The Rock Chamber Boys : The Complete Series

by Daisy Allen

  I reach out and touch her cheek. It glistens. I lift it to my mouth, and taste it.

  Saltwater.

  She turns and stares up at me.

  "Beautiful. It was beautiful," her lip quivers and another full tear falls down her cheek. And I fall to my knees in front of her, taking her hands in mine.

  "I owe you my life. Be with me for the rest of it."

  My breath stills in my lungs until she answers.

  "Yes."

  ***

  She’s wearing white. The very first white dress we saw in the very first store we came across.

  She pointed at it in the window, and I couldn’t do a thing but nod. Yes. Wear that.

  I’m dressed in whatever the hell I was wearing when I dragged her from the hotel room.

  And now we're here, standing outside this chapel, like we're drunken strangers on a dare.

  Except, we're not. We're just in love.

  "So, on a level of one to ten, ten being chased with a butterfly net by men in white coats, how crazy are we being right now?" She asks me, as we wait for them to ring up our chapel costs. Elvis is very present, and I’m trying not to wonder if they charged us extra for an officiant in costume.

  “Well, from now on ten will be, ‘as crazy as Jez and Noémie were in Vegas,’” I answer and she laughs. “"Are we really doing this?"

  "Do you not want to?” she turns to me. “Say it, and we're out of here."

  "No. I want to," I lean over and kiss her. My soon-to-be wife.

  "Not more than me." She smiles. "But... okay, let's be serious. Aren't there things we need to know about each other?"

  "Like what?" I shrug.

  "I don't know! Kids! Money! How you eat your hot dogs!" she asks, pulling things out of the air.

  "Well, 1) sure, someday; 2) I have lots; and 3) mustard and onion with coke from a glass bottle."

  She pokes her tongue out at me, “I said be serious!”

  "I'm not kidding! Don't even think about putting ketchup on my hot dog!"

  "Jez!”

  I pull her to the empty seats in the waiting area. "Okay, what do you want to know that you don't already?"

  "I don't know..." Her eyes are erratic, trying to think.

  "Exactly," I lean over and kiss her. "Wait... how do YOU eat your hot dogs?"

  "Ketchup all the way, baby."

  "I have made a grave mistake." I hang my head.

  "Seriously though... Jez. I don't have money. Like I so much don't have it, it's not even funny." She looks serious, so I want to reassure her.

  "Noémie? When I met you, you had worked a sixteen-hour shift scooping beans. I didn't think you were doing that for fun."

  "Don’t you want a... what are those things called...?”

  "A pre-nup?"

  "Yeah."

  "No." I frown.

  "But..."

  "Shhh. You can have it all. All my money. I'm serious. Or we can give it all away and live in a shack in Barbados and eat with our hands and swim naked in the surf for the rest of our lives. It's just money. Anything else?" I brush the hair from her face, and she smiles, a little more relaxed. I’m glad, I don’t want this to be something she regrets. Ever.

  The chapel door opens. "It's time for you guys."

  "Now or never, Emmie,” I stand, holding out my hand to her.

  She grins and jumps up from her seat, “Now!” She runs to the chapel door, turning around and shouting at me, "Hurry up, man. You're going to make me late for my own wedding."

  I grin and chase after her down the aisle, coming to a skidding stop when we reach the end.

  The officiant lifts his book and I reach for her hand. We’re in this together.

  Out of nowhere, there's a loud slamming of a door, and the sound of voices yelling, "STOP!" The three of us turn back. But I don’t need to. I would know those voices anywhere.

  The question is, what are they doing here?

  “What the fuck?” I shout, as I see my bandmates, Dennis, and Anca come running into the chapel and up the aisle.

  “Stop, you can’t do this.” Sebastian pants, out of breath and comes up to stand in front of me. "You can't marry her, Jez."

  “Who are…?” she turns to me, her eyes filled with as much confusion as I feel.

  "They're... my friends, Noémie, although what they're doing here, I don't know. How did you even know I was here?"

