Chapter 2: I Can't Help Myself, Details Fill My Mind
Jamie was not a morning person. The sun was quite high in the sky when a beep and a mechanical whirring sound roused her. She opened one eye, reluctantly, focusing on the hazy shape of Tegan sitting cross-legged on the bed across from hers, Jamie's camera in her hands. Jamie rubbed her eyes and looked Tegan over. She was fully dressed, hair damp from the shower that Jamie could smell on the air. Her eyes were puffy, tired. Her eyes were somewhat puffy generally, her left eyelid drooping down lower than her right, but that morning, she looked like someone who had fallen asleep crying.
Someone who had fallen asleep crying after. . . after what? Jamie thought, still doubting her own recollection of it all.
Tegan watched the screen of Jamie's camera, the video that Jamie had recorded of their show the night before. Jamie stretched her long limbs quietly, mind reeling back to what she had heard and half-seen the night before. Would Tegan realize she knew? Would she just have to pretend she didn't? It all came back, flotsam on the surf of her drugged mind. She recalled Tegan's low, plaintive voice and Sara's silent departure. Tegan's tears in the darkness. Jamie felt a tightness in her chest accompanying the surreality of it all.
"Oh," Tegan said, looking up. Her voice was forced brightness with such heaviness underneath. Don't pretend, Jamie wanted to say. "I hope you don't mind. . . I was watching your video." Jamie rubbed her eyes, shook her head.
"Of course I don't mind. It's you. The video," she stumbled a little over the words.
"It's great. It's great footage," Tegan said. "And you just use this little point-and-shoot?"
Jamie nodded, smiling.
"Well, it's great."
"Thanks," she said. "But it's great because. . . you are," she said, lightly, she hoped, her face warming. Tegan's reddish eyes met hers with a smile, before the recollection struck her.
"Hey, are you okay? Shit, sorry, I almost forgot to ask. Someone. . . drugged you?" Tegan asked, rubbing her hung-over temples.
"Uh, yeah, my head is feeling a bit rough. . ."
"I can't believe that happened. . . who would do that?" Jamie thought about that.
"Maybe it was meant for you," she suggested. Tegan nodded thoughtfully.
"Well, there are some freaky people out there. But you're okay now? Did you sleep okay?" Jamie's heart leapt up into her throat at the question.
"Uh, yeah. . . I don't even remember going to bed. . ." she said, somewhat evasively. Because she knew what to look for, Jamie saw Tegan's shoulders drop, a nearly imperceptible sigh. Jamie swallowed and averted her eyes.
"Um, hey, I'll be right back. . ." Tegan said incongruously, and left the room quickly.
Jamie showered and dressed and was tying back her miles and miles of hair when Tegan came back in, carrying a larger, production-quality video camera in her hands. She really did look miserable, and Jamie wanted to ask her if everything was okay because that's what one did when someone looked miserable, but she thought she knew why Tegan looked miserable and knew that Tegan wouldn't be able to say.
"Have you ever used one of these?" Tegan asked Jamie, handing the camera to her. Jamie briefly met Tegan's eyes. They looked pained, and a little furtive, and she turned away to seek out something in her suitcase.
"Um," Jamie paused, looking the camera over. "I've played around with this kind of camera a little," she said, when strictly speaking what she should have said was no.
"Do you think you could figure it out?" Tegan asked her, not looking up from the half-hearted packing of her suitcase. Jamie thought for a second.
"Sure," she said. "I suppose I could. . ."
Tegan crammed the last pair of jeans into the suitcase, flipped the lid shut and leaned on it. She'd done such a haphazard job of packing that the lid refused to close, an over-stuffed mouth.
"Fuck," Tegan muttered, out-of-sorts. Jamie set the camera down and helped Tegan close the suitcase, standing next to Tegan and pressing the lid down in unison. Jamie held it down as Tegan clicked the latch.
"Thanks," Tegan said, sitting down on the bed. "So, what would you think of joining us on tour? Record the shows, some backstage footage, stuff like that. For our documentary."
