A/N: I find that I don't have enough pages and can't find enough words to tell the story of a life properly….
Chapter 11 – the world revolves around you.
Jack had told Audrey about his scholarship. And now she was sulking. He wasn't exactly sure how they'd gotten from Santa Fe to sitting opposite each other in silence, but they had. She'd been happy for him when he told her. He had been watching her move about his cramped kitchen from the doorway, slicing her apple, one sure cut after the other. Then suddenly, he just blurted it out. Seconds after he said, "Don't cut yourself," he followed up with, "I got the scholarship for Santa Fe." In the middle of cutting her apple, she'd abandoned her knife and thrown her arms around his neck as though he were her champion.
But now, he didn't know what was wrong with her. Frankly, he thought that perhaps he should have expected it from her. Over the last month or so, she'd been sinking slowly, pulling herself inward and leaving him in the dark about a lot of things. Sometimes, he couldn't have guessed whether or not she really even liked him anymore. He really couldn't tell at first. He attributed it to a bad mood or her monthly funk. But surely, lately she was becoming different. Easier to anger. Quieter. More detached. Maybe she was tired or stressed, he thought each time he excused her. Maybe it was all the work.
Things could only get better.
Maybe it was no different this time. "What's wrong with you?" he mumbled, to which she shook her head. He tried another avenue. "Did I do something wrong?" Another shake of the head and more thickly tense silence. "Then what's the problem?" he asked, possibly more to himself than to her. For, he figured, she wasn't going to answer anyway.
She didn't answer. Just as he figured. She continued staring off into the dimly lit space, watching the shadows grow long upon the floor. "Talk to me," he commanded. She didn't bother to acknowledge him. Simply, regarded him as though he were a house plant that she didn't feel like watering. He was slowly dying and drying up as she remain absorbed in her own thoughts. "Alright," he finally said, when he'd gotten good and sick and tired of her stiff, unyielding behaviour. "Sit there like a fucking rock." He walked into the kitchen and got two cans of Miller Lite, one sixth of a fridge pack, and proceeded to drink them. He drank the two down and she was still silent, tracing patterns on the arm of his couch. So, he got another. After the third beer and then the fourth, Audrey had started folding little bits of her art history notes into origami cranes. Jack did not exist to her, though he was thoroughly in the room and in front of her.
So, he slouched down in his chair, draping one leg over the arm and drank another beer. At beer seven, he popped open the top and looked at her hard. "You got somethin' you wanna say yet, Audrey? Because I'm warnin' ya, one more beer and I won't hear you anymore. Another after that and I won't see ya." He took a sip of the beer as a warning, making a big, slow display of it. Then he waited, tapping the side of the can with his fingertips. "You're a pain in the ass," he muttered, giving up on his grudge. Why was he angry? Because she was angry. His anger was nonsensical and it was only getting in the way of, what he considered to be, a happy scenario. He was drinking the beers, yes, but both of them should have been. They should have been celebrating his accomplishment and getting thoroughly sloshed because of it, not sitting across the room, only steps from each other and getting annoyed. Noble as he was, he decided to try once more, with gusto and heartfelt truth. "Audrey, I love you. You don't seem to understand that, but I do...just the same. Not like it means anything to you. And I know this may seem corny or petty of me...but really, when was the last time you told me you loved me? A month ago? Two?"
"Three. At my last count, anyway."
So she was capable of speaking. Jack shrugged. "See? Three is even worse."
"Why do you need me to say it?"
"Why can't ya just say it? What's the problem?"
"The problem is that...oh, fuck, Jack. I don't know. Do you even really love me or do you think I'm pretty to look at? Cause it seems that, lately, I'm one of three things to you – a nuisance, a child that you have to take care of, or someone you're really interested in when she's naked. That is, when you're in the mood."
"Aw, don't fucking start that," Jack retorted, shaking his head in disgust and pointing an accusing finger in her direction. "You know that's not true. You walk around with that sour look on your face all the time. You ignore me and act like I'm burdenin' ya or something. How do you expect me to treat you? I'm a patient man, Audrey. But I ain't no saint."
"Why do you love me then? If I'm such an annoyance, why do you love me? Do you love me because you can never understand me, or because you understand me only too well? Both possibilities have been suggested, and now more than . . . never, it might help me to know."
Jack curled his upper lip as he snapped back with, "Shut up. You don't mean that. You're just mad and you're talkin' out of your ass."
"Maybe so."
Jack took her subtle relenting to something as a sort of surrender and a sign that the storm was dying down. At least is she weren't foiling him at every turn, he could let himself start to feel affectionate toward her again. He sniffled, and rubbed at his nose. Then, still half drunk, he set his beer down and crossed the room to where she sat in her chair. He sat on the floor at her feet and laid his head in her lap. "I'm sorry," he said. "Sorry that you think I don't love you. I do love you. You're just intolerable sometimes and I don't know what to do with you. I should by now though. I should have figured out something."
"No," she told him, gently, and brought her hand to his head. She raked her fingers through the hair nearing his neck and sighed. "I'm impossible. We all know that."
Jack glanced up from his seated position on the floor and gave her a crooked grin. "Yeah," he responded. "We all know that well."
Later that night, Audrey stayed awake long after she should have been sleeping. She had said nothing to him aloud. But in her mind, as he slept, she prepared a speech. One that she would never say to him, but that started a bit like this: I'm just worried," she saw herself saying. "I know it's been six months and all...that point that every relationship seems to hit when the honeymoon is definitely over. And we walk side by side in silence. And you go to sleep instead of talking to me, like you used to do. You won't kiss me, but you'll screw me. But only when you want to. Sometimes you'll start and then, when I try to perpetuate, you push me aside and claim that you're not in the mood. Are you just tired or are you tired of me? I sit awake at night and think about how you must be. It's so sickening, it's so tragic to feel unwanted. So, I do the same to you. Revenge isn't as sweet as they make it out to be. It's a gut reaction and one hell of a bad habit, once you habituate it. Maybe something's wrong with me and you think that maybe I should just apologize and get over it."
