years with my first cell phone, never having any issues or breaking it. Now, I'd smashed two in two months. It wasn't entirely my fault, however. I wasn't as much of a klutz as I was making myself out to be.

  After so much potent introspection, weeping came easily, and Jack comforted me, holding me in his arms. "Just cry," he whispered. "I'm here for you. Always."

  "Shut up," I complained. "You're too perfect and it's just making me cry more."

  He handed me a wad of tissues and groaned as he stood up from the bed. "God, I'm so sore. Everything hurts."

  After he said it, I realized how sore I was as well. It felt like I had been through a very rough and competitive boxing match. "I need painkillers," I said. "We need to go to a pharmacy." My head was throbbing slowly with my heartbeat. The doctor had given me a prescription last night, but after all the drugs at the hospital, I had been set to make it through the night.

  "I already took care of it," he said with a smile. He tossed a bottle of pills to me. "Don't get addicted to these now. Vicodin is serious stuff."

  I greedily dumped one onto my tongue and swallowed it with water. "Oh, God, thanks again." Medicinal relief couldn't come soon enough.

  "It's nothing. Every fucking second with you is worth it." I guess we were both being a little extra dramatic and verbose after such a terrible event.

  I smiled, picked up my phone, and started dialing, feeling extra brave after hearing Jack's powerful words—and then my calm failed the second I heard my mom's voice. "I almost got raped and murdered and I'm okay and I swear I'm all right and my boyfriend, Jack, saved me!" A flood of tears soaked the sheet as I reflexively used it instead of the giant pile of tissues to my right.

  Unsurprisingly, they booked a flight and were on a plane to NYC the next morning—and I would have to introduce them to the man of my dreams, face to face. I think I subconsciously made the call because I knew this would be the end result. I couldn't hide anymore. I would peel off every layer, every bit of mask that I had hidden behind.

  I hated that I had so much to tell them, so many details that hadn't arisen at all due to the distance I had created between us. And not so much the physical distance as the emotional distance. I had taken their advice and come to New York, but I guess I had hidden myself upon arrival, trying to make it on my own without relying on them for support, emotionally, financially, or otherwise. I hadn't gone home at all, even though they would have paid for the plane ticket.

  They obviously knew about my breakup with Timothy, but they didn't know about his moving here and attacking me. Yeah, I would have hours of conversation already queued up in my head before we even said hello.

  This was my world now, a world that was becoming clearer all the time. They needed to be part of it, needed to be a part of Jack and me, because it wasn't about to end anytime soon.

  Jack insisted upon meeting them at the airport in a limo. It was ridiculous, but at the very least, they'd get a kick out of it. We drove slowly to JFK, dressed in casual clothes as we sat in the back of Jack's regular method of luxury transportation. No champagne today, and I was okay with that. I didn't want to be drunk when they arrived.

  My mom had called me to inform me that they were waiting outside the arrivals area as we pulled into the airport. I told her we'd pick her up, and when she asked what we were driving, I just told her that she'd know when she saw it. I giggled to myself after hanging up the phone, amused at the surprise I was harboring.

  "What?" Jack asked.

  "Try not to be too charming," I said jokingly.

  "You're terrible," he complained. "I can't just turn it off!"

  I kissed him deeply, my tongue darting into his mouth. "I love you," I said post-kiss. "I can't believe the shit we've been through lately."

  "No kidding," he said, lightly stroking my hair. The midday sun was glowing on his skin, framing his beautiful face as he touched me. I was glad to see him feeling better already.

  We pulled up to the a
rrivals gate, navigating past the scores of people and cars that littered the area. Everyone was picking someone else up at that same moment, and this happened to be the only place to do it. Percy found a space right next to the curb, big enough for the limo, a minor miracle given the chaos. When I peered out the tinted window, I saw my mom and dad standing there, staring at our ridiculous car with weary eyes, oblivious to the fact that I was nestled away inside it with Jack.

  "Are you ready?" I asked Jack.