  "Jez, come on." He rolls his eyes.

  Because Dennis knows everything.

  "This is none of your business." I reach for Noémie’s hand again, turning back to the officiant.

  "I'm sorry, but it is, man.” Sebastian turns saying to Noémie, “Tell him.”

  Her brow furrows, perplexed. "What?"

  "Tell him. Tell him everything." Sebastian demands.

  "I don't know what you're talking about."

  "Tell him... why, why you were in the hospital!"

  "You don't have to, babe," I move, pushing myself between them, protecting her. Her fingers dig into my back, she's scared. Confused. I don't blame her.

  "No, she has to. You have to know!” Sebastian shouts, his face turning a deep red.

  "I...” She starts, but doesn’t seem to know how to continue.

  I spin around, gripping her shoulders with my hands. "Ignore them."

  "No. You can't ignore us.” Dennis finally steps out from the group. He looks as serious as he ever has. “You both need to know what's going on!"

  She pats my hands, and nods. "It's okay, Jez. I don't mind. I was in the hospital because I had a brain injury."

  "Why! Tell him why!" Sebastian shouts and I glare at him.

  She waits until I turn back to her before she continues. “I mean, I don't remember any of it, but... I was in a car accident. I was in a coma for over a month. When I woke up, I was in the hospital and they told me that's what happened. Like I said, I have no memory of it at all."

  Dennis looks at me, pity and sadness in his eyes.

  So what? She was in a car accident.

  It can’t have been the same…

  No.

  “How long ago, Noémie? I mean, when did it happen?” I ask, already afraid of the answer.

  "The accident was three months ago."

  I suck in my breath.

  God, please no.

  "Are you, are you sure?" I ask, for once hoping to find a lie in her eyes. But it’s all truth.

  "Well, like I said, I don't remember, but yes, it was three months ago. I know, because it was my birthday."

  And every single blood cell in my body freezes.

  And then shatters into a million pieces.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Noémie

  Everyone is quiet. And looking at Jez, and then me, and then back at Jez again.

  He's running his fingers through his hair. Something’s wrong. Something’s horrendously wrong.

  "What happened… with the accident?" he asks me.

  "I don't know. I don't remember." I repeat. He knows this, why is he asking.

  "Try. Try dammit!" He raises his voice, dropping my hand.

  "Jez...?”

  "Just please, try," his voice lowers but still tight.

  "I don't know! I just now that they said I was driving the car and I must've hit someone. I hit my head on the steering wheel pretty hard, I fractured my skull and I was in a coma! I don’t know anything else." My head is starting to ache, a thudding behind my eyes, and a sharp pain where my scar is. "I don't know I'm sorry, I’ve told you everything I know. I don't remember getting in the car, I don't remember driving, I don’t remember hitting anyone, I don't remember anything! I don't even know what happened to the other person. Paige took care of all that while I was out."

  Jez's back is turned to me and everyone is watching him. No one is speaking, it’s completely silent.

  "Jez..." I reach out, touching his shoulder.

  He wrenches it away and spins around. His pupils are almost completely dilated, dark, angry, har
d.

  "Look," he says.

  And he pulls on the hem of his white T-shirt, tugging it over his head. Why is he doing that?

  "Look." he says again, and takes my hand and runs it over his chest.

  He has scars on his chest. I know them well. I've kissed them countless times already.

  "These are from where the hood of the car ripped the skin from my chest and broke my ribs which punctured my lung in two places. And these," he moves my hand so my fingers run over the length of his arms, the pads of my fingertip feeling the soft, shiny bumps of the scars on his arms, "are from when the bones broke in my arms and pierced through my skin, when I fell on the asphalt road after being flung ten feet into the air."

  Oh my god.

  I can feel my eyelids blinking, as my brain tries to make sense of what Jez is saying. Of why he’s saying these things.

  And I think it’s dawning on me.

  No.

  No, no, no, no, no!

