by Leah Spiegel
“Then hell, hold onto it as long as you can,” I smiled weakly. “Well—don’t forget about us little people,” I quickly added as we leant in to hug each other again.
As I turned to leave, Riley suddenly called out, “Joie!” causing me to turn back around. “For whatever it’s worth,” he slowly began to nod. “I’d let you go too. If I were straight, I mean,” he cracked a small grin and then added more seriously. “I’d make you go too. Just remember that…” he drifted off and before he could turn to leave I ran into his arms. Feeling my body crash into his solid frame, I felt my eyes well up with tears as we hugged.
“I’ll miss you Riley, my very, very gay crush.”
When we finally let go, I went to wipe away a tear and sniffed, “I’m serious about Lizzie. Make her take Warren back. Tell her…tell her it would drive Gwyneth nuts!” I smiled at my quickness.
“Nice,” he beamed. “Don’t worry, I will.”
“Good,” I finally sighed, feeling as if I could handle whatever was coming next.
“Well—see you,” I smiled before turning around to head in the direction of the airport’s shuttle. Leaving Riley behind was almost just as jarring as leaving Hawkins. Who knew when I’d see my best friend again? He was going back to the kind of traveling, the ever growing world that never settled down long enough in one place to grow roots, and I was heading back to a place that time seemed to have forgotten.
Chapter Nine
My mom might not look like much at only five feet tall, but she had a spark about her that made me stop dead in my tracks when her hazel eyes locked with mine. I knew that saying a simple ‘sorry’ was not going to cut it with her now. I had lied to her. I had told her I was working for Nicholas Johnson’s presidential campaign when I was really following a band around on their summer tour. I knew my mom. I knew how badly the lie must have hurt her, and quite frankly scared her.
She always wanted the very best for me. She wanted me to attend the best schools, make the best grades, and become something when I finally graduated. Maybe she was driven by fear; the fear that I would never become self-sufficient and be able to take care of myself if something was to ever happen to her. She wanted more from me than to live pay check to pay check. I think she also hoped I didn’t have too much of my father in me, the dreamer. Whatever the reason, the closer I neared to graduation day without having a clue as to what I wanted to with my life, the more anxious she became.
So when Riley and Lizzie concocted the plan for us to follow the Grimm Brother’s Band around on their summer tour; I took the opportunity to flee from my mom and the high expectations she had for me.
After falling in love with Hawkins, I felt like everything suddenly made sense. I was suddenly so sure. It felt right, when a lot of other things never had. I still had no clue as to what I wanted to do with my life, but I now knew who I wanted to spend my life with while doing it. I knew that my mom would never approve of it. Approve of the idea of only being sure of whom I loved when I looked to my future because in a way, she had spent my entire life trying to protect me from that same mistake she had made with my father. The idea that you can’t always depend on someone else to protect you in this life.
She had learned from her mistakes. She had become wiser because of them. And I literally gasped a heart breaking kind of sigh as we stood there staring at each other because I knew we were way past the ‘I told you so’ speech.
“I’d ask where your luggage is,” my mom said coolly. “But then I’d also have to ask where your father’s van is…but then again, I’m not sure why you’d start to be honest with me now.”
Her words hit me like a ton of bricks as she got in behind the wheel of her red Pontiac Grand Am.
“It’s nice to see you too, mom,” I sighed under my breath before opening the passenger side door to get in as well.
We sat in silence for most of the trip back home because I didn’t know what to say to her. I didn’t know how to apologize to her for leading her on for weeks by telling her that I had gotten a job. It was the reason I was travelling, I remembered telling her. And for once, she sounded so proud of me because I was finally telling her everything she wanted to hear.
The situation was only made worse when I realized she had a soft spot for the presidential hopeful; something she shared with Hawkins, who had gone as far as to help promote the democrat by registering voters at his concerts.
“Do you know how long you’ll be staying?” she finally asked.
“Until things blow over,” I lied, hating that I couldn’t be honest with her again. “He thinks this is what’s best for my safety,” I murmured, knowing at least that part was true.
“Well—that’s not what the magazines are saying,” she huffed. “And by the way, I am not overbearing.”
“Mom, don’t read those. They’re never accurate,” I said, thinking what were they saying about me now? I knew they didn’t know I had left yet. I still had that to look forward to I realized grudgingly.
“Don’t tell me that,” she insisted.
“It’s the truth mom. Everyone knows that what they write is a bunch of rubbish.”
“Yeah well that rubbish is the only connection I’ve had to my daughter’s life, so don’t tell me that it’s not accurate.”
I thought I was incapable of feeling any more pain than I already had today, but hearing her confession made my heart feel like it had shattered into a thousand tiny pieces.
“They must know some things,” she continued to defend the tabloids, but I didn’t have it in my heart to stop her now. I had hurt her. I just didn’t know how much until now.
“They use quotation marks,” she continued, making my eyes suddenly prickle with tears. “And sources— Yes mom, they do quote people.” I gave in with a sniffle and a nod.
