A Flawed Heart

by April Emerson

  Lydia takes her sundress and shoes off, and then steps to the edge with Kat. They jump, squealing the whole way down.

  Jason walks to the edge, looking down at the water, and then back at me. “I can help you get those clothes off if you like.”

  I grin, cross my arms in front of me, and grip them hem of my tee, lifting it over my head. Jason moves toward me, stopping a short distance away. I unbutton my skirt and it drops it to the ground. My attempt at turning Jason on is successful. Judging by his expression and rigid posture, it worked. I step out of my skirt, now wearing only my bathing suit and sandals. I push my hair off my shoulders and walk toward Jason.

  “You can help me get these sandals off.”

  He licks his lips, bends down to kneel before me and grabs my ankle. I put my hands on his bare shoulders to steady myself and shift my eyes down to watch him. He places my foot on his thigh and runs his hand up my calf, then back down my shin, caressing my skin and adoring it. He opens the buckle on my shoe, sliding the leather through the clasp. He runs his fingertips over the studs on the strap, slips it off of my foot, and places it next to him with reverence.

  I hear our friends laughing and splashing below us. I rub Jason’s shoulders and he looks up at me. The fierce lust in his eyes makes me tingle, and he returns his attention to the task of removing my sandals. He repeats the same motion on my other leg, his calloused hands move slowly down to my foot. He removes the shoe and darts his tongue out to wet his lips. He stands, grabs my waist, and lifts me up so my feet aren’t touching the ground. My chin is at his forehead and I wrap my legs around him, feeling how hard I’ve just made him. I’m lost in the scent of his hair and the feel of his skin. He grabs the back of my head and kisses me, his tongue tasting my lips. He moans and then places me back on the ground. He places his hand in mine and smiles. We step to the edge of the cliff together.

  “Are you ready?” he asks.

  His words mean more to both of us than he intends.

  “Yes. I am.”

  I wrap my toes around the edge of the rock, and look down. Lydia waves from the black water. Vertigo assaults my sense of equilibrium and the only thing grounding me is Jason’s hand. I look to him for reassurance, take a deep breath, and without a word, we jump.

  I feel a quick rush of wind, and resist the urge to flail my arms. I keep my body straight as a pin, so I don’t hurt myself when I enter the water. I hold my nose with my free hand and we break the surface together. The cold is shocking, but the familiar weightlessness and peace I feel envelops me as the water rushes around our bodies. I emerge and take a breath, blinking the water out of my eyes and searching for Jason. He’s to my right, treading water, waiting for me to surface.

  “Wasn’t that awesome?” Lydia asks.

  She’s sitting on the edge of a rock that juts out in the water with Kat and Alana at her side. Ben splashes them as they sit. Jason swims over to me freestyle. Watching him swim—something I love so much—turns me on. His hair is wet but no less of a mess. Water drips off his nose and glistens on his lips.

  “Are you all right?” He grabs me under the water and pulls me into him. I wrap my legs around his waist and my arms around his neck.

  “Yeah, I’m great. That was fun.”

  When I catch my breath, Jason kisses me. His lips feel especially warm in the cold water. He releases me from his grasp and we swim together, splashing and laughing. Ben feels the need to challenge my abilities as a swimmer, and I kick his ass in a race across the quarry while the girls cheer and Jason and looks on with pride. He and Lydia take turns dunking each other under the water, and they jump a few more times from the lower cliff. I float on my back, watching everyone, as the sunlight plays hide and seek between the tree branches and the black rocks of the quarry create majestic shadows in the water. I feel overwhelmed with a sense of belonging—a sense of being at home. I’m elated to have found this feeling. After my father was killed, things were never the same in my house. The notion of being at home seemed lost forever…until now, until I found these people.

  Kat shouts that it’s time for lunch. Her voice pulls me out of my thoughts, and I swim to where Jason is waiting for me. We hike up to gather our things, walk down to the blanket, and devour our food. Jason lies back and rests his head on my thigh as he smokes a cigarette, and strokes his fingers up and down the bare skin on my legs. The feeling of ease and comfort he brings to me is priceless. I’m so content sitting here, and I’m dreading having to go to work, but I’m looking forward to being with him again tonight—just the two of us. It seems crazy to crave his presence so much, so soon, but I do.

