by Natasha Boyd
It may not have been hate, but I was very, very angry with him for a long time. Am I still? I can’t tell.
Reaching up, he caresses my cheek. His dark blue eyes are locked on mine.
Heat bubbles under the surface of my skin.
Then he reaches for a lock of my hair, winding it around his finger. “You look absolutely stunning tonight. This will rival the best image I have of you in my head.”
My heart hammers wildly at his words. Of course I want to ask him what the best image he has of me is and why he even has the need of a favorite image. But it could just be one of those things people say.
“You want to ask me, don’t you?”
How does he do that? “No, I don’t.”
“Yes, you do. I guess I’ll tell you when we have that talk you promised.”
Lowering his head, a lock of hair falling across his brow, he touches his lips to mine, nipping gently, sensuously, just enough to have me wanting more. Before I can respond, he pulls his mouth from mine. “Come over tomorrow around five pm,” he says, then turns and walks away down the path.
I slip into my room, both my body and my heart aching with want, and throw myself down on my bed, face first.
MY PHONE WAKES me up, and when I stare it bleary eyed and see it’s past eleven in the morning, I’m shocked. The missed call is from Keri Ann. Damn.
I call her back.
“Hey,” she says as soon as she answers. “You won’t believe where I am.”
“Shock me.”
“Lake Tahoe. Or Tahoe as Jack calls it. You should see this house Jazz. It has these massive windows overlooking the lake and the mountains. It’s unbelievable. We got in around sunrise and all the mountains were pink and blue. And I flew. In a plane. I was terrified, but Jack kept filling up my champagne.”
My heart feels warm in my chest, and I smile into the phone to hear her so happy. “Sounds amazing,” I say.
“God, Jazz. This is it, you know. I love him so much. I’m scared. Am I crazy going for this?”
“No. He loves you too. You guys are going to show the rest of us how it’s done.”
She lets out a long sigh. “Thank you. And thank you for always knowing the right thing to say.”
“Whatever.” I snort.
“Okay, well you always say the right thing for me when I need it. Oh, and thanks for packing my stuff. Including the matching pink lace underwear. You really are the bestest friend ever.”
“Nah.”
“Oh hey, I’ve been meaning to ask you since you got back from Florida. Did you get your job posting?”
I let out a long breath. “I did. Cape Town.”
“Oh my God,” Keri Ann squeaked. “That’s what you wanted, right?”
“Yeah. How long will you be gone? I may have left by the time you get back.”
“Oh no!”
“We’ll talk lots via Skype.”
“You don’t sound excited. Look, I’m happy but selfishly not excited to see you leave. What is it? Is it Joey?”
I suck in a breath. “What makes you say that?”
“Please. We’ve been best friends forever. How are you guys? Looked like you were going through some heavy moments. I almost interrupted something in the kitchen again, didn’t I?”
“Honestly, I don’t know what to make of the way he’s being. I’m confused. Did you know he requested to transfer his residency to MUSC up in Charleston?”
“He told me yesterday. I accused him of doing it to interfere with Jack and me. He said he had his own reasons, but he was very cagey about it.”
“He told me …” It’s hard to form the words. They seem to get stuck in my throat.
“What?”
I lick my lips and try again. “He said he requested to transfer so he could be closer to me.”
There’s dead silence on the other end of the line.
“Keri Ann?”
“I’m here. Ho-leeeeee shit.” She laughs. “This is fantastic.”
That isn’t quite the word I’d use for it.
“This is good, right? Or, wait. Have your feelings changed? I mean, I wouldn’t blame you. It’s been three years.”
“Not least of all the fact I’m leaving.” I flop back down on my pillow.
“Wow, talk about shitty timing.”
“It really doesn’t matter how I feel about him. I’m not going to be ‘that girl.’ The one who gives up opportunities for the chance with a guy. Especially a guy who’s already demonstrated he’s not sticking around when shit gets real.”
Only my mother, and presumably Lizzie, know how really real it almost got. I know I should have told Keri Ann. But I didn’t want to put her in a tough spot with Joey. He was her brother, after all.
