Jackson turned to me, surprise in his eyes. “You want to go?”
“Yes,” I answered. I had never been to a high school party before, and I was curious why everyone was so keen on going.
Aiden seemed as shocked as Jackson, but he recovered first. “Sweet, I get to take Emily to a party. It’s a date, sweetheart.”
I laughed at his imitation of Jackson, who was glaring at Aiden. He shoved the other boy back and walked over to me. Quietly, he spoke in my ears. “I know you said we can be more social, but a high school party is not what I had in mind.”
“What’s wrong with it?” I asked.
Jackson grimaced. “It’s just… it’s a lot like the fights. I don’t want you getting hurt.”
I shook my head and, standing up on my tip toes, leaned up and kissed him. “I didn’t get hurt at the fight, and I won’t get hurt at the party. You worry too much. Besides, you’ll be there. How can I get hurt?”
He shook his head. “Do you really want to go?”
I nodded. “I’ve never been. It’ll be fun, right?”
Jackson shrugged. “If that’s what you want.”
“Yes.”
I smiled and moved back in time to see Courtney walked off, obviously pissed she was ignored. I couldn’t find it in me to feel bad about that, after all, she was just flirting with my boyfriend.
“You need a haircut,” I said, playing with the ends of his hair by his neck.
He smiled. “You don’t like my hair long?”
I turned and took him in. Jackson was one of those people who would look good in anything. “I like you however you come. But I know you don’t usually leave your hair this long.”
Now he looked amuse. “How do you know?”
I blushed and looked down. “Like I said, I noticed you long before you ever noticed me.”
His smile widened. “It looks to me like you had a crush on me. How long, Emily?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not telling you. You’ll be even more arrogant.”
He clutched his chest, pretending to be wounded. “You think I’m arrogant?”
I playfully pushed him away. “Shut up.”
He bent down and took my earlobe between his teeth. I froze where I stood, suddenly too hot to be out in public. Jackson was devious.
“Jackson.” I wasn’t sure if I said his name out as a plea for more or a warning to stop.
“I bet you fantasized about me.” When I didn’t say anything, he smiled. I felt that smile on my skin. He blew on the skin that was still wet from his lips. “It’s okay, I fantasized about you before, too. Much more than I should.”
“Uh, guys, did you forget I’m standing right here?” Aiden asked, bringing me back to reality.
I blushed scarlet and pushed Jackson away. I heard him chuckled along with Aiden.
Stupid boys.
Grant walked in at that moment and took in my red face before he smiled. “I see Jackson’s been teasing you.”
“Shut up. Ready to go.”
He smiled and pulled me to him. “I’m stealing her for the day. I think you need to figure out what you want to do before I bring her back,” Grant said to Jackson, leading me away. I turned back to see Jackson smiling, waving at me. I blew him a kiss, and he pretended to catch it. My smile widened when he put my imaginary kiss in his pocket.
We walked to Grant’s car, chattering like how we used to.
I hadn’t realized how much I missed hanging out with my best friend until he was driving away from the school, making me laugh about the most asinine things.
“Okay, princess. What do you want to do today?” he asked.
“Want to hang out at your place? Is your dad working late tonight?” Grant lived in the better parts of town, his house just as nice and big as Jackson’s parent’s house, although we hardly ever hung out there.
Jerimiah worked as much as my dad, but his schedule was anything but predictable. I didn’t want to hang out at Grant’s house when I knew his dad was home, but my house was a good thirty minutes away, and I knew Grant didn’t want to venture out that far.
“Actually, I think he just left for work.”
“How do you know?”
“I checked his planner today. He’s scheduled to work a thirty-six-hour shift.”
“We can hang out at your house. I know you don’t want to drive all the way to my house.”
Grant smiled and shook his head. “I still can’t believe you moved in with Jackson.”
“Neither can I,” I answered quietly.
“I’m glad you did,” Grant said.
I shook my head. “You’re supposed to be the sensible one out of the two of us.”
“If I’m the sensible one, then I think we’re in trouble.”
I laughed as Grant pulled up to his driveway. I opened the door and met him at the hood. I was glad to see Jerimiah’s truck wasn’t parked in the driveway. His house, although beautiful, like Jackson’s parents’ house, was cold and unused.
I wasn’t sure where Grant spent the majority of his time when he wasn’t with me, but I knew it wasn’t at home.
He opened the front door and allowed me to move in first. I ducked under his arms and walked straight to his bedroom. Grant’s heavy footsteps can be heard from behind, though we didn’t say anything.
I pushed the door open and came up short when I noticed a couple of boxes on the floor. “What’s this?” I asked.
“Oh, my mom asked me to grab a few things she left behind.”
I turned and looked questioningly at him. “She and your dad had been divorced for years. She’s now just noticing some of her stuff’s missing.”
Grant shrugged. “I don’t know. There are pictures in there. I think she wants those. I think they’re better off with her anyhow.”
“Can I look through them?” I asked, curious.
