Chapter 8

Disclaimer—all the characters except for j and her father belong to Disney.  The song "the space between" belongs to the dave matthews band.  Umm…Concoran College of Art and Design and Bridgewater College are real colleges.  They belong to themselves.  Not sure if we need a disclaimer for those, either…but still, please don't sue us!

WOHOO!  BACK TO THE PLOT!  FINALLY BACK TO THE PLOT!  Alright, as much as I enjoy sappy stuff, I have to admit that I was beginning to get tired of writing it as I'm sure many of you were getting tired of reading it.  But now we have a plot!  YAAAY!  Also, the town of Bridgewater is about 3 hours from DC, just for those of you that are wondering.  Oh, and yes, I know that I use the lyrics to "the space between" out of order, and that does make it seem kind of weird, but different parts of the song match with different parts of the story, so that's why it is the way it is.

Chapter 8

"The Space Between (part 1)"

            AN--Graduation was a blast, full of wonderful memories, yadda yadda yadda.  We need to pick up the pace here because this thing is already 44 pages and we're just barely reaching the middle, if even that far. 

These fickle fuddled words confuse me

Like 'will it rain today?'

We waste the hours with talking, talking

These twisted games we're playing

            It's the end of June and Alan and J have never seriously discussed their college plans with each other.  Neither, especially Alan, have fully registered what the other is planning for college.  Dumb, right?  Probably.  They've just been enjoying each other's company and discussing trivial things.  Both have a picture of their futures, and those pictures conflict.  Enter the storm…

You cannot quit me so quickly

There's no hope in you for me

No corner you could squeeze me

But I've got all the time for you, love…

            "Checkmate." 

            Alan's head slumped down on the Yoast's dining room table in defeat, hiding the smile on his face, as Sheryl gave J a high-five with a triumphant cry.  "Yes!"

            "Oh yeah," J chortled.  "Third straight win for the girls.  Face it Alan," J said to the dejected figure, "we're the masters."

            Alan raised his head, grinning.  "Yeah, yeah, yeah.  Maybe at chess.  But if it was checkers, I'd whip you."

            "Sure you would," J's tone was patronizing, and she drew out the first word slowly.  When Sheryl caught the mischief twinkling in J's eyes, she rolled her own eyes, entered the living room, and turned on the television. 

            Alan glanced out at Sheryl, then back at J.  "You scared her off."

            J's face was angelic, complimented by the tendrils of loose hair that drifted down to her face from the messy bun in which she had pulled up her hair.  "Who, me?"  Alan laughed then stood up and leaned against the edge of the table, watching Sheryl.  J copied his action.  There they remained, unmoving, for a few silent moments before Alan lazily commented,

            "We're going to have so much fun in the city this fall."  J turned to him and smiled, but didn't reply.  "I've got a scholarship to Concoran College of Art and Design," Alan continued, "but I'm sure you knew that already.  Gerry and Julius are going to end up in/around D.C. too.  And of course, you and I…" Alan trailed off.

            "We can write, right?" J interrupted, voice a little shaky.  "And there's always the phone.  I mean, we're both going to be busy, I'm sure, but we'll make time." 

            Alan chuckled and addressed her carefully, as if talking to a younger child or someone who is completely confused.  "Of course, we COULD do that.  But I was thinking more along the lines of seeing each other quite often."

            J nodded, visibly uncomfortable.  "Oh yeah, definitely.  Well, I don't know about QUITE often…" she broke off and began talking more to herself than to Alan.  "I've had time to think about and deal with this, and I've known that it was coming for a year or so, but I've never been that far from you ever for an extended period of time."

            "Whoa, whoa," Alan interrupted, putting his hands on J's shoulders and turning her to face him.  "What are you talking about?"  One could tell that J was distressed with the subject, but she suddenly realized that Alan had no clue what was really going on, and she had to tell him.

