by P. S. Power
“Amy?” He put his right hand out toward her, a bit of a dramatic move. She looked at him and shook her head.
“I can't... Josh. I don't... deserve you. I'm not good enough for you.” She started crying but didn't say anything for a bit. Tears just falling silently, tracks in her make-up.
He walked to her and took her in his arms, waiting to be pushed away. If it was goodbye, well that was her right. Still, one last thing to say before he went.
“I really do love you. Don't forget that alright?” He kissed her gently. Then, reluctantly, took a step away. “If you don't want me, that's fine. Expected even. But that doesn't change the way I feel. I know it's stupid of me, but it is what it is. Um. Goodbye?” He had to fight down his own tears then.
Amy nodded and stepped back through her bedroom door, closing it firmly.
As he walked away Josh imagined that he heard sobbing from the other side, but that didn't make sense, did it? She'd sent him away. It was her choice. Now he just had to live with the consequences. He stood breathing for a minute, torn between running home and pounding on the door, demanding that she love him back. That made him smile. Not a happy thing, but one that would get him through the room so that he could help people recover their vehicles in a timely fashion.
God it all sucked. Everything. His whole life felt like it had just washed away and lost all meaning.
But he'd live.
She wasn't even really going away. She'd still be around. Would that make it better or worse, he wondered? At least he'd still get to see her and make sure she was alright. It wasn't as good, but what he'd gotten in the last week was a lot more than Josh could have really hoped for. Before he'd never even hugged her. Now he had. The kisses had been, incredible. The rest he could barely believe at all and sometimes he wondered if he'd imagined. Well, it was all he was getting. That was all. It ached so bitterly inside for a moment that Josh nearly went to his knees and started sobbing, but... That wouldn't be fair either, would it? It would make completely innocent people uneasy.
He got people their cars for two hours and then drove his mom and Joanie home. They didn't talk to him about anything. They were both more than a little drunk. Not loud though, trying to be thoughtful as they clomped up the stairs, whispering “shhhh” at each other as they went, giggling, but they did try to be polite about it. It would have been more of an issue, but there was still a party going on in the apartment below them. The music and laughter covered for them. How anyone could ever laugh again Josh didn't understand. Well... he did, they weren't living his life, so it was OK, but... Yeah.
Once inside they managed to get settled in pretty well, after about ten minutes. Josh just changed and washed his face, staring in the mirror for a while. He sighed. It wasn't his face. Oh, he wasn't a movie star, and never would be, but something else had gone wrong with Amy. Before Barb had kissed him too. That had been something, there had been a reaction in Amy's eyes when he turned to look at her, but... Yeah. It was something else.
She wouldn't have been meeting up with the bartender otherwise. The guy was good looking of course, which could be enough of a reason maybe and Laura hadn't been a good role model really, sleeping with guys because they happened to have legs or whatever her rationale was. Then again, maybe not. He shook his head.
“Snap out of it moron. She just isn't in to you. Now move on. Nothing to see here.”
The him in the mirror stared back and smiled grimly.
“Like you're really just going to leave it there? I know you too well Josh. You should leave it alone, and let her be whoever she is, but noooo, you're going to drag this out and turn it into some big thing, another sign that everyone leaves and that no one will ever love you.” He glared at the reflection.
It was right of course. He knew all of that about himself. It would be trouble.
But only because he was a childish little fool. Yes, it hurt and yes, it would hurt in the morning, but he'd live. On that note he tucked himself into bed, with the lights off and very carefully, quietly so the world wouldn't know about it, cried himself to sleep.
Happy New Year, he thought, dismally.
Chapter fifteen
Nothing much had changed when school started again a few days later. Gym class was different, because he pulled out the stops and worked as hard as he could, ignoring pain as he lifted heavier weights than was actually sane or healthy. It made his joints ache constantly. Josh didn't care about that. He wanted it to hurt enough to keep his mind off of her. Lunch was lunch, which he tried to eat alone. That didn't work, because the same group of people he always ate with found him in the big room and sat around him as if he was somehow central to things. Vince, who was in drama with him and Amy, Mike and his girlfriend Sherry and Don, who never said anything much at all, but always managed to have a date each weekend.
