Labeled Love

by Danielle Rocco

  “I can’t sleep. I’m coming over,” she says.

  “Thank you.” I hang up. My phone is filled with water from my hands, and I try drying it with a towel. I type a quick text to Landon, letting him know I will be ready first thing in the morning to see my boy.

  WHEN WE GOT to the jail, they cleaned me up. I’m sure so I wouldn’t scare the other guys in here. I looked like I had just killed someone with the amount of blood all over me. Damn, the forehead sure can bleed. Their focus was cleaning my face and trying to stop the bleeding on my forehead, so my blood-soaked shirt was cut off of me. Still visible on my hands is Cole’s dried blood.

  I’m sitting here in a cell with four other guys. Two of them look like thugs from the neighborhood. When I look around, they are staring daggers at me. There is no way I’m getting any sleep tonight. Another guy is drunk off his ass, and the last one looks homeless. Who knows? That might be me before long. We’ve already managed to dodge two eviction notices in the last couple of months.

  After this, Shay’s dad is definitely not going to let us move in together. I run my hands through my hair in frustration. Between thoughts of Shay’s frantic voice, the panic in her eyes, and the fact my forehead keeps pulsing in pain, I can’t rest.

  Sitting back, I stare in front of me. I wonder what the charges are going to be. This is my first offense as an adult, so hopefully they won’t be too bad. It’s not like I robbed a bank. I just beat someone up. Still, Shay is probably going crazy right now with worry.

  Shit.

  I really kicked Cole’s ass. I really fucked up. I just want to hold her right now. “I’m so sorry, baby,” I mumble, rubbing the back of my neck.

  “Who you talking to, boy?”

  I look over at the drunk next to me. “I’m talking to myself,” I answer, turning away from him, clenching my fists. Pain radiates through them. I look down. My knuckles are bruising, and there are cuts all over them from the pavement. I want to wash my hands. I need to wash away what I’ve done.

  Everything replays in slow motion in my head. Cole taunts me relentlessly. I lose it. I don’t want to stop. His head hits the ground. I can still feel my fist pounding into him over and over.

  What have I done?

  Shay, baby, I’m so sorry.

  I sit in the cell for hours. I’m sure the sun must be rising by now, but I can’t tell. I’m just assuming. I just wait. It’s cold in here. Just cold. I feel the bars that keep me from getting to my girl. The metal is cold. I start panicking. I need to get out of here.

  “Hello,” I mutter through the thickness that has gathered in my throat. I’m thirsty. Pulling at my hair, I try to relieve the pressure that’s building. I need to talk to Shay. Don’t we get a damn phone call? “Hello!”

  “They won’t come until they’re ready to,” the drunken guy says. He sounds sober now. This must not be his first time in here.

  “I need to get out of here,” I tell him, cracking a small smile.

  “Yeah, well, we all do, but the cops don’t give a shit. You’ll be in here all day.”

  I gulp loudly. I’m so fucking thirsty. “I can’t be in here all day.”

  But, no one comes. And, when they finally do, I’m not prepared for what they tell me.

  ON OUR WAY to Jace’s house, I see bars on the windows of almost every storefront. I can’t believe how far removed my life is just a few miles up the road. Once we get to the building, we walk up the shaded pathway to Jace’s apartment.

  His home.

  The place he has never let me see. I feel a mixture of sadness, fear, and anticipation. I want desperately for Jace to answer the door, open his arms wide, and bring me in to him. I want to smell him, touch him, and check the gash on his forehead. I want to make sure he’s okay. I need to look into his love-filled eyes. I want that so badly.

  What I get is a totally different scenario.

  A red paper is stuck on the door. Landon grabs it and reads it. It’s an eviction notice. He looks at me. “Jace mentioned to me that they were getting kicked out soon if they didn’t pay their rent.”

  I put my hand over my mouth to hold back the gasp of sadness that escapes. “Why wouldn’t he tell me that? I could’ve helped him,” I say sadly.

  “Seriously, Shay, do you really think Jace would let you help him?”

  “I know if my parents knew they would help him. I could have done something.”

  “He wouldn’t have let you,” he says sharply.

