He continued to glare at me, and I was reminded of the bloodbath Jonas predicted.
“Listen,” I continued. “I have a lot to do if I’m going to make this work. I need to make calls tomorrow. Set up some interviews. Look into apartments near campus.”
“Are you moving in together? How do her parents feel about this?” Grace interrupted.
“Jillian’s already been assigned to a dorm room with her friends. I just need something small, but I’d prefer something near her campus,” I explained. I hoped that I at least sounded like I had my shit together. I still had a lot of loose ends to tie up.
“This conversation isn’t over, Luke,” Carter added. “But I think we both need to cool down a bit.”
“We can discuss it as much as you want,” I replied with conviction. “But I need to do this.”
I wasn’t trying to act like a dick, but there was just so much I was willing to take. I wanted his blessing, but I didn’t need it. And if that meant leaving against his wishes, I would.
I headed back upstairs, giving Carter the space and time he needed to calm down. I laid down in bed thinking about what I would be bringing with me to New York. I had planned to take my bike with me to Seattle, but I wasn’t about to drive it across the country. Since I’d be flying, I would be packing lightly. I really didn’t need much.
My thoughts quickly shifted back to the image of Jillian in my apartment, wearing one of my shirts, something quirky like wool socks and nothing else. My body began to react and I shifted uncomfortably in my bed with thoughts of the cliffs replaying in my mind.
I needed to see her.
It was almost eleven when I checked my watch. I knew I should just stay put and call her in the morning. I knew I should show a little restraint. Hell, I knew I should be worried that if Henry Cross caught me, I could screw everything up. But I wasn’t thinking that way. I shouldn’t need to see her, but I did. I shouldn’t be thinking about touching her again, but I was. And I shouldn’t be skulking around her house at night, but that was the plan. I couldn’t bring myself to feel bad about it—not even when I was marching out the front door and over to the Lexus.
This time I’d know where to park so that the car wouldn’t alert her parents that I was there. This time I’d know to avoid the house with the yappy dog. This time I’d know which window to throw the rocks at. And this time I’d coax her downstairs and back to my car. If I was lucky, she’d be wearing that tank top again. If I was really lucky, she wouldn’t be wearing it for long.
Just as I had imagined, I navigated the course easier this time sending a silent ‘screw you’ over to that rat dog next to her house. I grabbed a few small rocks and sent them up to the purple window, waiting patiently for the shadow to appear in the dark.
I realized that I hadn’t really planned out what I was going to say. ‘Hey Jillian, it’s been almost a week since we had sex and I kind of want to try that again’ probably wasn’t the most romantic proposition in the world, but it pretty much summed up my feelings. We hadn’t had any time alone and I needed to touch her again. Things were intense at the prom and I wanted to ease her mind about the trip to New York…and maybe ease that tank top off.
When she didn’t appear in the window, I grabbed a few more rocks and chucked them harder at the glass. I still had to be careful. A broken window would not work well with my plan to remove her top.
I contemplated throwing a bigger rock or even trying to call her name, but it was too risky. I was going to have to leave and wait until tomorrow to see her, but the vision of her tank top on the floor of my car had gotten me pretty worked up. I was not looking forward to going home and taking matters into my own hands.
I headed to my car, and like before, walked backwards, watching the window for some movement behind the curtain. This time there was no smirk, no wave, just the darkened room and silence.
I sped off into the night irritated that Jillian was such a deep sleeper. If we weren’t leaving for New York soon, I’d insist she get a cellphone so this shit didn’t happen again, but luckily I wouldn’t have to worry about disturbing her parents for much longer. Once we were in New York, things would be much different because I didn’t plan on spending many nights alone.
Back at home, when I stepped into the shower and closed my eyes, it was her hands lathering the soap along my chest. Her touch along on my arms and around my shoulders. It was her fingers moving along my stomach and further below.
