Back to You (Don't Forget Me Book 2)

by Sia Wales

  “Would he ever have come back to me?” This is the question that goes round and round my head. One thing is certain––he certainly didn’t want to leave me right after the reception on Lake Michigan. So why did he do it? He didn’t want to tell me. Would the answer have been too awful for me to accept? So awful he feared losing me?

  That was the last weekend I ever spent with Jason. I sometimes wonder if that dreadful reception for hedge fund managers had something to do with what happened afterwards. It was the beginning of the end. I wonder if Jason really is J.

  Sitting on the bed, I rest my cheek on my knee. I knew that the path I have chosen would be a tough road. I was thinking of the worse that could happen, the most dramatic situation I would be able to handle. I have to think about these things, otherwise I would never be able to see the light at the end of the tunnel.

  I pick up the CD cover and look through it, curious. A loose photo falls from it. I feel dizzy, as if I’m standing on the edge of a cliff about to fall off. It is of Vuk and me together, sitting with our legs crossed on the cot in the storeroom. I almost feel ashamed that I look so vacant. He took the picture to capture that moment in time, a time in my life when I couldn’t stop laughing about a funny story he had told me about his brother. I know nothing about him, not even his name.

  I smile when I think about his carefree grin. It was the night of his very first performance at the bar. I fold the photo in two and tuck it back into the case so that only Vuk’s face is visible.

  I take a quick look at the first selfie taken with Vuk on his old pickup, which is now metal scrap in some junkyard. My smile fades immediately. So many, too many things have changed so drastically.

  I had written names, dates, places, and situations for each photo. I fidget with a corner of the paper, holding down the bottom photo. My untidy handwriting reads, “Jason Rees, Lake Michigan, October 4th.”

  It is the last picture I have of Jason. When I pull it out, it takes my breath away. It shows Jason, his face full of warmth, pulling me off to the dance floor at the reception. It vaguely resembles the real Jason. But he’s still breathtakingly handsome, just like in real life. I move on to the next picture without lingering on it too long. I turn it over, faking indifference.

  The second to last snapshot shows Jeff and Jason laughing together, looking at me amused and happy. I try to look away when a small background detail catches my eye. I see a man staring into the camera lens as if he had been watching me for some time. His eyes are ruby red, his hair wavy. An intent icy expression is fixed on his face.

  But there’s an even more worrying detail. Under the huge bandstand where the orchestra is playing, among the multitude of faces surrounding them, I recognize a blond angel with twinkling emerald and sapphire eyes. It is him, the one and only Aaron Dale.

  So he was there that night, too. He was also invited to the reception. Another coincidence? I doubt it. The details are coming together like the pieces of a puzzle. Maybe, just maybe, if my suspicions are founded, that’s where he and Jason met for the first time. Where they became so close, they became like family.

  The difference between them is striking; Aaron looks like a deity. Jeff and Jason, however handsome they may be, are just plain old human beings. It is the difference in their expressions that stands out––the blond angel’s is reserved. He seems more like a statue than a human.

  There he is in another photo, the last one taken that night. He’s standing at the corner of the photo. The perspective is the difference, but the main subjects and the setting are the same. Aaron’s expression is once again unreadable and dignified, but he also seems somewhat worried and guarded.

  I scroll through the rest of the photos quickly until I get to another one showing me standing, looking at the sunset on my first day at college. I can’t remember what I was waiting for. But Jason isn’t there yet. I don’t want to admit that he is whom I’m waiting for, but it’s obvious.

  Repetition

  The next morning, I awaken as the first ray of light infiltrates through the drapes. The sky is practically invisible. I mechanically get ready for school, hoping the clouds will part. From the window I see only dense fog.

  The wind blowing and the sound of rain on the roof has kept me awake most of the night.

  Breakfast with Jeff this morning feels laid back. He wishes me good luck for my second day back in school. I thank him, but I know that, usually, luck is not on my side. Jeff leaves the house for work before I do. As I sit in solitude, my mind wonders back to the photo album. I stare at my cereal, which I’m continuously stirring instead of eating. I sit at the old, square wooden kitchen table on one of the three mismatched chairs.

