Turn It Loose

by Danielle, Britni

  This was not stuffy old England where afternoons meant donning your Sunday best and toasting the Queen over decadent teas. Brick Lane Market was London at its grimiest, most creative and alive.

  Jaylah and Johnny rambled through the bazaar, stopping to examine the handmade merchandise and chat with vendors. She marveled at a man doling out Salt-n-Pepa-style asymmetrical haircuts in an alleyway, and contemplated jumping in the long line to let him hook her up with a style that represented how she felt now—brand new.

  She was definitely different than when she arrived. Jaylah’s tongue was no longer bound by strict rules decorum; she could speak her mind—most of the time anyway. And she had not only survived in a foreign country, but thrived, building the life she always daydreamed about.

  There was no Pulitzer, no six-figure book deal, no invites to the White House press room, but Jaylah had everything she’d ever wanted—a sister who had her back, a job she actually enjoyed, a man she was beginning to love, and a voice. She’d found her voice and treasured it.

  “Remind me to call my mother tonight,” she told Johnny as they traversed the maze of booths and people.

  Mrs. Baldwin had been right; Jaylah did land on her feet after all. Two months ago she was either on the verge of a nervous breakdown or working on becoming the best drunk L.A. had ever seen, but moving to London saved her and helped snatch victory from the jaws of near-certain defeat.

  Jaylah shook her head and chuckled; things in the game had definitely changed.

  “Are you hungry?” Johnny asked when they got closer to the food stalls in the UpMarket.

  “A little. I could go for something small.”

  They weaved through the Old Truman Brewery passing merchants hawking octopus fritters, Empanadas, sushi, and barbequed fish. Jaylah snapped pictures of the delicacies as they moved from booth to booth, making a note to herself to write about the city’s growing street food culture.

  After eyeing the options, they bought two sea bass sandwiches from a Jamaican cook and ambled outside.

  “Oh my God, this is so good,” she said, biting into the sandwich, which was stuffed with fried plantains.

  They sat on the curb sipping beer, enjoying the sunshine, and watching the gaggle of people around them. She loved that Johnny was as comfortable eating on the side of the road as he was dining in a Michelin starred restaurant. He complimented her perfectly—boosting her energy when she was dragging, and settling her down if she was beginning to freak out.

  “Ready to shop?” he asked, draining his brew.

  “You read my mind. I want to check out the jewelry booths. I have a slight earring addiction you know.”

  “Slight?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow, “You have like 100 pairs.”

  “It’s my thing. Some women buy shoes, I try to find earrings no one else has. Come.”

  Jaylah led the way, stopping at every table that caught her eye. She spotted a pair of wooden, hand-painted sphinxes and held them up.

  “You like?”

  “They’re…different, but I can see you wearing them.”

  She continued looking at the colorful accessories, picking them up and placing them close to her ears to see which ones she liked best.

  “I’m going to check the watch vendor,” he said, pointing a row over. “Be right back, yeah?”

  Jaylah nodded, too focused on the artisan charms to answer. She continued searching until she found a pair of brass dewdrop earrings with slivers of vintage maps and love letters inside the hull. She bought them and rushed to find Johnny to show them off.

  She spotted him near the watchmaker talking to a short man. When Jaylah walked up behind him she overheard the tail end of their conversation.

  “Listen man, we need to get together soon,” the man said.

  “Definitely. I’ve got my hands pretty full right now, but maybe in a few weeks.”

  “Sound like a plan. By the way, how’s your wife, uh, Fiona, doing?”

  Jaylah froze. Wife? Did she hear him correctly? He had to be confused, she thought. Perhaps he had mistaken Johnny for someone else.

  “She’s fine. Visiting her family in Scotland for the month,” Johnny said.

  “We’ll all have to get together when she returns. Susan would love to see her again. I’ve got to go, but I’ll call you, yeah?”

  “Yeah man, sounds good.”

  Johnny turned around and nearly crashed into Jaylah. She eyed him in disbelief.

