Yeah, yeah... I know I should be updating my other story... but this is something that I just absolutely could not get my mind off of until I wrote it.
There MAY be a SECOND CHAPTER added to this story depending on the response to it, but as of right now... I don't know. So let me know what you think, okay?
R&R PEEPS!
(P.S. This is the revised, not totally screwed over by find/replace function. Thanks for pointing it out to me Ree2104!) If you see anything else that is amiss, let me know!
It was both beautiful and ironic really. Stepping out of a house filled with screams, bruises and blood and finding myself under a pristine sky, soft gentle breeze and blissful quiet. I never dreamed that taking these steps outside would be so easily done, what with my little brother and mother still trapped under the iron fist that belonged to my dad. Jared is old enough now, I think to myself, attempting to relieve some of my guilt for sneaking out of the house without him.
By now, he is probably locked in his room, hiding under the sheets in his bed cowering away from the violence while my mother breaks yet another extremity because she "fell". Normally I try to attract attention to myself because I am a man and I can handle it, but tonight I can only see myself as a nineteen year old who got the crappy end of the paternity stick.
I look down and see that it is only a one story drop; it won't hurt any more than an injury I get on a normal night at family dinner I rationalize, and without a second thought, I jump from the roof and land on the ground with my feet like an agile cat, although the searing pain that shoots up my calves prevents me from walking for a minute or two.
When I finally regain full feeling in My legs, I stand up off of the ground and brush off leaves and dirt from my jeans and open the gate from my backyard to the street. It's very rare that my family ever goes on vacation, mainly because my father spends most of his income on bottles of Jack Daniels and cheap vodka that even makes my eyes water just being in close proximity to it, but this year he actually came home with plans to go the jersey shore and rented a small house in Seaside Park as an apology for a particular nasty night in the Booth household, when the booze ran dry and his impatience did not.
I make my way down the street and before I even reach the corner, I wonder whether I should turn and go back or keep on my path. In one respect, I am scared that if I don't go back, something might happen, something serious which I will always regret not being able to prevent but on the other hand I'm scared that if I go back, he will turn on me yet again about why I am coming through the front door rather than upstairs.
I stop and take a deep breath and think to myself, Just this one night to myself, God will forgive me for just this one act of selfishness. Again, I continue on my path and mindlessly steer myself towards the boardwalks. It's late and all of the games and stores are closed and the only people left inhabiting the boardwalks are couples, the homeless and numerous seagulls that are picking at the bits of food left behind by tourists.
I see a girl about a half a mile ahead of me. In high school I was more or less known for my suave nature with women, although it was really all an act to maintain my social status and keep my home life a secret. Now, I tend to shy away from talking to girls, or anyone really. I have a close knit group of friends at school, who encourage me to get out and party with them, but the one time I went out, some drunken jerk started a fight for no reason and ruined the night for everyone and since then I avoided phrat parties and large social gatherings.
The girl is fidgeting with the sleeve of her shirt and staring out onto the water there is something about her that I can relate to just through her body language alone. As I draw closer to her, I take in her appearance, baggy jeans, old beat up sneakers and a small zip up hooded jacket that has seen better days. Her delicate brown hair is swept up in a messy bun although there are strands of hair that have come loose with the strong breeze off of the water. She is not peaceful but she is at peace leaning against the wooden side rail of the dock.
I always do this, I think to myself, make it seem like I have a connection with a person that I don't know just because I'm lonely, and despite myself I sit on a bench one down from her and wait in hope that she will notice me, talk to me even though it is unlikely.
"Why are you staring at me?" she says to me without looking in my direction.
My heart skips a beat at the sound of her voice. I can't believe that she is talking to me, so I look around to make sure of it and find that I am the only person close enough to speak to. I clear my throat and say, "I'm not." But it doesn't sound as definitive as I would like it to.
She turns her head slightly, in my direction but she still doesn't look at me, "Yes, you are." She says with a slight laugh in her voice, "I know what it feels like when a guy looks at me."
I cross my arms and lean back on the bench, "Well then, you must be mistaken because I'm not a guy."
She giggles and turns around to face me and I find myself immediately drawn to her piercing blue eyes, so much so that I almost miss it when she says, "Oh, so then… you're a woman?" she asks jokingly.
I laugh as well, "No, what I meant to say was that I'm a man." I say proudly.
She examines me with a keen eye and leans her side on the railing with her arms crossed, "Just barely." She says with a smirk.
Although I want to appear offended, the smirk to match hers falls upon my lips and it's too late to take it back, "Yeah, well; only time can take care of that." I say. There is something about her that is mesmerizing even though I can't pinpoint what it is about her exactly that makes me want to be near.
