Living Backwards (25 page)

“Actually, my parents want to take me to dinner to celebrate, so I’m going to head back with them. Sorry,” I replied uncomfortably.

“Can I see you later?” he asked softy, pushing the stray hairs away from my face.

“Well, I’m not sure how long we’ll be gone for.”

Please don’t make this harder for me, Luke. I don’t know if I’m doing the right thing.

“Call me then?” he offered, sounding disappointed. I hated myself. I didn’t reply. I just smiled.

“Thank you,” I added softly.

“For what?”

Everything.

“For the ride.”

“Anytime,” he said, staring at me strangely.

By the time I reached my parents, my eyes were glassy and my nose was running. I convinced them after a great deal of debating that it would be easier to have a celebratory brunch on the way to the airport the next day. I wanted to go home and wallow.

That night, as I lay in bed, congested, miserable and surrounded by Kleenex, I heard a pinging sound outside. I shot up in bed, listening for the sound. When it happened again, I knew exactly what it was.

Luke was throwing rocks at my window.

I sat on my bed in the dark, watching the window as I listened to the pebbles bounce off the glass. I wondered if it would shatter if he continued. It would be so appropriate. Each ping against the window caused so much of a fracture in me that by the time the sounds stopped, I was convinced I’d never be whole again.

My parents drove me to the airport the next day. I ate breakfast. I nodded when they spoke. I was sure they chalked it up to nerves. When we arrived at the gate, my mom cried. I did too, but sadly, not for her. I’d see her again.

I could barely breathe by the time we boarded the plane. I knew I was making a spectacle of myself, but I couldn’t find the motivation to care. A kind flight attendant handed me a box of tissues. I wondered if people had breakdowns on planes often.

I was shaken from my thoughts when the older woman sitting next to me rested her hand on my arm.

“Everything is temporary, dear,” she said with a sad smile. “It’ll be okay.”

I slept restlessly throughout most of the flight—strange, vivid dreams flashing in my mind. At times I felt like they were frighteningly real, but I didn’t understand them.

When we landed, I was the last to disembark. For some reason, there was a finality to actually stepping off the plane into JFK. As I walked sleepily out of the tunnel, my eyes scanned the crowd at the gate. The plane was heading back to Seattle soon. The people waiting were heading back to Washington. My eye caught one girl wearing a U-Dub sweatshirt. I couldn’t help but stare as I passed by.

It would be so easy. I could be right back in Seattle if I wanted. I could walk right to the ticket counter, purchase a ticket, and be back on the same plane, homebound. I could be heading back to Luke.

I stopped in front of the sign that directed travelers to go down the escalator to baggage claim or across the building to ticketing. It wouldn’t be the craziest thing I’d ever done. But I couldn’t.

As I turned to follow the sign to baggage claim, a wave of nausea rolled over me. Within seconds, I was sweaty and shivering. Panicking, I looked around for a place to sit down, but all I could think about was that I didn’t want to hurl all over the floor in the middle of a busy airport.

The nausea intensified while tiny gray dots appeared in front of my eyes. By the time the fuzzy black cloud moved into my periphery, I knew what was happening.

Before I hit the ground, my last coherent thought would have made me laugh if I had been able. It was so calm and collected considering the gravity of the situation.

Everything is temporary.

It wasn’t going to go well. I knew this already. I wasn’t fessing up to an F on a trig exam or trying to convince Grace I had an inner ear infection when I staggered home drunk. This was big. And it was going to be met with resistance. But even knowing that I was about to drop a bombshell on two of the people I loved most in this world, I couldn’t wipe the grin from my face.

I knew Jillian was overwhelmed when I told her my plans to move to New York. She still looked skeptical at graduation. I expected that because, shit, I was surprised myself. But I knew it was the right decision. Although she’d be living in a dorm with her friends, all I could think about was Jillian wrapped up in a white sheet in my small bedroom. She’d be busy with school, but we’d find time to be together and I wouldn’t have to wonder what it felt like to wake up with her in my arms anymore. I planned to wake up with her in my arms a lot.

As much as I wanted to continue thinking of Jillian in my bed, her hair against my pillow and her clothes on my floor, I needed to have the painful conversations I’d been avoiding. So I pushed the image of her out of my head temporarily with every intention of revisiting it later and picked up the telephone.

“Jonas,” I heard the gruff voice answer on the other end.

“Jonas, hey, it’s Luke,” I replied tentatively.

“Well, I was wondering when you’d work up the berries to call me back,” he said coldly. “I called last Sunday and again on Wednesday. Called Friday morning, too.”

“Jonas, I’m sorry,” I began, feeling tongue-tied.

“I don’t need your apology, Luke. Are you calling to tell me that you aren’t coming because I think that’s what’s going on. Am I right?”

“It’s not like that. There’s this girl—”

“Jesus Christ, Luke,” he sighed, sounding exasperated. “So what? You’re not gonna work? You’re gonna screw around all day? Is that the plan? Carter must be thrilled.”

