Took a while to get this one right. Enjoy! Or... well, there's really not a whole lot of enjoyment here, but yeah!
Part III, Chapter 3: Don't Worry
I stood there, stunned, numb, for a few seconds - I don't know for how many - and then Ted came back in.
"Jamie, oh my God, what happened?" he asked, quickly stepping to me and putting his arms around me. The intense sting of Tegan's words collided, in my heart, with the relief of Ted's arms around me and I burst into tears. "I saw them all leave. . . What happened? What's going on?" he asked, worried, as I sobbed against the shoulder of his soft flannel shirt, utterly incapable of speech. He squeezed me tight, which was good because I felt like I might fall, just as Tegan had started to fall when I helped her out of the tub, a few months back, before she'd first tried to tell me about Sara. The memory of that made me cry even harder, and I clutched Ted's shoulders, wanting to disappear into them. He held me like that until the sobs diminished and I was left with shuddering breaths.
"It's my fault, Ted, it's all my fault. . . oh my God. . ." I whimpered.
"Shhhh, no. . . it's okay. . ."
"I did this to them, it's all my fault. . . I'm so sorry. . ." The tears were creeping up on me again as I tried to push them down.
"Shhh, you don't have to be sorry, we'll figure it out, okay?" he responded, and I wanted so desperately to believe him but it was impossible, and even if the situation could somehow be squashed, swept under the rug, nothing would ever let them be like that in front of me again, nothing.
"She said. . . I fucked up her life. . ." I started.
"She's just upset," Ted said, soothingly.
"She said she was sorry. . . she'd ever met me," I finished, and his face looked so sad I almost felt sorry for him, except that I had no room for that.
"Oh no," he said.
"And she's right. I've done this. . . I've fucked up everything, oh my God," I told him, struggling with the nausea, the crushing guilt, the tremours in my chest.
"You. . . I mean, how did- ?" he asked, but the tears had started again and I couldn't respond.
"I didn't. . . I can't. . ." I tried but it wouldn't come out in any way he could understand so I gave up. He put his arms around me again.
"Sara's run off somewhere. Tegan's locked herself in the washroom." he said. "Come on, let's go back to the bus."
I wasn't able to say much to him as we went outside. He walked with me, and when I started to cry again, he walked with one arm around my shoulders. Inside the smaller bus at last, I sat, stunned, in the kitchen area. Ted fetched me a bottle of water and sat across from me.
"I went for a walk," I started, in weary disbelief, unable to even identify all the sources of the pain in my insides. "There was a barn. . . I went up into the loft. I wanted some night shots and. . . it was just. . . I was curious and I went up with the camera running and I heard voices." Ted opened the bottle for me and pushed it across the table. I took a breath. "I saw them. . . I didn't even notice the camera was still on for a few seconds and as soon as I did, I turned it off. I deleted it, I deleted the file but. . ." I couldn't finish. I pressed my lips together to stop everything from spilling out and shook my head.
"Hey, Jamie-" Ted said gently, as I felt myself start to lose it again.
"And the. . . that fucking. . . bitch. . . at the camera store must have. . . searched for the file. . ." I cried, hiding my head in my forearms, folded on the table. "And Tegan was. . . Tegan said. . ." I couldn't finish. I felt Ted lay one hand on mine and squeeze it.
"I think. . . maybe you should go talk to Tegan again? You guys can figure out what to do. I mean, it was an accident. . ." Ted said. I said nothing, did not raise my head, but I somehow started to breathe, and became quiet. "Don't you think? I mean, she's. . . you know, you guys have. . . uh. . ." Ted didn't finish. "I think. . . she didn't mean any of that. . . I know she didn't . . ."
"She hates me," I murmured into my arms and it hurt that it was true, but it hurt more that it was my fault. I felt more warm tears leak down over my wrists. Me and my fucking camera, we had done this. My trusty companion that had gotten me into this was also going to end it.
"She doesn't," Ted disagreed.
"You. . . didn't see her. You didn't hear. . ."
"She was just. . . emotional. . . she'll regret what she said. . ." I shook my
head against my forearms. "She's just scared, or like. . . I mean. . . it has to be really scary." I said nothing, but cried quietly for a while longer and Ted sat, squeezing my hand. If Tegan was scared, that was my fault too. My mind tortured me then with memories of the two of them on stage, sharing stories, jokes, making the crowd laugh, and each other. I thought of moments I'd seen from the audience, moments they shared with hundreds of people, so beautiful and good and all of that would be over. I thought of years of just aching to know them, to be close to them, wondering what they thought of me, hoping that they liked me, wishing I could be more than just another fan, and then finally - unbelievably - having and knowing all of those things. I thought of them on the bus, when Tegan lay with her head in Sara's lap and Sara tenderly smoothed her hair back and Tegan assured her it was okay, it was just the two of them and me, so they were safe. Kiss me, she said, it's okay. They were safe with me, they trusted me, it was okay. They had those moments with me sitting there, filled up with an unexpected and overwhelming affection for both of them, for what they were together, to each other, even though not having Tegan was a painful blow to my heart. Because in a way, I still did have her. I had her trust, her friendship, and maybe even some sort of love. And I had those days when I almost felt like she really was mine, alone together in Vancouver, and all of her quiet smiles ever since, and now the memory of all of that is a searing, gaping hole, because I destroyed it, fucking smashed all of it forever.
