Forever Hearts

by CJ Martín

  “I’m sorry,” I mumble as Liza wraps her arms around me, but I don’t even take comfort in her embrace. I’m numb.

  “Don’t apologize.” She squeezes my shoulders. “We’re worried about you. I don’t know what the hell happened, but…” She hesitates. “Jesse could be in a lot of trouble.”

  I pull back, eyes wide. “What? What did they say?”

  Her eyes soften. “I think Jason is pressing charges.”

  “What?” I scream. “People get into bar fights all the time. They don’t actually go to jail.” Do they?

  Her hand at my waist guides me forward. “Let’s get down to the station and see what’s going on.” She glances at Scott. “Can you get the car?”

  “Yeah.” He nods, voice solemn.

  Liza turns to face me. “Is there anyone you can call?”

  My eyes widen in panic.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not leaving you, but do you know any attorneys? Someone who can help or give you legal advice?”

  The knot of dread coils tighter in my stomach, as my dad’s face pops to mind. I don’t know who else to call. “Yes,” my voice whispers. “I can call my dad.”

  The next morning I’m at my mom’s house when I overhear my parents’ angry, albeit hushed, voices in the kitchen.

  “I told you that boy was no good for her!” my dad whisper-hisses. “But you kept encouraging it.”

  “Don’t you dare!” my mother argues back. “This isn’t my fault.”

  “Isn’t it?” My dad breathes. “You’ve always defended him. We should’ve put an end to this, years ago. Now, I’m stuck calling in favors to neighboring districts when I should just let the kid serve his time.”

  “Your daughter is in love with him.”

  “Yeah, well, you didn’t see what he did to that guy. Besides, I don’t even know if Trooper Williams is still stationed with that borough. I say we wait and see before I make a fool of myself wasting my time and breath on some kid who doesn’t deserve my help.”

  My mom laughs, a mean, sarcastic laugh. “It’s always about you, isn’t it, Jack? How do Riley’s actions affect you? What will your colleagues think? She’s our daughter.”

  My dad retorts, “This has nothing to do with me. Or our family. He’s not like us.”

  “Why?” my mom demands. “Why isn’t he like us?”

  “He just isn’t.” My dad does little to disguise his anger at this point. “He’s got no college education, no future, and he’s—”

  “Don’t you dare say it,” my mom interrupts. “Don’t you dare say it, Jack. We raised our daughters to accept everyone, to not judge based on skin color or sexual orientation or religion.”

  “But—”

  I can’t listen to my parents fight anymore, nor can I stand by another minute without defending Jesse. He’s in this mess because of me. If anyone is guilty of wrongdoing, it’s me.

  “Stop.” I walk into the kitchen and slice my hand through the air. “Please, stop.”

  “Riley.” My mom sets her mug of coffee on the counter. “How much of that did you hear?”

  My eyes narrow on my dad. “Enough.”

  “Riley,” my dad says, but I wave him off.

  “Listen, I know what Jesse did was wrong, but he had his reasons. That man,” I take a deep breath before saying his name, “Jason, hurt me.”

  “What?” My dad pushes to his feet. “When?”

  “It was a long time ago.” I close my eyes and drop my head toward my chest. “I’m okay.” I take another breath. “But Jesse knew our history and…”

  “Riley.” My mom moves around to the opposite side of the counter where I stand and wraps me in her arms. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

  I shrug, even though I know exactly why I didn’t tell her: I was ashamed.

  “Riley.” My dad clears his throat and faces me as my mom releases her hold. “Is there anything else we need to know? Did that man, did he force himself…?”

  “No.” My voice is loud. “No, nothing like that.”

  My dad nods his head, but his eyes still hold mine in question.

  “Dad, I need you to help Jesse,” I plead. “I’ll do anything.”

  “I’m not sure what I’ll be able to do. If the victim presses charges, Jesse will be arraigned.”

