Generations: Wilder Times

by Lori Folkman

  Her ringtone played in his ear. It made it all the way to the chorus. She wasn’t picking up. Good. She was still asleep. He’d keep calling until he woke her. But then her voice came on the line, right as he was ready to tap the end button.

  “Kat!” He was hit with a gust of relief, just like opening a window in a stuffy car. “I’m so glad you answered. You still in bed?”

  “No, I’m up.”

  The window just closed. It was stuffy again. Her voice said it all. She sounded quiet. Down. Angry, even. “You’ve seen it?” he asked.

  A pause. A sigh. “Yeah. I saw it.”

  He groaned. “I can explain. I was hoping to talk to you before … before you saw it.”

  “So it wouldn’t seem so bad?”

  Yes. Exactly. But he couldn’t respond. Her voice was cutting. He hadn’t heard her use that tone before. “The pictures don’t explain everything. It’s out of context,” he said.

  “Right. She was just doing a cheer for the Knicks.”

  “Kat.” Her voice was turning even more acidic. He needed to calm her down. To back things up.

  “Don’t, Ben. Don’t try to explain this all away. I’m not an idiot … and I’m not that gullible. You weren’t at the Knicks game. You were at a nightclub. With Brishell. On the same day that you told the world that I was too young for you.”

  Ben pressed his fist to his forehead. He could feel pressure building there. All the blood must have left his limbs and begun to pool in his brain. It felt like he was having an aneurism. He smacked his fist against his head a few times. He couldn’t think of a way through this with that pain in his head. So he listened to his heart; it was telling him to fess up. Kat needed an apology.

  “I didn’t lie. I was at the Knick’s game. This happened after. And I know it looks bad. But there is more to it … than you think.”

  She was silent, so Ben continued. “Brishell is … very forward. I didn’t instigate any of this. I’m not into her. You have to know that.”

  “How would I possibly know that?”

  “Because you know how I feel about you.”

  “Ya know, I thought I did. But now … I don’t know, Ben.”

  “You do know. Think about it … how we are when we are together.”

  “Exactly. When we are together. But when you’re away it’s an entirely different story. It’s almost … almost like you use me. To pass the time or something.”

  “No, Kat. That’s not true.” The pain in his head was now superseded by the pain in his heart. Her voice was harsh. Unrelenting.

  “It’s …” she sighed heavily, “it’s just not going to work. I’m not up to this. I’m not … I’m not a player. I can’t have feelings for more than one person. I crave consistency. Commitment. And that’s something that I can’t ask of you.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong. I want the same thing.”

  “Then you have a funny way of showing it.”

  The line went silent. He had a knot in his throat, making it impossible for him to speak. Plus, he just didn’t know what to say. He thought he had shown her how he felt. The necklace. Bugsy. His utmost care to keep the press from trashing her. Not to mention the passion that he expressed, physically. He felt like she was taking that one aspect—Brishell—and was holding it in front of her vision. Then she couldn’t see all the good that he’d done. It was disheartening.

  “I want to fix this, Kat. But I don’t know how. I don’t know what you need.” He knew he sounded frustrated. Because he was. If she’d only listen to him. That thing that happened with Brishell … well, it’d all been Brishell. He was practically an innocent bystander. Practically.

  “It’s pretty simple.” Kat’s voice still sounded bitter. But it also had an edge of mockery to it. “I want what everyone wants. To not feel like an idiot. To be able to trust the person I care about.”

  Ben clamped his mouth shut as a precaution. He could feel some unkind words forming and he didn’t want them to leave his mouth until he had control. Obviously, he’d hurt her, which was regrettable. But really, it wasn’t his fault. Her hostility was illogical. He started in on that vein. “Really, the thing with Brishell is nothing. You’re overreacting.”

  He heard her give a long sigh. “I don’t think I am. I think I’m being sensible for the first time … since I met you.”

  “Well. If that’s the way you feel, I guess I can’t do anything.”

  “Guess not.” Her voice grew thick. She was on the verge of tears. Which was good. Better than enmity. Now maybe he could get somewhere: draw on her emotions. But then she quickly said, “Bye, Ben.”