“Of course.”
Sitting down at the edge of his bed, I pulled the lid off one of the boxes. Inside, I found pictures of Grant, mostly school pictures. I picked one up with him smiling, his two front teeth missing, and his eyes gleamed with mischief as if he was laughing at the world. I didn’t think I had ever seen Grant smiled like this since his mom left.
She only lived about an hour away, but it might as well be on a different time zone with how often Grant and his mom actually see and talk to each other.
“I remember this,” I said, pulling out another picture. How could I forget? Grant and I had been in the same class since kindergarten. This was a picture of him and me outside my house. During that age, he hardly ever come to my house. We hardly ever talked, but Jerimiah had brought Grant over that day.
It was also a month after my mom’s death, and at the tender age of seven, I couldn’t figure out why she was suddenly gone and wasn’t there to help with my hair.
“Yeah,” Grant said softly, obviously thinking the same thing I was. We weren’t friends at that time, but I did remember him giving his last piece of gummy worms when he found me crying by the oak tree during recess one day.
I placed the picture down. “Are you sure you don’t want to keep some of these?”
“Yeah. What would I do with all those pictures?”
“Some of them are of good memories. I think you should at least keep some.”
He shrugged.
I started piling some of the pictures I wanted to keep on his bed. Grant made this exasperated noise at the back of his throat when I told him I was taking them home with me, but I ignored him and continued looking through the box until I came across our second-grade class picture.
I laughed and pulled it out.
I was at the front row. I was always in the front row. There wasn’t a time when I wasn’t one of the shortest people in the class.
“Look at this,” I said. Grant sat down on the bed with me.
“Hmm,” he said looking over the picture. It wasn’t just our class in the picture. It was the entire second-grade class.
And I could
see Aiden and Jackson at the far back, standing next to each other. It was obvious they’d been friends for a long time. We never shared a class, despite having gone to the same school since long before I could remember. Jackson was always there, but he was never mine until our senior year. I couldn’t imagine what it would have been like had we started dating earlier than we had.
I ran my thumb over a young Jackson’s face.
“Do you want to keep that?” Grant asked.
I shook my head. “I have a copy back home,” I said. He shrugged.
I placed the picture back and kept digging through the box until I came in contact with something soft.
Pulling it out, I was surprised to see a familiar dress.
“Why do you have this?” I asked.
“I think my mom left it behind,” he said. “I’m not sure if she wants it or not so I put it in the box.”
I shook my head. “Grant, this isn’t your mom’s dress.”
He looked at me. “It isn’t?”
I shook my head. “No. This was my mom’s favorite dress.”
“What? Are you sure?”
“Yes. I remember this dress. There’s even a picture back at my dad’s house with her wearing it.” I turned the dress around until I found the ink stain at the hem. “And look. This was when I accidentally broke a pen near her. She couldn’t get the stain out, but she refused to give the dress away.” I played around with the thin fabric, the feel of it familiar to me. I wasn’t even sure how many times I had fallen asleep with my head on my mom’s lap while she wore this dress and hummed a lullaby.
The fabric was gray and thin, with small red polka dots all over. The dress was the first gift my dad gave her. I know, because she recounted the story numerous times. As young as I was, I remember every word, because I was deeply fascinated about how a dark knight fell in love with the princess and gifted her with a dress when he asked her to marry him.
Grant shook his head. “No. That’s not right.”
“What do you mean?”
“Because I found this dress in my dad’s coat closet downstairs.”
I didn’t say anything.
When Grant opened his mouth to speak, I shook my head. “No. That’s a mistake.”
“I—Jesus. I don’t know what to say. You don’t think…”
“No.”
“Emily?”
“No, Grant. There’s an explanation for why this dress ended up here.”
“I know,” he said quietly.
I stood up and threw the dress on the floor. “Not that!” Grant flinched but didn’t respond.
“My mom may have taken her life, but she didn’t cheat on my dad with yours,” I said, pissed that I would even have to explain it to him. “She loved my dad.” I was absolutely certain of that. She loved my dad almost as much as he loved her.
“Be reasonable, Emily.”
“Reasonable? You’re suggesting that my mom cheated with someone like your dad!”
“I don’t know what you want me to say,” he said.
“Just put that away,” I said. “And I want to go somewhere else. I don’t want to be here anymore.”
“Okay.”
I walked out without saying another word.
29
Past: Emily
The rest of the evening was spent with tension in the air. A tension that had never been around us before.
But I didn’t know what to say, and Grant didn’t know what to say to make me feel better. I honestly didn’t think anything could make me feel better.
We ended up going out to eat hamburgers and fries at a restaurant nearby, and the night was cut short when I no longer had the energy to hang out with my friend. At that point, I just wanted to go home.
Grant drove me Susie’s Café, where Jackson was at.
I climbed out the car and walked into the restaurant, Grant following close behind me. He was quiet, the mood grim, when we walked in through the door. The place wasn’t busy, and it didn’t take me long to find Jackson, who was sitting in a corner booth at the far end of the room. He looked up when the bell dinged upon our arrival, the smile that beginning to form on his face quickly disappear when he took in my expression.