  “Wife? You’re married?”

  Johnny seemed to grasp for the right words, but came up empty.

  “You’re married?” she asked again. “Answer me!”

  “Yes, but—“

  “But what? But what, Johnny? I can’t fucking believe this,” she said turning to leave.

  “Jaylah, wait. Please. Let me explain,” he said, hurrying behind her.

  She turned on her heels, “Are you separated? Getting divorced? Because otherwise—“

  “No, we’re not,” he said quietly, “But I haven’t been happy for a long time.”

  She glared at him, “How long have you been married?”

  “Four years. I never really wanted to get married in the first place, but we were together for so long and everyone kept pressuring us. And when she got pregnant, I had to—“

  “Wait, wait, wait,” she cut him off. “You’re married and you have a child?”

  “Jaylah, listen—”

  “Don’t touch me,” she yelled, “Don’t you dare touch me.”

  “Can we go somewhere and talk about this? Please?”

  “We don’t have anything to talk about, Johnny,” she said turning to run away, “ever!”

  He followed her calling out her name, but Jaylah tore through the market like a cannonball and he lost her in the crowd.

  Her heart pounded and her face was stained with tears. She had sprinted four blocks to get away, putting as much distance between them as she possibly could.

  “Married? Johnny’s married? How could I miss this?”

  Jaylah slumped against a wall and slid to the ground, searching her memory for anything that would have tipped her off to Johnny’s secret. She felt sick; the fish they’d eaten bubbled to her throat and she fought to keep it down.

  Married? The word sliced into her each time it echoed through her brain.

  Was she the other woman? A home wrecker? A slut?

  “How could I be so stupid?” she said aloud, angry with herself for falling for him. “Nothing serious, remember, Jaylah? You weren’t supposed to let this happen!”

  She scolded herself for allowing Johnny into her heart. She had been so trusting, believing him when he said he wanted to slow things down, get to know her, build a future.

  Jaylah rummaged through her bag to find her phone, she needed to hear that this was not her fault, that loving him didn’t mean she’d lost her mind.

  “Are you at home? It’s an emergency!” she texted Jourdan.

  “WHAT’S WRONG?!” she replied almost immediately.

  “It’s bad. I’m coming over,” she typed, “And we’re going to need vodka. Lots of vodka.”

  Jaylah staggered to the Aldgate East Tube station and hopped on the train heading for Shepard’s Bush. To keep herself from crying—or even thinking—she focused on the glass in front of her and counted the number of the times the train screeched to a halt.

  Sixteen stops later she exited the train and dragged herself to Jourdan’s apartment.

  “Out with it!” her friend commanded as soon as she opened the door.

  Jaylah collapsed into a chair and bawled. She struggled so hard to hold back the tears, but could no longer stop them from escaping down her face.

  “What happened? What’s wrong?” Jourdan asked in a panic.

  “He’s married. Johnny’s married.”

  “What?! Are you sure?”

  “I overheard him talking to this man. We were shopping and the man asked him, ‘How’s your wife?’ At first I thought he
had Johnny mixed up with someone else, but then he told the man she was in Scotland for the month. Just like that.” Jaylah sobbed, “I felt like I’d been punched in the gut.”

  Jourdan crossed the room and rubbed Jaylah’s back. “Did he try to explain?”

  “What could he say? He’s fucking married!”

  Jourdan handed her friend a glass of wine. “I thought I said vodka?”

  “We’ll work up to it,” Jourdan said. “So are they separated? They could be on the outs. It might not be as bad as you think.”

  “They’re not. He said he never wanted to get married until she got pregnant, and—“

  “He has a child?” Jourdan screeched.

  “Is that bad enough for you? I ran out of there. I didn’t need to hear anything else.”

  “So now what?”

  “I’m happy I’m leaving in a few weeks. Maybe I won’t come back.”

  “Don’t be silly. You can’t go running home just because Johnny turned out to be a cheating asshole. You’re better than that.”

  “What if I run into him, though? I can’t imagine seeing him…and his wife,” Jaylah shuddered.