I needed to try again. I needed to find Tegan. I had to fix it. Tegan had to be fucking terrified. If Sara had run off then Tegan needed me, she needed someone, I couldn't just leave her alone. I needed to stop crying and go back there and try, at least, to put something back together.
When I could finally breathe again, we walked back to the venue in tense silence.
. . . . . . .
I cry like that, against Shaun's chest, for a while and feel like a fucking girl but it's hard to care. After a while, it finally stops and I can almost breathe. I just feel stunned but I'm glad the fucking bawling has stopped because my head aches and my eyes are starting to swell shut. It must be time for soundcheck and then, will we be going out on stage in front of hundreds of people who have seen the video of us kissing, pressing into each other in the barn? What then? Will they throw things at us? Will they tear us apart? I can't even imagine leaving this stall, let alone going on stage.
I thank Shaun and ask him to give me a minute, so he leaves and I'm alone in the stall again. The numbness is deepening. I don't think I'll cry again but I don't want anyone to see me, my puffy eyes, my shame. I don't want to look at someone and wonder if they've seen the video, seen Sara kiss me, deeply, fall on top of me, when everyone knows what happens next whether the video captures it or not. Our mother. Online every day, googling us. . . she'll see it. She probably already has.
I close my eyes and lean against the wall again. I'm so tired. Can I sleep here? Maybe I'll just stay and they will all go on without me and I can just be forgotten.
And then the door opens again and I don't expect what I hear, but I hear it.
"Tegan," says Jamie's timid voice, on the other side of the door. My stomach clenches, my eyes sting. No fucking way, I'm not going to cry with her there on the other side of the door. God, my heart. I can't take it. "Tegan, I need to. . . explain," she starts to say, and I can hear that she's struggling. God, I'm going to throw up. Or cry again. Or both. Don't say anything, no more words. No more. "I didn't. . . spy on you," she goes on, my heart pounding in my throat, and it aches, I can't hear any more. "I didn't think. . . the camera was on. . . when I noticed it was on, I turned it off. I deleted the file. . ." I can feel the tears coming again, God damn it. I cover my mouth with the sleeve of my hoody. I don't make a sound. Don't make a sound! "But, it was. . . I didn't reformat the card. . . the girl in the shop. . . she would have had to. . . like. . . search for it. . ." Her voice, she's crying too. God, fuck, why is this happening? I want something to happen to make this all over. An earthquake? A fire? I need something to happen to stop it, to make it not matter anymore because something worse is happening. I can't think of anything worse. Her voice, so miserable, I've never heard anyone sound so sorry. Stop talking. Stop. She didn't mean to record it. She deleted the file. The fucking girl at the fucking shop. . . if I could murder her, I would do it right now. What the fuck was Jamie doing in the loft anyway? Did she keep watching us after she shut off the camera?
I can't say anything to her. I don't want her to hear me cry. She's seen it before but she was a different person then. I was a different person. She loved me even when I was a monster and yes, I loved her even when my heart was broken. Now it's all over, everything. I trusted her. I can't ever trust anyone ever again.
"Tegan, I'm sorry. . . I can't even. . . describe. . . how sorry. . ." her voice is desperate, imploring me. I can't say anything. Go away, everyone go away. If Sara was with me, we could just die together and it would be over. I'm sure she wishes she were dead right now too. In fact, I'm sure of it. "I'll do anything. . . if I could. . . anything, to fix it or. . . anything you want me to. Please just tell me. . . what to do. . . and I'll do it. . ." she's saying, but her voice cracks, she takes a breath. My heart, my guts, my God. ". . . that I never thought. . . if I'd ever thought this could. . . ever happen. . ." She loses track of her sentence. Her voice is shaking. "I'm sorry, I'm so so, sorry." There is silence because I don't answer, because I can't. There is part of me that wants to accept her apology and open the door because she will hold me and at least one person I know will still love me. Part of me wants to panic and apologize and take my words back, because I can't take it, I can't stand this ripped-open, stinging emptiness. Another part of me wants to say words to her that are so bitter, I never thought I was capable of them. I have just about resigned myself to saying nothing, when she speaks again and the last bitter words on my mind pass my lips.
"I love you," she almost whispers, and it's true, I know it. But instantly, all I can think of is Sara and me, alone in my bunk as she smiles shyly at me, pink and breathless.
I love you.
I know.
And this girl on the other side of the wall has destroyed it.
"You betrayed me," I say back, and I almost choke, stifling the tears. "I never should have trusted you! I should have left you in that alley!" I hear her crying but the anger and terror in my chest won't let me stop. "And now I want you to go away!" my mouth keeps saying. "Leave! And I. . . never. . . want to see you. . . again!" The last words squeeze out and I bite down on my sleeve, smother myself so she doesn't hear my sobs, because how could I ever stand to see her again? How can I stand to never see her again? She can hear nothing, I think, on her side of the door but I can hear her shaking breaths, then her footsteps, then the door.