“Then it’s true that he was going to marry that girl?” She looked over at me for clarification.
“A long time ago, yes,” I nodded; thinking Gwyneth was the last person I wanted to be talking about right now.
“Joie,” she said my name no louder than a whisper. “How could you be so foolish?”
“I don’t know, mom,” I suddenly gasped, because I was too tired to keep pretending everything was okay when it wasn’t. “I’m sorry.” I finally broke down and told her.
“Oh honey,” her tone suddenly softened. “I don’t blame you, not really. You’re young and you fell in love. I’m just glad that you got out of it before something stupid happened.”
“Like what happened with you and dad?” I turned to lock eyes with her.
“I didn’t mean it like that, Joie,” she huffed.
You never do, I thought with a heavy sigh as I looked out at the familiar sight of the street that led down our block to our house. Our neighborhood was filled with residents that some would call ‘old money’. The surrounding houses, which were all built differently to each other and varied from block to block, were created in a time before cul-de-sacs became popular among the wealthy.
Our house didn’t look like much from the front. It was a two story white house with navy blue shutters. It used to belong to my grandfather before my mom inherited it. I was too young to remember much about my grandfather when he died, but I felt like a piece of him lived on in our house because it was still decorated the same way that he had left it. My mom hadn’t even changed as much as a piece of furniture or painting on the wall. It even smelled like the same mossy, old house he owned when we finally came through the front door minutes later.
The house had always reminded me of a museum because of all the paintings, sculptures, vases, animal figurines, and the expensive furniture that filled the rooms. To the left was the living room, decorated with a stiff black and white floral love seat which lined the wall to my left and matching couch which was positioned adjacent to it under a bay window that faced the front yard. I can’t remember the last time I actually sat down on either one of them because like the furniture in a museum, it was prettier
to look at than to sit on.
Straight across the living room was another wide opening that led back to the family room. It was equipped with a television set and a long leather couch. My mom and I had spent most of our time together in there because it was the only comfortable seat in the house and it was the only place besides my room where you could find modern technology.
Across from the front door, was a hallway that led further back to a full size kitchen and dining room. Looking around at the large framed artwork on the walls and old décor like the faded tapestry on the ground, I wondered how my mom could feel comfortable living in a type of archive.
I knew a part of the reason was because she didn’t have the money to upgrade the place. And the other part was because, like the rest of our neighborhood, we seemed to live in a part of the Burgh which time had literally forgotten.
It was weird knowing so much had changed in my life, and yet here I was standing in this house as though it could have been only yesterday that I planned my escape and left on some crazy mission to stalk a band.
“I’m sure you’ll find enough clothes to wear in the drawers where you left them,” my mom sighed, bringing me out of my analysis.
“Thanks,” I smiled and pointed up the steps in the direction of my room before we parted ways. As I climbed the stairs a small voice in the back of my mind reminded me that this was my reality now. I belonged here now because as far as Hawkins was concerned I didn’t belong in his world anymore. I knew he thought he was protecting me, but as I pushed back the door to my room, the emptiness was almost unbearable. The stagnant stale air clung to my lungs as I slowly took in the room.
My mom must not have touched a thing since I left because my bed, which was centered on the wall across the room to my left, was still unmade, like she was waiting for me to come home any day now. The thought alone made me feel overwhelmed with emotion. Why couldn’t I have just told her the truth instead of continuing to run from her? I wondered as I crossed the threshold of my door into the small space.
My room had two half size dressers; one to the left of the door and one across from the door along the wall to the right. My fingers grazed along the top of one of them where I had left my graduation commencement program. God—it felt like a lifetime ago, I realized as I leafed through it and then tossed it to the side again.
Looking up at the bulletin board overtop of the dresser, I snatched up a picture of Riley and me at Kennywood Amusement Park on a day that we decided to ditch school. Riley’s familiar face was the only thing that comforted me as I came to sit down on the edge of my bed. This couldn’t be my life, I thought with another glance around the room. It was too… settled and quiet, I sighed with the realization. Yes, I might be safe here, but at what cost?
Chapter Ten
Later that night, I didn’t know what to say to my mom as we sat down for a spaghetti dinner. The only sounds that could be heard were from my cell beeping every couple minutes from calls and text that Hawkins was sending but I wasn’t answering and the silverware clanking off our plates as we continued to eat in silence.
“Is it supposed to storm?” my mom finally asked.
“No, why?” I felt my face pinch with the question since it had been an unusually bright day, even for the Burgh.
“I thought I saw lightning,” she went to shrug it off when suddenly I saw a flash of light through the corner of my eye and another flash quickly followed it, but I didn’t hear any thunder.
“Oh my god,” I realized with a sickening kind of dread in the pit of my stomach. The flashes of light weren’t from a lightning storm; they were from the cameras of the paparazzi outside our dining room window.
“Mom, get down,” I hissed as I quickly ducked for cover under the table; out of the way of the shot. My heart was racing inside my chest from the sudden breach of privacy.