It was her wet body I imagined in the shower with me. Sliding up against and along mine. Meshing together. Grinding and grabbing. Holding on and pulling up. It was her working me into a frenzy. Gasping, panting, groaning and finally freezing.
But as good as it felt, when I opened my eyes, my shower was empty, and Jillian was at home.
New York couldn’t come soon enough.
The next morning, I woke early knowing I had a lot to do before I could swing by Jillian’s and after my failed attempt the night before, I really wanted to swing by Jillian’s.
I stumbled out of bed and shuffled over to my desk to boot up my Mac. Lying next to the mouse pad were the contents of my pant pockets. I grabbed the empty gum wrappers and dumped them in the trash then tossed my lighter into the top drawer. I had been so distracted lately that I was slipping up. If Grace had come in and seen the lighter on my desk, it would’ve set her off. Underneath all of the trash were our prom tickets. Picking one up, I stared absently at it, not really seeing the paper in front of me, but Jillian’s pale skin against her dark dress, swaying with me in the dark.
I pulled a pin out of my bulletin board and tacked it there. It was sandwiched between a cardboard coaster from Jonas’ and the New York City street map I’d printed out. Shaking off the urge to call myself a sentimental wuss, I turned on the computer.
I spent the next hour looking through ads online. The good news was that I could already serve alcohol in New York because I was eighteen, which meant I could apply for a bartending position. The bad news was that the ads online were far from impressive.
Planet Hollywood was looking for a bartender. I could only imagine how badly I’d need to gouge my eyes out surrounded by useless artifacts from ghosts of celebrities past. Because everybody is just dying to see Dustin Hoffman’s Tootsie dress, right?
There were a number of ads for shirtless bartenders and one where pants were optional. And I was pretty sure a few of them may have been part-time escort services because their tipping policy sounded suspect.
Weeding through the online garbage, I was able to find a few prospects all in the Village. They weren’t fancy, but I’d be able to keep my clothes on.
If I planned to fly to New York with Jillian for her orientation, I’d need a place to live. That would mean putting a deposit down on an apartment without seeing it first. Obviously, not an optimal situation. I printed out a few decent apartments and made a few calls, narrowing the list down to three small studios all within walking distance of campus.
I wanted to get Jillian’s input before I made any decisions, so I figured it would be a good time to head over and run them by her. It was unfortunately a lot later in the day than I expected, but early enough that I wouldn’t need to worry that she’d be asleep and oblivious again.
Armed with the apartment listings, I drove the short route to her house, happy that it was a good excuse to show up unannounced.
Jillian’s car was is the driveway when I pulled up. I jogged up to the front door and nervously rang the bell. I was accused of plotting to have sex with Jillian in the backseat of my car the last time I saw Henry Cross. Now that it was something I was actually considering, I was a little anxious. Fortunately, it was her mom who opened the door, looking surprised to see me.
“Luke!” she exclaimed. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“I was just dropping by to see Jillian,” I explained. She knitted her brows and looked at me curiously.
“Honey, Jillian left for school this morning.”
/> It was my turn to knit my brows and stare strangely back at her, almost as if the words weren’t registering. She wasn’t making any sense. Jillian wasn’t leaving for New York for almost two weeks. Maybe she had her days mixed up or she was a lot crazier than she let on. Maybe she was joking. Maybe she didn’t realize that it really wasn’t funny.
“But she’s not supposed to leave until the 12th,” I stammered, feeling stupid for explaining.
“Oh, honey, she had a change of plans.”
Again I was reeling, going over possible explanations for what I was hearing.
Maybe Jillian wanted some time away from her parents and was staying with Danielle. Maybe there was an emergency and she tried to reach me, but couldn’t. Maybe she went there to scope out apartments early. Maybe her mother was truly insane.
I needed to talk to Danielle.
“Thanks,” I replied absently, my jog turning into a sprint as I approached the car.