In her mind, she could hear him saying very clearly, "Is that all? Is that what's wrong with you?"
Well, not entirely, she would have answered. No, should have been the answer. But in her little reenactment of the scene, she gave him a half-hearted nod. To, which he'd respond, she was sure, with "Well, shit Audrey," half said, half slurred, "Why couldn't you just fucking tell me that?" And then, like always, she'd shrug and say that she didn't know. It was true, after all. She didn't really know what was wrong with her. She had not a clue.
Maybe it was nothing like that. Maybe it was just the intimacy that she was scared of. Having someone know her completely was a frightening thought...and having someone know her completely and not react to her the way she imagined that they should was a wholly new terror in itself. Audrey had always heard Ray rave about how wonderful it was just to stick to one boy and have that boy be able to know every bad habit that you have and still stay with you. She claimed it was freeing, and Audrey felt jealous whenever she heard the story over again. But maybe Ray had a point.
Audrey turned over on her side and faced Jack, who slept hard and deep, as though nothing could ever upset his little world. He'd had one too many beers, and slept with, what she hoped, the intoxicated sleep of non-remembrance. He rested all too easily, she thought. She'd gone to bed with him, instead of staying up to do one of the countless things that demanded her time, in hopes of some sort of compensation for their fighting. "Just kiss me and it'll be over," she'd mumbled once, during another spat. But Jack hadn't heard her, and regardless of whether he had or hadn't, the truth of it still remained. Just five minutes of a true kiss would have been enough to remedy any amount of wrong that had previously happened. One kiss would have been enough to wipe any ill thoughts from her mind. It had been why she let her pride and hurt wane. She was ready to make up….ready to remind herself and him why they were still together.
But he went to sleep instead.
She could have left. She could have gone home, gotten to work, and saved her night. But one thing stood firm – immense hope abounded in her. It kept her riveted to her spot with the perpetual attitude that, despite the circumstances, there was always a chance for things to be ransomed. Therefore, desperate and weary, she felt the sudden urge to strike up a conversation, in hopes of still having one last glorious shot at some very outward display of affection. But she didn't know what she wanted to say. He had been angry with her before, and he'd almost certainly be angry once more if she shook him from his happy sleep. A sudden pang of regret blindsided her. Guilt came next…guilt for taking something they should have both rejoiced in and turning it around to reflect the perfect little hole she'd dug for herself. She felt so bad that she got right up out of bed and marched into the bathroom to take refuge in a fine white line. It's chemical embrace could give comfort her for at least half an hour.
In the bathroom, she stayed bent over the counter for a moment or two before placing a hand on either side of the sink and raising herself upward. She stared into the mirror, pale and teary-eyed, and sucked breath in. Perhaps now was the time to grow up…to get rid of all of her silly girlish preconceptions of what love was. After twenty years, she was realizing what she should have known after fifteen. That love was compromise and just existing together should have been enough. Even though Jack was lying like a rock beside her, with one flaccid arm thrown over her out of habit, the fact that he was even lying there consistently should have been enough. She knew that. She did. But, somehow, she couldn't just cast aside her dreams of love that, from time to time, sprung up and burned like wildfire, shaking off the ice of the mundane with all consuming reminders of how love existed in fiction. Love that didn't want to leave her and geographically relocate. When she returned to bed, and settled in by his side, she thought it over once, thought it over again and then consented to the reckless, selfish way of doing things. One more attempt at love that burned like wildfire. "Jack! Jack, wake up," she said, shaking him and prodding at his sides with her fingertips.
He made an incoherent noise that sounded like too many consonants and nary a vowel. His eyes opened to mere squints and through clouded vision, he looked at Audrey with a pained expression. "Wha?' was all he could muster from his haze.
"Talk to me."
Jack groaned. He rolled over onto his back and rubbed at his eyes. Yawning deeply, he whimpered in fatigue and frustration. "So, now you want to talk?" he asked.
She nodded.
"You're a real piece of work. Well, fucking talk or I'm going back to sleep."
But then, of course, she couldn't. She couldn't really tell him what was on her mind now that he was expecting it. Therefore, she decided to divert his attention to another subject and then swing around with what was really pressing upon her heart when he wasn't expected it. So much strategy and timing went into the small act of speaking. But everything in Audrey's life had become staged as of late. A five act play which she balanced too many things and tripped over the turning point – only to fight against the falling action when the denouement caught her in its undertow. As the heroine of her own drama, she'd soon find her closing scene, she knew. The end to all of her struggles and the light at the end of the tunnel. There was just the matter of getting there. "Do you think Ray doesn't like me anymore?"
"Huh?" Jack asked. He rubbed his feet against one another and shifted the covers further down across his chest. "God, it's so fucking hot in here," he bemoaned and sat up to peel off the white cotton undershirt that he wore, one of the many with holes under the arms that Audrey had tried, in vain, to patch. He lay back in bed again adjusting the sheets around him until he was pleased. "Now, what did you ask? Ray? Do I think she doesn't like you anymore?" His forehead was wrinkled, the creases of annoyance starting to show.
