I know it's a short one, but... we'll try to have the next one sooner. :) Also: Woop woop! We've passed 200,000 words... wtf?!
Part IV: Chapter 18 - I Do It All Alone
Early that evening, in the shower, is the first time in twenty-four hours that I've been alone, and it catches up to me. My god, sex can be an effective distraction by itself but add in all the other stuff - like love, guilt, apologies - it can keep your mind off of things if you want it to. So I'll just admit right now that I'm crying in the shower at Jamie's parents' house. No one will know. I'll stay in here till I get it under control and if my eyes are still red I can just say I got shampoo in them.
I wonder if I am always going to feel like a cheater when I sleep with someone who isn't Sara. Even when she's told me never again and it has to stop and that was our last kiss, Tegan. Even when she said to me go to Jamie and it cut out my heart even though I love Jamie. I lean my head against the tiles, the hot water washing away the snot and tears and the sticky residue of sex in the van. Jamie has seen me cry many times by now, but somehow, I don't want her to see me cry over Sara after what has just happened between us. It's just unfair. I don't deserve to have her love me the way she does. Her touch, her body, her heat all make me forget for a while, which is a relief, but her love makes me wish I could forget forever. And then my throat tightens because if I do forget, that means I've forgotten my whole life. If I could do that, well, I'd hardly exist.
Then I miss Sara so much that it's a gaping wound and her last words to me are vinegar, so I am another ten minutes crying in the shower before I get it together enough to turn off the water. I pull the curtain aside, water running in my eyes still, so I'm squinting and I'm not wearing my contacts so the figure there in the bathroom with me gives me a start.
"Sorry, I just wanted to grab some. . . uh. . ." I sigh, relieved. It's just Jamie. I push my hair back with my hands and I can see a little better. She has some bottles and things in her hands, and her face is a little pink. "Sorry to barge in on you. . ." She hands me a towel and I dry my face.
"It's okay. Are you okay?" I ask her, because she looks so agitated.
"I'm. . . wow, your eyes are red," she notices, looking at me now that I am holding the towel loosely in front of me. "Were you crying?" A moment ago, she looked angry but she's soft again, giving me a shy, warm look as I step out of the bathtub.
"Yeah. . ." I admit after a moment, "but. . . what's happening? Are you going somewhere?" She frowns again.
"Yeah, my mom is. . . let's talk about it in the bedroom when you're. . ." she gestures to my wet shoulders, blushing a little. I swear, she's blushing.
"Jamie, are you embarrassed because I'm naked? It's fine. You've seen it all before so. . ." I ask, teasing a little, but still holding the towel in front of me. She laughs a little.
"God, you look so good but I'm so mad right now. My mom. . . just. . . dry off and come to the bedroom?" She's getting ready to leave and I quickly grab her hand so she stops and turns towards me.
"Kiss me first," I tell her, and we kiss for a few long seconds, her lips soft and a little moist, her hands on my naked wet skin as I clutch the towel between us.
"Oh God," she says, a moment later as I taste the pineapple yogurt I borrowed from her mouth. "You're all hot from the shower and. . . so. . . fucking. . . ugh. I have to go!" She kisses me again, and then quickly leaves, closing the door behind her.
A few minutes later I'm dressed and I quickly slip into her bedroom and she's there, angrily cramming stuff into a suitcase. My heart speeds up a little at the sight of her. She looks up and again, her eyes soften when she sees me, and she gives me a little smile and then looks back to her packing. She's upset, though. I can see that she is actually struggling not to cry.
"Jamie, what happened?" I ask her, sitting on the bed next to her suitcase. It also looks like she is hesitating to tell me, which makes me nervous. "You can tell me. If. . . you want me to go or. . ." Her eyes are on mine then, quickly, and they're sad.
"Tegan, no," she says, a pained look on her face. "My mom is. . . she saw something. . . on TV. . ." She's red, her brow furrowed as she folds up a shirt and shoves it into her bag. My stomach clenches. "About the YouTube video." On TV. The floor drops out a little.
"Oh. . . god," I say, and immediately I wonder if my mom has seen it, if Sara is okay. . .