“No, that’s not the plan,” I replied defensively. “She’s going to NYU and I’m going with her.”

“To NYU? Kind of late to enroll, isn’t it?”

“I’m not going
to
NYU,” I added. “Just to New York.”

“Ah. I see. And Carter said…?”

“I wanted to call you first,” I explained.

“Good idea because a corpse wouldn’t be able to make this call.”

“It’s not going to be that bad, Jonas. I know he won’t be thrilled but he likes Jillian—”

“It’s going to be a goddamn bloodbath,” he interrupted laughing darkly. “But I’m not here to hold your hand or change your mind. You’re a big boy now. If this is what you want, then do it. I just hope you’re making the right call.”

“I really appreciate what you were going to do for me, Jonas. I do. I just need to do this,” I replied. It sounded like I was pleading. Maybe I was.

“I can’t say I’m not disappointed. But good luck, kid,” he added.

I hung up, feeling like shit. I hadn’t waivered in my decision, but it still sucked being told that I was a screw-up. I really hoped he was wrong and Carter would see that my life wouldn’t be ruined if I went with Jillian to New York. It would be the opposite.

Grudgingly, I made my way downstairs to discuss the change of plans with Carter and Grace. Carter was in the living room reading the newspaper, reading glasses perched low on his nose. I’d miss him—probably more than I’d be able to express.

“Hey,” I called out to get his attention.

“All packed?” he asked, looking up over his glasses and smiling.

“Can I talk to you?” I asked cautiously.

“Is everything alright? Should I get my keys?” He started to get up, ready to drive us out to the cliffs and work out our shit like we always did. The man knew me better than anyone.

“Actually, I’d like to talk to you
and
Grace.”

“Oh, sure,” he replied, confusion crossing his face. “Grace, could you come in here for a second?”

When she entered the living room smiling, I had a brief flash of remorse. I sucked in a deep breath before I began.

“I’m not going to Seattle tomorrow,” I announced.

“When are you going then?” Carter asked, visibly confused.

“I’m not…going to Seattle.”

“You’re going to have to give me a little more than ‘I’m not going to Seattle’. Is this about Jillian?” he asked, putting the paper down and moving towards the edge of the couch.

“Listen. I know you’re upset and I understand that, but I know what I’m doing,” I explained, trying not to sound petulant.

“Which is what, Luke? What is your plan now because I need to understand this,” he implored. My stomach was already in knots because I truly hated doing this to them.

“Luke,” Grace interjected. “Jillian is a lovely girl, but if you’re changing your mind based on your relationship with her, I think we need to discuss this.”

“I know how this sounds and I know what you’re going to say. But my mind is made up. I’m not letting her go off to New York without me.”

“You can’t be serious,” Carter replied, incredulously. “Luke, be reasonable.”

“I already called Jonas.”

He stared at me for a moment, his mouth gaping and his brows furrowed. He slowly began shaking his head before raking his hands over his face.

“I love you, Luke, but you’re out of your mind. You’re eighteen.”

“I know,” I replied not saying it outright, but I wasn’t asking for permission.

He continued to glare at me, and I was reminded of the bloodbath Jonas predicted.

“Listen,” I continued. “I have a lot to do if I’m going to make this work. I need to make calls tomorrow. Set up some interviews. Look into apartments near campus.”

“Are you moving in together? How do her parents feel about this?” Grace interrupted.

“Jillian’s already been assigned to a dorm room with her friends. I just need something small, but I’d prefer something near her campus,” I explained. I hoped that I at least sounded like I had my shit together. I still had a lot of loose ends to tie up.

“This conversation isn’t over, Luke,” Carter added. “But I think we both need to cool down a bit.”

“We can discuss it as much as you want,” I replied with conviction. “But I need to do this.”

I wasn’t trying to act like a dick, but there was just so much I was willing to take. I wanted his blessing, but I didn’t need it. And if that meant leaving against his wishes, I would.

I headed back upstairs, giving Carter the space and time he needed to calm down. I laid down in bed thinking about what I would be bringing with me to New York. I had planned to take my bike with me to Seattle, but I wasn’t about to drive it across the country. Since I’d be flying, I would be packing lightly. I really didn’t need much.

My thoughts quickly shifted back to the image of Jillian in my apartment, wearing one of my shirts, something quirky like wool socks and nothing else. My body began to react and I shifted uncomfortably in my bed with thoughts of the cliffs replaying in my mind.

I needed to see her.

It was almost eleven when I checked my watch. I knew I should just stay put and call her in the morning. I knew I should show a little restraint. Hell, I knew I should be worried that if Henry Cross caught me, I could screw everything up. But I wasn’t thinking that way. I shouldn’t need to see her, but I did. I shouldn’t be thinking about touching her again, but I was. And I shouldn’t be skulking around her house at night, but that was the plan. I couldn’t bring myself to feel bad about it—not even when I was marching out the front door and over to the Lexus.