  “No!” I scream again. “There has to be someone else you can call. Someone you know. Please.” My voice breaks on a sob. “I love him. You have to help him.”

  My dad’s hard exterior falters in the slightest. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  43

  Jesse

  Jason McDonovan, asshole that he is, decides to press charges. In addition, he’s suing for medical expenses incurred as a result of the altercation. Because I’d been locked up for two days and missed my shifts at the warehouse, I’d been let go, which is just a slightly nicer way of saying fired. And since I’m unable to collect unemployment benefits in the interim while I look for a new job, I’ve no way of paying my own bills, let alone Jason’s. Basically, my life is fucked.

  I’m assigned a public defender who’s working four cases concurrently, so understandably, she can’t devote much time to my case. Communication is slow. Progress even slower.

  The only spot of sunshine in my life is Riley. She’s by my side every day, researching, making phone calls, and even offering to let me move in with her at the end of the month when my lease is up. Although I don’t want to freeload, I’m actually considering her offer, because I don’t know how I’m going to make my rent payment.

  I hate being weak and in such a vulnerable position. I rely on myself, period. But I don’t have many options. My mom offered to re-mortgage her house in order to pay my debt, but she has her own financial struggles with her own school loans and car payment. I couldn’t put her in that position because I fucked up and lost my temper.

  I’d figure a way out of this mess. I had to.

  I finally agreed to meet with Riley’s dad. Again. Even though I knew he’d talked to my arresting officer (and essentially) bailed me out of jail, I hadn’t spoken to him since the night in the holding cell.

  “In trouble again, Collins?” He looked down his nose at me.

  I held his stare, refusing to show any sign of weakness. “Why are you here?”

  He snorted. “Why else? I’m here because, yet again, you’ve involved my daughter in your bullshit.”

  My arms flexed and I barely resisted the urge to slam my cuffed fists against the table as he continued. “They’ll process your intake as soon as the defendant submits his official statement.”

  “So, what? You came all the way down here to tell me what a fuck-up I am?”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” He leaned forward in his chair. “I came down here because my little girl called me at eleven o’clock at night, scared and crying.”

  Shit. I hang my head, ashamed that I upset Riley. I never wanted to hurt her. “I’m sorry,” I said, as the consequences of my actions slowly sank in.

  “It’s a little late for that.” He sat back in his chair. “I’ll see what I can find out. Until then, keep your head down and your goddamn mouth shut.”

  I don’t even get the chance to express my agreement before the door slams shut behind him.

  That was three weeks ago, and if I was being honest, I was in no rush to see Officer Jones anytime soon. Riley, however, had different intentions. She’s been nagging me—for lack of a better word—to meet her dad for a cup of coffee to reconcile our differences. He wants to help, she said. He might have a friend at the station. Don’t be an idiot, Jesse, she yelled last night, finally at her breaking point.

  Riley was right—of course, she was. Apparently Officer Jones knew someone who knew someone at the Mills Borough Police Department where the original charges were filed. Every fiber of my being did not want to meet with him, but I acquiesced because…I didn’t have any other option, and I wanted to make Riley happy.

  I’m early to the coffee shop where w
e planned to meet. The shop is located about a half hour from Riley’s apartment. Mr. Jones claims it is a convenient spot for both of us, since it is the halfway meeting point, but deep down I know it’s because he doesn’t want to be seen in public with me. Not only am I half-black—which apparently is a crime in itself in his book—but I’m also facing potential criminal charges. He doesn’t want me to taint his squeaky-clean reputation.

  A gust of wind sweeps in as he enters and walks past the counter. He slides into the bench seat directly across from me.

  “Hi.” I keep my voice polite even though he’s a condescending dick. I try to remind myself that he’s a condescending dick who might be able to help me.

  He nods in response. “I’ll make this quick. First of all, let’s get one thing straight. I’m doing this for Riley, not you.”

  I grunt in response.