  “Don’t let him chase you away, Jaylah. You have a life here. And I need you too, you know.”

  “You don’t. You’re strong enough to handle anything, Jourdan. I’m the mess remember?”

  “No, you aren’t,” she patted her friend’s hand, “And I do need you, Jaylah. I know I seem like I’m this Iron Lady or something, but I’m not. Growing up, I was the fat girl everyone picked on, and being nice meant getting your ass kicked. So I developed a defense. It’s hard to shake, though, even now. You’re literally my only close friend.”

  “But you know everybody, people love you.”

  “They aren’t my friends, Jaylah, they’re just people I know. There’s a difference. I love you, you’re my sister, remember? I’m not giving you up, especially over a man.”

  Jaylah hugged her friend; thankful she was able to stop her from careening over the edge. Since the moment they met Jourdan had looked out for her, helping her get settled and laying down roots in her new city. Jourdan was right; she couldn’t walk away from her new life because she got her heart broken, not when she ventured to London to stand on her own.

  “Now give me your glass. It’s time for the hard stuff.”

  * * *

  Day 70, my flat

  Johnny called again. I’m still not picking up the phone, I’m not sure I ever will. I mean, what could he say? “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you?” No thanks; he can save that speech for his wife.

  I still can’t even wrap my mind around this. How could he be married? He’s been with me non-stop for the past few weeks, but I guess that’s easy considering she’s out of town.

  My life just went from a sappy rom-com to hackneyed soap opera in a matter of seconds. I mean, one minute we were on the best date ever and the next I’m getting my Usain Bolt on through the market. Ugh. I can’t even believe this. I can’t!

  You know what’s the worse part? Even though he’s a lying asshole, I can’t stop thinking about him. I know, I know, believe me, I tried. I’m either cursing him out for being a cheater or wondering what the hell he was thinking and if he can make it right.

  How fucked up am I?

  I think I’ve watched too many Lifetime movies or something. Last night I had a dream that he rushed to my door (in the rain, of course) and said he can’t live without me and was leaving his wife. Then he took me in his arms and kissed me like they do on TV—dramatic, but not much tongue.

  Clearly, I’ve descended into delusion, but still…what does it say about me that I’m even thinking like this?

  Would I take him back if he did leave his wife? Would he even leave her?

  Maybe I’ll pick up the next time he calls and see if he’ll choose me (I can’t believe I wrote that desperate-ass sentence. Shoot me now).

  Who am I kidding, though?

  I’m SO happy I’m going home soon to pack up my apartment. It will keep me busy, and having an ocean between us will help me clear my head.

  I hope.

  xx.

  * * *

  Jaylah meandered through Boots shopping for things she didn’t need, but grabbed anyway to give her hands something to do instead of call Johnny. It had been four days since he dropped the wife bomb that blew her to bits, and she’d been avoiding his calls and text messages ever since.

  It wasn’t easy, though. He seemed to ring her every hour on the hour from the time he woke up ‘til he laid his head down at night sending desperate requests to please, please, please hear him out. Jaylah resisted, but he was wearing her down. She ached to hear his voice, slip her hand in his, taste his mouth.

  But she couldn’t go out like that; she couldn’t be the other woman—not even Johnny’s.

  She walked the aisles dumping things into her basket. Popcorn? Sure. Shower gel? Ok. Another bottle of shampoo? Throw it in. Tampons? She hesitated; she didn’t need any.

  But why not?

  Jaylah grabbed her phone and flipped to her WomanLog app to see when was the last time she’d had her period.

  “That can’t be right,” she said, noticing she should have had her cycle two weeks ago. Jaylah scrolled through the calendar, noting her other periods appeared like clockwork except for the last one.

  She halted. “This isn’t happening, Are you fucking kidding me right now?”

  Two weeks. Maybe it was stress, she thought, the past few days had been particularly hectic after all. Filing her column, covering the Portobello Film Festival, and coping with life without Johnny.