  "I've always been ready." He gave me that gorgeous wide smile, and I almost passed out like I had the first time I witnessed it. Jack kissed my cheek and pointed at the door. "You first."

  I took a deep breath and then opened the door, hiding behind it before I stepped out. My parents were still aimlessly looking around, trying to find the mysterious vehicle that I had refused to identify. And then, my dad's eyes met mine and he was frantically tapping my mom's shoulder and pointing.

  They walked briskly toward me, roller suitcases following behind them. "Effie, sweetheart!" My mom's voice soared over the ambient noise. I felt fragile, but I kept walking.

  "What the hell is this damn thing?" My dad's voice was full of lighthearted curiosity as he tried to digest the bizarre situation.

  They hugged me together, and I wrapped my arms around both of their bodies. A rush of relief hit me at once as I felt something quite like reunion. I was going to come clean to them, to let them know the real me from this day forward. And the real Jack, of course.

  "Oh, God, honey, we're so glad you're okay." My mother looked better than ever, but a bit frail given the macabre circumstances that had brought her to New York.

  "You gave us quite the scare," my dad said softly, his excitement mild and subdued. "We're just glad you're all right." My dad's hair was freshly trimmed short, his usual, familiar clean-cut look intact even after my months away from home. Everything was exactly how I had left it—and still no mustache!

  "I'm okay," I mumbled. "I'm just fine. Just fine." I fought and swallowed the urge to cry about the hundredth time, and then I realized that Jack had stepped out of the vehicle behind me and was approaching our group.

  "Is that him?" My mother whispered it in my ear, her voice shaky and surprised. I pulled away from them and proudly joined Jack's side.

  "Mom and dad, this is my boyfriend and boss, Jack. Jack, this is my mom and dad, Joy and Dean."

  "It's such a pleasure to meet you both," Jack said, hitting them with one of those borderline deadly smiles of his. I had never been prouder of anything in my life. A beautiful collision of worlds was taking place in front of me.

  "Likewise," my mom said, stepping toward Jack and meeting him with a hug. My dad caught him with a firm handshake as soon as he stepped away, their hands rising and falling as they both chuckled and grinned.

  "You've got quite the thing going for you, Mr. Jack," my dad said, pointing at the limo, an obvious indicator of his success.

  Jack wrapped his arm around my back and paused. "I do, Dean." He glanced down at me, and then back at them."She's beautiful and I'm the luckiest man in the world to have her."

  If I had died right then and there, it would have been fine. Hell, it would have been perfect.

  But life was even better than that.

  Epilogue

  Life has a way of becoming fascinating and exciting, but only if you let it happen. They said that meditation is just allowing what is, and that was incredibly true for life as well. Things arise, and you acknowledge them, greet them in a friendly tone and accept the possibility.

  Not everything requires action or intense consideration. Sometimes you just have to feel it and not get worked up or obsessed about things that didn't really matter.

  Every morning waking up next to Jack has been every bit as good as the very first time. Two years have already passed since I first met him in New York at MCI, the start of a whirlwind romance that had diligently followed us through more incredible experiences than I could count.

  As predicted by Jack, Lexy took off in a huge way. Today, you can't go anywhere without running into her music, whether it be in a commercial, a movie, or on Spotify. The next concert in NYC after the CD release party took place at Madison Square Garden, something unprecedented for an artist as new as Lexy Brown.

  It was huge, a moment I'll never forget. It was the first time I got to see Jack projected on giant video screens that surrounded the stage. I mean, the whole band was up there too, but obviously, I was most focused on the man I loved.

  There had been almost a full year of non-stop, national and international touring. We went all across Europe, Asia, and even had stops in Japan and Australia. Everywhere we went, the shows were sold out and the crowds were insane. People loved Lexy. And due to Jack's involvement in the creative process, they loved him too. People recognized him in the street in Japan and begged for photos!

  The road was luxurious, nothing like the amateur tours I heard about from friends of friends during college. As crazy as it was, on the United States tour we even had our own private, portable gym, a trailer that followed our caravan across the country and made physical fitness on the go a real thing. I got to experience so much of the world, every moment shared gloriously with Jack.

