I know I should be working on chapters for The Rest of the Sun Belongs to Me, Diamonds and Rust, and In Black and White, but I couldn't get this idea out of my head. Therefore, it not only deserved a back story, it deserved to be finished.
I live in Boston. When I get upset, I buy a coffee, a notebook or novel, load up my Charlie Card, and sit on the train. When my mom took her stroke, I rode the entire green line...which is very long. Anyway, the other night, I got into an argument with my dad and went to Starbucks. I bought a black coffee and a notebook, and walked to Wellington Station. For two hours, I looped around Oak Grove and Forest Hills...and I wrote the beginning of this. It isn't much, but it's heavy. I started to fall asleep on the train and vowed to finish it later. So here it is. This story is very angsty. It contains absolutely no spoken word; it's all about Jess.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the thoughts in my mind, the notebook I wrote this in, and a love for Gilmore Girls. It's okay to own love for the show, right Amy?
Jess Mariano may have been successful, but he was still bitter. He had a temper that could set off by the smallest detail; every other emotion was kept buried beneath all the anger he possessed. Most of the time, Jess was afraid to let anyone in. Letting someone in would mean he might have to admit he desired companionship. Because he did. Companionship was something Jess sorely lacked. He had absolutely no drive to be civil to anyone in his path. But Jess was only afraid to become attached; he was afraid to be hurt and feel more pain.
Some nights, he would buy a large coffee and ride the train through the night. Through the duration of the evening, he would simply sit, think, and sip aimlessly at his coffee. On occasion, he would grab a notebook to divulge his thoughts on paper. No matter where he went or what he did, all his thoughts seemed to begin and end with her. The coffee would further exaggerate his thoughts. On those particular nights, Jess would stare at the coffee, willing it to become alcohol so he could drown himself in it. The coffee, enough to drown in as it was, became a constant reminder of her. She was not supposed to invade his feelings so much. It had been years since he had touched her milky face or smelled her perfume. Jess missed her familiar scent of coffee and strawberries. No matter how hard he tried, she worked her way into his head mercilessly. Carefully, he pushed all thoughts of her aside.
Tonight, he sat glumly on the train. Jess held his coffee in one hand and clutched a battered notebook in the other. As he drank bitter beverage, he wondered if he would ever feel whole again. Lately, he had found himself thinking of the parts of his life that were missing. As much as he physically felt, Jess thought he was simply walking through his life without real emotions. It took much of his strength to close himself up to others. Jess had isolated himself to the point of insanity. He figured that his problematic situation of not caring was the least of his worries.
The train stopped to let passengers off. Jess continued to scribble down his thoughts as the train roared back to life and pulled out of the station. It was almost two in the morning, but New York was the city that never slept. There weren't many people on the train, but enough to justify its run through the night. Jess took a long swig of his hot, black coffee. He felt the bitterness lick at his throat. Perhaps the coffee was the cause of his tart response to others.
Jess continued to sit on train until nearly four in the morning. He had been sitting there long enough that the coffee was gone and his hand was sore from writing. It had taken a while to get around to his stop, but he departed the train as soon as it arrived.
The air was brisk and the breeze caused the hairs on his arm to stand up and protest his short sleeves. Jess chewed his lip as he walked to his lonely apartment. He knew his apartment was too big for one person, but it was far nicer than his old place. Jess enjoyed to homey comfort of the new apartment. He had become accustomed to apartments that were too small and smelled of rats and stale weed. Finally, he had made up his mind to spend the money he had collected from his book on a new apartment.
The key turned in the lock and allowed Jess into his apartment. As he knew it would be, the place was empty. Instead of rats and weed, his apartment smelled like coffee and books. Although it was four in the morning, it did not deter him from coffee. Jess approached his coffee maker and flipped it on. Insomnia was something he had become adapted to, especially after his long train rides. The coffee maker gurgled to life happily as Jess tossed his belongings aside. While he pulled his shoes off, he wondered if there was anything on television. Carelessly, he discarded his shoes by the table as he grabbed the remote. He flipped past infomercials, paid programming and the weather channel before turning the set off in frustration. Even though the coffee had stopped brewing, which meant it was fresh, Jess opted in favor of sleep. He didn't know what he wanted sometimes; it aggravated him. The coffee would be fine when he rolled out of bed sometime around nine. The gap between four and nine was not that wide.
Jess tossed his clothes in the corner and slid between the sheets. Physically and mentally, Jess was exhausted. Sometimes, he avoided sleep; when he was asleep, his mind had the chance to wander. Subconsciously, his mind would always wander to her. He hated that, but couldn't avoid sleep tonight. It had been days since he closed his eyes. It had been days since he had deeply thought of her. And it had been days since he had heard her scream.