"That's what I said," Audrey responded. She had only meant to say that one thing, yet she found her tongue loosed and she rambled on. "I mean, I never see her because she's always at Spot's and all. And when she comes home, she's just so aloof and distant. I think she just comes home to pack so she can leave again. I mean, I feel like I can't call her or anything. Like, if I call her, I'll be bothering her. She paid the rent for last month, and that was great and all. Except, when I came home yesterday, there was a note stuck in our door saying that her check bounced. And I haven't told her yet, because she's at Spot's again, and I'm afraid that she'll get annoyed if I call her and bother her over there. I feel like that would be just one more reason for me to lose favour with her. We're nothing like we used to be. I guess I was just some novelty item because I was foreign and new and she lost interest in me." She paused for a moment and then finished up with a lament. "I wish she'd just get a job!"
Jack took it all in, ran his tongue over his bottom lip thoughtfully, and then cleared his throat. "Want to hear what I think?" he asked, and Audrey nodded. "Well, I think you don't want her to get a job...because if she doesn't, then she still needs you. And you want to be needed. You're jealous of her and Spot and think that you don't fit into her life anymore. That's why you resent her so much. Somehow, in your warped little mind, it's easier to resent her than to just tell her this and possibly have her get mad at you. Because she's the only person you think you have, which is not true. You might have forgotten about your other friends, but you still have me. I'm always here….whether or not you want me to be."
Audrey's brow wrinkled and her jaw set. She opened her mouth to protest, but found she could not. Jack was right...as he always was...shooting off sharp little comebacks of utter truth placed in just the right moment so that they would sting.
After his one perfectly placed comment, Jack said no more, and Audrey assumed he'd easily drifted back into unconsciousness. Eyes still glued open, she stared up at the ceiling and pondered his words and thinking, more than she wanted to think, that perhaps he was right. She'd become indifferent to the rest of the world. And she realized then just how what degree of indifferent it was and how careless it was of her to do so.
Lute she hadn't spoken to. April she only saw at the cafe, and their schedules had been offset lately. Nic was fond of holing up in her apartment, lost among the piles of work and school. Visibility was more essential to Audrey's remembrance than she'd admit. Ray, she saw only because they'd had the fortune of living together. And such a fortune made her the most popular person in Audrey's mind because she saw her most. Therefore, she identified Ray with companion – even if she was never there. Audrey had become so wrapped up in the difficulty of it all that she'd become blind to anyone else (though not because she wanted to.) It came down to presence – if one wasn't practically in her face all of the time, one faded because, Audrey believed, that one no longer wished to be friends with her. It was a sick perception of people, she knew that, but it was buried deep in her and she couldn't shake it. She couldn't overcome it enough to realize that her outlook was skewed. Jack was the only one she saw regularly, and therefore, the only one whose thoughts of her she didn't question. He'd become so very good at subtly and obviously making himself known on a constant basis, utterly refusing to allow her lose him in the shuffle. Therefore, because she did not doubt that he wished to be around her, she felt she didn't have to earn his love and therefore, stopped trying to.
She didn't have the time or the effort to devote to pleasing him. Other, more critical and less stable things had to be given higher spots on her priority list. Audrey may have been a disappointment to Jack at times, even if she had not thoroughly stopped trying to make him love her. She just figured that, each day, all past transgressions and events were forgotten. New York was a city of the present tense, an eternal now. It was not a city of the past. Today ruled. She could be forgiven in Jack's mind and she could pay no mind to the people that didn't pay her mind presently. And she'd survive and come out breaking even.
The high waned and her hands and shoulders began to tremble, as though she were shivering from the cold. Audrey turned away from Jack so that he wouldn't notice. Sleep. She just had to sleep and all would be better in the morning. She wrapped her arms around her body and squeezed her eyes shut.
But across the expanse of the bed, contrary to Audrey's assumptions, Jack was still very awake. He was wondering how such happy news had turned into such an ordeal. She had become a foreign concept and sometimes he was utterly lost as to what to do with her. Yet, through it all, Jack found her desperation to be darkly seductive. He wanted a piece of her melancholy and he didn't care what the cost would be. Even if she broke his heart time and time again, there was still something about the way she drew into herself that begged him to rescue her. The thought that he might have the power to do something so gallant made him feel infinite and more significant than he'd ever felt before.
An hour later and still unable to fall asleep, Jack sat up. He watched her and tried to process, in his mind, what was wrong with her. Even peaceful and sleeping like a lamb, she was beyond logic to him. When they'd first met, he'd been so intrigued by her because she seemed so decisive. She knew what she'd wanted and was unapologetic about it. Now, she simply seemed…he didn't know – confused perhaps? Irrational was something he'd always known her to be, but she was taking it to a new level. She'd claim one thing and then turn around and contradict herself. She wanted Jack, wanted to hold him to her and kiss his face. And then, in the same breath, she'd push him away and claim that he was crowding her. That she couldn't breathe or get anything accomplished because she had to cater to his needs. He understood that she was overwhelmed...by school, work, and life. But had she lost her mind in the process? It'd be different if she talked to him and voiced whatever bothered her for he was more than willing to discuss and work everything out. But, true to Audrey-like fashion, she gave him only silent sulking, and threw out a few presumptuous, nonsensical an unfounded statements while he exhausted himself day after day trying to guess what the matter could be. "What's going on in that head of yours?" he whispered to her, fighting back the urge to caress her face for fear she'd wake. "Huh? What's wrong with you Audrey?"
The city had become equated with her. Though he had lived his entire life there, he couldn't remember it without her name surrounding it. He remembered their first dates. They'd go to bars and stay until close, drinking and talking and falling in love. After, they'd close their tab, split a cab, and Jack would call her as soon as he got home to talk more. What had happened to them? How did they go from being envied to envying something they had once but hadn't been able to touch in the present? Sighing, he lay back down and weighed everything once more. It was so easy to get caught in the weight of the world. At the tender age of 23, Jack had often found himself susceptible to it. He had an inkling that perhaps Audrey was caught in the very same undertow. He was generally a hot natured person, but as the thought occurred to him, his skin prickled with chill and he pulled the sheets up around his shoulders. He could pull her out, he thought. He could save her.
vvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvvv
"If you made it in," the girl at the desk said, "Then your piece will be dotted."