For a moment, Jamie partially lost the feeling in her legs. Was she standing? Sitting? Paraplegic? Had Tegan just offered her a job? Had those organ thieves returned and removed the whole lower half of her body just to save time?
"On tour?" she heard her voice say, from a distance.
"Yep, on the bus, with me and Sara and all the smelly boys," Tegan said with a sad, tired smile. "Look, we've watched tons of your videos. They're the only videos online that are worth watching."
Wow.
"Uh. . . well, of course. . . yeah, of course I would do that," she said, stunned. "Um. . . when?" she asked, as a series of obstacles reeled through her mind. School, her disapproving family. . . she dismissed these concerns almost as quickly.
"Well I guess you'd need to go home and get your stuff for the road. We have a show tonight in Baltimore and then in DC on Wednesday and-"
"Yeah, I have tickets to those ones already," Jamie said, slightly sheepish. Tegan grinned.
"Well, see you there, then. I'll put you on the list and you can get backstage before the show. Okay?" She asked, dragging her suitcase off the edge of the bed and onto the floor with a grunt. The thing was big enough for Tegan to curl up inside and sleep.
"Okay," Jamie replied, disbelief washing over her. Tegan had transformed her life in fewer words than it might take her to order a coffee in Starbucks. Tegan wheeled her suitcase to the door of the hotel and opened it, pausing for a second to look back over her shoulder.
"You coming?" she asked, snapping Jamie out of her stupor.
"Uh, I just need a second to get my stuff together," Jamie said. "Meet you downstairs?"
"'Okay," Tegan said, shutting the door behind her.
. . . . . . .
Jamie was another ten minutes gathering her things and trying to sort out her tangled thoughts. The raised voices preceded her arrival in the lobby.
"If you want to fuck around with someone else's girlfriend," Tegan nearly shouted at Sara, "you should maybe pick someone more reliable, rather than some slut-bag who will just tell everyone she knows. Then the news will never get back to me! Then your sneaky, fucking backstabbing-"
"Did you just call your girlfriend a slut-bag?" Sara asked back, stony-faced.
"She's not my girlfriend," Tegan retorted. Sara ignored the inconsistency.
"Then why are you so upset?" Sara asked, irritated, flippant. Tegan stared back at her, red-faced. Jamie froze, met Ted's eyes, and Ted mouthed the words oh fuck before pushing the glass doors open and stepping outside. The way she was positioned, Jamie would need to walk between them to get out the door, and the tension between them, she thought, might entangle her like a net.
"How can you ask me that?" Tegan asked. From where Jamie stood, Sara looked like she was struggling to maintain her aloof, indifferent expression. There was nothing aloof or indifferent about Tegan; her face was flushed, her eyes glossy.
"Don't you ever just want to fuck someone," Sara shot back, exasperated, "without it being a. . . "
"Being a what?" Tegan prompted, daring her.
"Without it being a fucking expedition!" Sara said finally, and they stared at each other. Jamie furtively glanced from one to the other, and then out the big windows to where the three boys stood together, glancing back now and then, concerned but weary. She thought for a moment that she should perhaps just turn around and go back up the stairs. They didn't seem to notice she was there. Somehow, her feet were bolted to the floor.
After an unnaturally long pause, Sara tired of the staring contest and just sighed, grabbing her suitcase and starting for the door.
"I'll forgive you, Sara," Tegan shouted at her, voice strained and bitter. "All you have to do is be sorry!"
Sara walked out without a reply, without looking back. Tegan watched her, for a moment, swore, and kicked her suitcase.
"Fuck! Fuck you, Sara," she muttered, and, seeing Jamie there, turned even redder, humiliation twisting her face as she struggled with her big suitcase and her backpack. Jamie wordlessly took the strap of Tegan's backpack and slung it over her shoulder, held the door and looked back at her.
"Thanks," Tegan said. "I'm sorry about that. . ."
Jamie shook her head, gave Tegan an uncomfortable smile. "Don't be sorry," she said simply. Tegan held Jamie's eye for a moment.
"Good first day on the new job?" she joked, but her voice was heavy as she followed Jamie out the door.
"The best."