            "Alan…" she began hesitantly.  Alan watched her patiently, still in the dark, his perfect painting of the future still unblemished, but soon to be soiled.  "I got that scholarship offer to Bridgewater College, in their music department, remember?"

            Alan nodded, only a few seconds of perfection left.  "Yeah, I remember.  I knew you were seriously considering…" he gazed into J's eyes, not liking what he saw there.  "But you're not…" Alan stopped, smile fading, having found an answer.  "What?" he finally managed to say.

            "Alan, I'm sorry," J responded, struggling to keep the pain from her voice.  "But I thought you knew.  I told you, don't you remember?  I took that one day to go visit Bridgewater, and it's really a great school, at least what I'm going there for, and that was such a good scholarship, I couldn't turn it down.  I mean…it's not like I'm all that far away, right?"  J searched Alan's eyes, but came up with only pain and a sense of betrayal.

            "It's away.  That's enough," Alan whispered.  "I thought…aren't we supposed to be together?  Don't you want us to be?"

            "Of course I do, more than anything."

            Alan pulled himself away from the table.  "Than why are you going away?"

            J pursed her lips, trying to find an answer that Alan would understand.  "Because…'cause this is too good of an opportunity to pass up!"  Alan's shoulders stiffened, but J cut him off before he could get a word in.  "It's no different if Concoran was up north, I'd understand if you still wanted to go there.  It's the perfect college for you and I wouldn't want to stand in the way of what this college can do for you.  Bridgewater isn't even that far away!  A few hours at most!"  J had started out sad, but now she was angry.  Alan was being unreasonable.  It was really sweet how much he wanted to be near her, but why couldn't he understand?  Separate colleges did not equal breaking up.

            Alan started pacing back and forth, voice rising.  "I can barely stand to be 3 feet away from you, let alone 3 hours!"  There's plenty of really good schools with music majors in DC, why can't you go to one of them?  Why does it have to be Bridgewater?"  By this time, all sympathy that J had had for Alan vanished.  He had ignited her temper, and there was no going back now, especially with Alan mad as well.

            "Why does it have to be Bridgewater?!"  J's stern tone caught the attention of Sheryl in the other room, who diverted her attention from the television to observe the fateful situation unfolding before her.  "You know how much I hate the city, for one thing.  I DID check out some colleges in DC, but none of them worked for me!  Bridgewater did.  You know—" J stuck her finger out accusingly at Alan, "I could use the same argument with you.  Why does it have to be Concoran?  Bridgewater has a good art program!"

            Alan's lips curled under his teeth in frustration and he paused for a moment, exasperated, before replying.  "Because Concoran is better for my future!"

            "And Bridgewater is better for mine!" J threw back, pitch high.  By this time, Sheryl realized that this was more than your little spat, and an upset and foreboding feeling settled in her stomach.  Yet, she could not tear her eyes from the scene. 

            "So you care more about your future than about me?" Alan shot. 

            His barb struck, and J's eyes were hazel fire.  "WHERE did you get that idea?  It certainly wasn't from me!  We can go to different colleges and still have a future together!  If we care enough, we'll make it work!"

            Alan was trembling in fury, his hurt forgotten once his temper was provoked.  "I'm not so sure I want to work on a future with someone who's so self-absorbed!"

            J clenched her fists together heatedly, taking all of her energy not to scream back.  "And I'm not so sure I want to work on a future with someone with such a one-track mind who makes assumptions so quickly!"  At this point, Alan and J's shouts had reached a decibel that caught the attention of Coach, who had been working in his office.  He had heard muffled yelling earlier, but assumed they were just playing around.  What was going now did not sound like playing around.

            Coach exited his office hurriedly, making his way to the living room just as J stormed out.  "FINE!" she bellowed in a final retort before stomping down the driveway. 

            Alan dashed over to the door and hollered, "FINE!" after her.  He then stamped up the stairs and retreated to his room, giving the door a thunderous slam.  Coach glanced to Sheryl for clarification of what just happened.  She held his gaze, tears in her eyes, and shook her head back and forth slowly, an immensely troubled tone to her face along with the sadness.

