Living Backwards

by Tracy Sweeney

“Well, yesterday you were moving to New York.”

  I knew it was hard for Carter to step outside the parenting role, but I didn’t want to think about career paths or lack-thereofs at the moment. I wanted to refill my flask and forget everything.

  “I really don’t want to discuss this right now, Carter,” I replied.

  “Come on. It’s freezing. You’ve done enough damage out here,” he said as he stood up and brushed himself off. “Besides, Grace made nutella and biscotti.”

  He reached his hand out to help me up, smiling down at me. I came close to telling him to screw and shove his biscotti up his ass. But I didn’t. I grabbed his hand and dusted myself off. I followed him back to his car and slid into the passenger seat. We drove back home silently.

  I knew what I was going to do before I even sat down at the table to try some of Grace’s biscotti and nutella. I knew it was going to suck because I didn’t like admitting I was wrong. I wasn’t going to call Jillian. I was going to call Jonas.

  I excused myself and returned upstairs. Ignoring the mess on the floor of my room, once again I called Jonas to discuss my future.

  “Jonas,” the familiar voice answered.

  “Hey, man,” I replied quietly.

  “Luke, I thought you’d be halfway to New York by now,” he responded coolly.

  “Yeah, about that,” I began. “I’m not going to New York.”

  “Ah. Trouble in paradise?”

  “You could say that,” I replied, not wanting to give him a play-by-play. “I can be there tomorrow around eleven, if that’s okay.”

  “Listen, Luke, what did I explain to you when we first talked about you working for me?” he began. “I needed someone dependable. Someone who wasn’t going to go running off to the first frat party they’re invited to. Remember? What happens if your girl calls next week and wants to see you?”

  I tried to respond, but I was stunned by his response. I figured he’d give me a hard time, but it didn’t occur to me that he might say no.

  “You’d go, right?” he pressed.

  Would I? I didn’t know. I guess it wasn’t a no.

  “That’s what I thought,” he replied when I didn’t answer right away.

  “Jonas, I’d never leave you in a lurch,” I argued.

  “I know you don’t think you would, Luke. I told you I know you’re a good kid, but things are just too complicated for you right now. I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

  “If you just give me a chance,” I countered.

  “Listen, we’ll talk again next month. If I haven’t found someone permanently, we can revisit,” he offered with a sense of finality. There wasn’t much else I could say.

  “I’m sorry,” I replied. I felt like a piece of shit.

  “I’ll talk to you soon, Luke,” he added before I heard the harsh click of a dial tone.

  I hung up the phone and bent down to start picking up the mess I made earlier. My anger at the situation, no, at her, intensified as the implications came crashing down around me. I wasn’t going to college. I wasn’t going to New York, and now I wasn’t working with Jonas either. This wasn’t okay. This was bullshit.

  I slumped down onto the edge of my bed, raking my fingers over my face. I needed a game plan, but how could I make a plan when the only thing I wanted just wasn’t an option anymore?

  Exhausted from the events of the day, I cleaned up and crawled into bed. Tomorrow I’d drive to Seattle and convince Jonas that I made a mistake. Nothing was what I thought it was. I needed a chance to make things right. To forget any of this ever happened. I needed that fresh start.

  I could barely remember back to the time when I daydreamed of coeds and body shots and the start of a new life. But I’d make myself remember. It had been erased by perfume, white underwear and Green Day. But it was all a mistake, leaving me wide awake and empty trying to forget her red lips and shirt.

  When I woke in the middle of the night, drenched and covered in sweat, I knew she’d haunt me even if I left. But I would do everything I could to leave it all behind.

  Impulsively, I picked up the phone, knowing it was stupid as I dialed. The extra rings told me that I was waking him up. I should’ve felt bad, but I was desperate.

  “Hello,” the groggy voice answered.

  “Jonas,” I began.

  “Jesus Christ, Luke, what time is it?”

  “I don’t know. Four-thirty?”

  “Are you kidding me? You better have a good explanation, kid,” he warned.

  I hadn’t planned what I wanted to say, but it all spilled out.