  “I can’t be pregnant. I just can’t,” she said, hoping to will away anything daring to grow inside her.

  Jaylah put the box of tampons back on the shelf and picked up a pregnancy test instead; she had to know.

  * * *

  As soon as she got home and put down her bags Jaylah heard a knock on the door.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked when she saw Johnny standing in the hall.

  “You wouldn’t pick up the phone. I had to talk to you. Can I come in? Please?”

  She wavered for a moment; unsure she’d be able to resist his apology if she invited him in.

  Jaylah stepped aside and said a silent prayer for strength. “So what do you want?”

  “You look good,” he said, fumbling for the right words, “I...I miss you.”

  She crossed her arms and made her face blank. “You wanted to talk?”

  “Baby, I’m so sorry. I never meant for all of this to happen. I know I hurt you, but—“

  “Save it! I don’t need your apologies. I just want the truth.”

  “Ok,” he swallowed hard. “I didn’t tell you for obvious reasons. Would you have continued seeing me if I had?”

  She looked at him like he’d lost his mind. “What do you think?”

  “Exactly. I never even meant for it to get this far, Jay. That first night, I tried to chalk it up to harmless flirting, innit? We were drinking, had a good time at the bar, then kissed. I managed to leave without taking it further, so I thought that would be the end of it,” he threw up his hands, “but I just couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

  “Were you ever going to tell me, Johnny? Or were you just going to let me keep being your little secret?”

  “Honestly, I hadn’t even thought that far ahead. Whenever I found myself feeling guilty about lying to you I’d also think about how much I wanted to be with you. I just didn’t want to lose you or how you made me feel. I didn’t even consider how this would all end.”

  “Well, that’s where we are now—at the end.”

  “Jaylah, I still don’t want to lose you,” he said inching closer, “can we figure out a way to—“

  “To what, Johnny? Keep sleeping together behind your wife’s back?”

  He hunched his shoulders. “I don’t even know, I just need time to sort this out.”

  “I deserve bett
er than that, Johnny. So does your wife.”

  “I know,” he whispered. “But I love you Jaylah. I’m happier than I’ve been in years. She doesn’t even—”

  “Stop it! I don’t want to know shit about her. Maybe you should be having this conversation with your wife.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying maybe it’s time to walk away, Johnny. You said it yourself; you never wanted to marry her. And you love me, right?”

  “It’s not that simple. We’ve only known each other for two months and—”

  “I’m sorry? Now it’s ‘we’ve only known each other for two months?’ Weren’t you just the one professing your love for me?”

  “I was…I mean, I am. But things can’t be sorted just like that. This isn’t a TV show, Jaylah.”

  “Well, I think that settles it then. I’m not about to be your side chick, Johnny. It’s time for you to go.” She sidestepped him to get to the door.

  “Jaylah wait—“ He reached out for her but knocked over the shopping bag instead. Johnny continued talking while he cleaned up its spilled contents. “Divorce is just such a long and messy process, and my family will—“

  He froze. “What’s this?” he asked holding up the pregnancy test.

  “Nothing,” she said, snatching the box out of his hand. “It’s nothing.”

  “You’re pregnant?”

  “No,” she said, putting some distance between them.

  “How do you know? You haven’t taken the test yet.”

  “It doesn’t matter. This doesn’t concern you, Johnny.”

  A pained expression spread across his face like he’d been slapped. “It doesn’t concern me? How can you even say that?”

  “Look, go home to your wife and your child. They’re your only concern now,” she said on the verge of tears.

  He crossed the room and held her. “Jaylah I don’t have a child.”

  “What? You said you married your wife because she got pregnant.”

  “I did, but she lost the baby. Things went downhill from there.”

  He rubbed her back and for a moment Jaylah relished being so close to him again. Johnny doesn’t have a child, she thought, then felt like a heartless bitch for feeling relived the baby didn’t make it into the world. Would it make it easier for him to leave his wife? Her heart hoped so, but her brain couldn’t let her believe it.