***

Look at us spinning out in the madness of a roller coaster

You know you went off like the devil

 in a church in the middle of a crowded room

all we can do, my love

is hope we don't take this ship down

            Alan and J did not speak for the rest of the summer.  It was impossible to completely avoid someone when you live in the same small town and had virtually all of the same friends, but an iceberg moved in between the former couple.  The chill was evident whenever the two were in the same vicinity. 

            This affected Sheryl greatly.  Alan was her brother and J was like her older sister.  The world was at its peak for Sheryl when Alan and J were dating, and their break-up scared her immensely.  It took J much soothing to convince Sheryl that whatever was going on between her and Alan would never affect her and Sheryl's relationship. 

            At the end of the summer, Alan went to Concoran and J went to Bridgewater. 

***

The space between

The tears we cry

Is the laughter keeps us coming back for more

The space between

The wicked lies we tell and hope to keep safe from the pain

But will I hold you again?

            Four years of college.  J majored in Vocal and Instrumental music, mainly guitar and piano, with experience to teach.  Alan received a professional bachelor of fine arts in fine arts with a minor in photography. 

            Four years of no contact.  For the first year or so, Alan and J were still too angry with one another to even thinking about any form of communication.  After their sophomore year of college, however, there were many occurrences on which the one picked up the phone with intentions of calling the other, only to slam it back down seconds later, either having lost the nerve or suddenly remembering that neither had each other's new phone numbers.  Alan or J could have easily gotten  each other's phone numbers from any number of their mutual friends, but both were too scared.  And so their lives after college continued.

            J immediately moved back to Alexandria after college.  Remembering her high school days as the best years of her life, J hoped to recapture that seemingly-unending joy that she had felt.  She became a music teacher at one of the local high schools, though not T.C. Williams.  "It'd be too weird, teaching where I was taught," she claimed.  Yet, the real reason for her not teaching at T.C. was that the school was too swathed in memories that were to potent and painful to handle. 

            However, if you dug to the last layer belongings in the bottom drawer of J's nightstand, you would fin a worn with use, tattering, hand-made book.  It's cover was blue cardboard and pages white, though all but the last 10 or so pages were filled with pictures and clippings and nostalgia.  On nights musty with memories you would find J digging to this bunk, pulling it out, and flipping through it with a bittersweet smile resting uncertainly on her face.

            Alan's  bachelor's degree in fine arts opened the doors to tons of career choices once he graduated.  After a touch of deliberation and a little bit of freelance work, he choose the field of art-restoration.  It was Alan's job to take old paintings, sculptures, drawings, etc, and do his best to make them appear as new as possible.  He bought a nice apartment in DC, and there he lived after college.

            Alan still drew in his free time—he even had a desk specifically for his works.  Often he was pressed for inspiration, because you can only take so much inspiration from what little nature there was in DC, and even war memorials meshed into the same piece after awhile.

            So when he could find nothing else to draw from, or when he was in one of those moods--on lonely weekend nights when the oldies station was playing and his mind couldn't help but drift back to Alexandria—Alan rummaged through a special drawer in his desk.  There he found every piece he'd drawn prior to college, mostly from high school, and every picture that did not make it's way into a certain book half a decade ago.  It was from those that Alan created his greatest works yet.

***

We're strange allies

With warring hearts

What a wild-eyed beast you be

            The four or so years following college were prosperous for both Alan and J.  They were as happy as possible under the circumstances.  There was still no communication between them, and anger slowly formed again, though not as strongly as before.  Aloofly, both believed that the other would have made contact by now if he/she cared enough too.  It had become a matter of pride, among other things.  Friends and family members learned not to mention one in the other's presence. 

            J and Alan were caught in the same web of selective thinking, and nothing in the world could change that.  Life proceeded normally.  Things seemed like they couldn't be better when they got much worse.  Gerry was killed.