Audrey glanced around her, as though she could possibly see if her piece were chosen from there. "Thanks," she told the girl and moved past her, hesitantly seeking her own fortune in the midst of the dots and tragically undotted. She wandered her way through the gallery, eyes darting about the cluttered walls. There were some good pieces, yet some very, very bad. In comparison to the very bad, Audrey mused that if such was her competition, it looked as though she had a very lucrative career in front of her. Or, at least enough talent to get her to the end of university. As she looked for her own, she stumbled upon another. At first sight, she passed by it. But something made her turn and look again, and she was glad she did. It was on paper – layers and layers of watercolour and collage. Crows on a wire – faint traces of their silhouettes and some full bodied ones. And interwoven throughout the piece, was poetry.
"the air became like rubber, bouncy + sticky,
her lungs expanded in hopes of good, dry oxygen
but it takes more than air to breathe
it takes the rain to fall
to sting the sidewalks with relief
it takes her a second to see him
it seemed like a lifetime, at first
wasted on waiting for the skipping
of her heart to sing
with laughter in her lungs"
It was beautiful, that she knew. Audrey sighed, knowing very well that she'd never make anything that beautiful. But before she let herself fall back into melancholy, she decided it best to first seek out her own submission's fortune. There, two photographs and one collage over from the piece she'd been fawning over was her own painting. the only one she'd felt had been a blooming shot at making it in. She'd obsessed over which one, if any, to enter. After much inward struggle over her own talent or non-talent, she'd settled on the blue one. It needed a few touch ups, that-, if she rearranged her schedule just so, she'd have time to make. But it was still subtle enough in her mind to be something. Less had been made out to be more, right? She ever so gently, tilted her head to the side to steal a glance at its label.
No dot.
She was one of the tragically undotted. She should have shrugged it off or been angry at them for not recognizing talent when it was right in front of them. For not recognizing her worth. Yes, she was only embarrassed. She stood there, silent, her cheeks flushing hot and that nagging, defeated voice working its way up to full volume. She felt embarrassed for even trying, and she felt embarrassed to simply be standing there in front of it, looking at her absence of a dot. The longer she stood and looked, the more she was making herself available for others to know how much of a failure she was. Fuck. She heaved a deep breath, exhaled it through her teeth, snatched her painting off the wall and masked her desire to cry. She plastered on a not-so-defeated expression, completed with a smile upon her face as she exited the room.
But her escape was not as quick or as clean as she'd imagined it would be. Why should it be? She had a delusional view of everything, apparently.
"Ohhh," the girl as the desk nearly cooed sympathetically, stopping Audrey mid-flight. "You didn't make it in. I'm sorry."
"It's alright," Audrey tossed over her shoulder as though it really were. She gave the girl a generically cordial smile and left before any more words could be exchanged. As she walked out of the door, painting in hand, Audrey could not help thinking of the coin toss. The coin toss had told her the truth – that she wasn't good enough to be any sort of artist. She became indignant of the stupid coin and vowed, oddly enough, to prove it wrong. She could change her stars and she would. She just had to work harder and sleep...even less.
But it was possible.
Audrey walked as fast as she could – out of the building, down the sidewalk. All the while, the piece that she could never be capable of remained imprinted upon her mind. She'd only briefly skimmed over the poem in the collage that had so captivated her, but her subconscious remembered a part of it. What was left of the verses that passed away, forgotten, Audrey herself filled in.
the pain was there.
the unfulfilled dreams lingered like
the sad, soft scent of sweet olive
blossoms in the air
too nostalgic in their chemistry
but full all the same
vvvvvvvvvvv
A smug smile crossed over Kylie's lipsticked mouth. "What?" Audrey asked, instantly defensive. Instantly on edge.
"You know," she returned. "I think you've got a crush. A hot one if I do say so myself."
"What are you talking about? I mean, we've gone out before to a pub, but that wasn't a date. It was with a big group of people and he barely talked to me there."
"That isn't why."
Audrey's face fell a little. "Do you really think that just by having one little dream about him and Maryland could mean anything? I mean, I have dreams about you sometimes, and that doesn't mean anything further than the fact that I probably saw you earlier that day. And Maryland...I know he's from there. But I've never been there. I only found out where it was located about two weeks ago. What significance could that have?"
"Oh so many things!" Kylie replied, popping a stick of gum into her mouth and offering the pack to Audrey, who waved her hand in refusal. "Dreams can mean a lot of things. Especially that we may have feelings for someone that we usually deny we have feelings for. Interesting, isn't it?"
"No. Besides, what do I need him for? I have Jack."
"If I recall correctly, you had a bit of a thing for Ryan before Jack even came into the picture. I remember you getting all dreamy eyed over how green his eyes were. Or how he always walked around with that camera slung around him. This dates to further back than you're admitting. But I don't see why you're denying it. I mean, so you like that boy. I can see why you do. He's a cutie. But you're not going to do anything about it. There's no harm in looking and wondering what another person would be like if they were in bed with you."
"Who? Jack? Jack won't understand."
Kylie swished her brushes into her thinner, wiped them off with two quick licks on a rag and then haphazardly threw them into her bag. "Yeah. He's not an art boy. Art is a very sweet fuck all to anyone who's not in the field
Audrey stopped short and looked at the taller, blonder, more metropolitan girl with wide eyes. "Kylie," she said, mouth slightly agape. "I don't believe I've ever heard you say something more profound. That was almost poetic."