They talked, he didn't. No one really noticed, because he pretended to do math homework as they sat there. He was good at looking like part of the group without really being there, a real skill, cultivated for years. He nodded and murmured at the right times and actually worked problems so that if anyone caught on, that could be the excuse he used for not being attentive.
Earlier that day, before first period, the notebook had gone back onto his locker. Josh had put everything down in it. About how he felt and how things had ended. Why not? Even if people could figure out who he was, would anyone care? He didn't. It was gone when he passed his locker after that, so either picked up or stolen away, never to be seen again. Either way worked for him. It was probably a stupid idea anyway. What kind of people got together and wrote things like that down? What possible point could the whole thing have?
When sixth period came Josh was really tempted to just miss it and go home early. A feeling of dread crept into the core of his being as he walked toward the drama room on the other side of campus. That he'd never skipped a single class in his life stopped him from doing it at that moment, but only just. Really, he didn't need the credit to graduate. Josh wondered what would happen if he went directly to the office and dropped the class? Would they stop him?
Maybe.
Or ask his mother about it. Really, he doubted she would OK the idea just so he could avoid seeing a girl she knew he loved. Josh had to admit, it did sound pretty lame when put that way. Instead he decided to not be the last person in the world to get back to his feet after being knocked down and just went.
Amy came in just before the bell, with Sarah Teasdale tagging behind her, pushing her into the room actually. Amy turned to say something to the girl but stopped when she saw him looking at her. It took a lot but he made himself smile at her and wave a bit. She didn't respond at all, just looking down. Well, that was...
Was it unexpected? He'd never broken up with anyone, what were the rules? Was this even a break-up? Yeah, his little feelings were hurt, but... oh well. No one in the world cared about that did they? It probably wasn't even sane for him to feel anything at all about it. Were you allowed to have hard feelings if the girl you liked told you to get lost without ever going out? Well, it wasn't like he got a choice, the pain was just there, but still, he could try to fake not being too far gone. That was just acting after all. Josh didn't want her to feel bad about the whole thing, even if he did.
They just did some improv sketches to warm up, which he'd always loved. They were fun, free form and active. Josh worked some character into what he did, trying to sound anything other than depressed. Josh was, badly, but it would pass. Eventually. Perhaps when he died? But in the meantime he had a life to live. Or to at least get through.
Amy watched him, that was clear. It wasn't her normal thing, looking to see if he was looking at her. No... she stared. Her eyes were sad and she didn't participate at all in class which was a little odd. Just sitting in one of the desks pushed back against the wall, next to the stage. People called out “freeze” and the made up little scenes stopped, then a new one would start when someone tapped you or the other person on th
e floor, taking their place. Darren tapped him in the middle of a scene with Tammy, one where she'd been trying to pull him out of a vat of taffy. OK, not inspired, but it was hilarious. They pretended to be stuck together, and themselves, that the taffy had near miraculous sticking and elastic properties, which drew them closer together as the scene developed. Tammy wasn't normally very good at that kind of thing, but she really tried and it was showing in her work, they were pulling the scene off pretty well, getting laughs from the normally jaded drama class behind them. The large boy turned an innocent maneuver into a clinch, and stared deeply into her eyes.
“Why won't you answer me?” He said out of the blue, tone serious, dramatic and more than a little romantic. Tammy froze, stammering, uncomfortable suddenly.
“I... I can't. Leave me alone.” She started to pull away when Steve Miller got them to freeze and quickly took Tammy's place.
“I luuuv you Jim-bob.” He said comically. It was a great bit of accent work too, really hitting a hill folk stereotype.