  “All right guys, we need to get going. Kat, will you drive? I’m wiped.” Lydia stands and stretches her lithe frame.

  “Can I have my car back now? You can ride with Alana, can’t you?” Jason asks.

  “I could, but I’m not going to. We girls are all going to the same place. It makes sense to take one car. I’ll drop it off later, okay?”

  Jason shakes his head as if he’s annoyed with his sister’s logic, but doesn’t have the energy to dispute her further.

  We clean up the picnic space and pack up the cars.

  “So, are you still coming by my rehearsal space tonight?” Jason’s arms are folded across his muscular chest, which is now sheathed in a tight, white t-shirt.

  “Of course I am. Unless…you don’t want me to?” I ask.

  “Of course I want you to.” He kisses me until my knees are weak. “I’ll see you tonight. It’s on the corner of Meeker and Lorimer. Ring bell number five.”

  “Okay.” I climb into the backseat of the Charger and we doze as Kat drives home, my mind filled with images of a shirtless, wet Jason.

  Once we get home, I shower, dress, and stuff a hoodie in my bag. I see Tony as soon as I walk into the bookstore. I’m embarrassed about what happened at Pen, but I try to play it cool.

  “Hey,” I say.

  He looks up at me and then back to his book. “Hey.”

  “Tony, I’m sorry.”

  “You don’t need to apologize. Is that dude your boyfriend?”

  “I’m not really sure what we are.”

  “Well then, I don’t think he has much of a say in who you’re friends with, now does he?” His eyes are sweet but filled with hurt.

  “No. He doesn’t. He’s protective of me, I guess.”

  “Yeah? Well, you should tell him you can take care of yourself.”

  “I told him those exact words, actually.”

  “Good for you. Listen, you want to get something to eat after work?” He’s hopeful, and I hate to turn him down.

  “I have plans tonight, but maybe another time?”

  “Yeah, okay.” He gives me a smile and I feel much better now that we’ve talked.

  Although I’m trying to pay attention to my work and the customers, I keep glancing at my phone to check the time. I know Tony sees me doing it out of the corner of his eye, and I’m sure it’s obvious that I’m anxious to get out of here. At closing time he takes pity on me, and locks up the shop without offering to walk with me.

  My train of thought quickly changes as I leave Bedford Ave and walk toward Jason’s rehearsal space. It’s dark out, and I stop to light a cigarette. I’m shaking with nerves, and I wonder when the anticipation of seeing Jason will stop having such a strong effect on me.

  I ring bell five, and he buzzes me in. It’s room five hundred sixteen, but I have no idea where to go, so I walk down the hall, looking at room numbers. The door to one of the rooms is ajar. It’s a soundproofed recording studio, with panels of controls that are foreign to me. At the main panel sits a guy with black hair pulled into a ponytail. He’s wearing a leather jacket and looks like the typical bad-boy musician. He looks up and he roams my body with his eyes in a way that makes me uncomfortable. I turn to rush past the open door.

  “Hey, can I help you?” He stands and walks toward me.

  “I’m looking for five sixteen.”

/>   “Oh you are, are you? That’s Taylor’s space. You a friend of his?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “He’s got quite a few friends, doesn’t he?”

  “I—I don’t really know about his…friends.”

  “Oh no? Well I know all about them, and I’m sure you will, too. Soon enough, sweetheart. Go to the end of the hall and take the elevator to five. You’ll find him up there.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Aidan.”

  “Thanks, Aidan. I’m Claire.”

  “It was a pleasure, Claire. I’ll see ya ‘round.”

  I turn and hurry away from him. He’s the creepiest person I’ve met so far in New York, and I don’t like that he knows Jason.

  Once on the fifth floor, I follow the numbers on the doors and hear piano notes floating through the hall. I arrive at five sixteen, and find Jason seated at a grand piano in the middle of the large room. The walls are padded with soft, white, dimpled material—with the exception of a glass wall that faces west. Jason’s back is to me and he’s pouring himself into a song I don’t recognize.