Kylie grinned, no beamed triumphantly at herself. "Well, I like to surprise people sometimes," she said. "But you can't go doing it that often. If you just start spouting off poetry all the time, then it gets boring. I like to keep 'em guessing. That way, they never know what I'm gonna say. Alright chickadee – I think, I'm done for the day. Girlie dinner tonight at my place. My cousins are coming over." Kylie explained as she leaned over and snatched her bag off of the floor. In one fluid motion, it was slung over her shoulder and she was sashaying toward the door with the usual bounce in her step.
She was just one more person walking away.
Audrey waved goodbye as Kylie walked away and turned her attention back to her own work. Rain. Her driveway in Brighton. It had just rained and it was glistening with the setting sun's light hues. At the time she took it, Audrey had been just seventeen. Seventeen and sick of Brighton and the nothingness it provided her with. She'd wanted so much to escape then. Just like Kylie always wanted to escape class early, Audrey thought, looking at the quickly filled in flower on that 'slap-job' painting Kylie had done in order to leave early. Cousins. Friends. Girlie dinner. Her cousins, her lifelong friends, her candidates for a possible 'girly dinner' were all across an ocean. Not a one of them was in movable distance. She recalled a line from a book she'd merely skimmed through earlier. A classmate had pressed it into her hands and told her that she would like it. Audrey had taken it home and glanced at its pages in order to satisfy him and report back with news that she enjoyed it. During the quick flipping of the pages and the bits of sentences she looked over, one line had stood out:
Home, the place where nothing could touch you.
At that moment, Audrey could not have agreed more. Home really was the place where nothing could touch you, but where you could touch everything if you wished. It was a glorious thought, but a sad one in that she was so very far from any place she could call home. Was it really as wonderful as she remembered? Or was it only shrouded in nostalgia?
Her reverie was broken by Ryan and his usual greeting of "Hey."
"Hey," she responded in turn.
He looked over her shoulder to her canvas, eager to see any new progression. "What're you doin'?"
Ryan meant the painting, and Audrey knew he meant the painting. But what she was doing really had nothing to do with the painting. Therefore, she shrugged and answered as truthfully as she could. "Wasting time."
vvvvvvvvvvvvv
"Jack. Man. What's up? What's the matter with you? You aren't one to talk in circles when a straight line will do." Spot looked at Jack from across the table, his right eyebrow detectably raised higher in question.
"What do you mean?" Jack mumbled, trying to focus more on the cards in his hand than the question at hand. Eight, Three, off-suited. In their two person, makeshift game of five card Hold 'Em, it was the worst possible hand he could have held. But, being that they were only playing low stakes and Spot was inferior to him, Jack decided to risk it. He distractedly raised, haphazardly pushing a few more chips into the center and thereby avoiding Spot's inquiring stare one more.
Spot calmly pressed his two cards together and laid them on the table face down. He slouched down in his chair and examined Jack through a half lidded stare. "What do I mean?" he asked, his voice thick and almost lazy, if not so intentioned. "Well, for starters, I just basically asked you the same question over and over again and you still haven't given me an answer. Santa Fe. Did you get it? Are you going? You said you'd know by now. Well, I'm asking. You know. So, you tell me."
"I don't know."
"Ugh." Spot rolled his eyes and threw a hand into the air. "Here we go again. What do you mean? You got too many things to think of at once? Should I start off more simply? Did you get the scholarship?"
"Yes," Jack answered.
"Okay. Now we're makin' some ground. Are you going?"
"I don't know."
"Why the hell not?" Spot had raised his voice. He had practically cried out in disbelief. "For a guy who won't shut up about his precious Santa Fe, he sure is actin' funny now that he has the chance of fulfilling his lifetime DREAM and goin' there. What gives?"
Jack threw his cards down and brought one elbow and then the other to rest on the table top. He buried his hands in his hair, stroking it back and groaning. "I don't wanna talk about it. I'm not even sure if I've got any of it figured out. I don't want to talk about it."
"That ain't gonna fly and you know it, Kelly," Spot said, his voice noticeably darker. Sterner.
"Oh?" Jack snorted. "Well, you wanna talk about Ray and how you fucked up with her? The whole incident with Josephine? Huh? You wanna talk about that?"
"Shut your trap, Jacky boy. You're pushin' it."
Jack looked up and regarded his friend. "My point exactly. Leave me the hell alone about the scholarship until I figure out what I want to do about it. You're not exactly helping."
"Look, I don't know if this is helpful either. But all I know is that if you pass up this chance for some fucking broad, then you're out of your skull. I been listening to you talk about your precious Santa Fe since you was old enough to know what it was. Now, you have this big, bright, golden opportunity because some girl doesn't want you to go, then I can't respect you. And that's that."
"I never said Audrey had anything to do with it."
"Yeah, but you ain't fooling me. I've seen enough to know what girls can do. And you got the looks of someone who's got a girl on his mind in a really mean way. I don't know if she's affecting your decision or not. But you better not make it based on what she thinks. You better make it based on what you want, Jacky boy. Cause if you don't, you're gonna regret it for the rest of your ever lovin' life."
"Can we play cards now?" Jack asked, wearily, exhausted of all the talk of his big decision. He'd rather not think about it if he could afford the opportunity. It was a huge decision that would affect his life forever, and it made him sick each time he thought about it. He'd hoped pissing around and playing an easy game of poker with Spot would make do for a break, maybe conjure up a little much needed sanity for the both of them. He was quickly being proven wrong.
"Yeah, hit me," Spot responded.
"I can't," Jack said, holding the deck of cards in his hand and shuffling them absentmindedly, shutting his mind off and letting his practised hands to all the work. "This is Hold 'Em. Not Blackjack."
"What's the big difference? Cards are cards."
"Okay, keep thinking that way and I'll keep taking your money," Jack said with a shrug.