  “I know you don’t trust me. God, I don’t trust me, but you have to give me another chance, Jonas. I messed up and I know it, but I thought…Jesus, I don’t know what I thought. Just, please. I have nowhere else to go.”

  I hated that I was pleading. I hated that it wasn’t even what I wanted to be doing. I hated that she did this.

  I heard him take a deep breath and slowly expel it into the receiver. The silence was killing me.

  “Get here before noon,” he replied, and then the line went dead.

  I’d get back on track. I’d head to Seattle tomorrow, leaving all of the memories of her behind. I’d make it work. I’d learn the job. I’d flirt with coeds. I’d make a life for myself. I didn’t need her. I didn’t need anyone. I wouldn’t make the same mistake ever again.

  CHAPTER 18

  Jillian

  I’m wearing what has become my uniform. Yoga pants, hooded sweatshirt and Uggs. My hair is in a high ponytail and my face is without makeup. I don’t need makeup. I’m not planning on going anywhere. The radio is on and it’s pretty loud. Danielle is listening to ‘N SYNC again and I just want to tell Justin—no, it’s not gonna be me. I had my chance. I made my choice.

  I hear them moving around in the bathroom and again in their bedrooms.

  “Is she coming with us?” I hear Megan ask Danielle. She never learned how to whisper.

  “What do you think?” she replies, sarcastic, but sad. I can’t feel bad. I can’t feel anything.

  “We can’t keep leaving her here. This is getting ridiculous. Something happened,” Megan argues.

  Something happened. It almost makes me want to laugh. Almost.

  “What do you want me to say? I’ve tried,” Danielle replies. She has. I always say no.

  “Well, I’ve had enough.” Megan sounds determined. I don’t take my eyes off of the television as she approaches. I know what’s coming next. This time, she kneels down beside me. That’s considerate. I won’t have to look up at her towering figure when I tell her to leave me alone.

  “Jill, listen, if something’s going on with you and you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll respect that. But you can’t stay in like this every weekend.” She motions to my outfit, clearly not pleased with my uniform.

  “The party is very low-key. Plus, I heard that Mark Jensen is going to be there. He’s in your philosophy class, isn’t he?”

  Nice try.

  “I have plans,” I lie.

  “With who? The Iron Chef?”

  Megan’s not funny often. I like to throw her a bone when she is.

  “I have an outline due to Professor Parsons on Monday. I need to start it, but you’re right. I should get out more.”

  I wouldn’t have believed me.

  “Can I meet you there in a bit?”

  “Really?” she asks, the smile playing on her face. So full of hope. Because she still has hope.

  “Really,” I reply.

  And when they leave for the party, I reiterate that I’ll see them soon. But I won’t. I pick up the remote control. I turn on The Food Network. The secret ingredient is chicken.

  I was jarred awake from my strange dream by someone yelling and running toward me. I was on the floor. Not the cold tiles of the terminal, but next to a bed. And the comforter on the bed was not purple.

  I sat up suddenly and was overcome by a wave of nausea. Grabbing my head, I moaned, biting b
ack the feeling that I was about to throw up.

  “Jillian! Oh God!” Danielle exclaimed, falling to my side on her knees.

  As much as I should have been thrilled to see her, I couldn’t focus on Danielle. I needed to look around the room. I needed to see if anything, anything at all, was different. Unfortunately, my head was throbbing and Danielle was blocking my view.

  “Don’t get up,” she ordered, nudging me back down onto the carpet. “What the heck happened? I heard a crash and you yelled…”

  I didn’t even know how to answer that.

  I traveled back in time and tried to give you all a new and improved life. No thanks necessary. I broke more than I fixed.

  The pain in my head was making it hard to form a complete sentence and the fact that I didn’t really know what was going on had me reeling. The question I wanted to ask more than anything in the world was the question that scared me the most. Was it all a dream?

  I sat up again slowly, struggling against her grip on my shoulders.

  “Danielle, I need to know,” I began, my voice quivering. “How are things…at work?”

  “Work? Why are you asking me this?” she asked, her tone panicked and confused.