  There’s a small couch in the corner with a coffee table and lamp next to it. Records and CDs are strewn across the floor. Next to the piano is a red and white-checkered blanket, with a setting of two paper plates, two red, plastic cups, and a bottle of red wine. With the sunset casting a warm glow, the room looks soft and romantic. I clear my throat in hope of getting Jason’s attention. He stops playing, turns toward the sound, and slings one leg over the piano bench. He’s wearing jeans and a T-shirt, so simple, yet so handsome. He smiles upon seeing me, and gestures for me to come and sit with him by patting on the bench

  I close the door and walk to him. He takes my hand and I sit beside him. His face is so close to mine. The stubble along his jaw seems thicker than it was this morning. I want to tell him about Aidan, but I know it will only make him angry. Judging by his reaction to Tony, he doesn’t seem to like me talking to other guys, and I don’t want to ruin our time together.

  “What is that you were just playing?”

  “Oh, just a song I’m working on. It’s not ready to be played for you just yet.” He brings his hand up to my hair and pushes it behind my shoulders with his long fingers. He leans in and kisses my neck, right over my racing pulse.

  “You look so pretty in this shirt. Are you hungry? I picked up some fruit, cheese, and crackers. I brought some wine, if you like.”

  “I had no idea you were so sophisticated.” I smile at him.

  “There are a lot of things you don’t know about me.” He takes my hand and brings me over to the blanket. “But I’d like to change that. How about we play a game while we eat?”

  “Like, what kind of game?”

  “A ‘get to know you’ kind of game. I’ll ask a question—which we’ll both answer—and then you can do the same.”

  “Okay.”

  “What’s your full name?” he asks.

  “Claire Leanne Brighton.”

  “Jason Daniel Taylor. Now it’s your turn.”

  “What’s your favorite band?”

  “That’s a tough one. I can never answer this question. I can’t pick just one. Too hard.”

  “All right. Fair enough. Mine is probably The Velvet Underground. I love Nico’s voice.”

  “Solid answer, Claire.”

  He moves in to kiss my neck, and flicks his tongue out to lick my skin. I gasp at his touch. He pours us each a cup of wine and holds a piece of apple, spread with brie, to my lips. I open my mouth and take a small bite. The crunchy sweetness of the green apple combined with the smooth, sour cheese tastes delicious. Jason’s gaze is fixed on my lips as I chew, and he places the bite I did not eat into his own mouth. I’m hypnotized by the way he savors it.

  “When’s your birthday?” he asks.

  I’ve been dreading this question. “It’s October first.” I look down at my wine, avoiding his eyes.

  “That’s next week.”

  “I know. I don’t really like to celebrate it.” I take a sip.

  “Why?”

  “Because my daddy was killed three days after my twelfth birthday. After that, I stopped wanting to celebrate it.” My eyes begin to burn, and I will myself to not cry in front of Jason.

  “Shit, Claire…I’m so sorry.” He lifts my chin and kisses each of my eyes, then the tip of my nose, then my lips.

  “It’s fine. I’m fine. Thank you. When is yours?”

  “June twentieth.”

  “What are your parents’ names?”

  “I think you met Daniel, and my mother was Eileen.”

  “That’s a beautiful name. My mama is Rebecca, and my daddy was Dave.”

  “Tell me about him. And I’ll tell you about my mom, if that’s okay.”

  “Yeah. He was a soldier. He loved the corps. He was really sweet…but stoic. He kept to himself a lot. The only person who could drag him out of his own head was my mama. He loved to hunt, and he would take me. We used to go every summer. I learned a lot from him…I felt really angry for a long time. I was angry that he was taken from me—that I was robbed of having him in my life. I miss him every day.” I feel the familiar wound in my chest opening.

  “I know what you mean. It was so bad after my mom died…it still is. I felt…I feel angry too. I struggle with it. I just feel this rage, and I have no one to inflict it on, you know? At the end—on her last day—I couldn’t fucking take it. I freaked and went to the park. When I came home, she was dead. I didn’t get to say goodbye. I never forgave myself, and I never will. I just want to fucking hurt someone as much as I hurt, but I know my mother wouldn’t have wanted that. She wouldn’t condone my hurting anyone, or anything. She always said there are two kinds of people in this world—those who take care of others, and those who need to be taken care of. My mom took care of everyone. I’ve been really hard on my father, but I just feel as if he could have done more. When she started to fade, he brought her home and had Hospice come in. I mean, he’s a goddamned oncologist and he just surrendered to it. He just gave up and let her die. I wanted him to fucking fight for her.”