  I leave the house quickly, hoping to also leave my worries behind. I’m one of the first students to arrive to class. The advantage of being early is being able to find a great parking spot. The disadvantage is that I have some time to kill, as I try with all my might not to think about the party the other night and, especially, about the unexpected appearance of J.. Not to mention Donn’s nervous reaction.

  I force myself to look at the gloomy day unfolding on the other side of the windshield, and focus on the finance textbook balancing on my lap. The car lot slowly fills up.

  I slam the door of my ’69 Pontiac shut, noting with pleasure that the majority of the other cars in the lot are as old as mine, nothing new and flashy. Except for a showy red Ford, parked three cars away from mine. Like everyone else, I turn to check it out.

  I slowly approach Vuk, leaning languidly on his pickup. But Jamie comes toward me with a friendly smile, framed by her pretty face. At the sight of her eyes shining again with enthusiasm, I burst into happy laughter.

  I could be wrong, but her attitude toward me seems to have changed since yesterday; she seems more open, as if everything is back to as it was before.

  “So, did you like Vuk’s song?” she asks, cheerfully.

  “Yes, it’s incredible.”

  “And how was the party?” she asks vivaciously, as we walk towards Vuk.

  He must have told her how the evening went. An icy chill runs down my spine. “Well, luckily it’s over!” I mumble, my eyes fixed on Vuk.

  Jamie looks surprised. She’s taken aback when she realizes that my mood is still as dark as the previous morning.

  “Did something happen that I should know about?” she asks cautiously.

  “No,” I sigh, “nothing in particular.” I try to disguise my anxiety with a forced smile.

  We get to talking about Vuk.

  “Anyway, sorry I couldn’t make it to the party the other night, I’ll make it up to you,” she adds. “Hey, Vuk, take a picture of us!” she gushes spontaneously, handing him her cell phone, with the camera app already open.

  “Jamie,” I complain, “What do you want a photo of me for?”

  “Because you’re my friend and you got through your first day back at class without having issues,” she jokes. “Let’s say it’s a good omen for your second day. So, let’s have our picture taken together, ok?”

  I don’t want to disappoint her, she seems so happy. I force a smile on my face, my head leaning on her shoulder. But the muscles of my face are tense behind a deceptively relaxed surface.

  “You’ve gotta smile, little girl,” murmurs Vuk.

  I take a deep breath and manage to comply. The flash blinds me.

  Without being seen, I grab my own cell phone from my bag and open the camera app.

  Vuk notices, but he doesn’t bother looking at the camera, he just furrows his eyebrows a little. I take the picture anyway.

  “Come on, Jamie, take a photo of Vuk and me.” I hand her my cell and feel a brief, warm shiver run through me.

  “Sure,” she smiles, and snaps a picture as he’s taking me into his arms and planting a kiss on my forehead.

  I try to avoid his cryptic eyes, but his gaze seeks mine. A quiver of fire engulfs my guts. I want to look at his face, but I fear the emotions that flare up inside
me when he looks at me that way.

  His face is unreadable. He pulls me into a strangely proper pose. He delicately places one hand on my shoulder, as I wrap an arm around his waist.

  “Smile, Stella!” Jamie sulks. She must be wondering just how hard it could be to stretch my lips into a smile.

  I look at Vuk and smile without trying. The camera flashes. His expression has become reserved, cautious. He takes his hand off my shoulder and slips out of my arm.

  “Right, your turn now,” he suggests. I know that he just wants to avoid having the lens aimed at him. He gracefully takes the cell from Jamie.

  “Hey, Jamie?” I ask. As I speak, Vuk takes the shot.

  “What is it, Stella?” He takes another picture, a close-up this time.

  “That’s enough photos for today,” I grumble, as Vuk snaps a close-up of me. I look at him uncomfortably. His lips curve into a smile and he takes another one, without even looking at the screen.