This had to be a huge misunderstanding and there would be a really logical explanation. And later when it was all sorted out, we were going to laugh because it didn’t make enough sense to be true in the first place.
On my way to Danielle’s house, I gripped the wheel so tightly that my palms were beginning to ache. My stomach was in knots and my knee was bouncing. This had to be a mistake.
Naturally Josh’s car was out front when I arrived. I rang the bell waiting for someone to answer and set all of this straight. When the door opened, it was Danielle, and I was once again met with look a surprise and confusion.
“Hey, Luke! It’s good to see you. What’s going on?”
“Have you heard from Jillian?” I asked, cutting through the pleasantries and straight to the point.
“Jillian? Um, yeah,” she replied, “I wasn’t supposed to tell anybody because I guess she didn’t want to make a big deal of it, but she left for school this morning.”
“Hey, man,” Josh said, walking up behind Danielle and placing his hands on her shoulders. “What’re you up to later?”
Josh went on to say something about Tyler’s party and Danielle’s parents not being home. I didn’t really know what he said because I’d stopped paying attention.
She left.
“I have to get going,” I managed to mutter, turning around and heading back to my car before either could respond.
She freaking left.
It still didn’t make any sense. I knew we hadn’t solidified our plans, but we solidified us. Didn’t I deserve an explanation?
I kept rehashing our conversation from the prom over and over again, searching for clues in what she said and how she said it.
I don’t want to lose this.
I wish we had more time.
Did she know she was leaving when we were at the prom? Is that why she reacted the way she did? But then why would she tell me she felt the same way, too? It didn’t make sense.
Unless she really didn’t.
No. I could feel it when I touched her. I could see it when she looked at me. I hadn’t imagined it. There was more to this, and I just needed to figure it out.
Maybe I scared her by moving too fast. Maybe she didn’t believe me when I said that I only wanted her. Maybe I should’ve been honest and told her I loved her. Then maybe I could’ve stopped this from happening.
However, the fact remained that she was gone, and she hadn’t said shit to me about it. I pulled over to the side of the road, cursing and pounding my palms against the wheel.
What the hell happened?
I sat there staring off into the woods by the side of the road. I don’t know how long I sat there as I tried to figure out what to do. I could call her, but what would I say? Hi Jillian, it’s Luke. What the hell? As stupid as it sounded, I really needed to know. I needed her to explain it to me—spell it out—because this was seriously messed up.
As it started to get dark, I headed home feeling numb. Pulling into the driveway, I looked up at the house. Everything seemed different to me somehow. I sat in the car, letting it idle, unable to make myself move and go to the door because when I did, I would need to make a call that would be far more difficult than the one to Jonas. She was going to tell me why she left, tell me some bullshit excuse as to why she moved across the country without telling me. I didn’t want to hear it, but I needed to hear it. She owed me that much.
Finally turning off the car and stumbling out, I dragged myself into the house feeling beat up and drained. No one was home so I was able to avoid a continuation of our conversation from yesterday. I was lucky considering I had no answers to give.
My bedroom was dark except for the eerie light from the computer monitor. I sat at my desk and was immediately assaulted by memories of Jillian. The prom ticket I had just tacked to my bulletin board was right in front of me along with the street map that I apparently didn’t need anymore. A stack of blank CDs was piled in the corner, left over from when I burned her The White Stripes disc. The Chili Peppers CD mocked me as it elicited the image of Jillian leaning back against the desk, wide-eyed and panting.
With a swipe of my arm, I knocked everything off the desk and onto the floor, cursing and reveling in the comforting crash. The mug that held random pens and pencils shattered into a dozen pieces. Jewel cases cracked and the stand on my keyboard broke off. I wanted this destruction. But as I looked at the carnage on my bedroom floor, it didn’t cure the dull ache in my chest. It only pissed me off that I needed to clean it up.
After returning the keyboard to my desk, I pulled up the page for NYU, searching for a main number. When the operator picked up the phone, my whole body tensed.