  “I just need to know what’s going on with the business,” I added.

  “Jillian, you have me worried now. I just finished telling you that the last thing I want to talk about tonight is all the stress work has caused. Tonight was supposed to be about fun, not work. But now I don’t think we should be going anywhere. Did you hit your head?”

  My heart sank listening to her answer, and the fit of nausea intensified. I didn’t know what I expected her to say. I guess I wanted to hear that business was good. That she was happy and all of the work I did meant something. But it occurred to me, as I sat there staring at her with my mouth gaping, that I didn’t fail my mission in the trip to 1999. There was no trip to 1999.

  I craned my neck, scanning the room. Everything was as I left it almost four weeks ago. The same desk and computer were in the corner, the same books in my bookshelf, and the same white comforter on the bed.

  It had been a dream. Val was still screwing their clients. Danielle was still miserable. Luke was still a stranger.

  My nose began to twitch and my eyes watered. I couldn’t believe how something so vivid could have been a figment of my imagination. I couldn’t believe I made him up. There was never a contentious meeting behind the gym. There was never a fire alarm or an awkward dinner with his family. No Tacoma. No soft lips. No rocks against my window. No cliffs. He never loved me and I never broke his heart.

  The tears pooling in my eyes spilled over as Danielle watched helplessly. She was probably ready to call 911. I never cried.

  The knock at the door startled me. I didn’t want to see anyone. I wasn’t ready to have a conversation that didn’t revolve around the fact that I thought I had spent the better part of the last month as a teenager. How was I supposed to talk about going to a reunion when I could still see Val’s face at Luke’s locker so clearly? I could probably pick out the color lipgloss she wore. It probably had a stupid name, too.

  Josh appeared in the doorway, looking nervous and out of breath.

  “You didn’t answer the door. What’s going on!” he exclaimed once he noticed me sobbing on the floor.

  Welcome to Jillian’s Nervous Breakdown, Josh. Make some popcorn. Take a seat. It’ll be quite a show.

  “I fell,” I answered lamely, as I tried to wipe my running nose.

  He looked over to Danielle, alarmed by the scene before him. “Danielle?”

  “Jillian’s just a little shaken up, Josh,” she replied. I wasn’t sure if she believed what she was saying. Her brow was furrowed, and she was staring at me. “At any rate, I don’t think it’s a good idea that we go tonight.”

  “No, no. Absolutely,” he replied.

  “You can’t cancel,” I interjected, my voice thick from crying. “It’s just a bump. I’ll be fine. Just go and have fun.”

  “We’ve been through this before. That’s not an option, Jill,” Josh argued. “We’re not leaving you here.”

  I tried to get up from the floor to prove that I was capable of taking care of myself, but Danielle wouldn’t release the death grip on my shoulders.

  “Josh, honey, could you make sure she doesn’t get up while I go and get some water from the kitchen?”

  Danielle gave me a warning glance and headed for the door. Josh squeezed her shoulder lightly as she passed by him. It was such a tender gesture. Beautiful, really. So beautiful that once again, I found myself doubled over and grief-stricken. Nothing I felt had been real.

  Josh moved awkwardly across the room, settling down next to me on the floor.

  “You wanna talk about it?”

  “There’s nothing to talk about,” I replied, trying to pull myself together.

  “You know we love you, Jill. You can tell us anything. You can tell me anything. You know that, right?” He looked so genuine and concerned, and damn it, I just wanted to start crying again. Instead, I launched myself at him, hugging him tightly, sobbing.

  “Jesus Christ! What the hell have you two done to her?”

  I looked up into the bewildered expressions of Nate and Megan.

  “Honey, are they trying to get you to switch to wheat pasta again? Just tell them no,” she added. I let out a watery laugh.

  “Meg, have some sensitivity. Jillian…well…I’m not sure what’s going on, but it’s not about wheat pasta which is really good for you, by the way,” Danielle argued, pushing her way into the room and handing me a glass of water.

  “Whatever, it tastes like cardboard. What’s wrong, then?” she asked, looking in my direction.

