Remember Us This Way

by C. R. Jane

  She’s looking at me so excited though that I humor her by asking what she’s talking about.

  “They didn’t mention it to you?” she asks confusedly. “That’s weird,” she whispers to herself.

  “I still don’t know what you’re talking about,” I tell her.

  “I’m talking about the fact that the guys have a show tonight and everyone is going to be there!” she exclaims.

  “A show?” I ask, more confused than ever.

  “What have you been talking about with the guys if you don’t know that they’re in a band...the most amazing band in the world? It’s only a matter of time before they make it big,” she gushes. She looks at me suddenly, somehow even more excited than she was a second ago. “You’ve been making out with them, haven’t you?” she squeals. “Why would you guys be talking when you could be sticking your tongue down their throats. Oh my gosh, you have to tell me everything. How did they taste? Did they cop a feel?”

  “Amberlie!” I say rather loudly, garnering stares.

  “What?” she asks.

  “We haven’t kissed. Their band just didn’t come up. If I can remind you, I’ve only been here for two days.”

  She looks really disappointed at my announcement, but it doesn’t keep her down for long. “Well, you still have to come tonight. I’m sure they’re expecting you to be there. I’m so excited for you to hear them for the first time. It’s a freaking religious experience,” she says so excitedly that I expect her to throw out some “Hallelujahs” at any minute.

  Despite what I said to her, in the back of my mind I’m wondering why they didn’t say anything about tonight. Maybe they didn’t want me to go. Maybe I shouldn’t go.

  “Stop looking like your puppy just got kicked,” she says, yanking me with her towards where her red Volkswagen sits jauntily in the parking lot. “Let’s stop by your house to get your stuff and then we can get ready at my house,” she says.

  “No,” I say loudly, stopping in my tracks. There’s no way I’m showing her where I live. With my luck Terry and David would be cooking meth or having an orgy on the one day that I brought a friend over. While Amberlie isn’t driving a sports car that looks like a spaceship, it’s obvious she has money since her car is brand new. She would probably never speak to me again if she saw how I lived.

  Amberlie looks a little hurt at my stern tone so I hurry to smooth it over with her. “My house is a mess and I don’t really have anything to wear anyway. Let’s just go to your house to get ready,” I tell her pleadingly.

  She accepts my excuse and soon we’re on our way to the side of town that’s a far cry from my trailer park. We pull into the driveway and walk into her house and I shit you not, her mother is waiting in the kitchen with fresh baked cookies and milk. I feel like I’ve entered an episode of “Leave it to Beaver” and while it seems so wholesome that it can’t be real, I’m fiercely jealous of Amberlie’s life in that moment. I can’t even imagine what it would be like if Terry ever had cookies waiting for me when I came home from school or was excited to see me. Hell, at this point I would be thrilled if she just had food in the house for me to eat. I’m quiet as I watch Amberlie and her mother interact with each other. Mrs. Hastings is kind and welcoming and fits the part perfectly of everything a mother should be. It’s hard for me to follow Amberlie upstairs when she decides that it’s time for us to get ready because I want to hang out with her mom more.

  “Your mother is awesome,” I tell her quietly as she rifles through her closet looking for something that will fit me. I’m at least three inches taller than Amberlie and she packs a lot more curves than I do, but Amberlie is convinced that there is something that will work.

  “Yes, she is,” says Amberlie absentmindedly as she throws a leather skirt at me.

  I wrinkle my nose at it. I can already tell that it’s going to show a lot more skin than I’m used to. “Just try it on,” she says, throwing a sleeveless black top at me.

  “Isn’t this a bit dressed up for a concert?” I ask as I start to slip into the skirt.

  “Honestly it’s not dressed up enough,” she says, her voice muffled as she starts to look for what she’s going to wear. “But since your hotter than sin and already have the guys salivating over you even with what you wear to school, it should be enough.”

  “What’s wrong with what I wear to school?” I ask, amused. I’m fully aware that my thrift store finds leave a lot to be desired. Amberlie pulls her head out, her face chagrined as she starts to apologize for the slight.