  “I don’t want to use up all the memory,” I explain. “And I’ve got to go sign some paperwork at the main building’s Admissions office, so I’d better get going. Professor Keynes’ lecture starts in a few minutes.”

  And the predictable result of my unexpected excuse is a series of snapshots being taken against my will. So childish.

  I watch them laugh as they pass the cell back and forth between them, joking about how they look in the pictures. Maybe today I’m just not in the right mood to really appreciate the laughter of a normal human being. But it’s kinda fun, anyway.

  In the end, Vuk puts an end to it by grabbing each one of us by the arm and lifting us into the air and spinning around. I can’t help but laugh.

  Then with a benign smile, he hands my phone back, which I pop between the two notebooks I’m carrying, and hurries off to class. Jamie and I also rush off to the Admissions office in the main building.

  I know from experience that once Jamie starts chatting, all I have to do is nod now and then, at the appropriate moment. Being with her requires minimal interaction. I look at my reflection on the glass doors at the entrance and practice smiling. I try to maintain the static expression on my face. I know that she was put out by my antisocial behavior recently. So, except for her initial enthusiasm, she’s playing it a little cool. But, luckily for me, she’s not being standoffish anymore.

  “Thanks for coming to the Admissions office with me,” I say to Jamie as we climb the stairs. I want her to know how grateful I am for letting me back in.

  “No worries,” she replies warmly.

  “What changed your mind?”

  “About what?”

  We climb another flight of stairs.

  “Why did you all of a sudden decide… to go out again?” she explains, after thinking about how to articulate her thoughts best.

  We stop in front of a room that has an admission sign hanging on the door.

  I shrug. “I needed to turn things around.” I open the door.

  It’s been a while since I’ve had to choose my words carefully with anyone, except Jeff. It’s even harder with Jamie. I’m not sure which emotions are safe to expose with her.

  The office is airy and warm, with a long line of students, longer than I anticipated. The office is divided in two by a long desk. A tiny area with folding plastic chairs is the waiting room for the adjoining room. A shiver runs down my spine again.

  The office is exactly the same as it was when I first arrived in Boston from Italy. It was pouring that day, and I was already missing the scorching heat, the cloudless blue skies of the Mediterranean climate. But over time I realized that I liked this historical city, vaguely reminiscent of England, rainy and gray.

  I only had one piece of luggage, and all I was carrying was a jacket. From the airplane above, through the thick layer of clouds, I could make out the place that was to become my home.

  I was wearing jeans, a t-shirt and a sweatshirt. Jeff was waiting for me just past the baggage claim. He welcomed me with a long, warm hug.

  He leaned over me, kissed my head and said, “It’s good to see you again, little girl.” And from that day on, we became closer and closer; we now understand each other with just a glance. He doesn’t like me to call him Jeff, but he’s gotten used to it. He probably wouldn’t like it if I called him dad, either.

  He picked me up in the Corvette, tossed the keys at me, loaded the luggage in the trunk and we went to celebrate at his bar. The photo on his office desk was taken that night.

  On that very same day I went to the Admissions office and met Jason for the first time. I hadn’t thought about that for a year now. I have a talent for erasing painful memories from my mind.

  I arrived at the office and the same stocky woman I’m lining up to see now, gave me a class schedule and a map of campus. She showed me where my first class would be and the easiest way to get there.

  Before going down the stairs, I studied the huge map, trying to memorize it, so that I wouldn’t have to keep checking it all day. I stuffed it in my backpack that hung over my shoulders, and began climbing down the stairs, feeling lost. When I tripped on a step, he caught me in his arms.

  “Hi…” he said, smiling, still holding onto me to break my fall. But even after I regained balance, he still held my body close to his, which was, at the time, as warm as mine. But now, if ’m guessing correctly, it will be as cold as ice.

  “I’m ok,” I mumbled.

  “I’m glad you are! Unfortunately, I hurt myself.”

  “Oh, sorry,” I replied awkwardly.

  “So tonight, you have to make it up to me,” he grins.