  No matter where we were on the globe, he always knew great places to eat, sites to see, and anything else relevant to those particular GPS coordinates.

  The thing was, as much as I loved that lifestyle—it often felt like an incredible, extended vacation—it sometimes felt like too much. Jack appeared to love it, so I usually kept quiet. Honestly, it was a lot of fun, but I was growing more and more worried that I would burn out and become lethargic and difficult to deal with.

  And hell, I was lucky to have experiences like that. Most people never knew what life as a rock 'n' roll star was really like.

  On another positive note, Jack was becoming more in demand as a producer than ever before. When I say that you couldn't escape Lexy's brilliant music, that was just the tip of the iceberg. Jack was the hit maker of the decade, as Rolling Stone so eloquently put it. It was unclear where that growing demand would take him, but I knew it would be big.

  Sam had been sentenced to thirty-one years behind bars with no chance of parole for attempted rape and murder. I had testified at the trial, along with a number of other girls he had harassed over the years. It had been one of the most difficult things I'd ever done in my life. But I had to do it, and as Jack predicted, it brought me some genuine closure.

  Facing the things that horrified me only made me stronger. Going through with something so heart-wrenching made everything else in my life that much easier. It was the truth.

  Oddly enough, MCI was still around, but less powerful than ever. They had tried to buy Jack's label out on multiple occasions, and he politely told them to get lost. It only made me love him even more. He had lived his whole life wanting to really give the middle finger to a big corporation—and starting his own label had finally given him the opportunity to do so.

  I had very seriously taken up writing in my spare time—Jack's suggestion that I find a creative outlet was a very good one indeed—hoping to eventually publish a book or maybe even a movie script. It had come pretty naturally, Jack's encouragement guaranteeing that I made forward progress. I loved putting words down on page, creating characters and stories like the ones I had spent so many years watching and digesting.

  He had, unbeknownst to me, shown one of my works to Stacy, who sent me an email telling me how she liked it. That was a hell of a surprise. Hearing that your hero liked your work was a damn good motivator. I haven’t stopped writing ever since.

  I was also still doing some of the accounting at the label, so I kept happily busy much of the time. Life felt meaningful and fulfilling, just the way Jack had promised it would be.

  Jack and my parents got along great. They loved him from the very beginning, and we often flew to Michigan to spend the weekend at Lake Michigan, not too far from my old ho
use. My dad liked to pick Jack’s brain about investments, and Jack was always eager to tell him what he knew. He even helped my mom in the kitchen, something that she couldn't say enough good things about.

  The process of mending things with his parents was slower, however. But that didn't mean it didn't happen. Jack and I talked about it so much that I felt like I had had those negative experiences with his family. I urged him forward, just like he had with me in the Sam situation, encouraging him to face that which troubled him.

  So finally, out of the blue one day, we flew to Minneapolis and he told them how he felt. It was a really emotional time, but the formerly tenuous bonds started to strengthen immediately. They weren't defensive at all as he poured out his heart, just accepting of his frustration and bottled up feelings toward them.

  And when they apologized, he accepted it this time and wiped the slate clean. Unconditional love had won out in the end. So both of our families would be at our upcoming wedding—and that was perfect.

  Timothy eventually apologized to me, shame overwhelming him and putting him into a nasty state of depression. As I predicted, he had realized how out-of-character all of his behavior had been—both before and after my move—and wanted to make amends for it.

  I met him one last time—with Jack at my side, of course—prior to him leaving New York City. He was going to return home to work near his family and start over there. I let him gush and apologize for anything he needed to apologize for, knowing damn well that Jack would be ready for the worst if the situation took a nasty one-eighty. Nothing happened, however, and actually, I was glad to get it out of the way.

  He was never a bad guy, just one unsuited to me. I didn't like that I had to remember him as the crazy, controlling, vicious, insane ex who had attacked me in a coffee shop. Now, the memories were a bit more subdued. We had closure.