  “No, it’s fine,” I tell her with a laugh. “I don’t have a lot of money for clothes,” I say more somberly. Her eyes soften as she looks at me.

  “Forget I said anything. You’re lucky to look gorgeous in anything,” she says, and I can tell that she means it. In that moment I realize that I might have made my first real friend.

  After we’ve spent more time getting ready than I have probably in my whole life combined, Amberlie deems us ready to go. She’s wearing a skin-tight emerald dress that has a snake skin design on it with over the knee high heeled black boots. It looks far more suited to a fancy night club than a local concert, but what do I know? She’s so amped for the concert though that I’m getting nervous, wondering if there’s going to be a million people there and if I’m going to be able to handle it.

  I manage to make it into Amberlie’s car without running away, and we set off. The concert is being held in a converted warehouse on the outskirts of town. As we drive into the gravel parking lot, I’m shocked at how many cars there are already even though the show doesn’t start for another thirty minutes. There’s a line snaked around almost the entire building.

  “There’s no way we’re going to get in,” I tell her, fully prepared to get back into the car and leave.

  “No way, girly,” she says. “No backing out now. There’s always a list, and I have a sneaking suspicion that you’re going to be on it.”

  I scoff at her but follow behind, a tenuous hope building inside of me that the guys had just assumed I had heard about the show and were planning on me coming. We walk up to the entrance where an enormous bald man with more muscles than I’ve ever seen is holding a clipboard.

  “Name,” he says in a bored tone.

  “Ariana Kent plus one,” Amberlie replies. He finds my name immediately and Amberlie turns towards me and mouths “Oh my gosh,” before turning back towards the bouncer who is signaling us in. I keep my eyes averted from the crowd in line since I can hear a lot of groans and obscenities coming from it. I don’t blame them. I have no idea why the guys thought enough of me to put me on a list when they obviously have their pick of admirers.

  Having my name on the list gives me a funny feeling inside, one I’m not accustomed to. I try not to examine it too closely. I’ve learned to keep my expectations low in life. It helps keep the inevitable disappointment at a minimum.

  We walk in to the warehouse and it’s already so packed that I’m not even sure if we’ll be able to stay in it. Amberlie takes control though, grabbing my hand and beginning to force her way to the front. As we push through the crowd, I see Reagan and the other two girls from that first night already there with beers in their hands. I guess they must have fake I.D.s or this place doesn’t check. They’re dressed to impress, wearing similar outfits from when I first saw them, meaning that there’s more skin than fabric. They are wearing mile high heels and they look good. I feel even more underdressed seeing them. They shoot me a look when they see me, and Reagan gives me a smug smile with a little finger wave that has me wondering what she has up her sleeve.

  Amberlie keeps pulling me forward. The air is heavy with sweat and anticipation so thick that I can almost taste it. Amberlie was trying to describe their sound to me in the car, but she didn’t do a very good job of it. She basically said that they were a mix of “everything good about music”, which wasn’t very helpful. She somehow manages to pull us almost all the way to the front and even manages to convince
two guys to let us share their table. The guy next to me has jet black hair with streaks of green in it that almost match his almost too vibrant eyes. Before meeting the guys, I probably would have thought that he was really attractive, but he isn’t doing anything for me in comparison to them right now. I’m obviously doing a lot for him though. After telling me his name is Danny, he proceeds to stare at me and pepper me with awkward questions that I have no intention of answering.