"Deal the fucking cards, Jack. And stop talking about my money that way."
vvvvvvvvvvvvvv
Audrey stood at the counter of Streetside Charley's and watched the world go by. Outside, people were walking by in suits and dresses. Men with boutonnières in their button holes, talking on cells phones and vaguely holding the hands of the women following along side of them. Women, walking too quickly in heels too high and dresses that tightly clung to their stick straight or overweight frames. Their feet would hurt later, Audrey thought. Where were they going? To a wedding? To a funeral? To the symphony?
Last night, she was woken out of an accidental nap by someone playing the Imperial March from Stars Wars on the trumpet. At first she thought she was dreaming. And then, she thought she was crazy. She strained her ears to listen, and finally discerned that maybe the sound was real and not fabricated by her mind. But why the trumpet? And why the Imperial March? She grinned as she pictured a forlorn Jedi Knight serenading his galactic princess with the foreboding sound. But then she thought that maybe someone was just practicing their instrument. She thought of Jack, practising his instrument, and how he probably wasn't at that moment. It was still a nice thought.
She'd gotten to work early for the lunch shift. She didn't know why – for she was still exhausted from her usual non-sleeping. But early, she was to stand at the counter and fill a few drinks. To take a few sandwich orders from her small number of tables. She looked at her watch, the one Jack had given her for Christmas, and noticed that eleven thirty was coming on quickly and the lunch rush was soon to begin. They were understaffed that day. She knew this because they'd called her to come in that night with no prior notice. She sighed and walked herself to the bathroom, grabbing a tri fold menu on her way the way. Locking herself into one of the stalls she placed the menu over the seat of the toilet, balancing it on both sides. Then, from her pocket, she produced a tiny bag and a dollar bill.
Hours passed. A few more trips to the bathroom were made. As she walked back and forth, table to kitchen to front counter to table to kitchen to another table, she vaguely noticed the darkening sky outside. It was clouding over. Clouding over and then letting the sun break though. And then, once again clouding over. Audrey wondered if it would rain, as she always did. Last week, there'd been a shower. It happened briefly, while she was sleeping and the only thing she knew of it was the puddles and the sludge it left behind. It wasn't enough for her. She needed a thunderstorm. And now, the clouds over head nearly promised to pour out their contents upon the dry, aching city. But it was such a lofty promise for them to make, Audrey knew, and it would very likely not yield any fruit. Just as she imagined, the inconstant sky let the sun break through again, to peer out in jest. Then the rain soaked clouds gave way fully, the sky lightening to its fullest scope and drenching the city in a golden glow instead of water.
It was perhaps, the saddest thing Audrey had ever seen, despite its outward beauty.
There was a rumble, and Audrey's hopes shot up once more, but one glance out and skyward told her that it was the byproduct of nearby construction. Strange. Even her ears were willing to betray in want so desperately. She walked back into the kitchen to retrieve three plates of food and then carried them to their appropriate table. She carried like this, repeating the action over and over as business picked up during the lunch hour rush until it seemed like some sort of numb ritual. On one particular trip back to the kitchen, she tripped over a wayward object, probably her own foot, and as if in slow motion, dropped the tray and fell to her knees. Glass shattered and scattered about. Audrey bent over her tray, unmoving, only staring at the ground for a second, before springing into motion and gathering up all of the pieces onto her tray. She felt a sharp prick as she reached for a shard of glass. Dropping it, she slowly brought her palms up to examine them. Across her right middle finger, one stinging memento was left. It was cut, slashed as though ripped into during a downward motion. Not deeply enough to cause any major damage, but bleeding all the same. All action halted as she stared at the gouge in her flesh and watched, magnetized, as the sticky red brown liquid oozed out of it and dripped onto the floor.
"Audrey."
She heard her name being called, but it sounded so muffled and so far away. "Audrey." There it was again. Audrey did not bother to look up. She only stared at the back of her hand and wondered why she was so unable to tear her sight away from it.
"Audrey," her name was called once more. Audrey slowly glanced up to see April standing above her. Her violet hair seemed particularly vibrant as she stood in contrapposto, with her hips askew and one hand resting on the right one. "Audrey," she squawked once more. "Jesus Christ, Audrey! Are you alright? Get up from the floor, girl." April bent over, grabbing Audrey by the elbows and pulling her upward. "You okay?" she asked, concern showing in her eyes.
"Yeah. Yeah. I'm fine. I'm just…" Audrey lifted her hand to show April her cut.
"God, you're bleedin' like crazy, hon. I think there's a first aid kit in the back. It might be twenty years old, but BandAids are BandAids, right?"
Audrey looked back over her shoulder and gestured toward the glass on the floor. "But, I…there's glass all over the-"
April swiftly cut her off. "Oh, just leave it. Todd or Javier will clean it up. They never do anything anyway. You're making them earn their paycheck," April mused. She grabbed a hold of Audrey's arm once more and tugged her in the direction of the kitchen. "Now, come on, Bloody Mary, you're starting to scare the clientele."
vvvvvvvvvvvv
Audrey heard Ray's presence in the apartment before she ever saw her. After hearing the door swing open and creak as if it were being torn off of its hinges, she heard it slam just as violently. Intrigued, she put down her broken earring and the pliers she was using to repair it and stuck her head outside the curtain just in time to see a violet Gucci bag become airborne and fly across the room. It hit the wall opposite the door and slide down to the floor, landing with a dull thud. Audrey stepped out of her room to assess the situation. She first looked at the discarded bag and then swung her head around to the right to see Raven, hunched over and angrily pulling at the buckles of her shoes. She looked inflamed, to say the least. Her hair was tangled and windblown, her sweat shirt thrown on haphazardly, and her makeup creased and smudged around the edges of her eyes. Ray finally pried the buckles undone and discarded her shoes. She stood up straight, noticed Audrey and promptly screamed.