  He moves my hand to his right wrist, and he tries to bend it, and I can feel a clicking under the skin, "that is from the clean break of my wrist when I tried to break my fall.” Then our hands move along the length of his fingers, thin and frail, "And these are the three fingers that fractured so badly, they had to operate twice just to align the bones right."

  “All in all, seven broken and fractured bones. One punctured lung. One ruptured spleen. Two pints of blood transfused. Two weeks in a coma. Three months in the hospital. One, two, three, four,” he points to each of his bandmates, and then himself, “lives put on hold until further notice. That, Noémie. That is what happened to the 'other guy' that you don't remember hitting. With the car you drove that night. Drunk."

  He looks at me, like he doesn’t recognize me. Or worse, like he wishes he’d never met me.

  No. That can’t be true. He has to listen to me. He has to listen to what I have to say.

  "Jez. I don't remember any of this, I swear to you. Are you sure I'm the one who hit you?"

  "Yes, it was you" Dennis says, speaking up. "Jez didn't know. He didn't want to know anything about the accident after it happened. But I've known all along. I tried to warn you, Jez."

  “How could you get into the car that night, Noémie? How could you, after drinking?”

  “I don’t know! I would never have done that. That’s what I mean, not only do I not remember, I can’t even imagine myself doing it.”

  “But you did. It’s all in the report. Your blood alcohol was over the limit.” Dennis says. To his credit he’s trying to be as kind as possible, I think. For Jez’s sake.

  "How could you get into the car that night?" he asks me again. And I still have no other answers for him. Oh my god, Jez. Why is this happening? "I guess you don't remember the Scotches that you drank that night.”

  “I… I don’t.” No, not Scotch, Not my drink. I shake my head. Something in my brain, help me, help me remember what happened. Please. "No... I can't have..."

  "You did. I watched you. Hell, I paid for them." He shakes his head, his eyes filling with disgust.

  "Jez, please! I don't remember! There has got to be a mistake!"

  "No, getting into that car was a mistake, Noémie. Not remembering it doesn’t mean it didn't happen. But it was a mistake. Getting into the car, turning the key and driving, when you had no right to, was the mistake. And I’m the one who paid.”

  I can’t stop the sobs heaving from my chest. "I’m so sorry." I can’t think of what else to say that I haven’t said.

  "Now you know what you did. But it could've been so much worse. I was just injured. You could've killed somebody. You could've killed a child, a grandmother, a couple with two young children waiting at home... who would never ever see them again..."

  And suddenly I want to be sick.

  His parents. His parents were killed by a drunk driver. He is never, ever going to forgive me.

  "Jez..."

  "I... I can't be here," he says, and before I can stop him, he runs out the door of the chapel.

  I chase after him. "Jez! JEZ! Come back! We need to talk about this."

  I push open the door and am instantly swarmed by a crowd of people and cameras and microphones. The flash of the lights momentarily blind me, and I have no idea where I am.

  "Miss, MISS! What's your name?! Did you and Jez just get married?! Where's he going, can you give us a newlywed kiss?!"

  The swarm closes on me, and the air is blocked out.

  "Please... god, no, please... I can't breathe. I get claustrophobic, please..." I beg them.

  But they can't hear me over the sound of their own voices and of the click clicks of the lenses as they capture me falling to the ground in a faint.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  Noémie

  When I come to, I'm in his arms.

  He's carrying me and I can hear voices in the background. None I recognize, but they're yelling, loud and it's making my head ache.

  We stop moving, and I try to open my eyes, but it feels as though they're welded shut. Then I hear the sound of a car door open, and my body being laid against cool, soft leather. His arms slip out from under my body and I try to reach out to stop him. To beg him not to leave me alone.

  'Uhhh," is the only sound that comes out.

  "Shhh, you're okay. I’m going to get you out of here," he whispers, cool fingers on my burning forehead. He's gone but it's only seconds before I feel him slide in next to me, pulling me back into his arms.