Darren to his credit caught the line perfectly and they went back and forth into a scene about how their pedophile grandfathers forbade their man love. Looking over at her he saw that Amy still stared. Sarah for her part was watching them both, first Amy and then him, finally catching his eye.
“What?” She mouthed. As if she didn't know what was going on.
Honestly he didn't either. Amy watched him, her face looking even more sad as the hour went on. That... didn't make sense did it? She'd kind of sent him away. Shouldn't he be the only sad one? Apparently not. He smiled at her hopefully, trying to get her to smile back, or something that indicated she wasn't just miserable. She looked away for a while until he wasn't looking then stared again, just as hard as before.
After class he tried to catch up to her, but she pulled Sarah away and practically ran from the room. It was frustrating, but if she didn't want to talk, he wouldn't make her. That would just cause even more pain.
Each day after that was worse though. She took to dressing in all black, all the time, and started losing weight it looked like. She hadn't been fat before, but her frame just started to melt. By the end of the week Josh was really getting worried. He called her parents every other day to check on them, and even talked to Meridith a couple of times, but he didn't bring up Amy. They didn't either, so it was probably all in his head.
Only it wasn't.
Amy kept watching him in class and on a few occasions called the house. Either that or Bill was prank calling him, not speaking when he picked up. The caller ID was from their house phone. He didn't say anything about it to Mercy or Joanie, mainly because he hadn't seen either of them for more than a few minutes for nearly a week. The person he talked to most, as odd as it seemed, was Warren Jeffreys who called nearly every day, making sure that the Banister situation was in hand and that his personal time investment there hadn't been wasted. The guy really didn't want to lose the funding that came with Bill. It was a little mercenary, but Josh got it. The man was in the business of politics and fancied himself a “kingmaker”. Make someone the ruler of a place and it gave you a certain kind of power.
The weeks ran into one another after that. A haze of work, workouts and worrying about Amy, who kept looking at him sadly. Less so though, over time. Then one day she suddenly became nearly normal again. It was good to see, until he noticed that after class she left, not with Sarah, but Brian McAvoy.
The guy was well liked, funny, not that great looking, but not ugly either. He wore a letterman's jacket and tucked it around her as they walked, then they held hands.
Josh had hurt before, but that was about all he could take. Like he was a camel and the last straw had just been tucked onto his back, breaking it. Shattering his spirit. He left in a daze, not knowing what to do at all. What could he do? There was nothing left. No hope left at all. This was what he was thinking when it occurred to him it was Friday again, which meant stopping by his locker. The now familiar envelope was taped back up, so he packed it into his bag listlessly, wondering if he should leave it. He didn't have anything to say at all, did he? Nothing good.
He felt only sadness inside. Pain.
It would pass though. It had too. Nothing could live like this for long. He half wondered if he should kill himself, but only half. There was no real reason to live, but then, hey, maybe something would break eventually? Other than his soul. There was always a hope of happiness, right?
Of course.
Not all hope was real. Though if fake hope got him through the day, maybe it was enough for now?
He got himself into the apartment half an hour later and just sat for a long time, wondering what he should do. It all felt so horrible. He'd thought that it would be, well, not easy to handle, but manageable for him. Josh forced a deep breath and made himself smile. Then he did it again and again for a long time. Finally he picked up his book bag and opened it, planning to write everything down in the stupid notebook. Crayons... what, they were in the second grade? What a moronic name.
There was a firm knock on the door then, which he answered without looking first, not knowing who'd be visiting at all. Hopefully someone that would shoot him. It turned out to be Warren Jeffreys and some woman that Josh had never met. Neither seemed to have a gun at all. A bit inconsiderate of them, if they were going to be killing him, right? What, was he supposed to provide his own?
She looked tidy and respectable, pushing forty-something and dressed in conservative ladies wear. A brown dress with a matching jacket that looked like something Mrs. Kincaid would have loved. Whatever it was they wanted, Josh didn't have the energy for it, but he forced a smile anyway. The practice he'd just done paying off.