"I hate him!" Ray growled. Yes, there was no mistake about it. She was fuming.
Audrey didn't bother to ask questions. From Ray's demeanour, she could pretty well gather just who the object of her rage was. Only one person had gotten under her skin well enough to provoke that amount of sound and fury. Despite Ray's tumult, Audrey remained calm. A placid expression plastered upon her face, she merely sighed and said, "I'm sorry."
Ray looked stricken. She froze in place, shaking her head slightly, and then more forcefully. It wasn't to negate Audrey's apology. But more to communicate her own disbelief. Raven's pretty face twisted into a crumpled, pained expression. Her bottom lip began to tremble and she shook her head again, throwing loose bits of hair into her face. Angrily, she pushed them away, letting a small strained whimper escape from the back of her throat. That one sound was a crack in the dam, for soon following came one visible tear. Raven's face collapsed along with it. After another gasp worked its way free, she turned on her heel and bolted for her room. Audrey heard the spring of the bed as it gave into Raven's body when the girl threw herself upon it.
Ray didn't ask for Audrey's support, but she didn't have to. Audrey understood it as well as if it had been dictated to her. It was now her duty, as best friend and fellow female, to march into the bedroom and set about comforting the distraught Raven. She went back to her room and looked at the earring in pieces, the pliers, and her to-do list. It was long, as usual. But, unlike the usual, Audrey had set aside that afternoon to accomplish most of the things on the list. It looked as though the list were thoroughly out. She'd be spending the rest of the day eating cookies and agreeing vigorously with Ray when she lamented about the cruel, cold nature of boys. "Sure Ray," Audrey thought as she slipped the pliers back into the drawer and the pieces of the earring into an empty dime bag. "I'll help you. I'll give and give and give and you can just take like you normally do. But you'll never acknowledge that anyone may be doing anything for you. No, you're wonderfully oblivious. What if I just stopped Ray? What if I did? What would you do then?" But through the walls and the poorly hung curtains, Audrey could still hear her sobbing. So, she pushed thoughts of her own victimization out of her mind and herself of her chair and trudged into the bathroom to gain a little patience. Moments later, she returned, looking still somewhat sleepy, but feeling much more tolerant. She walked into Ray's room and sat beside her on the bed. She carefully lifted and hand and stroked the back of Ray's hair as the girl sobbed into her pillow.
"It's not fair!" she wailed in between shaky breaths. "OH MY GOD! He had his face stuck...AAAARGH...her! I saw him. I fucking saw him and then he goes and denies it. GOD. Does he think I'm stupid? I mean, does he? Well, maybe I am stupid. For staying with him. For thinking that he loved me and would never go back to her! I am such a motherfucking idiot! Damn me! Damn her for that matter! Damn them both! Aaaaah!"
"Wait, Ray...calm down, love," Audrey said with perfect serenity about her. She stroked the long chestnut waves of hair and wondered just what the fuss was all about anyway. "Tell me what happened, Ray. Tell me in a logical storyline so that I can understand all of this. Because you're not making any sense between the crying and the damning people to hell."
Ray laughed a bit, in spite of herself, and loudly sucked snot back through her nostrils and rubbed her pretty little reddened nose. Then, she began to relate the course of events, as calmly as she could, berate as she was.
She had walked in on him and her, she claimed, catching them dead in the act. She'd been at dancing, having only have left Spot's apartment for two hours. But a two hour window must have been time enough, for in that time, somehow, Jo had come over and found herself entangled in one hell of a lip lock with her ex boyfriend. Ray had had a good day at dance class, having been complimented on more than one occasion. She bounced back to the upper east side, still clad in tights, a sweatshirt, and a lopsided ponytail. She swung open the door, perky and bright, and walked into the living room cheerful as a fucking Pollyanna. Spot was sitting in his usual chair. Jo was standing above him. She wore an ivory coloured shell and a pair of charcoal pants. The scarf so perfectly twined around her neck was wine-coloured, Ray claimed. Wine coloured of all things. Josephine was bent at the waist, and both were so thoroughly involved in each other, that they had obviously not heard the opening of the door and Ray's steps across the floor.
She stood there for a moment, paralyzed and watching in absolute horror. Finally she was able to mutter a very abrupt, "Excuse me." Jo shot up in fright and Spot looked uncomfortable, if only slightly so. Jo cleared her throat, looked to Spot and then back to Ray. She mumbled a quick, "Don't mind me. I was just leaving," and then vanished from the loft leaving Ray to stare at Spot with hurt and malice. "How could you?" she spat to him, voice all filled with venom of one would was about to cry but didn't want to.
Spot looked white, but otherwise unfazed. "How could I what?" he asked.
Ray's blood boiled in her veins. "You know what," she told him, pointedly. "I can't believe you," she hissed and then promptly retreated into his bedroom to pack up what things she could in the small frame of time she allotted herself to make a clean escape. Any minute over that time in which she'd stay, she'd only melt in his presence and give into his cool, seductive words. No, if she were ever going to leave him, she'd have to do so in five minutes or less. Time was ticking. Raven was packing. She threw things into bags messily, not caring if they were folded, wrinkled, or knotted. Spot soon appeared at the doorway.
"You're not leaving, are you?" he said.
Ray felt her blood begin to boil once more. "You can't be serious, can you?" she shot back and then snorted. "You're a lot of things, Spot Conlon. Hell, you just showed me a few of the things that you are. But you're not stupid. So don't even try that shit with me." She shoved the last few things into a bag and vowed she'd pick the rest up later when she was saner and he wasn't home. (It was what the key was for, anyway. Wasn't it? Emergencies. This certainly constituted as an emergency in Ray's mind.) And then she set about leaving, pushing past him when she came to the doorway that he'd blocked with his body.