  "Go," he says, and I feel the car move and I slip back into the dark.

  ***

  "Is she going to be okay?" I hear Jez saying to someone when I wake up again.

  I'm back in the bed at the Bellagio, but everything feels different. What once felt like a haven, soft, safe, now feels like I'm back in the hospital. Cold and sterile, a half-way house.

  "She should be fine, it doesn’t seem to be related to her head injury. You said she's prone to claustrophobia?"

  "Yes, it's happened before. Before her injury."

  "Then this is probably what it is. Has she been in under any undue stress?"

  "Hasn't everyone?" His voice is bitter, angry.

  "Well, call me if she doesn't wake up soon. Otherwise, just let her rest. No too much excitement."

  "Thank you, doctor."

  I hear footsteps on the marble floor and a door close.

  Well, at least I know it's nothing serious.

  Just my brain's usual dickiness.

  The door to the bedroom opens, and Jez walks in.

  But I barely recognize him. He looks like he's aged twenty years. His face is pale and gaunt, his eyes rimmed red.

  He doesn’t look at me.

  "Oh, you're awake. How do you feel?"

  "I'm okay. Just a little bit weak, but my head doesn't ache."

  He just nods and walks over to the window, staring out into the night.

  "Jez." I say, not sure what I want to say. I just want him to at least look at me.

  But he just stands there, like I no longer exist in his world.

  "Jez." I say, louder, firmer. He cannot ignore me.

  His shoulders rise and fall and he turns to face me.

  "I'm leaving," he says. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I have a car and a plane waiting.”

  "That didn't take long."

  "It was organized. By the guys."

  "Ah, the wedding crashers," I say, desperate for anything to break the ice, so we can talk about the things we've learned.

  "They were... just looking out for me."

  "I know. I didn't mean... I know. They're trying to protect you."

  "Yes."

  "And, so have I. Since I met you."

  "No. No, Noémie, not since you met me." He says it like it’s a fact. Like there’s no arguing it now.

  "I don't remember what happened, Jez."

  He shakes his head and his eyes burn into me. "You know what? In some ways, that just makes it all worse. That... that I can't even b
lame you for not feeling any remorse. Because how can you if you don’t remember what you did."

  "But I do feel remorseful about it, Jez."

  "How can you? You don't remember doing it. That's been your excuse over and over!"

  "Fine. Yes, I don't remember! And if you want to know the truth, I can't even believe that I would do this. I would never get into a car drunk and drive. Come on, Jez! Do I really seem like the kind of person who would be so thoughtless? So selfish?" I’m desperate for him to give me the tiniest benefit of the doubt. To trust. To have faith. Despite everything indicating otherwise. Because that’s what faith is.

  "I don't know any more. Maybe I never knew."

  "Jez! No... please, you DO know me. You do. You DO know me." I run to him, holding his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me. "Look at me. Look into my eyes, you know me. You know me more than anyone's ever known me, than I know myself. Please give me a chance to make this all up to you."

  He stares at me like I'm just any other stranger, and pulls my hands from his face.

  "It's too late. All this happened too late. It was over before it even happened. We just didn’t know it yet. I can't... I can't ever forgive you for this, for being this person." He grabs me by the shoulders and pushes me out of his way.

  "Jez!"

  He stops before he steps out the door.

  "Go back to forgetting me, Noémie. I'll be spending the rest of my life trying to forget you."

  I fall to my knees, hoping that he'll turn back one last time before he walks through the door. But he doesn’t. Not even once.

  He’s already started to forget me.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  Jez

  Everyone is on the plane waiting for me when I get there.

  I can hear their chatter as I cross the tarmac, but as soon as I appear at the door of the plane, they fall silent.

  The music from our one of our practice sessions playing in the background is the only sound as I walk to an empty seat, sinking into the soft, white leather of the recliner and buckle my seat belt.

  Dennis gets up from his seat and pushes apart the curtain that leads to the cockpit and I hear him tell the pilot that we're ready to go.