  And the line went dead.

  Chapter Twenty-two ……

  If there was one thing that Kat knew, it was that she knew nothing. Really, how stupid could a girl be? She’d thought she had it made with Ben: a real relationship. She figured she was fun, sweet, adoring—but not demanding or possessive. She thought she was everything that he needed. She was so painfully wrong.

  There was a time … albeit brief, when she felt like she could do anything. She was going to live the golden life. All her wildest dreams were becoming a reality.

  Now all she wanted from life was a dark cave. A deep, black cave where she could lay down, curl up into a ball, and cease to exist. No one would see her. No one would remember that she once had lived.

  But life had to keep marching on.

  It had been a week since the video of Brishell and Ben doing the Sinful Salsa had emerged. Since the time that she’d told Ben off. She remained pleased with herself that she’d been able to do that … to be so resolute. Smart. But, all too often—especially when she was alone in her room—regret seeped in. Had she done the right thing? Should she have given him the benefit of the doubt … again? She should have not hung up on him?

  He’d wanted to work it out. She believed him on that count. So she half-expected him to call her. Or email her. Or do something. Something that would win her back.

  But no. She hadn’t heard so much as a sneeze from Ben. Her dad’s Clash shirt was mailed back, but no note was attached. She knew that it would have been mailed by his assistant, not him, but it still stung for him to not even say thanks. Or return her hair. Which felt weird. Not like she needed it—she couldn’t glue it back on or anything. But it didn’t seem right for him to have a piece of her. She hoped he didn’t have a collection of locks of hair. She didn’t want it sitting in a display case in his room, just like the locks displayed beneath the boxes of hair color at the drugstore. She imagined a box with her picture, marked Girlfriend #509, sitting on the shelf.

  So, with each day that marched on, it became clear that Ben wasn’t going to come back to her. It really was over. And that was more than she’d bargained for. She’d just hoped to make her point. To have him declare his love for her while on bended knee—so to speak. In the very least, she’d expected him to publicly denounce any kind of interest in Brishell. But none of that had happened.

  Which meant that she was right. And that hurt. Ben hadn’t been interested in her: she was just a plaything.

  The one thing that she really hated about all this? The way that everyone treated her. Like she was suicidal or something. Pats on the shoulder. Hugs. Looks of compassion. Everyone saying things like, “If you ever need to talk Kat, I’m here for you.” Sad thing was that she couldn’t talk to anyone. Who could she trust? She knew that someone out there would take her sob story to the press. But she didn’t know which one of her newfound BFF’s would be the one to cash in. So she had to keep it all in.

  Well, with one exception: Jack. He’d been great through all this. He had her back. She knew that his concern was real. He mourned with her … but this also had one exception. She couldn’t divulge everything to Jack. Because then she would have to admit that Jack was right. That Ben was all wrong for her. So even with Jack, she had to act tough. But her façade was wearing thin.

  On Friday, Jack invited himself over after school. Kat
wondered if he could tell that she was growing more and more depressed. He dished up two bowls of chocolate ice cream and pulled out a notebook from his backpack.

  “Make a list,” he said, placing a blank page on the table in front of her.

  “A list? Of what?”

  “The good things. About breaking up with Ben.”

  “Seriously, Jack? You want me to write an essay about how dumb I was … and how right you were? Why don’t you just say ‘I told you so’ and spare me writer’s cramp?”

  Jack pulled up a chair. He sat with his leg touching hers, close enough that she could see the little yellow flecks in his hazel eyes. “This isn’t about me being right. I’m just as disappointed in Ben as you are. And I’m worried about … how devastating this could be to you. I know how much you cared for him. So I thought you should write a list. Help get things back in perspective.” She could see the concern in his eyes. This wasn’t about him gloating.

  She’d worked so hard to keep her emotions locked in her bedroom, away from the world. Away from inquiring minds. But this was Jack. Her eyes began to fill with tears. “I can’t … think of anything good, Jack.” One tear free-fell from her flooded eyes and splatted on the sheet of paper.