“Hi, I’m looking for the extension of a student that just moved in,” I explained. “Jillian Cross.”
“One moment, please,” she mumbled. It was insulting that she sounded so bored when my heart was practically hammering in my chest. “We have a Jillian Cross, but her telephone account isn’t set up yet. Would you like to leave a message and we can have it sent to her dorm?”
“You’re kidding me,” I muttered. “No. No thanks,” I said, hanging up.
It was probably better off. What was I going to say to keep myself from sounding like a lovesick idiot anyway? I’d get my shit together and call back in the morning. In the mean time, I couldn’t stay in the same room I’d spent the last three weeks jacking off in. I needed to get out.
I grabbed my keys, ignoring the mess on the floor, leaving the house and any thoughts of her behind. Ironically, the only place I wanted to be was the place that reminded me of her the most.
I parked my car in the same spot I had a hundred times before, but it seemed strange and out of place. I walked through the same path through the trees, ducking under the low branches, but it was like I wasn’t really there. Still dazed, I headed to the center of the clearing in what was once my spot, but it wasn’t mine anymore. Everything was different and everything was wrong.
I pulled the flask out of my pocket, glaring at it ruefully. Damned if she ruined that for me, too. I tipped it back and resigned myself to a night of forgetting, of moving on, of drinking her away.
I looked up at the sky, thankful for our dismal weather for once because the cloud cover hid the night sky. My flask wasn’t as full as I would have liked it. It wasn’t as effective as I’d hoped. But it dulled the ache, warmed my chest and made me feel just for a little while that everything wasn’t so screwed up.
When I drained the last drop, I still wasn’t drunk enough or numb enough. I was still empty and pissed and disappointed in myself for allowing any of this shit to happen. There was a reason I didn’t get involved. There was a reason I kept people at arm’s length. It was the reason I managed to survive what I did. You can’t depend on anyone but yourself. Despite what people may say, when it comes down to it, everyone is just out for themselves. I knew it then, but I chose to push past my cynical nature and allow myself to feel, to trust her. And it did me a lot of good. I ended up sitting alone with a flask ruined by a
girl that didn’t even have the decency to tell me to go to hell before she took off.
Screw her. Screw everyone.
I was getting ready to make a trip to the liquor store down the street when I heard a rustling in the bushes. For a moment, all logic left me and my heart began to race as I wondered if it could be her coming back to explain that it was all a big misunderstanding.
For once, when Carter walked across the clearing towards me, I felt nothing but disappointment. This wasn’t something he could fix and I sure the hell didn’t need a pep talk.
I stared straight ahead, only seeing his movement in my peripheral vision. I made no attempt to hide the flask or pretend that I was just hanging out. I was in no mood to pretend. I probably couldn’t even if I tried.
He slowly lowered himself down onto the ground, arms wrapping around his bent knees. He stared off into the distance as if he were looking at the same thing I was. I wasn’t looking at anything.
I couldn’t just sit there and wait for him to say something. It was torture.
“Aren’t you going to ask?”
“Why you’re here?” he replied. “I think it’s pretty obvious. You and Jillian have a fight? Did you break up?”
I couldn’t help the laughing. It was full of all the bitterness and anger that had been stewing since I left her house.
“You can’t break up with someone who isn’t your boyfriend,” I replied harshly. “As a matter of fact, turns out you don’t owe them anything at all.”
Carter didn’t waver and continued to stare straight ahead, no doubt processing the information.
“What did she say to you?”
“She didn’t,” I replied, earning a curious look from him, “say anything. She just left.”
“Did you try speaking to her? There must be some explanation.”
“Yeah. I’m sure there is,” I replied. A couple of hours ago, I wanted nothing more than to call her and force an explanation. Now, I wasn’t so sure I wanted to hear it.
“So now what?” he asked cautiously.
“What do you mean?”
Living Backwards Page 25