This time I’d know where to park so that the car wouldn’t alert her parents that I was there. This time I’d know to avoid the house with the yappy dog. This time I’d know which window to throw the rocks at. And this time I’d coax her downstairs and back to my car. If I was lucky, she’d be wearing that tank top again. If I was really lucky, she wouldn’t be wearing it for long.

Just as I had imagined, I navigated the course easier this time sending a silent ‘screw you’ over to that rat dog next to her house. I grabbed a few small rocks and sent them up to the purple window, waiting patiently for the shadow to appear in the dark.

I realized that I hadn’t really planned out what I was going to say. ‘Hey Jillian, it’s been almost a week since we had sex and I kind of want to try that again’ probably wasn’t the most romantic proposition in the world, but it pretty much summed up my feelings. We hadn’t had any time alone and I needed to touch her again. Things were intense at the prom and I wanted to ease her mind about the trip to New York…and maybe ease that tank top off.

When she didn’t appear in the window, I grabbed a few more rocks and chucked them harder at the glass. I still had to be careful. A broken window would not work well with my plan to remove her top.

I contemplated throwing a bigger rock or even trying to call her name, but it was too risky. I was going to have to leave and wait until tomorrow to see her, but the vision of her tank top on the floor of my car had gotten me pretty worked up. I was not looking forward to going home and taking matters into my own hands.

I headed to my car, and like before, walked backwards, watching the window for some movement behind the curtain. This time there was no smirk, no wave, just the darkened room and silence.

I sped off into the night irritated that Jillian was such a deep sleeper. If we weren’t leaving for New York soon, I’d insist she get a cellphone so this shit didn’t happen again, but luckily I wouldn’t have to worry about disturbing her parents for much longer. Once we were in New York, things would be much different because I didn’t plan on spending many nights alone.

Back at home, when I stepped into the shower and closed my eyes, it was her hands lathering the soap along my chest. Her touch along on my arms and around my shoulders. It was her fingers moving along my stomach and further below.

It was her wet body I imagined in the shower with me. Sliding up against and along mine. Meshing together. Grinding and grabbing. Holding on and pulling up. It was her working me into a frenzy. Gasping, panting, groaning and finally freezing.

But as good as it felt, when I opened my eyes, my shower was empty, and Jillian was at home.

New York couldn’t come soon enough.

The next morning, I woke early knowing I had a lot to do before I could swing by Jillian’s and after my failed attempt the night before, I
really
wanted to swing by Jillian’s.

I stumbled out of bed and shuffled over to my desk to boot up my Mac. Lying next to the mouse pad were the contents of my pant pockets. I grabbed the empty gum wrappers and dumped them in the trash then tossed my lighter into the top drawer. I had been so distracted lately that I was slipping up. If Grace had come in and seen the lighter on my desk, it would’ve set her off. Underneath all of the trash were our prom tickets. Picking one up, I stared absently at it, not really seeing the paper in front of me, but Jillian’s pale skin against her dark dress, swaying with me in the dark.

I pulled a pin out of my bulletin board and tacked it there. It was sandwiched between a cardboard coaster from Jonas’ and the New York City street map I’d printed out. Shaking off the urge to call myself a sentimental wuss, I turned on the computer.

I spent the next hour looking through ads online. The good news was that I could already serve alcohol in New York because I was eighteen, which meant I could apply for a bartending position. The bad news was that the ads online were far from impressive.

Planet Hollywood was looking for a bartender. I could only imagine how badly I’d need to gouge my eyes out surrounded by useless artifacts from ghosts of celebrities past. Because everybody is just dying to see Dustin Hoffman’s
Tootsie
dress, right?

There were a number of ads for shirtless bartenders and one where pants were optional. And I was pretty sure a few of them may have been part-time escort services because their tipping policy sounded suspect.

Weeding through the online garbage, I was able to find a few prospects all in the Village. They weren’t fancy, but I’d be able to keep my clothes on.

If I planned to fly to New York with Jillian for her orientation, I’d need a place to live. That would mean putting a deposit down on an apartment without seeing it first. Obviously, not an optimal situation. I printed out a few decent apartments and made a few calls, narrowing the list down to three small studios all within walking distance of campus.

I wanted to get Jillian’s input before I made any decisions, so I figured it would be a good time to head over and run them by her. It was unfortunately a lot later in the day than I expected, but early enough that I wouldn’t need to worry that she’d be asleep and oblivious again.

Armed with the apartment listings, I drove the short route to her house, happy that it was a good excuse to show up unannounced.

Jillian’s car was is the driveway when I pulled up. I jogged up to the front door and nervously rang the bell. I was accused of plotting to have sex with Jillian in the backseat of my car the last time I saw Henry Cross. Now that it was something I was actually considering, I was a little anxious. Fortunately, it was her mom who opened the door, looking surprised to see me.