  Looking away, I focus on the paint-chipped door, picturing him coming home to this after every time he saw me. Memories hit me. Jace listening to me tell him all about my wonderful life and then coming home to this broken door. Guilt runs through me as years of conversations about movie premieres, family dinners, and countless days lounging by my pool flood my mind.

  He always listened with a smile on his face. My heart is squeezing so hard in my chest for him. He always smiled, looking at me like I was everything to him, while I never once stopped to think… I never thought about what he went home to. I feel like the worst person ever. Jace kept this part of him so secretive that I just never thought. To me, he is no different from me. No matter what is behind this broken door, he is still everything to me.

  As Landon knocks on the door, my hearts starts racing so fast in my chest that I have to put my hand over it. When the door opens, I never expect to see what’s on the inside. I try to look unaffected, but it’s hard. I can’t… I mean, I never pictured Jace’s mom to look like this.

  “Who are you?” she asks with a drunken slur, looking me up and down like I’m trash. Landon speaks first because I’m frozen.

  “Is Jace here?”

  “No,” she replies, walking out from inside the apartment and standing next to the front door. The sun shines down on her. I can’t believe this is Jace’s mother. She looks nothing like him. She’s very skinny, frail even. Her hair is an ashy blonde, and her eyes are brown. As she stares at me, I feel so uncomfortable that I start to sweat. “He never came home last night.” She scratches her arm. “Why? Is he in trouble again?” she asks, the smell of stale beer strong on her breath.

  Again?

  “No one contacted you?” Landon says while standing next to me. He’s rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. He’s making me even more nervous.

  “I don’t have a phone,” she answers.

  How does she not have a phone?

  “Listen, Grace. Jace was arrested last night.”

  Rolling her eyes, she says, “What did he do?” She has no concern in her voice.

  “He didn’t do anything,” I speak up for him. Landon glances at me.

  Once again, she looks me up and down. “I asked who you are,” she spits out.

  “I’m Shay.”

  She laughs bitterly under her breath. “So, you do exist, huh?” And, that’s where I see the resemblance to Jace. She lifts her mouth up into a slow smile and lowers her eyes, studying me. That’s exactly what Jace does, except he always does it in a loving way. She’s more condescending, but the similarity is still there.

  “I hate to meet you under these circumstances,” I say, trying hard to be respectful, when really I want to shake her and say, “Did you just hear us? Your baby is in jail!” Something tells me she wouldn’t care, though.

  “I bet he got in a fight. That boy doesn’t know how to keep his hands to himself.”

  I can’t understand everything I’m hearing, between Landon telling me this is Jace’s first offense as an adult, and now his mother’s words. How would I not know that Jace has been in fights? I guess I suspected a couple of times growing up, but this seems normal to them. Then a memory hits me. Oh my God, I remember when he came to the center with a black eye. Twice. Both times he made light of it. I had no idea, completely oblivious. The first time he kissed me he had a bruised eye, and Valentine’s Day when he told me he hit his eye on something at home. I remember thinking maybe he wasn’t telling the truth because he wouldn’t make
eye contact with me. He had been in a fight.

  Looking directly into Jace’s mom’s bloodshot eyes, I say, “Ms. James,” her eyes squint when I address her, “we know that Jace is in Central County Jail. Would you mind going with us? We really want to find out when he will be released. We aren’t even sure what he’s been charged with.

  “Was he fighting over you?” she asks. By the way she’s staring at me, I don’t want to tell her he was. I feel so horrible.

  Sucking in a breath, I answer her question honestly. “Yes, but I don’t think it matters why. I think we need to focus on helping him.”

  She laughs. “Help him? He got himself in this mess. He can get himself out of it. He’s not a little kid anymore.”

  Landon starts to walk away, but I grab his arm. “Excuse me for being rude, Grace, but we’re talking about your only son. Jace is the best person I know. He was provoked last night. The person he fought deserved it. The things the other guy said…” I pause. With a crack in my voice and tears to follow, I tell her, “He didn’t deserve what was said to him. I love your son. He is such a good person. It makes me sick that you throw him aside. You have no idea what a beautiful person he is. How can you stand here and say you won’t help him?”