  “Second, I need you to tell me what that kid did to her.”

  I recoil as though he punched me. Riley told him about Jason? “That’s Riley’s story to tell.”

  “Don’t try to be a hero.” He glares at me. “She said he hurt her.”

  I find his gaze, my own eyes menacing. “Let’s just say he got what was coming to him.”

  He pauses as though contemplating my response, and slowly nods before saying, “I made a few calls.”

  “And?” I prompt, to move things along.

  “Best they can do is a year probation and a court-ordered anger management program. Plus, you still have to cover his medical expenses.”

  “What?” I nearly spit my coffee. “No way.”

  He shrugs. “Your call. But you’re taking your chances with a hearing. Magistrate Shoopeck is a tough old bird.”

  “Fuck.” I scrub my hands over my face.

  He narrows his eyes at me. “You made your bed, now you have to lie in it.”

  My palms grip the table and squeeze, as I will myself not to lose it.

  “Do you want my advice?” I ignore the question, but he continues anyway. “Take the deal.”

  I scowl.

  “Your probation officer will be assigned based on your primary residence. You could move in with your dad, work in his shop.” My eyes narrow on him and he shrugs. “I heard you lost your job.”

  “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” I seethe. “You’d love nothing more than to get me away from your daughter.”

  I expect him to deny it, but he surprises me when he doesn’t. “Damn right, I would.” He leans forward in the booth. “You think I want my daughter tied down to someone like you the rest of her life? No college education? No career? No job prospects?” He ticks his fingers. “What can you offer her?”

  Love. I want to scream. I can offer her love.

  But all I do is stare, unable to form a response because he’s right. I can’t offer her anything…substantial. She deserves everything. More than anything I could ever give her.

  He continues, “And now with this black mark on your record, it’ll be that much harder to find a job that pays a decent wage. What’s your plan? To move in with Riley and ride her coattails the rest of your life?”

  His words hurt more than any physical blow ever could. He’s playing on every one of my insecurities, whether he knows it or not.

  I’m not good enough for Riley. I never was. I never will be.

  I need him to stop talking, but he keeps going. “You say you love her—”

  I cut him off. “I do love her. More than anything.”

  “Then let her go.” His harsh words cut my heart in two. “Give her a chance. Don’t tie her down to someone who has nothing going for him, who doesn’t have his own life figured out. You’re both so young. After some time, if you still feel the same way—”

  “I will never stop loving your daughter. She’s everything to me.”

  “Is she? Because all I see is a selfish punk who’s dragging my innocent daughter through the mud.”

  His words, though cruel, aren’t inaccurate. Maybe I am selfish. Maybe I should have been grateful for having Riley in my life—in any capacity—because the truth is she is special. Amazing. Beautiful, inside and out.

  “Enough.” I slice my hand through the air.

  He pauses, face burning red with emotion.

  “Tell your friend I’ll take the deal.”

  He nods, satisfied. “And Riley?” he questions, his voice hopeful.

  “I’ll be gone before the first of the month.”

  He exhales a breath, clearly relieved. “You’re doing the right thing, kid.”

  If that’s true, then why do I feel like I’ve just given up the best thing in my life?

  44

  Riley

  Jesse is changing. Ever since he agreed to take the probation deal, he’s aloof, withdrawn, a million miles away from me, and I don’t know how to bring him back to me.

  Every time I mention his moving in with me or ask him about job interviews, he changes the subject. Plus, he’s being secretive. The other night when I got back from my class he was talking on the phone, and when he realized I was there, he quickly ended the call. Odd, but not totally suspect. But the next day his phone rang three times and he declined every one and made some lame comment about it being a wrong number.

  Now, before any judgments can be made, I’ll cut right to the chase: I’m still a bit insecure when it comes to Jesse’s and my relationship, especially after everything that has happened. Crazy, I know. We’ve known each other forever, but I’m still trying to find the balance between friend and lover.