“I know I can’t defend him,” Keri Ann says.
“Don’t.”
She lets out a long breath. “Oh, Jazz.”
“I know. This sucks. Part of me wants him to beg me not to go. To prove how much he wants me. But I’d hate him for doing that. For putting me in the situation of picking between my dreams and him. I’m supposed to go over there later so we can talk.”
“Can I say one thing?” She goes on without waiting for my answer. “The way you just described ‘that girl’? You could have been talking about me with Jack. Yet here I am taking a leap of faith with him and his crazy celebrity lifestyle. It doesn’t mean I’m giving up my plans and dreams. If I can do this, you can too. You can have both.”
“That’s the thing. I’m just not sure I can. I’m not sure I want to anymore.”
There are few more beats of silence.
“Just hear what he has to say, okay?”
“Okay.”
JUST AFTER FIVE that afternoon, the sun low but still burning hot, I pull my car into the crushed oyster shell driveway of the Butler house. I park under the long curving branches of a live oak tree.
I’d spent the afternoon down at the beach reading. After all my studying for college, I hadn’t read a good old love story in a while. It helped take my mind off the evening ahead.
I’m wearing a short cotton sundress in bright buttercup yellow that makes my suntanned skin glow. My skin has finally faded to brown after my sunburn last week.
I take a deep breath and open the car door, startling when I realize Joey is standing in the open front door, leaning against the frame with his shoulder. Wearing faded jeans and a faded blue t-shirt, his feet bare, his arms are crossed across his chest and his legs are crossed at the ankles.
I hate that I always feel the impact of seeing him like a punch to the gut.
“Impatient grasshopper, aren’t you?” I call out.
“It appears so,” he concedes.
I trot up the steps.
He’s looking at my empty hands. “What, no wine?”
“Why would I bring wine?”
“Isn’t that what people normally bring when someone asks them to dinner?”
“You didn’t ask me to dinner. And what is this? The geriatric early bird special? It’s five o’clock in the afternoon.”
“Technically, it’s ten minutes past. You’re late. Hence my impatience. I meant to ask last night. How’s your sunburn doing?”
I quickly show him my back.
“You put stuff on it?”
“As much as I could, Dr. Butler.” I roll my eyes. “But my mom’s out of town and I’m not a contortionist.”
“More’s the pity.”
“Anyway, I’m fine now. Are we going to stand on the porch all evening?”
“It’s such a nice afternoon, and I finally fixed the wiring to the fan out here. Check it out.”
I follow his finger pointing upward. “That’s awesome,” I say. “A man of many talents.”
“Yeah. So let’s sit here on the porch swing. You want a beer or something?”
“That’d be great.” I glance across the side yard to the small cottage. “You realize Mrs. Weaton is probably staring at us through a gap in her blinds.” I waggle my fingers in h
er direction, my eyebrows raised.
Joey laughs. “Probably. Be right back.”
I plop down on the wooden porch swing, memories of Keri Ann and me through the years cross my mind. And for some reason I remember the picture Keri Ann showed me the night Nana Butler died. My eyes stray to the porch steps where the two of us sat, Joey watching us. It’s weird to think about that picture right now. I’ve been on this porch a thousand times since, and it never crossed my mind.
Joey comes out with two open bottles of beer. He hands me one and we clink the necks together.
“What are we drinking to today?” I ask.
He sits down next to me, and the swing rocks gently. I fight the urge to lean closer to him and inhale.
“I think I’ll stick with my toast of last night. To the foolishness and bad timing of love.”
I lick my lips and think about my conversation with Keri Ann this morning. “I guess I’ll drink to that.” I look him in the eye, touching my beer to his again, then bring it to my lips. He holds my gaze. Then when the bottle leaves my lips, his look falls to my mouth.
“Aren’t you going to drink?” I ask. “It’s your toast.”