  “How?” I asked, puzzled. He tilted his head and said, “Buy me a drink.” The words rolled off his tongue casually.

  “I can’t,” I replied.

  “Why not?” As if he were challenging me.

  “I just moved to Boston, I barely got here from the airport,” I exclaimed. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings. He kept looking at me, with sincere curiosity.

  “Then I’ll buy you a drink. You say when, and I’ll be there.”

  “Do you know how to get to Medford?”

  He nodded, awaiting further instructions, unfolding his perfect, confident smile.

  “I’ll be at The Pats,” I added, mesmerized by his sapphire eyes. I had never seen such amazing, intensely blue eyes before.

  And that is how Jason came into my life. But painfully, every rose has its thorn… And the loud ticking from the clock hanging on the wall, marking the passing of time, awakes me from my reverie.

  “Stella?” Jamie’s voice is calling me. “Ella May, wake up.”

  I turn to her.

  “Are you still on this planet?” she asks, looking puzzled.

  “I think I was daydreaming.”

  As I wait for my turn, I slip my hand into my bag and pull out my cell. I run through the photo album.

  My finger stops on the first photo of Vuk, which takes my breath away. It’s unbelievable that someone could be that… godlike with such wolf-like features. Words cannot describe how handsome he is. And I look so average. I slide my fingers through the photos again, almost irritated.

  I dwell on a staged photo, but then thumb through the next few until I find a more spur-of-the-moment one, which shows Vuk holding me in his steely grasp. His face is radiant, full of warmth. He is delicious, just like in real life. An abyss divides us. He looks like the god of werewolves. I’m just a geeky, average girl. A thousand words would not be adequate to describe the contrast.

  I add the photo to a text message and write, “The picture speaks for itself, and I have nothing to add. Except for two words: together forever.” I send the text to Vuk, not only to thank him for the song at the party the other night, but also to show my appreciation for being my best friend.

  In the meantime, the line of students is moving slower than molasses. Jamie searches my eyes. “How’s it going with Vuk?” She asks out of the blue.

  “Fine…” I reply abruptly and change the sub
ject. “Have you been out with anyone recently?”

  “Not really. I went out with Bryan a few days ago.” She had already mentioned that in class yesterday. “And I sometimes go out with Josh, the guy who takes classes with Eliot. But the weirdest date I had was with Luc, the guy who lives across the road from me,” she whispers.

  “What got into you?”

  She looks at me strangely again.

  “What if he is a psychopath?” I smile.

  She tries to be poised, but her bubbly personality shines through as she wonders aloud.

  “Luc? My harmless neighbor?”

  “Yep,” I grin. “You always think you know everything about the boy next door!” Then I add gravely, “I think it’s the storyline from the scariest horror film I’ve seen in the past six months: ‘The Block of Death’.”

  “Whoa!” exclaims Jamie. “That title is gloomy. What’s it about?”

  “An invasion of serial killer zombies, or something like that.”

  She looks at me in concern. Maybe my voice seemed weird to her. “I’m gonna have a few nightmares tonight,” she declares.

  For me nightmares are a usual occurrence, but it’s got nothing to do with scary movies.

  “I sure will,” she confirms, trying to keep a steady voice. “You are a strange one, Stella May Whitely,” she adds, shaking her head.

  I shrug. “Sorry.” I don’t know what else to say. “Let’s go get some lunch,” I smile.

  Although my own zombie-like expression has temporarily faded, I still feel like I’m a million miles from reality. I’m worried. That sense of death, the familiar sense of blurred reality, does not return, and after a few minutes I anxiously miss it.

  “Where shall we eat?”

  “Wherever you want.”

  She bursts out laughing.

  “How about the cafeteria.”

  “Ok,” I smile.

  As we keep waiting in line, Jamie begins talking about Bryan, about how well he treated her when they went out. I nod along as she brags about how good-looking he is, but I don’t find him attractive even though I nod and agree. I manage to let her gush about him for the entire time we wait in the Admissions office, which distracts me from the two happy students holding hands in front of us in the line.