“Hello?” He said, looking directly at the woman, since she was standing in the front.
“Who are you?” She demanded angrily, a piece of paper in her hands that had numbers printed all over it. A phone log? It was hard to tell, being upside down.
He nearly snapped back at her, but shook his head trying to calm down first.
“I'm Joshua Harding. Come in. We may as well sit and talk. Would anyone like something to drink? A fruit juice perhaps? Coffee?” They had wine too, but he'd be damned if he was going to give an already angry person alcohol. Especially not knowing who she was miffed at.
One thing if she killed him, but Warren was kind of his employer. Letting the boss get iced would be... poor business.
Warren looked harried, but in a nice enough suit. Not top end, even though he could afford it. That would have marked him as being too far above the common man. No this was a very nice off the rack thing, left to fray just a tiny bit at the cuffs, showing it wasn't brand new. It was a clever trick. He held out his right hand to Josh and sighed.
“Sorry about this. She saw the number and didn't recognize it, so... Well, I haven't always been that faithful, she's worried.”
“Ah, that makes sense. Well,” Josh waved them in, trying to be happy about it. Then he looked at Mrs. Jeffreys directly. “I can guarantee you that neither I, nor my mother, or her lesbian girlfriend are having sex with your husband. I'm working on a situation for him.”
She looked at him as if he were lying, but then she had every reason to suspect her husband was a bit of a creep when it came to fidelity issues, didn't she? Instead of yelling at him, or even calling him on it directly she moved to the big cushy sofa and sat, her back to the door.
“Alright... update me.” She said. Warren tried to say something, to explain, but she hissed at him. “Shut up. I want to hear what he has to say. All of it. Now.” She glared at Josh, which wasn't all that comfortable. He looked at Warren who just shrugged.
“Go ahead. She'll be discreet.” The man sounded confident on that point.
“Which works... until she gets mad at you for being an unfaithful jerkwad again. OK... but I still haven't seen the first check yet. So no killing him until after that, alright? Cash is also acceptable.”
Mrs. Jeffreys smirked at her h
usband being called a jerkwad, but Warren didn't react. It was probably not a wonderful thing to call a politician to his face, but Josh didn't care at the moment. He ran the situation down rapidly, not leaving anything out.
“And which of these women has he been sleeping with?” She said tersely, arms crossed and made a face, puckering her mouth as if she suddenly tasted lemon.
Josh shrugged.
“To the best of my knowledge none of the ones mentioned. If he's seeing anyone at present, other than you, I have no knowledge of it and would call him on it myself. It's too dangerous a practice for a conservative politician. The thing is that the Banisters don't know that Warren is behind the effort to help them out. Not directly. It isn't exactly hard to figure out, people around Bill know, but for now they're all trusting me to handle that part of things. He and Bill had a bit of a fight.” Josh stopped there, but the woman grimaced.
“Was that when my husband slept with his daughter? Which one was it, Meridith? She's very attractive.” It was a dig, the tone said that she knew it too and Warren didn't dignify it with an answer.
Josh shook his head and smiled a bit darkly, “he better not have, she's a friend of mine. It would be an issue.”
That oddly, got a nod from the older man, only a little gray showing in his otherwise black hair.
“And I assure you Beck, I would not want to go head to head with Mr. Harding. I don't think my career would survive long if I tried. In the political arena I'm not certain that anyone's would.”
The woman gave Josh another look and then glanced around the apartment.
“You run a political machine from here?”
He shook his head trying for serious this time, “no. My bedroom. I rarely have guests over. It's just a hobby. I was thinking about switching to track in the spring.”
It wasn't even a lie. As far as he could tell it paid about the same. So far no money had come in from what he'd done, not even enough to break even. Not counting the eighty-three dollars in tips he got from parking cars. Maybe he should send out invoices? It wouldn't be very discreet though. That was part of his thing, being unnoticed. It turned out that Josh could get some things done just because no one would ever believe he was doing it.