She could hear him sigh as she walked away, lugging three bags that were much too heavy for her. (Anger had made her stronger that she usually was.) "Ray, stop. Come back," he said. But she kept on walking, plodding, charging onward, one step at a time towards his door. "Ray," he called out again. But she paid no mind. She told herself that she didn't hear him. That she was immune to the words of those who lied. But Spot tried one more time. "Stop," he said. "Please. Stop. Mia." And she almost stopped. Hearing her name, her true name was almost enough to make her turn back – if not in tenderness toward him, then in surprise. But to her approval and satisfaction, she did herself a favour and kept right on going – out of his door, down the elevator, out the front doors, and onto the street. Where she hailed a cab and left her luggage at the bottom of the stairs of their third story walk up. And made her way back home.
"My bags are still down there," she said, wiping away tears. "I don't care though. I'll go back for them later." Ray's breath heaved in and out of her chest in ragged, sobbing sighs as she retold her story. "I'm so fucking stupid, aren't I, Audrey? Aren't I?"
"You're not stupid, Ray."
Ray grunted in disagreement. "Ha. I'm so fucking stupid. One for thinking that a guy like him would go for a girl like me. I mean, I know I'm fabulous and all. But he's a painter and he's rich and he's so smooth and so damn out of my league! I should have known better. And two, for thinking that he'd actually prefer me over her – perfect, perfect, perfect Josephine. The actress. The one who's so pulled together and flawless that I could rip ever last strand of her hair out and be happy doing so!"
"You're not stupid, Ray," Audrey said again, somewhat unconscious of the fact that she was repeating her own words over and over.
"Then what am I? Because I'd certainly like to know." Ray looked at Audrey hard and long until she could feel the tears began to prick at her eyes again. She rubbed them away angrily with the back of her hand. "Gah!" she said. "I'm acting like a big baby. Crying over some damn boy I should have never gotten involved with in the first place. I told myself I wasn't going to get seriously involved with any boy. I was better off when I was screwing around. At least I didn't have to worry about getting cheated on that way. I was the one they were cheating with. I was the one who captivated their attention and turned their heads. I was the untouchable one...the one with all the power. Those poor girls. Now I know how they felt." She sniffled loudly, angrily rubbing at her eyes once more. "I did all of that and now it's coming back to haunt me. I deserve it. I'm so stupid." Ray wiped again at her watery eyes, but this time could not withhold the stream of tears that pushed their way past her defenses and trickled down her face in multitudes. "Oh, God! Audrey!" she moaned as she laid her head back down once more and took refuge in the comfort of her pillow.
Audrey watched Ray shake and cry, watched her back heave up and down with angry, bitter sobs. She felt so sorry for her. So sorry, but she didn't know what to say. Not one supportive word came to mind – Audrey knew that even if they did, her mere words wouldn't be of any used to Raven. Though she could ramble on at anytime of the day about nothing like a true champion, Audrey wasn't much for talking when it really counted. What could she do? She could take a cab over to the Upper East and claw Spot's eyes out with her fingernails. She could bake Ray a cake to cheer her up. Or, she could stay right by her side and run her hand over Ray's now mangled waves of hair, smoothing them and attempting to comfort her. The last, she thought, suited the situation best. Besides, she was numb, but she was patient and attentive, just like Ray would have wanted her to be. She got up, went into the kitchen and filled the largest glass she could find with whiskey. She returned to Ray's bedroom and shoved the glass under her nose.
Ray lifted her head weakly and looked up in confusion. "Whass that?" she asked, in between hiccupped sniffled.
"Whiskey," Audrey answered.
"We have that?"
"We do indeed. Now, drink it. It won't make anything go away. But it might make you a little tipsy, which will ease some of the hatred temporarily."
"The hatred will never be eased," Ray spat back assuredly. She took the glass from Audrey and chugged it down unflinchingly. She set the glass down on her nightstand, hiccupped once more, and then ran the back of her hand over her mouth and cringed with distaste. "That's strong stuff."
"It's supposed to be."
Ray laid back down and whimpered pathetically murmuring here and there to Audrey about how she should have known and how stupid she was and whatnot. Audrey remained by her side though her dramatics, patiently listening, and reassuring her. After a while, the bitter murmuring subsided and Ray lay there, face still in pillow, and only sighed. "How now, brown cow?" Audrey asked, still stroking her silky hair, but wondering if Ray might let her braid it.
Ray shrugged. "Well, I don't know if anything's any better. But everything's a little more blurry and warm."
"That'll have to do for now."
"The hurt will all go away, love," Audrey whispered.
"Did it for you?" Ray asked.
Audrey cringed. She was surprised that Ray had remembered. She, herself, had nearly forgotten that she'd told Ray about her relationship with Michael and the disintegration of it. But then, she'd told Ray nearly everything, except most of the events of the last month. The truth was, the pain never really subsided. Audrey could forget about it most of the time, but at the worst possible moments, she was always reminded. The hurt, the mistrust, and the tendency to crawl back into her shell in self protection never left her. She assumed there would always be some part of her that as forever stung by Michael's betrayal, even if later in life, she couldn't recall what it was. "Yes," Audrey lied through her teeth. "It did even for me."
I've recently been made aware that we can't say thank you in personal notes at the end of chapters anymore. Therefore, I just want to say an overall thank you to those of you who read, and especially to those of you who review. You'll never know how much it means to me, but you'll always have my gratitude.
Maybe one day when I'm not so lazy and burdened, I'll start responding to reviews via emails, in order to not let the correspondence die. (Because as we all know, I'm huge on preservation.)