"So she said some things that. . . I'm not sure I'll ever forgive her for." Her brow is knotted, tense.
"Jamie, you can't let me come between you and your family. . ." I feel sick, ashamed. It will never end.
"You know, when I came out, my mother asked me what she had done wrong," she says, sad and bitter. She's taking it out on her luggage though, which won't do any good. I catch her hand and squeeze it for a second and she stops and stands still and lets me. After a moment I release her and she goes back to her packing, more calmly, but her face is still all flushed.
"So it's on TV. . ." I say, feeling queasy.
"I'm sorry, Tegan," she says to me, sadly. All I can think about is my mother and the fifteen calls I've dodged. "My mom said. . . she. . . God, I can't even repeat what she said. I'm ashamed of her."
"She's your mother-"
"Yeah, and you're. . ." She stops. "I love you and I can't stand it if. . ." I was already feeling pretty edgy, and her glossy eyes are making me feel more like crying. "She doesn't want you here and doesn't want me associating with you. We'll go to a hotel and. . ." Her mother's reflected shame is enough to trigger that in me, because I know her mother is right to be disgusted with me and Jamie is just blinded by love, but thank God for that. I think I will cry again at this fucking mess when she zips up her bag and looks at me.
"Let's pack your stuff," she says, and I nod.
"Will you come back to Vancouver with me?" I ask, all at once feeling and tasting and smelling moments from our last time in Vancouver, all of which make me shiver.
"Of course," she says without hesitation, and my heart fills up with something that clashes with this ache, this shame that her mother has stirred up inside of me. I watch her face as she lays my bag on her bed. She's so upset with her mother, it's made her quiet. I get up from the bed and start to gather my clothes, stuffing them haphazardly into my bag. Jamie gives me a wry look and pulls them back out and starts folding them precisely before returning them to my bag. I smirk at her and she gives me a sad, sorry smile. I'm about to say something to her, to try to break the tension that both of us feel, when I see her mother's shape in the doorway. Jamie looks up at her, and the tension increases to the point where I wish I could disappear. Her mother gives me a cold look and imagining what she thinks of me makes hot shame rise up through my face. She must think I'm a pervert, a freak, a monster. And I am. So I have no right to give her a defiant look, no right to hold my head up. I lower my eyes.
"Jamie, this is not necessary," her mother says.
"What's not necessary?" Jamie replies, the forced indifference in her tone not convincing anyone.
"Well, where do you think you're going, for starters?" her mother asks, a little huffy. Jamie continues folding, doesn't look up.
"Vancouver," she responds flatly. A pause.
"Both of you?" her mother asks, and I keep my eyes on Jamie's hands, holding my breath.
"Yep," she says, more aloof than I've ever heard her sound, but it's all an act.
"Well, Jamie, you can't just. . ." Jamie looks up at her mother, waiting for her to finish her sentence, but there's a challenging look on her face.
"I can't what?" she asks her mother.
"Well, I mean. . .". I can almost feel her mother's eyes on me. "We can talk about this later-"
"Whatever you say to me, I am going to repeat to Tegan anyway," she says, and I wonder how true that is, since she couldn't bear to tell me what her mother had already said.
"Well, honestly, it's just not appropriate," her mother says, starting to sound provoked. "I know you like to pretend that it doesn't matter what anyone thinks but I'm sorry, my dear, that is just not the world we live in." God, I wish I could crawl under the bed. Jamie's face is red, and I've seen her face that colour several times before but for much more enjoyable reasons.
"Well, I'm sorry if the bingo ladies are shocked but I don't know what you think I should do about that," Jamie replies impatiently.
"What you should do, if you had any sense, would be to see your friend off at the airport and then go back to school in January before you ruin your life!" her mother snaps, her voice rising in pitch and volume as my stomach starts to eat itself.
"Well, then, I guess I don't have any sense," Jamie shoots back and I can't bear to look at her mother, at the disgust I would almost certainly see there, so I continue to watch Jamie's hands as she quickly, angrily folds my clothes and packs them away.
"Jamie, this is insane," her mother goes on. Jamie glances up at her quickly. "What you are doing with. . . this. . . it's just not now I raised you."