He brings the bottle to his mouth and takes a long deep drink. How he makes that seem erotic is beyond me. But it is. The condensation on the bottle, the way his lips mold to the glass lip, the way his throat works to swallow the liquid down, the way his eyes are still burning into me.
I clear my throat and pull my bottom lip between my teeth. How am I supposed to talk to him when all I want to do is climb onto his lap? Chemistry is so weird. How can we have all this heaviness between us, and I still want him? The sooner I get some distance the better.
“Tell me your favorite image of me,” I say. My voice comes out husky.
“My favorite image of you …” He pauses, take a sip of beer, and seems to have an internal debate. Then he sets his jaw and looks me in the eye.
His eyes are bright and vivid.
I wait expectantly.
“My favorite image of you is when I was in the water, and you ran down the beach toward me in that tight red swimsuit, a massive It’s-My-Birthday button pinned on your boob, and you just kept coming until you popped up through the waves right in front of me.”
I smile faintly at the memory of that day.
He takes a deep breath and a sip of beer. His fingers are fidgeting with the label. Then he looks back at me. “It was at that moment it felt like you skewered me through the chest. I’ve never felt anything more terrifying or more painful. I fell in love with you.”
I’m frozen. I think my mouth is open. My chest feels tight.
If anyone’s chest was skewered it was mine, just now.
Fuck.
I can’t breathe.
Lurching to my feet, I accidentally drop the beer bottle and the contents foam all over the wooden decking.
I round on him. “Don’t lie to me,” I croak, my voice lost. My finger points in his face.
He grabs my finger, gripping it tight as he rises to his feet to tower in front of me. His eyes are flashing with some untamed emotion. “I’m not lying.” His jaw flexes. “And you fell in love with me too. You admitted it.”
“That was three years ago!” I spit out the words, enraged.
“Three years ago? Who the fuck cares when it happened? It may as well have been yesterday,” he growls back, his voice rising to match mine. “For me anyway.”
Tears sting my eyes and burn in the back of my throat. “It’s too late now,” I tell him.
He blows out a breath and runs his free hand down his face. His other hand grips mine. “How long do I have?”
“You don’t. I’m leaving next week.”
“I’m not asking you not to go. I’d never do that.”
“Of course not. You just want to make it hard.”
“No. God, I don’t. But I can’t lose you. If you get on the plane not knowing how I feel, I’ll never have a chance.”
“I want to punch your face right now.”
His eyes widen.
“Not literally, jackass. But the fact you can stand here after three fucking years and tell me what you should have told me then …” The pain in my chest right now makes it hard to breathe. I try to free my hand from Joey’s, but he holds on tight. “You changed me, Joey. I miss the person I was then. I miss her so much, I ache with it. She was full of life and hope. She was sarcastic and fearless. Before she was betrayed. Before she had her heart shattered. And I know it wasn’t just you. It was losing my father at the same time. But you will always be wrapped up with that. My father died. But you? You will always be the one who chose to walk away from me in the moment of my greatest pain. You chose to kick me while I was down.” And suddenly the truth is blaring. I’ve never tried to drill down exactly how angry I am at him, but here it is erupting from the depths of me. “I don’t …” Taking a deep breath, my thoughts become crystal clear. “I don’t think I can ever forgive you for that.”
The words hang out there. And shock me with their truth. With their finality.
Joseph looks in physical pain. His mouth is tight, his skin pale.
He says nothing.
I shake my head. “Do you even understand what you did to me?”
Stepping back, he sits down, still gripping my hand and rests his head on my belly. The reminder slams into me. I haven’t even told him about what happened after.
Before I can open my mouth, he looks up.
“The way I handled it after we slept together was awful. I know it was. I have no excuse. It freaked me out. You freaked me out. The way I felt about you. God, then I heard about your dad and realized you’d known about him when we slept together. You’d been grieving. You were in shock. And it fucking broke my heart that I slept with you with you knowing. And I was pissed at you for not telling me and letting us do that. Christ. I felt so ashamed at the way I’d handled us. I still do. Then after the boat going down, the whole thing just got bigger. It’s no excuse. I was a coward. The emotions I was feeling were the most terrifying things I’d ever felt. I didn’t know how to even say sorry. I mean how do you apologize for something like that? I didn’t know. I was young and stupid.”