“Who are those men?” My mom stayed frozen in her seat as I quickly worked my way over on my knees to the window and yanked the curtains shut.
It might as well have been thundering and lightning because once my mom finally found her feet again, we both raced from window to window to shut the curtains in the same mad rush as if we had left the windows down in the middle of a rain storm.
I didn’t know if it was legal for the paparazzi to be scattered throughout our yard and around our house, but they probably figured that they could get away with it for now. It wasn’t like I was the famous one in the relationship who had security for this type of stuff.
Ten minutes later, my mom and I found ourselves both winded from the experience with our butts on the floor and our backs to the couch in front of our bay window in the living room. Even with the curtains drawn tightly shut, I could see flashes of lights go off outside through the cracks to the side of the curtains like they were trying to catch any image they could. It was enough to even weird me out, and I thought I had seen a thing or two by now.
For the first time since I had arrived home, my mom showed some real affection toward me by taking my hand into hers and squeezing it.
“They don’t show you this part in the magazines,” she gasped; partly from being still winded from the experience of running around the house and partly from being afraid like me.
“No, no they don’t,” I smiled over at her weakly; wishing that she didn’t have to experience this with me.
“How did they find out where I was so quickly?” I asked out loud when it suddenly dawned on me.
“Lizzie,” I growled as I reached for my cell that, fortunately for me, I still had in my jean pocket.
“What are the paparazzi doing at my house?” I sent the text to Lizzie’s cell.
“Good, they’re there,” she texted back like she had been anticipating this moment. “Now remember to look cool and indifferent. Someone has an image to keep up.”
“You know he dumped me right?” I reminded her.
“He didn’t dump you, it’s Hawkins. He has a martyr complex. And we need this opportunity to show Gwyneth that none of this got to you. Now remember - no occasion’s too small to look your best,” she continued before I could text back and then sent another text at lightning speed. “I know you left all your clothes here so I’m going to be emailing you a cheat sheet of photographs from magazine clippings of outfits that any girl, yes even you, can create from the basic things you have in your closet.”
“I highly doubt that,” I mumbled to myself when another text popped up.
“That bitch won’t know what hit her, when you look confident and hot, while he literally cries himself to sleep every night.”
“Wait—what?” I asked because that part actually caught my attention. Did Hawkins miss me?
“Nothing, not important—now remember, don’t directly acknowledge them.”
“I think it’s too late for that,” I sighed to myself with the memory of my mom and me frantically running around the house so we could yank the curtains shut.
“Am I great PR person or what?” the next text popped up.
Groaning to myself, she quickly replied before I could, “You can thank me later…bye!”
“Who was that?” my mom asked bringing my focus back to the two of us; hiding out on the living room floor.
“The less you know the better,” I sighed as I tightened my hand around hers and squeezed it.
Chapter Eleven
Maybe the less I knew was better for me too, because when I woke up the next morning, feeling barricaded in my house because the paparazzi were literally camped outside on my front lawn, I made the mistake of turning on the TV. I never considered myself lucky, but I couldn’t remember doing anything worth deserving this kind of bad Karma. There on the 37inch flat screen was my face blown up to fill the screen.
“I guess its official, J.T. Hawkins and Joie Hall have broken up for good.”
It suddenly felt as if I walked in on a conversation where people were talking behind my back, only problem was they just kept talking and for a second I was glued
to the screen unable to turn it off.
“And now there are rumors that he’s been crying his eyes out on his ex-fiancé shoulder to get him through this difficult time.”
When they showed a picture of Hawkins, Gwyneth, and Warren heading into a hotel together, it was my worst nightmare come true. I knew they were reading more into the picture than was actually going on with Warren being in the bunch, but it still succeeded at setting my teeth on edge. What if Gwyneth was moving in on Hawkins now that I was gone?
“Poor Hawkins,” the newscaster added sarcastically bringing my focus back to the television set. “Life must be so tough.”
“I know,” another guy in the group added. “It’s like dude—why did you leave her in the first place? She’s gorgeous.”
Finally my body caught up with my mind as I turned the television set off.
“Well—that was a mistake,” I mumbled to myself as I fell back onto my bed. Grabbing up my cell phone from the nightstand by my bed, I ignored the over 25 messages from Hawkins and decided to text Riley.
“I’m depressed. The paparazzo is holding me prisoner in my own house, and according to TMZ Hawkins is moving onto Gwyneth.”
“You think you’re depressed, you should see Hawkins. At least you shower when you’re depressed. If he doesn’t shave soon, he’s going to start to look like the Unabomber. And I don’t see how he could have possibly moved on when he hasn’t even left his room except to take the stage every night.”
“Are you sure, because they showed a picture of him going into a hotel with her?” I asked since Hawkins appeared to look his normal sexy handsome self in the picture that they showed.
“I share the same tour bus with him, I think I would know. That picture must be old.”
“Thank you, I needed to hear that. Well—not that he’s depressed, but that he’s not moving on.”