by Tucker, RH
But as I walk out her front door, I’m suddenly transported to our treehouse. The one my dad helped me build. Jen and I would spend hours in there during the weekends. It isn’t really a treehouse, more of a fort, since the only trees in our backyard are palm trees, but we called it that anyways. Only, we’re in it and we’re not kids anymore. And she’s back on top of me, kissing me, running her hands through my hair.
She smells different this time, it’s something new. Something I don’t remember her ever wearing, but it’s still nice. I could get used to it.
“Lucas,” she whispers, and I grab her arm, turning us around.
She tastes different, too. The taste of her skin, her lips, her tongue. It’s engrained into my memory now, but this is different. I don’t care though, because she’s here with me. After fighting, we’re back to where we’re supposed to be. Just me and her, together.
“Lucas,” she whispers again, and I answer with a moan.
My hand runs along her side, sliding under a shirt, and I feel her gasp. It feels so real. It’s like that moment in between dreaming and waking up when you’re not sure if you’re still asleep or not.
“I really like this, but I think you need to wake up.”
Her words are short, like she’s trying to regain her breath. “No, please, Jen,” I whisper back, “I want this forever.”
“What?”
I don’t get a chance to reply. I’m jolted awake by two hands pushing my chest. I crack my eyes open, trying to adjust to the light in the room, and a buzzing immediately hits my head.
“Jen?” I hear the voice again and finally realize I’m not dreaming. At least, not anymore.
My eyes flicker as I come to and see Sasha below me. “Sasha?”
“Yeah.” She curls her lip.
I flinch back, jerking away from her. “What the hell? What are you doing here? What time is it?”
She sits straighter, shaking her head. “It’s three o’clock, your brother let me in. I guess I know how last night went and why you never returned my texts.”
Damn, I slept the entire day. I scan my room, trying to remember what happened. That’s when I see an empty bottle of vodka on my floor. I didn’t drink the entire thing, but after the colossal screw-up with Jen last night, I ransacked my dad’s liquor cabinet. I polished off his schnapps bottle and the vodka one was low, so I figured, what the hell. The memories come back, along with a buzzing in my head, as I wake up more.
“No,” I say, shaking my head and immediately regret it, feeling a throbbing. “Ow. No, it’s not like that.”
“Really?” She scowls for a second, before looking away, sliding to the edge of my bed. “Um, you might want to cover up.”
“What?” I glance down at myself in my boxers. It might not technically be the morning, but my body doesn’t know the difference. “Shit!” I scramble and grab my comforter, wrapping it around my waist.
“I should go.” She gets up from the bed.
“Please, just let me explain.”
“Explain what, Lucas?” She’s already at my door but turns around to face me.
“Explain …” I trail off, trying to think of the right words, while squeezing my eyes shut and letting out an exasperated grunt. “Damn it, how the hell do I keep screwing things up?” She stays by the door, still watching me. “Look, I’m sorry.”
“I get it, okay? We were just having fun. You don’t want a serious relationship.”
“No, I do.”
“Just not with me.”
“That’s not what I mean.” I let out a deep breath. “I’ve been trying to get over someone, okay? Like, really, really, trying. And I can’t. But I wasn’t using you to get over her, I promise. I just thought … I need to move on with my life. I need to actually have a life.”
“And?”
I wave to the bed and my embarrassing half-dream moment I just had with her. “Well, I guess I still have a way to go.”
“Unbelievable,” she whispers, but it’s more to herself than it is to me. I watch her shake her head as she stares at the door. “This is going to sound crazy, but I get it.”
“You get it?”
“Yeah, last year I …” She trails off. “You know what, it doesn’t matter. Just promise me to figure this out before you go out with anyone else. It sucks to know someone you like is hung up on someone else.”
“Sasha, I’m sorry. I never meant to do that.”
“I know. You’re a good guy, Lucas.”
This entire conversation is insane, capped off only by her being understanding and not trying to kill me right now. I’m still trying to digest everything, so all I can muster out is, “Thanks.”
“Whoever she is, she’s a lucky girl.”
An involuntary scoff comes out. “Yeah, well, she practically hates me. I just can’t get my brain to understand that, so I can move on.”
“Then don’t.” I stare at her, confused. “Show her how much you care for her.”
Taking a deep breath, I shrug. “I don’t know if it’ll do any good.”
“Sometimes, we need someone to prove to us how much they want us. It might sound stupid or unrealistic, and even a little demanding, but some of us have been hurt. By people we may have loved, and it takes a lot to prove that someone else isn’t going to do that exact same thing.”
I stare at her, soaking up her words while wondering what she’s gone through. “You?”
She shakes her head. “Tara. She went through some pretty shitty things, that’s why she exploded like she did that night at the club. She’s getting better though.” I’m not sure how to reply, so I just nod. “Well, I’m gonna go.”