She looks down at her hands, which are still fussing with the cuff of her hoodie, "You aren't one of those criminals who prey on young women are you?" she asks.
Suddenly I become stiff in my seat and I feel my eyes widen at the boldness of the question, "No." I say and this time it sounds as definitive as I want it to.
She sighs and looks up at me, "Yeah, well; I guess if you were you wouldn't tell me anyway, right?"
"If it were true," I say quietly, "shouldn't you be running away or something?" I ask.
She looks at me and a small unexpected smile forms on her face, "I could take you in a fight." She says.
I lean back on the bench and smile and I say, "I'm sure that you could." Even though I know that it isn't true.
I sit in silence looking at her and she is looking at me as well and I wonder if she feels the connection that I feel that I have with her. She is pretty, but not in the traditional sense of the word. Her features are striking but quirky and she is uncomfortable in her own body and she reminds me of stories that my mother used to tell me about herself as a young girl, and there is no one more beautiful than her. I become slightly uncomfortable under her gaze and shift in my seat, "So, what's your name?" I ask.
She pauses and shifts her gaze before answering, "Jane Goodall." She said, "you?"
I laugh, "It's nice to meet you Jane." I say sarcastically, "My name is… George C. Marshall."
She laughs and slowly starts to move towards me until she finally sits down next to me on the bench, "You smell nice." I say, turning to her.
She looks confused and smells her shoulder, "Trash bags?" she asks, "You like the smell of trash bags?"
I've confused by the statement, "No, your hair smells like flowers." I tell her, "Jasmine?"
She takes a lock of her hair and smells it, "Oh, it must be my shampoo." She states.
"It's nice." I reply; then pause before asking, "Why would you think I was going to say garbage bags?"
She rolls her eyes, "Oh, like you can't tell by looking at me?" she says sarcastically. I look at her and have absolutely no response and her expression changes, "Never mind." She says under her breath.
"So, what are you doing out here this late at night? You know that it isn't really safe for a girl to be out by herself this late at night."
"Meeting someone." She says without taking her eyes off of the water.
"Oh," I say and abruptly stand up, "I'll just…" I start to leave but she grabs my hand.
"No, please stay." She asks and I can see the pleading in her eyes.
I nod my head silently and take the seat next to her again. She lets go of my hand and clasps hers on her lap, "What about you? Why are you out so late?" she asks.
"Avoiding someone." I say honestly.
She nods and tells me softly, "I know what that's like."
We both sit in silence again, listening to the sounds of the waves comfortably side by side until she breaks the moment, "So, what are you going to be when you grow up?" she asks.
I laugh at her innocent question and shrug, "I'm going to be an officer I think."
She nods, "Police?"
"Maybe." I say, nodding my head, "What about you?"
"I think I'm going to be a scientist."
I nod, "What kind?"
She shrugs and looks at me, "I'm not sure yet. My dad… he…" She shakes her head.
"What about him?" I ask.
"Oh," she says, then coughs, "It's not important. You know, you should work for the Feds. You look like one."
I laugh, "Uh, thanks?"
She crosses her arms, "Welcome." She shivers.
"You cold?" I ask.
"No." she says automatically, but I take off my jacket and she leans forward so I can put it around her shoulders, "Thanks."
A small plane flies overhead and I look up, "That plane is really low, isn't it?" I ask her.
She looks up, "It's probably landing in Newark." She says.
"Huh. Is Newark close to here?"
She shakes her head, "Not by driving." She says, "but for a plane, yeah."
I look up at the plane again and without thinking I say, "I've always wanted to do that."
She looks at me curiously, "Do what? Fly in an airplane?"
"Oh." I say, slightly embarrassed, "I meant jumping out of one."
She half laughs, "I would like to do that too someday. It would be… exciting." She smiles.
I turn to her, "We should go together."
"Yeah, we should do that."
Even though I want to keep that promise, I know that the likelihood that I will ever see her again is very limited but I can't help but think that she knows it too and this whole conversation, even the fake names that we've picked out is just a way of finding some sort of solace in a stranger.
"You know what else we should do?" she asks. I smile and turn my whole body towards her, "We should backpack through South America. I think that would be fun, don't you?"
"I don't know that it would be fun, but it would definitely be one of those unforgettable once in a lifetime experiences."
"Come on, Charlie." She says knocking her shoulder into mine, "What else do you want to do?"
I sit and think for a moment before coming up with something, "It's stupid, but I would really like to go to Paris, even though they supposedly hate Americans. I really love old architecture." I laugh.
"Well, that won't be a problem for us because I can speak fluent French." She smiles.
"Really? You speak French?" I ask.