  “Nothing. I fell and…my head…I just…it’s nothing,” I stammered.

  “Maybe we should get her to a hospital,” Nate suggested. “She’s kind of freaking me out.”

  “If you two can’t be helpful, just go into the living room and wait there,” Danielle ordered.

  “I have an idea. Why don’t you all go out to the living room, get your coats and go to the reunion,” I suggested. Please leave, I wanted to beg.

  “No way, Jill,” Danielle added. “I think you have a concussion. Someone needs to check if her pupils are different sizes,” she announced, disregarding any need for personal space and staring into my eyes.

  “That’s not true, honey,” Josh countered. “I think she’s fine. She knows who she is. She knows she fell. She’s just a little shaken up.”

  “I’m calling the bar to cancel,” Megan announced. “Considering the circumstances,” she added, looking pointedly at Danielle, “I think it’s for the best.”

  I’d had enough. Grabbing the leg of the bed, I pulled myself onto my knees and then onto my feet.

  “See. I’m fine. Now go,” I said, moving over to my bed. I let my fingers glide over the soft comforter, remembering the Egyptian cotton I had missed so much. I took a deep breath. I wouldn’t cry again.

  “Megan, call that new place,” Nate added. “We’ll get Pad Thai.”

  “No, Pad Thai!” I exclaimed, finally losing my patience. I’d already lost my mind. “I’m going with you. I can’t stand this anymore. Just give me a minute to pull myself together. I don’t want these goddamn skinny jeans to go to waste, anyway.”

  “Jillian, I don’t think that’s the best idea,” Danielle countered.

  “Listen, if I start to feel weird, I promise we can leave. I’m just not letting you cancel this thing because I’m a train wreck. Let me have some dignity, please.”

  “Fine, but you promise. The minute you start feeling wonky, we leave,” Danielle replied.

  “Danielle, I’m not sure about this,” Megan added warily, handing me a box of tissues.

  “It’ll be fine. Okay, everyone. Move out. Let’s give her some space.” Danielle corralled the group and drove them into the living room. I was finally alone.

  The open space in my room sudden
ly felt off. It didn’t feel like my room anymore. Everything was the same, but I wasn’t. How do you explain that when nothing actually happened? I should be the same girl I was yesterday. I should be filling my pink, sparkly flask with Grey Goose. I should be getting ready to tell Sarah and her crooked boobs that she’s annoying. I shouldn’t feel so empty.

  I crawled onto the bed, curling up and clutching a pillow. The comforter was littered with balled up tissues. Hearing a rustling in the doorway, I looked up to find Danielle watching me nervously. She slowly crossed the room and sat down on the bed, careful not to disturb the pile of tissues I’d accumulated.

  “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, brushing aside a dampened piece of hair.

  I looked at her, wondering how I could possibly explain the gaping hole in my chest. I couldn’t, so I said nothing.

  “Let’s get you cleaned up,” she added, grabbing a waste basket and throwing the tissues inside. I took a deep breath, knowing I needed to get up, but I could barely move. I stared at the comforter and decided to lie back down. The Egyptian cotton mocked me, so I dragged myself into a sitting position, slinging my legs off the side of the bed.

  I willed myself up and shuffled over to my bathroom, with Danielle following behind me. The reflection in the mirror was startling. I had been used to seeing my seventeen-year-old self. Now, I was staring at the old me. The one I left behind. The one whose face was now a red, splotchy mess.

  “Why don’t you splash some cold water on your face, honey,” Danielle softly suggested. “Are you feeling any better?”

  I filled the basin with cold water and watched my reflection. I nodded almost imperceptibly at both Danielle and at the reflection that was practically that of a stranger. Leaning over the sink, I submerged my face in the freezing water. The sting of the cold on my face sent a shiver through my body.

  “Better,” I replied as I stood up, sucking in a breath. Danielle handed me a towel and rubbed my back as I patted my face dry.

  “You don’t have to do this, you know. We’re all fine staying here and ordering in. We have Transformers 2 from Netflix.”

  The scene flashed before my eyes for a brief moment.