"How disappointing for you," Jamie says back to her, flippant, surprising me.
"This. . . person is sick and-"
"If you finish that sentence, I will not forgive you," Jamie says intensely, her defiant look locked on her mother for a long moment. I'm frozen; my tongue, my limbs, all of me. Because she's right, I am sick, and Jamie shouldn't associate with me.
"Well. . . when are you coming back?" Some of her venom has ebbed away, replaced with fear. I have gathered some of my jeans, which Jamie takes from me and starts folding. My stomach is twisting, and I keep my face turned away from Jamie's mother because crying in front of her would be humiliating.
"I don't know," Jamie replies simply.
"This is insane. You're going to spend Christmas with. . . with. . ."
"Either use her name or just don't refer to her at all because what you are doing right now. . . you are embarrassing yourself," Jamie points out hotly. Her mother makes an indignant gasp and my my face burns, my stomach starts cramping as I stare at the slightly frayed edge of the bed skirt, pale blue like the comforting comforter I sat on. This home, so domestic, so wholesome. So unprepared for the likes of me.
"You are the one who ought to be embarrassed! Listen to yourself! Have you no shame?" her mother cries, incredulous, and Jamie looks back at her, calmer than I would have expected her to be.
"I do have shame, and right now, I'm ashamed of you."
"Of me? How dare you say that when you're the one who is off galavanting with a pervert!" her mother shrieks, and I wish the world would open up and swallow me whole. Jamie doesn't even hesitate, and this time, she's angry.
"If you call her that again, I'll be missing Christmas next year too. And I don't know how you define galavanting but we are fucking each other. Does that count?"
I hear an intake of breath and expect it to be followed by raised voices, but instead, there's silence, and then Jamie's mother leaves wordlessly. Jamie looks pained and relieved at the same time and I let out a breath, my eyes stinging. This is what everyone will think of me, what the world will think of me. My friends, my family. . . all of them will be disgusted the way Jamie's mom is disgusted. They will all want me out of their homes, out of their lives. Jamie is sorting out more of my stuff, which makes me feel kind of ridiculous because it's my shit and I should be sorting it out but I'm just stunned and being kissed and touched and held by Jamie these last couple of days have started to make me forget that I am a fucking sick freak and being reminded of it all at once. . . fuck.
"Hey, Tegan, hey," Jamie says, sitting down on the edge of the bed next to me and wrapping her arms around my shoulders.
"She's right, fuck," I choke out, and I really do not want to cry like a baby in Jamie's bedroom, because of her mother's words, all true.
"She isn't, and I want you to forget everything she said," Jamie says to me, her volume low but her voice intense. With her fingers, she turns my face to her because I can't look at her. Why does she love me? How?
"Everyone else. . . everyone but you will agree with all of, like, everything she just said," I say, my nose starting to run, and Jamie shakes her head.
"No, they won't. The people who love you will still love you," she says. "And most of them will believe that it's Casey and not Sara. My mother wants to think the worst of you. Hey, hey, no. . ." It's out of my hands; tears come and I swipe them away. "Hey, don't let her get to you. Don't listen."
"Oh God," I moan. "Why do you love me?" It was a thought and then it became words and it came out and I look at my hands, waiting for her to realize that her mother is right and she's just blind. She puts her fingers on my chin and lifts my face to hers again.
"Because you're good, and kind. . . you have a beautiful heart. You're. . . you," she says, and kisses my lips. "Also you are really fucking hot, and an awesome kisser," she says with a grin, trying to make me laugh, and I snort. "And you're so fucking great in bed, I mean come on!"
"Haha, okay," I say with a chuckle, wiping my face with my sleeve.
"Plus you have fantastic tits," she says. "Which is reason enough for me to ditch family Christmas for like, the next five years in a row." She's made me smile, somehow; I laugh, sigh, and she kisses me again.
"You're pretty awesome in bed, too, if you're wondering," I tell her, only partly because I know she will blush. And she does.
"Well, let's get out of here and go and be awesome in another bed," she suggests.
"Fucking great idea," I agree, relieved at the way she can make me forget, sometimes, that I'm a freak and shouldn't exist. Make me forget the real world.