"Oui." She responds and then laughs. Her laugh gives me a sense of calm that nothing I have ever heard or experienced does.
"Well then, I'd have to buy you a pretty Parisian dress for helping me with all of the translation as well."
"Who says that I want a dress?" she asks me.
I laugh, "I'm the one buying it." I say, "Besides, I think I would look very fetching in a dress."
"Well, I appreciate the compliment, but I'm the one who would have to wear it." She remarks.
"Yup." I reply, "Which is why I would then take you out to a fancy restaurant."
She smiles mischievously, "But I would pay the bill to thank you for the lovely dress."
I nod at her, "Fine then, have it your way." I smile at her and before I can even stop myself, I hear my voice say, "But I'll only let you pay the bill if you save a dance for me."
She closes her eyes and leans her head on my shoulder, "All of my dances are saved for you." I lift my arm and place it around her shoulders and she snuggles more securely into my side and I rest my head on top of hers. We sit in silence again until I hear a faint sniff and she says, "It would be wonderful wouldn't it?" she asks, and her voice is strained.
I turn and find a tear falling down her cheek, "What?" I ask softly, thrown off by her sudden sadness.
"If we could really do those things someday." she says, wiping the tear away with the back of her other hand.
I pull her into a hug and rub her back, "We will, we could… someday." I say to her. This whole situation was strange really. I just met this girl and the both of us are acting like we've known each other our whole lives but somehow it feels almost right. I knew from the moment I saw her that I had more in common that I thought. Maybe we were meant to meet here; now on this boardwalk, or maybe we were meant to meet at another time and place altogether, but the one thing I knew for sure was that we were meant to be in each other's lives.
She pulls away from me and wipes her eyes, "I'm so sorry, I don't know what came over me." She says, turning away from me.
I put my hand on her shoulder, "Hey, it's okay. I really don't mind."
She laughs, "I just met you and I'm acting like… ugh, I don't know." She shakes her head.
I sigh audibly, "You're not the only one." I say in an attempt to ease her mind.
She turns to me and I guess that she sees in my eyes that I'm telling her the truth and she smiles, "Thanks." She says, and sniffs.
I tentatively place my hand on her back, "Your welcome."
She inhales and looks back out over the ocean, "I wish every night could be like this one." She states.
"Why?"
She takes a moment and I can see her trying to formulate an answer in her head. She sighs and glances over at me, "You're the first person in a very long time who has taken an interest in me who doesn't have an agenda or who wants to take advantage of me." And then she looks at me and half smiles and I can't tell whether or not it is truly happy.
All that I can think to say is, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be." She says, turning back to the water, "What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger, right?" she asks, and when I don't reply she shakes her head and says under her breath, "I hate that saying."
"Me too." I reply.
She pulls up her shirt sleeve to reveal a watch and says, "It's late."
"Yeah." I reply.
"I should… probably get back." She says, and the reluctance in her voice is almost tangible.
I smile and slowly stand up and she follows suit, "I could walk you back if you like." I offer.
She turns to me and smiles, "Nah, it's really close by. You don't have to worry about me."
"Tomorrow is my last day here so, I don't know, maybe, do you want to meet up again?" I ask.
She sighs, "I would really love to, but I'm… I'm not going to be here anymore." She says sadly.
I nod, "Well, okay then." I say, and we stand in front of each other either because we don't know how to say goodbye or because we don't want to; I'd like to think it was the latter.
She steps closer to me and fixes the collar of my t-shirt, "I've changed my mind Charlie." She says.
My breath hitches from her actions and I look and her delicate hands as they fall onto my chest, "What about?" I ask softly.
She smiles the mischievous smile that I like so much, "You are definitely a man; the best kind of man." She says and tilts her head to the side. Everything she does is just absolutely endearing and if I could; if she would let me, I would run away with her in a heartbeat, just to spend more time with her.
I take one of her hands off of my chest and kiss the back of it softly, "Take care of yourself, okay Jane?" I ask.
She nods and squeezes my hand and turns to walk away, but turns back, "You know, that's not really my name, Charlie." She says.
I nod, "That's not mine either."
She laughs and turns again and walks down the boardwalk. I watch her for a moment, and notice that she is still wearing my jacket, but choose not to say anything about it. I turn to walk away and then turn back, "Hey Jane!" I yell.
She turns abruptly, "Yeah Charlie?" she asks.
"Weren't you supposed to be meeting someone?" I ask.
She pauses for a moment before answering, "I found him." She smiles and turns around again and walking out of sight.
I take a deep breath and walk back towards the house thinking of her and I think that if I can meet her again someday or at least someone similar, all of the crap that I've been through might just be worth it.
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