He said something to Aiden who turned and looked at us. Grant hugged me tightly, and I buried my face in his chest.
“I’m really sorry, Emily,” he whispered.
I nodded. I knew he was sorry, and I also knew it wasn’t his fault. I just didn’t know how to say it when I was still feeling too raw.
He let go of me when Jackson approached. I didn’t miss the worry expression he gave Jackson, who subtly nodded.
Jackson wrapped one arm around me as I watched Grant moved toward Aiden and took the seat Jackson had just occupied.
“Ready to go home?” Jackson asked quietly.
“Yeah. Let’s go home.”
Jackson waited until we got home and were in bed until he brought up my strange mood.
I rested my cheek on his bare chest as he played with my hair, still damp from a recent shower.
“Do you want to talk about what it is that got you so down?”
I kept my eyes on his chest, running my fingers up and down his abdomen. “Grant found my mom’s dress at his house today,” I answered.
He tilted my chin up until I was looking at him. “What do you mean?”
I sighed. “Grant’s mom wanted him to pack up some of her things for her.” Jackson raised his eyebrow in question. I shrugged. “I guessed after several years of being away, she wanted some of the mementos she left behind. Like Grant’s baby pictures. Anyway, Grant found this gray dress in his dad’s coat closet. He thought it was his mom’s dress.” I shook my head. “My mom couldn’t have left it there. She’s not that kind of person.”
“What kind of person.”
“You know. The one who doesn’t take her marriage vows seriously.”
“You mean the kind who cheats?”
“Don’t look at me like that, Jackson. Not you, too.”
“Emily, you were seven when she killed herself. How could you be so sure what kind of person she was?”
“Because she loved my dad!” I yelled. Jackson didn’t even flinch.
“She loved my dad. And you just don’t cheat on someone you love. Not if you really love them.”
His eyes softened as he cupped my chin and held me there so I wouldn’t look away. “I know that’s how you are.” I opened my mouth to speak, but he stopped me, pressing his thumb against my lips. “That’s what you want to see in other people because that’s how you are. But you don’t know for sure what happened there, and how the dress could have ended up with Jerimiah.”
“She loved my dad,” I said softly. “So much, Jackson.”
“How do you know?”
“Because I found her journal when I was thirteen.”
Granted I hadn’t been able to read the whole thing. My dad caught me with it and took it away, storing it in the attic, along with the rest of my mom’s things. I was too scared to ever come back for it, but I read enough. Enough to understand that what they had was real, and you just wouldn’t throw away something real for something fleeting and artificial.
I moved in closer to him when a sudden rush of cold air came through the opened window. “The dress was clean.”
“What do you mean?”
“It had been washed recently.”
“You think Jerimiah washed it?”
I shrugged. It sounded creepy and sad when Jackson put it like that. “I think he was in love with my mom.”
Jackson’s jaw clenched. “And if that is true, that makes him that much more dangerous to you.”
I frowned. “Why would you say that?”
“Your mom is gone. He could be looking at you and sees Emma.”
“I look nothing like my mom.”
“But you are her daughter. And you’re exceptionally beautiful. Promise me you’ll never put yourself in a situation where you are alone
with him.”
“I promise,” I said without hesitation. That was the one promise I was planning on keeping.
Jackson woke before the sky was even light. I stirred and opened my eyes to see him sitting at the edge of the bed, his back to me.
I touched his lower back. He turned and met my eyes. “I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said.
“It’s okay. Are you having trouble sleeping?”
He shrugged. “It’s always been like that.” And that was true. Jackson function on lesser sleep than I did, going to bed after me and waking up earlier.
“Come back to bed with me?” I opened the blanket, the cold air chilling me for a bit until Jackson crawled in, replacing it with his body heat. I moved in closer to him.
“Want to talk about it?” I asked.
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
“Hmm.”
We stayed silent, watching the sunrise through the open window. Jackson never stopped touching me, be it his hand on my lower back, his legs tangling in with mine, or his hand wrapped around my much smaller one.
“Do you think we would ever get past it?” he asked, breaking the silence close to an hour later.
“Get past what?”
“Our past? Our family. The walls we each built around our heart that made us so incapable of letting anyone in.”
“I want to let you in,” I replied desperately.
He gave me a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I know.”
“I do trust you.”
“You do?” he asked. I closed my eyes to ward off the pain. I deserved that.
“I do. I just… I want to tell you. I just don’t know what to say. You want to talk about Jerimiah? What can I say when he hasn’t done anything to me?”
“He’s done something. Perhaps he looks at you a little too long, or maybe…”
“What?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“Well, that’s all I can tell you.”
“But you would tell me if something comes up, wouldn’t you?”
I hesitated. Jackson noticed. “Yes,” I answered slowly.
Jackson's Girl: Being His Duology Page 25