  She walks up to me with that familiar expression. “Trust me, Shay, you think I didn’t know about you? You think I didn’t watch Jace scramble to find change from the couch over the years so he could see you? I know who you are, Shay, and let me give you some advice. You and I are not much different.” I look at her like she’s crazy. “Don’t let looks fool you, girl. You can have the nice cars, the big houses, and the pretty little clothes, but make no mistake. Jace will be just like his daddy.” She pauses, looking down at the cracked pavement. I wait silently between ragged breaths. “I was you,” she states. “Once upon a time, I was that cute girl in the big house. I had everything: the clothes, the car, the money, and the good grades. Then one day I met a boy.” She stops and smiles. “You know, Jace looks just like him. He was tall… tanned really easily, and in the Oregon climate that was rare. The sun didn’t appear like it does here. He was striking, with his black hair and light blue eyes, but he had a mean streak. He got angry, especially when he drank. And, he drank a lot. Even though we were just teens, he was full of promises and tender words.”

  I’m speechless. I’ve never met this woman, and she’s telling me so much with such rare truth. “Do you know where Jace’s dad is now?” I stand, stoic.

  “That’s right. Put two and two together, Shay. He’s in jail. Hell, he might be dead. Who knows? I wouldn’t care if he was. He was a bastard. When he found out I was pregnant with Jace, he became a bastard.” She pauses, lighting a cigarette. “I lost everything,” she says. A tear rolls down my cheek. A part of me hears the sorrow in her voice, and I almost feel sorry for her. Obviously, Jace’s dad was her first love, and she never recovered. He broke her.

  In a small voice, I blurt out, “What’s his name? Jace says he doesn’t know his father.”

  “He doesn’t have a father.”

  “He deserves to know,” I demand.

  “It doesn’t matter,” she says. I look to Landon, and we walk away. I hear Grace behind me. “His name is Jason. Jason James,” she calls out. I turn, giving her a weak smile.

  “I hope one day you will open your heart to your son. He isn’t his father.” Landon stands by my side. Why hasn’t he said anything? “I will always fight for your son. I’ll fight for him until he gives me a reason not to,” I add before I turn and walk away, leaving her standing there.

  “Are you okay?” Landon asks, turning to me.

  “I will be. When Jace is.”

  I SIT AND wait until I hear something. It takes most of the day before I get any word, but when I do—tired, sore, nervous, and worried—I stand up and follow the guard to the room. My forehead tightens from the crappy stitch job they gave me. I’m sure it will leave a nice scar. Ushered into a holding room, my heart races steadily in my chest, and I’m having a hard time swallowing as I see Mr. Stark standing in front of me. His words float through me, reminding me, “It’s not how you start; it’s how you finish.”

  I’ve never felt like more of a failure than I do right now as I look into the eyes of the man that created the girl I love, the girl I disappointed, the girl I tried so hard to climb to the top of the mountain to love, only to fall flat on my face. My eyes cast down, trying to rid the thought that this time yesterday I was telling his daughter I was planning on asking him for her hand in marriage. That I love her so much I want to do things the right way and have her as my wife through it all. That I want to show her the upmost respect and his family as well by honoring our commitment to each other and our future from the very beginning. But, as my eyes find his, everything good plays out in my head, only to be replaced by the reality of what I’ve done.

  Mr. Stark sits down as I sit across from him. When he speaks, for whatever reason I let my tough exterior down and my eyes water, but I can’t let the tears fall. I can’t be weak.

  “How are you doing, son?”

  “I’m doing okay,” I say. His eyes go straight to my forehead.

  “They did a terrible job stitching that up.”

  “Yeah, they did. It hurts like hell.” I reach up and touch the stiches.

  He takes a deep breath, and when he exhales, he puts his hands onto the metal table. My eyes look at them. All I can see are my girl’s pretty slender hands with pink pretty nail polish, and it’s like a part of her is with me right now. “This isn’t looking good, Jace. I told you once, if you ever needed help, I would help you.” His voice cracks. “I can’t help you with this, son… I just can’t help.”