  The floodgates have opened, and the rage he’s speaking of is rising up. His fists are balled, the veins in his neck are pulsing, and his face is turning scarlet with all the frustration—all of his hurt.

  I reach up and run my hand down his spine. “I know. There’s so much anger, and no place to put it. I want to tell you that it gets better or easier, but it doesn’t. It hurts every day, and getting out of bed is a struggle every day. I was depressed for a really long time after.”

  Lydia says I’m depressed, and that I should go to a shrink, but fuck that. What the fuck are they gonna do? They’re not gonna bring her back. It’s not something that can be fixed. Fuck. I don’t usually talk about this shit. I just play music. That’s my therapy, you know?” He looks to me, desperate for some kind of answer.

  I wish I had one for him, but I don’t.

  “Why don’t you play for me now? Maybe something that reminds you of her?”

  “Yeah…all right.”

  He refills his cup of wine, and mine, and stands to move to the piano bench. I adjust myself on the blanket to look at him. He places his hands on his keys and speaks to me, but looks at the ivories.

  “After she died, I thought a lot about how our home would never be home again without her. It’s just a place. Just rooms. It’s the people in your life that make home real to you, you know? Like, it’s a feeling, not a place. I moved out right after she died.”

  I had those exact thoughts earlier—with him, Lydia, Kat, Ben and Alana. It felt like home, being with them, but I don’t want to tell him that yet.

  “So, this is a song I listened to often after she passed away.” He begins to play. His fingers are so graceful on the instrument. Soft notes enter the silence and Jason begins to sing.

  His feet pump the pedals at the base of the grand piano, and his voice floats through the room, raspy and breaking m
y heart. He sings his pain out—he pours it out. All the regret, I feel it through his voice and the words he sings. I feel my own pain rising up in my chest, meeting and merging with his. I want so much for us to heal each other, to make a whole out of broken pieces. He finishes the song, his eyes still closed, his hands frozen on the keys. I wipe a stray tear from my eye—then stand, and go to him. I sit down beside him and rest my head on his shoulder.

  “That was beautiful. Thank you for playing it for me,” I whisper.

  He lifts his head and places his lips at the top of my head. “It’s really nice to hang out with you, Claire. I mean, just us. I like it.”

  “I like it, too. It’s nice to be with someone who understands. It means a lot to me that you sang for me, and that you told me about your mama. I know it’s not easy, but singing helps, right? I don’t think I would have made it without music. Life is never the same after someone close to you dies. It’s like you die too, and another person takes over, living your life. The life you should have had fades away…and you’re like a ghost of yourself. Ghosts with just voices.”

  “Ghosts with just voices…that’s Snow Patrol, right? Set Fire to the Third Bar? That’s a beautiful song.” A grin crosses his face in spite of the somber moment. Then he presses his fingers to the keys once again. “Will you sing with me? I want us to sing something together, right now. Will you do that for me?”

  I’m lost in his eyes and I admit a little more to him than I should. “I would do anything for you.”

  His eyebrows perk up. “I’ll have to remember that.”

  He plays the keys and the sound reverberates through the room as we sing. The smile that owns his face right now could warm even the coldest of hearts, and I’m lost in it. The sound of our voices melds perfectly together. As we begin the chorus, he starts to push me with the melody he’s playing, driving my voice up and bringing a torrent of feeling with it.

  I stand and move to the side of the piano, so that I can let my voice come fully out from the depths. My eyes stay locked with his.

  Once again, I see my feelings on his face. It’s as if he’s my perfect match—the other side of the same coin. He pounds the piano, his whole body moves as he sings and plays. I want to crawl inside his skin. This is heaven to me—watching Jason’s gorgeous face display every emotion imaginable as he sings with me. We finish and I feel exhausted from the emotional outpouring. Jason on the other hand, is bursting. He stalks toward me, with fire in his eye.