She waves at me and I wave back, too flabbergasted to say anything. She didn’t yell at me. She didn’t punch me or scream that I was a piece of trash. For a moment I wonder what she went through that made her so understanding, but the moment passes. She told me I need to show Jen how much I care for her and I’d love to do that. I’d love to figure out how to show her that she’s all I want. But I don’t have the first clue as to how.
Chapter 22
Jen
I didn’t know what I was doing the entire night. I didn’t plan for us to be nearly naked at any point, and I sure as hell didn’t expect it to end up like it did. Especially the part where I cried myself to sleep.
The entire week I’m a zombie. Leading up to, and during the bonfire, I felt like things were going to get better. Like I was going to get better. I’d be myself again. But I just mope around all week. Which inadvertently causes me to divulge a tidbit I’ve withheld from Nancy, something I knew she wasn’t going to be thrilled with.
“Jen, you need stop whatever this is.” She waves her fingers at me. “Classes are going to be starting up soon. Have you even looked in to what you’ll be taking your first semester?”
I stay quiet, biting my lip, doing my best to act casual but failing miserably.
“Jen?” She looks at me suspiciously as she pours her coffee.
“Yeah, about that …”
“About what?”
“I’m not going this semester.” I say it so softly while I’m biting my bottom lip that it comes out incoherent.
She must’ve made out a couple of the words though because she stares at me like I just told her I ran over a puppy. “You what?”
I release my lip. “I’m not going this semester.”
“Since when?”
“Since … a while?”
“And when were you going to tell me?”
“Uh … right now?”
She just stares at me. I only know she’s alive because I see her blink. Once. Then she turns around, finishes pouring her coffee, and leaves the house. No head shaking or disappointed mumbling to herself. I don’t even hear an aggravated sigh. She simply pours her coffee and leaves. So I go back to bed.
* * *
“Jen,” she says lightly, when she comes home after work.
She leans against the archway of the
living room, where I’m now bundled up in blankets. I Netflixed Gilmore Girls all day, only getting up to pee and warm up some food. I stare at the TV as she approaches the couch.
“Honey, I’m sorry about this morning. You caught me off guard, that’s all. I figured you’d be all set to get this college thing started.”
I roll my eyes at myself. “Yeah, I thought I would be, too.”
“Then what happened?”
I want to tell her everything. Nancy and I have always had a close relationship. When I was sixteen she looked me straight in the eye and told me where she kept extra condoms in the bathroom. “Not that I want you having sex right now,” she explained, “but if you’re gonna do it, I want you to be safe.”
But I can’t tell her. Because I know if I do, I’ll unleash everything else. All the memories and pain will come flooding out and I won’t be able to stop them. She doesn’t need to hear that. She doesn’t deserve to get unloaded on because it’s not her fault.
“Nothing,” I lie, shaking my head. “I just wanted an extended break from school before I dig back in.”
She doesn’t believe me. I said the words and I don’t believe them.
“Jen, come on,” she says, patting my leg as she sits down next to me. “You can talk to me. I know something’s been bothering you for a while. At first, I thought you were just upset about school ending and missing your friends, that sort of thing. But something’s going on, isn’t there?”
I take a deep breath and stare down at my blankets. I try to shake my head no, hoping to end this conversation, but it barely twitches.
“It’s … it’s nothing, Nancy.”
“Does it have anything to do with your tattoo? With that boy?”
Her words are soft and without accusation, but that doesn’t stop me from getting offended. I stare at my wrist and sneer. “Of course, because it couldn’t be about anything else, right?”
“Then talk to me, Jen. Tell me I’m wrong. Tell me something.”
I can’t, because it is and it isn’t. It’s not about Franco and Lucas, but at the same time it is. I can’t tell her she’s wrong because then the root of the matter will spill over and I’ll never be able to take the words back. The words I know are true but have always tried to pretend like they aren’t. Then she says the exact thing I don’t want to hear.
“No boy is worth this. You’re so amazing, Jen. And the right one will see that and cherish you as such.”
“No, I’m not.”
“What?”
“And they won’t. No one will.”
“Don’t say that.”
“It’s true.” I never lift my head, continuing to stare down at my blankets, my eyes beginning to water.
“Why on earth would you think that? Jen, you’re talented and outgoing and―”
“Worthless.”
“Excuse me?”
I finally lift my head, my eyes finding hers, as the tears roll down my cheeks. “I’m worthless, Nancy. I’m not lovable.”
“How dare you?” She spits the words out as if I slapped her. “Don’t you ever, ever think that.”
I can’t stop now. The memory is coming back and it’s all I can think about. “It’s the truth.”
“I don’t know how you could ever, even in the slightest, begin to think that―”
“I’m a mistake!”
“What?”
“I heard her, okay?”
“Heard who?”
The tears stream down my cheeks, remembering it like it happened yesterday. “Please, please just leave me alone.”
“No, Jen, what are you talking about?”
“Please …”
“Jen―”
“My mom! Okay? Are you happy now? I heard her the day she dropped me off.” She stares at me, her mouth agape. “I was four. I shouldn’t even remember, but I do. She left me in the living room and went to talk to you in the kitchen, in your apartment, before we moved here. I heard her.”