  I’m grateful when the lights darken, and smoke starts to spit out on the stage. The crowd quiets down and then all of a sudden starts to freak out so loudly that I have to cover my ears for fear that I’m going to go deaf. I get the urge to start screaming too though when the guys begin to step out on the stage. Jesse comes out first and sits behind the drums. He looks cockier than ever with his black skinny jeans and a white tank that show off how ripped he is. His blonde hair looks silver in the lighting and I’m practically salivating with how good he looks. Jensen comes out next. He picks up a guitar and starts to tune it, ignoring the screams of the girls in front of him who are begging for his attention. I see a pair of panties hit him in the face and he gives a little grin which makes the girls get even louder. He’s dressed in a pair of tight jeans that showcase his ass perfectly and his hair is all over the place. He looks like he just had sex, which could be the case based on the attention he’s getting. Tanner’s last to step out on the stage even though Amberlie explained to me that they all take turns singing different songs so there’s no real lead singer. When he steps out to the mic, I swear I see at least ten girls look like they are hyperventilating, a few are even crying.

  Tanner is dressed in all black, including a pair of black leather pants that I’m sure is going to act as a sweatbox during the show. The effect is so worth it though. I’m staring so intensely at the guys that when Tanner’s silver eyes lock on my face, it catches me so off guard that I lose the ability to breathe. His beautiful eyes, hinting at some unspoken complexity, are only the tip of the iceberg of what makes him attractive, and I can’t help but admire the whole package. His eyes flick to where Danny is still trying to get my attention and a flash of irritation sounds on his face. He walks to the side of the stage for a second and says something to one of the security guys. I’m shocked as the security guy then walks to my table and mutters something in Danny’s ear. When Danny starts to argue, the security guy grabs him roughly by the arm and starts to drag him away.

  Amberlie smirks at me. “Someone was jealous,” she says, nodding her head in the direction of the guys who are still tuning their instruments.

  I venture a look at the stage and see Tanner looking at me, like he was waiting for me to pay him attention. He gives me a small grin that belies the look of possession that I see in his eyes. That squirmy feeling that I’ve had since my name was on the list begins to grow.

  Instruments finally ready, a grunge-sounding guitar rips into a few chords and sends the already crazy crowd into hysteria. I’ve never seen anything like this for a local band. People are acting like we’re watching Nirvana or Imagine Dragons play.

  The melody starts, and it’s hard and fast. Tanner’s voice remains low and steady as he starts to sing about starting over and finding his way in a changed world. His voice is a thing of beauty, the perfect combination of gruff and smooth. I’ve never heard anything like it. I melt as I listen to the lyrics. Amberlie had told me that they write all their own stuff and I wonder how three rich kids have managed to write a song that may as well have been written for me.

  Jensen steps up to the mic during the chorus, his eyes warm as if seducing a lover. He finishes his line and then tilts his head back, pushing his Adam’s apple against his long neck as he breaks into a guitar solo. With the warming glow rising in my belly, a low hum falls from my lips. He’s sexy as hell and I’m stunned at how they’re bringing out all kinds of feelings I haven’t felt since… ever.

  The song ends and Jesse and Tanner switch places, Jesse grabs a guitar that someone off stage hands to him. A merciless smile presses to his lips as his fingers begin to strum a beautiful, light tune in a melody that’s again so unique that I’ve never heard anything like it before. The music makes me ache and I’m begging for release from its torment when finally, his lips open, releasing a deliciously low note, reminiscent of the way he growled my name when he had me against the lockers the other day at school. My head’s floating in the clouds as he sings about soul mates and second chances and never wanting to let go. It’s beautiful and slow, overflowing with emotion. The song’s almost as enchanting as the man standing in front of me, singing from his heart. Chills erupt beneath my skin, dancing up and down my spine. By the time he’s done singing, my eyes are stinging with tears.

  These guys are the real thing and so far out of my league.

  5

  Now

  Gentry has been strange all morning as he gets ready to leave. He’s nursing quite the hangover, so I’ve tried to tell myself that the strangeness is because of that. I hurried getting him ready this morning in my eagerness for him to leave, and I’m worried that he’s taken it as a sign that I’m hiding something. He’s shot me furtive glances all morning like he’s looking for my secrets.

  “What are your plans for the weekend?” he suddenly asks. I frown and carefully finish folding one of his shirts before answering.