  My hand moves to my forehead to rub out the stress, accidentally hitting my stitches and sending a shooting pain through me. Even through the pain, nothing hurts as much as the painful blow those words just sent to my heart. “I can’t help you.”

  Not that I expected Shay’s dad to bail me out, I wouldn’t let him do that anyway. It’s just a realization that my situation is not good.

  “What I can do is be here for you,” he says. I nod my head, letting my emotions go. A single tear falls. For the first time in my life, I feel as though someone cares enough to treat me like a son. I can see why my girl has so much love when I look at her dad and hear the compassion in his voice that matches hers. She’s the way she is because of where she comes from. Mr. Stark continues with a strained voice. “You’re being charged with aggravated assault. In the state of California, you could do time for that. I’ve known the Porters for many years. Cole’s dad is a hard ass and will try to do what he can on his end to make you pay for what you did to Cole.”

  I suck in a breath. “How bad is it? What did I do to him?”

  “He’s going to be in the hospital for a while. He took a pretty bad blow to the head, broken ribs… You did a number on him.”

  I close my eyes tight and my jaw tighter. “I’m so sorry. I just snapped. He’s been tearing me down for a long time, and I tried so hard to keep my cool. I’m not a violent person, Mr. Stark. I’ve had to defend myself since I was a kid.” I look up at the ceiling. “I never wanted Shay to be exposed to how I’ve grown up. I want you to know I worked my ass off to always stay out of trouble. I never did drugs, never had a drop of alcohol, and from the day I met your daughter, nothing was more important to me than loving her and finding a way to be with her.” My voice breaks. “I love her more than anything. Please, just know that.”

  He sits with one hand on the table and the other resting on his chin. “I appreciate your words. I know you mean them, and I know how much you care… about each other. I’m well aware of how you treat my daughter, and I’ve seen it with my own two eyes the love you feel for her. Like I said, I’m watching my daughter fall apart, and I hate that my hands are tied.”

  The guard walks over and tells us our time is up. Mr. Stark stands up, and I follow. He rubs the back of his neck, huffing out a dee
p breath. “I told you son… It’s not how you start; it’s how you finish.” He reaches out to take my hand, and when he does, he brings me in close with a comforting pat on the back. “Remember that, Jace.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  He breaks away. His eyes meet mine one more time, and he walks out the door while I go back to waiting.

  A WEEK LATER, I went back to Jace’s apartment. He wasn’t there, and neither was his mom. I knew in my heart he wasn’t there. Still, I pray every day that he will be released, only to be disappointed.

  “WHAT TIME DO you have to be there?”

  “It’s right at eight a.m. sharp. I’m getting ready right now. As soon as he comes into the room, I want him to see me.”

  “I’ll be there,” Jules says kindly.

  My parents come into my room to let me know the car is ready. My mom has mail in her hand and gives me a letter addressed to me. “I don’t know when it came. With everything going on, there was a ton of mail in there. I haven’t checked it in a while.” My stomach drops. I know it’s from Jace. He must have sent it to me before everything happened. I turn it over. There’s a pink heart and the words I forgot this one. I love you, pretty girl. He sent it the day of the party. My heart shatters even more. I can’t open it right now, so I set it on my bed.

  When we get to the courthouse, I see Beau walking up to us. His head is hung low. He’s trying to not draw attention to himself. “You didn’t have to come,” I tell him softly as he pulls me in for a hug.

  “Of course, I’m going to be here for you and Jace,” he says. I muster up my best smile. Jules looks over to Beau. “That’s really sweet, Beau,” she says. He smirks, not in a mean way, but I could tell it was a struggle to smile.

  We all gather together and walk side by side into the courthouse. Right away, I feel nauseous. It smells cold, musky, and uncaring, as the door swings open. I have on the sundress I wore the day Jace asked me to marry him. I can’t wait to see him. I want to hold him desperately. Everyone is ushered inside in an assembly-line fashion. They check my mom’s handbag while they pat down the rest of us, like we have a weapon on us. Jules nudges me forward as my parents stay back. As I turn, Beau puts his arm around me, and we walk down the cold corridor into the room we were told to enter. When Beau opens the door for us, a rush of cold air hits me.