She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t move. She just sits there, watching me.
“I remember carrying my favorite toy and walking to the doorway. And I heard her talking to you. Telling you how much she regretted it. How she should’ve listened to everyone and gotten rid of it. The memories are fragmented but they’re there. The one thing that’s not fragmented, the words that I can still remember and can’t forget, was that she told you I was the biggest mistake of her life.”
The tears are still flowing. I’m not stuttering or trying to compose myself to speak straight. The words stream out of me as easily as the tears do.
“If my own mother couldn’t love me, if the one person who should’ve cherished me more than anyone and anything thought I was a mistake, then what hope is there for me?”
“Jen, she loved you. I know she did.”
“Don’t you dare.”
“I know what you heard and what you must think, but she did.”
“She didn’t!” I finally break and jump off the couch. “She may not have hated me, as far as I know, but don’t you dare try and defend her. Don’t you dare try and tell me she loved me. If she loved me, why’d she leave? Why’d she give me up? Does a mother who loves her daughter abandon her before she even has her first day of school? Or never send a birthday card? Or teach her how to braid her hair?”
“Oh, baby.” She’s in tears and steps toward me, her arms wide, but I take a step back and put up my hands.
“No! No, she didn’t want me. No one is going to want me.”
I turn around and storm out of the house, grabbing my keys on the way. I’m in my pajamas and barefoot, gasping, trying to catch my breath. The pain and frustration of quietly holding that in has caught up with me, as I get to my car and slam the door shut. Shaking, I wrench my fingers over the steering wheel, I want to sit here and cry my eyes out. But I can see Lucas’ house next door and even though I don’t see anyone, I know there’s a possibility of him being home. Just the thought sends a shudder through me and unleashes a new round of tears. I start up the car and drive to the only place I can think of. Emma’s.
I knock at her front door, my face stained with tears. Her mom opens the door and stares at me in shock. “Jen, mija, what’s wrong?”
I didn’t even think about her parents. Thankfully, Emma must be close by, because she comes to the door and wraps her arms around me.
“Jen, what happened?”
I shake my head, unleashing a new round of sobs into her shoulder as I hug her. Emma brings me inside and we go directly to her room. Her mom follows behind, but Emma stops her at the door. They whisper something before Emma shuts the door and walks back over to me. I’m clutching a pillow on her bed and she slides her arms around me, as I continue to weep.
I’m not sure how much time goes by, but somehow the crying stops. She looks over at me, her eyes asking the question without her lips making a sound, and I go over everything. From the beginning. How I fell too hard for Franco because I wanted to have something like her and Carter. How I’ve always loved Lucas and what happened after the bonfire. And then I get to the argument I just had with Nancy, recounting everything, including the horrible last memory I have of my mother. She still doesn’t say anything. And somehow, probably because I feel like I’m emotionally tortured beyond all limits, I fall asleep.
I wake up a little later to the sound of Emma talking.
“Yeah. No, she’s safe. Yes, of course.”
I stir next to her in her bed and she looks over, giving me a smile.
“I’ll let her know. Okay, bye.” She hangs up her phone.
“Was that Nancy?”
She nods. “She was worried. She sent me a text and I figured I should call her.”
“What time is it?”
“Midnight.”
“Oh, God, Emma, I’m so sorry.”
“Stop,” she says, shaking her head. “You’re fine, Jen. I told Nancy you were spending the night.”
“Thank you,” I squeak out,
the embarrassment growing.
“You don’t have to thank me. You’ve always been there for me, of course I’m going to be here for you.” I give her a small smile. “So, what happens next?”
“I don’t know.” I stare at the bed, wrapping myself tighter in her blankets.
It seems like she wants to ask something, but I’m not sure I’m ready to dive back in to the emotional storm I’ve just been through. A tinge of relief washes over me when she looks away for a moment, then back at me with a smile.
“My mom was making horchata before you showed up.”
“Mmm, rice milk,” I say my affectionate nickname for the delicious drink.
“I knew you’d like that. I’ll be right back.”
While she’s gone I realize I don’t have my phone. It’s most likely for the best, because there isn’t anyone I want to check if I have messages from. At least Nancy knows where I am and hopefully won’t be freaking out too much. A pang of remorse hits me, feeling bad for how I stormed out of the house.
“Here you go.” Emma hands me my drink and sits down next to me, her own drink in hand. “You still tired?”
I shake my head, sipping the horchata.
“Netflix?”
I nod. “I was actually doing a Gilmore Girls marathon earlier today. Well, more like this entire week.”
She smiles. “Gilmore Girls it is.”
Chapter 23
Lucas
“Boner check!” Jackson yells out and gives a quick slap to my crotch.
I’m not expecting it, just like the last five times he’s done it, and don’t get my hands up in time to guard myself. I cringe in pain as two girls walking into the movie theatre we just left giggle.
“Shit, man.” I back away from him. “Knock it off. It’s been two weeks already. I should’ve never told you about it.”