  Jackson wiped it off with the back of his hand. He put a number one near the top of the paper. “There’s always good; in everything. You taught me that.”

  “You should know by now, Jack: I’m a big fat liar.”

  “No you’re not. You’re pretty skinny.” He nudged her with his knee. “So number one.”

  He scribbled on the paper. His handwriting was barely legible, like always. It said:

  End of the paparazzi

  She felt the left corner of her mouth lift. Kay. That was one good thing to come from this. The paparazzi had slowly trickled out of her neighborhood. She hadn’t seen a single one when she came home from school today. They must have all moved on—probably to Brishell’s doorstep. Not a good thing. “This isn’t helping,” she grumbled.

  “You’re not trying hard enough. Number two …” His pencil paused over the paper. Then he wrote:

  More time to sleep. Less time spent on hair

  That one didn’t make her smile. She knew her hair looked like crap. It’d had been too hard to get out of bed all this week. Result: fuzzy hair pulled back into mangy-looking ponies. And she didn’t like having lame hair. She liked her long, perfectly groomed, wavy locks just as much as Ben did. She just liked sleeping more. At least this week.

  Next, Jack wrote:

  #3: More time for homework.

  “Ugh, Jack. How is this supposed to be encouraging? I hate homework.”

  “Oh, excuse me. I was under the assumption that you wanted to go to college.”

  “My grades aren’t that bad.”

  “Kat, you have C’s in the two classes we have together. You’re GPA’s going to be in the high two’s—at best. That is bad.”

  She wanted to break into a rant about Julliard and how they would still accept her, even if her GPA was in the two’s. But then she knew that would be his next point. Number four: more time to focus on dance. And she wasn’t going to get accepted into Julliard if she didn’t eat, breathe and sleep dance. Ugh, ugh, ugh. This was so depressing.

  Jackson must have learned telepathy, because his number four was just as she had thought it would be:

  More time to focus on dance

  A couple of months ago, Kat would have been delighted that Jack had learned telepathy. Now—not so much.

  Number five was something about spending less money. Jack thought that Kat had been shopping excessively just to look good for Ben. Whatever. Kat loved to shop. Ben had nothing to do with the fact that her debit card now had a four dollar balance. In fact, the balance never would have been so high to begin with if it hadn’t been for Ben and the “Generations” video. She’d been paid for her work, and it was tidy little sum. Most of it was saved for college. But her parents had given her access to a tenth of it. It was discretionary money. No questions asked. It was an opportunity for her to exercise her money management skills. Maybe she’d exercised a little too much. Her account was … fatigued. Ahem. But dang, her spring wardrobe was killer.

  Jackson’s pencil again hesitated over the paper. Then he slid the paper to his side of the table. He cupped his arm around the paper, as if he was trying to protect his answers from cheating eyes. When he finished writing whatever the next Rejoice! You broke up with Ben! line-item was, he said, “Don’t get mad. But this one is really important.” He uncovered his writing.

  #5. no more lies.

  She felt like smacking him. Because he was right. And she hated that. A pathetic sob escaped from her throat. She looked away, unable to meet his eye. She took shallow breaths, trying not to look like she was fighting to gain control of her emotions. But two stray tears betrayed her.

  His arm wrapped around her shoulder. “Kat, it’s okay. I know that you didn’t ever think that this would advance beyond that one little lie. But it really snowballed. This is a good way to have it all stop, without Ben having to know about it. That’s got to feel good—to take that pressure away.”

  Honestly, nothing at the moment felt good. Her insides felt like they had been tied in knots with Gigi’s knitting needles. Kat was this massive tangle of regret, loneliness, confusion and sadness. She needed to get safely within the wall of her bedroom before the threads holding her together frayed, releasing an explosion of emotions.

  She blinked back the tears. “I know. You’re right. It did get out of control. I do feel … relieved not to have all that hanging over me. At least when I look at it on paper.” She breathed two deep breaths before continuing. “But I don’t know that my heart understands logic.”