“You ran.”
He nods and looks down. “And fuck, then I find out it was even worse. I took your virginity that night. You entrusted that to me. And look at how I repaid you. I don’t blame you for how you’re feeling.”
Just say it, Jazz, I tell myself. Just throw it out there. “I got pregnant that night and lost the baby within weeks.”
His head snaps back, his eyes widening in shock. If he paled before, it’s nothing to now. His lips actually turn white.
Just saying it aloud after all these years shocks me too. My mouth feels dry, and I work to get some saliva to swallow.
“Oh, God,” Joey whispers. “Oh my God.” His eyes well and he expels a sharp puff of air.
He stands abruptly and steps past me, his fists bunching. His arms fold, then unfold repeatedly across his chest. Then he grabs behind his neck. He paces. He’s having a complete freak out without saying a word. He walks to the railing and leans against it, his neck and head seeming to sink between his shoulder blades.
Finally, he turns.
Looking at his face right now, I feel like I’m looking at his soul stripped bare. I can see all his pain and all his regret.
“I’m so sorry, Jazz. I’m so fucking sorry.”
And I can tell he is.
My hand comes up of its own accord, resting on his cheek. But he doesn’t lean in or take the comfort I’m offering.
His jaw is tight, and I can see the moment when he sees the fall out. He inhales, like it’s the hardest breath he’s ever drawn. Like my hand is not on his cheek but buried deep in his chest, digging his heart out. “There’s no hope for us, is there?” he asks.
“I don’t know,” I answer.
I’M ONLY TAKING one suitcase, but inside it I’ve packed another one. I
’m not that stupid. I know I’m going to buy tons of useless shit all over South Africa and try and haul it all home with me. “I can handle it, Mom,” I tell her as she tries to take over removing it from the trunk of the car in the airport parking lot.
She sniffs. “Just let me do one more thing for my baby.”
“God, Mom. I’m not dying. I’m just going to another country.” I laugh, but I’m insanely touched that my departure is affecting her so much.
Keri Ann has texted me a gazillion times today already. And sent me instructions from a friend of Jack’s taken from the “dark web” on how to “jail break” my phone so I can use it internationally. I haven’t had a minute to even think about it.
Joey has shown up every day without fail. Just to hang out and accompany me on my ridiculously long list of errands. He hasn’t done one thing to come on to me or to talk about us. He’s simply been relentlessly friendly and kept me laughing. It’s strange to see this side of him again. The Joey who offered me a ride to do my lifeguard training, to drive me home, to drive Keri Ann and me everywhere we wanted to go when we were too young to drive. I can’t imagine the physical effort it’s taken to pretend everything is okay and friendly between us. But I accepted it gratefully. And by the time my departure day rolled around, almost believed we had a true friendship back.
He offered to take me to the airport, and when I told him my mom was doing it, I expected him to insist or at least tag along. But he nodded. And a small part of me hated that he didn’t fight harder.
He’d come by this morning and handed me a small box with instructions to open it on the plane. He hugged me hard and kissed me on the forehead. It was painful as much as it was a relief we wouldn’t have a long drawn out good-bye. Then he slipped out my sliding door and that was that.
I can’t lie. Our talk last week had shattered me. But it had been cathartic in a way. When I look deep inside my heart, all I know is that the pain and anger may be finally seeping away. I’m still in love with Joseph Butler. I love him. But I am letting him go. We both need time to heal. If we find our way back to each other one day, we’ll have a chance. More than a chance, I hope.
Mom and I walk into the small airport terminal in Hilton Head. There’s one check in desk. Only one airline. I’ll change planes in Charlotte. I recognize the girl behind the counter as someone who’d been in school a few years ahead of me. She checks my passport, asks me about the contents of my bag, looks at my hand luggage, and then before I know it I have my boarding passes in my hand for the next three legs of my flight.