  “Just the usual home stuff. I might go grocery shopping and get my nails done,” I tell him, pretending to be really interested in the pair of pants that I was fake inspecting for lint. It’s an unusual question since Gentry knows that I know very well that I’m not allowed to go anywhere besides those two places. I could probably get away with going to church as well as long as I sat with his parents, but other trips he’s gone on I haven’t even risked that. His question only serves to make me feel more uneasy.

  There’s a heavy silence in the room while I finish folding his last piece of clothing.

  “I’m going to run to the store and grab something I need for my trip,” he says vaguely after I’ve just finished zipping up his suitcase. I look at him quizzically.

  “We packed everything on your list. What are we missing?” I ask, feeling confused.

  “Just a converter for my phone, and don’t question me,” he snaps, confusing me even more. I know better than to ask him further questions, but I have a feeling of unease as he leaves for the store and returns thirty minutes later with a bag from one of the local electronics stores.

  “Can you go make me a lunch to take with me?” he asks me as he stands in the doorway of our bedroom, fiddling with the bag.

  “Of course,” I say quietly, walking by him and back down the stairs to the kitchen. I can feel his eyes following me down the stairs and it gives me prickles all along the back of my neck. Gentry always loves to eat out on the company’s dime when he leaves on business trips. I have no idea why he would want to take a sandwich with him. I hear him come down the stairs and step outside for a moment. A few minutes pass and then he comes in just as I’m finishing up packing his lunch.

  “I’ve got to run,” he says, brushing a kiss across my cheek. He fingers my neck before grabbing it suddenly so tightly that I can feel the edges of my vision start to go black.

  “You haven’t forgotten who you belong to, right?” he asks, tightening his hand even more. If this isn’t the day that he’s chosen to finally kill me, I’m definitely going to have another bruise to add to the menagerie already covering my body.

  “You,” I choke out, the words feeling like acid in my throat. He stares at me for a minute more, a strange expression in his eyes as he runs them over my face as if he’s trying to see inside of me. I can feel my face starting to turn blue and my body slackening as I prepare to faint.

  “Be a good girl this weekend,” he says before letting me go and turning abruptly to walk towards the garage. I fall to the floor, gasping for breath. He grabs his suitcase and walks through the garage door without a second look, closing it softly behi
nd him. A few minutes later I hear the car back out of the garage and leave the cul de sac.

  I let out a sigh of relief despite the fact that it feels like he just got done trying to rip my head off. It takes me another hour before I can get off the floor. I lay there soaking in the silence of the house, half-heartedly listening to make sure he doesn’t come back. When I finally manage to make it to my feet, I slowly move forward with my plan. In the back of my mind, I’m worried about how I’m going to find a quiet place to talk to Gentry if he calls tonight, but I decide to deal with that later. I’ll take an extra beating for not answering the phone in exchange for seeing them.

  I unsteadily walk up the stairs, still unable to get rid of the lightheadedness, and struggle to pull out the suitcase under the guest bed. I had hid it there in the beginning of our marriage knowing that Gentry would never deign to look under there. Opening the suitcase, I gently touch the piles of clothes from a life I’ve forced myself not to think about. I pick up Amberlie’s black leather mini skirt that she never would take back, the one that I had worn the first time I saw the guys play, and I let myself go down memory lane for a second. I used to love to wear it with Jesse’s flannel shirts and the guys loved how it made my legs look. I hold it up in front of myself in the mirror on the wall.

  When we first got married and I was still somewhat idealistic about what my life was going to be like with Gentry, I had packed all of my clothes up from the apartment that Gentry had been helping me pay for while we were dating, and moved all of my belongings into our new home in anticipation of our marriage. Little did I know that Gentry and his mother had a whole new wardrobe picked out for me. Evidently what I used to wear wasn’t up to the image they wanted to portray. Looking back, replacing my clothes with what they wanted me to wear, instead of what I wanted to wear, was one of the first ways that they began to shape me into who they wanted me to be. It all escalated after that until the person staring in the mirror isn’t anyone that I recognize.