  ……

  Kat didn’t really know how she escaped from the kitchen. From Jackson and his cheer-her-up list. The tears started shooting out like geysers the minute she reached her room. ‘Cause he was there. Ben. Covering every wall. She’d managed to walk past those pictures all week without really seeing them. But now they hit her senses with the power of a week-old fish. It was over. Ben was gone.

  She began to pull down the posters, the magazine covers, the fan-club glossies. But she didn’t crumple and shred them like Jack probably would have wanted her to do. She set them on her bed, one at a time, with reverence almost. As if each picture held a fraction of her soul. Which, in actuality, each picture did. Those pictures represented years of her life: her youthful hopes and dreams. Those pictures also represented a future that once seemed obtainable. But those visions of the future had just vanished. It felt bewildering. It was like her crystal ball had just turned permanently black. There was nothing there—no hope. No promise. No future.

  One picture of Ben remained on her wall—it was framed. And it wasn’t just a picture of Ben. She was in it too. It was taken at the “Generations” cast party. Jack had taken this picture. In fact, he was the one who had it printed and framed. It was really sweet of Jack, especially considering his displeasure with Kat’s infatuation for Ben. Not only was this a good picture—Ben had his arm around her shoulder and was smiling his biggest smile—but it represented a great memory. Something that would never be blotted away from her present, past, or future. Because, broken heart or not, doing that video with Ben would be her life’s crowning achievement. It deserved to be commemorated.

  Except that looking at the frame made her start to cry again. She’d never paid all that much attention to it before. She’d been too focused on the picture. The frame was elegant, with scrolled flowers cut into the wood. It was solid; rich with quality craftsmanship. It was expensive. Especially considering who had purchased it. She didn’t deserve it. If her finances were that tight—so tight that her entire week’s allowance could be spent in the snack isle of the Quick Mart—she doubted that she’d be purchasing something of that caliber for Jackson. She didn’t deserve him.

  Her walls were practically bare now. She looked around
at the bright purple walls. The paint was scuffed and scratched, dinged and pocked. It was time to repaint. It was, in fact, time to give the entire room an update. She wasn’t thirteen anymore. She wasn’t some dorky little girl crushing on a rockstar.

  Sighing deeply, Kat picked up Jack’s list again. She added number six:

  I get to redecorate my room

  Her mom would love that one. And Kat figured that her mom would gladly give Kat the money for the project. Then Kat could have money in her account again. And this time she’d be more careful with it. She’d makeover her room on a small budget and pocket the rest. See, maybe something good could come from all this. Just like Jack had said. That thought made her throat tight. She needed to learn from Jack. She needed his resilience. His perspective.

  Ben was no longer a part of her life; but he was still alive. Jack knew the opposite. He knew what it was like to see a life taken away. And while Jack had been quiet—somber—for a time, he’d bounced right back. Like he’d never seen that man die. It was amazing really, that Jack could put all that behind him. Albeit his paper route days were over. But that wasn’t a big deal. What was a big deal was that Jack somehow had found a way to be at peace with it all. And his life had continued on. It made what happened to Kat seem rather insignificant. What was a little heartbreak in comparison to seeing death?

  She tried to tell herself that—over and over again. Let it sink in. Flow through her blood. Reach her heart. But her heart wasn’t receiving it. It felt bruised and broken. Damaged. Each heartbeat hurt like she was using a sore, strained muscle. This wasn’t supposed to happen. She’d been so careful. She’d built a sandbag retaining wall around her heart, right from the start. Back when she’d first realized that Ben was interested in her. She had known his adoration could only last so long. So she’d tried to protect herself. Never let her heart entirely loose—never let him entirely in. She had thought it worked—that she’d put up enough sandbags to keep her heart from this flood of emotions. She’d enjoyed each moment with Ben. Cherished it. She had known that just being with him was an incredible gift. And that’s why the sandbags were there. Because no gift can last forever. She’d tried to protect herself from feeling any pain. She wanted only good memories of Ben. But somewhere along the way, she must have lost diligence. There was a gap in her retaining wall. The emotions had flooded in. She loved Ben. She missed him. With all her heart.