  After Jesse’s basketball practice tonight we made plans to chill. The past few weeks have been stressful, and I think we both need the downtime to reconnect. The plan is to order pizza and binge watch Pretty Little Liars—I asked, he agreed—so I’m completely taken off guard (and a little pissed when) I receive a text from him around 8:00 p.m.

  Jesse: Going out for a few drinks.

  I read the message three times to be sure that I didn’t misunderstand. What happened between now and two hours ago that caused him to change his mind? Furthermore, he’s unemployed, facing assault charges, and about to start probation. He honestly thinks that now is a good time to go to a bar? I don’t think so.

  Fuming mad, my fingers stab the keys.

  Riley: Are you serious?

  Once I start the messages, I can’t stop.

  Riley: Jes, I don’t think that’s a good idea.

  Riley: Jes.

  Riley: Hello?

  Riley: Why aren’t you answering me?

  Riley: Call me.

  Riley: CALL. ME.

  Every message goes unanswered, and by the time I crawl into bed at ten-thirty, I’m livid. If he comes to my apartment after the bar, if he even thinks about crawling into bed with me, I’ll…cut off his dick. Okay, maybe not, because I seriously love his dick, but you get the point.

  As I toss and turn, my phone vibrates on my nightstand. I jump up and grab the phone, hoping that it’s Jesse, but at the same time cursing myself for even caring. My heart deflates when I see a number I don’t recognize. I silence the call, but not even a minute later my phone buzzes again.

  My brow furrows. It’s the same number as before. My voice is almost a whisper when I answer. “Hello?”

  “Hello.” I can barely hear the voice over the background noise. There’s loud music thumping a strong bass line and lots of people talking.

  “Hello?” I say again. “I think you may have the wrong number.”

  “Is this Riley?” the voice questions louder. I identify the caller as female, her tone light and cheery. A bubble gum voice, and I half expect to hear the telltale sound of gum cracking.

  “Yes?” My voice rises at the end. “I’m sorry, I don’t know who this is, but now really isn’t a good time.” I sneak a glance at the clock. It’s twelve in the freakin’ morning.

  But Bubble Gum cuts me off. “There’s a guy here. Jesse. Told me to call you.”

  My blood turns cold. “Jesse? Is he
okay?

  “Umm…” She pauses and my heart beats faster. “He’s not hurt or anything. But he’s in rough shape.”

  The coiled spring wound tight inside my stomach explodes and I fall back against the headboard, allowing it to support my weight. Rough shape. I knew exactly what she meant…he’s drunk.

  Bubble Gum’s voice pulls me out of my head. “Hello?” And then I hear her address someone over the din of music. “I’m talking to her now.”

  “Riley.” I hear Jesse’s voice slur. Son of a bitch.

  “Where is he?” I twine the loose thread from the duvet cover around my finger. Round and round, then let it unwind. Start again.

  “Danny’s Place. Fifth and Broad.” She smacks her lips.

  I know the place. “I know the place.”

  “He’s pretty trashed. I snatched his keys from the bar when he went to the john. He’s freaking out. It’s either you or the cops.”

  Please, don’t call the cops.

  I force a strong exhale through my nose and close my eyes. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Riley.” Jesse eyes widen in delighted surprise when he sees me standing in the doorway of the bar. “I love this girl,” he says to no one in particular. “I fucking love her.” He slurs again.

  He ambles over, leans into me, and plants a sloppy kiss on my cheek. I shift away from him.

  “Get in the car,” I say, trying to keep my voice even and authoritative. He blinks once but doesn’t move. “Jes,” I say, more forcefully. “Get in the car.”

  I don’t wait to see if he listens before I walk over to the bar. I nestle between two barstools and signal to the bartender— Bubble Gum—and she nods in acknowledgment as she finishes pouring a beer.

  “Hi.” She approaches and reaches underneath the bar before handing me Jesse’s keys.