Chapter Sixteen
Jayden gives me an extra-long hug. “You okay?” I haven’t seen him since the night I came over with bloody feet, so I guess it’s reasonable for him to ask, but I don’t like it. He thinks of Jaselle as dangerous now. I wish I hadn’t gone to him that night. I can tell he hasn’t told the guys. They’re completely normal, so I try to focus on them, playing up my happiness on purpose.
“We miss you, girl,” Shiloh says. “We never see you anymore.”
“I know, I know. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t you still love us too?” Alex says.
“Of course, I do.” I give him another hug like that’ll make everything go away. I breathe in the familiar Chapel smell: beer and mildew. Benny hands me a Corona and touches my cheek with his chubby hand. That’s a little strange. Usually, I just get a smack on the back or a rustle of the hair. I’m not used to tender gestures. Maybe Jayden chose Benny to talk to about his fears of abuse. That makes me grit my teeth. No, Jayden, you didn’t convert Benny. I need Benny. He pushed me into this; I need him to stay on board.
I try to fall back into my rhythm, to feel as natural as I always have, messing around in the empty bar while the sunlight exposes all the dust in the air and slime on the chairs. I try to take comfort in peeling my shoes off the sticky floor step by step, but my mind isn’t here. My mind is in Jaselle’s bedroom, watching the smoke swirl past her lips, satin dreams.
“So, are we going to play or what?” Jayden asks. I nod emphatically and grab the mic stand from the corner, putting it back in my spot, center. Jayden starts us off, strumming into one of our oldest songs. It doesn’t sound the same to me for some reason. The words come easy as ever though, strange how lyrics never leave you.
“I want you to watch me, someone should watch me burn. I love your psychosis. Criminal activity to damage what damaged you. And I’m just a phantom. I’m not really here. Now you can’t see me. I’m just a breath in your ear.”
I can’t focus. I see Jaselle stretched out on the bed, naked and high, in a stupor. Do you feel good now, my love? Is the pain gone?
“Rainn?”
I shake my head like I can rattle the image out of my ears. The guys are staring at me. I clear my throat. “Sorry, let’s go.” Shiloh cautiously starts in on bass again. I can’t believe this feeling. “Frozen chest and bleeding lungs, surrender now to what you’ve done.”
It takes everything I have to finish the song, to make it through a couple more, to stay for another half hour after that, to try to act like I’m having fun, to stifle the painfully uncomfortable urge to leave and go back to Jaselle.
When I finally feel like I’ve stayed long enough not to qualify myself as a complete ass, I excuse myself. The guys groan but don’t know what to say, so they hug me good-bye. On my way home, I immediately feel bad. I know they saw me watching the time. I know I wasn’t fully present even for the short duration I spent with them. I know I’m rude. I know they think they’re losing me. I know they are.
And still that doesn’t change the fact that I’m walking the now-familiar, long journey back to Jaselle’s. When I’m outside I buzz the apartment so she can let me in. The line is connected to her cell phone, so when it goes to voice mail I leave a message that I’m outside. I wait fifteen minutes and try again. Still nothing. I wait another half an hour, trying my hardest not to get frustrated. Eventually, someone is leaving and opens the door. I slip inside, ignoring the glare I get.
I head down the stairs into the basement and let myself in. Noah gives a lazy nod when he sees me. I wave by slightly raising my fingertips and turn into Jaselle’s bedroom. She’s not here. I stand awkwardly in the room alone for a second, turning like I’ll find some clue as to her whereabouts. Now her not answering her phone is bothering me a lot more. I fully expected her to just be sleeping, or watching a movie and not paying attention, but she’s not here.
My stomach knots. I swallow it. I internally yell at myself that I can’t be like this. I can’t torture myself. It’s not worth it. I’ll drive myself crazy, and for God’s sake, I can’t very well forbid her to be in public, even though I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t like it better that way. Just because she’s out doesn’t mean she’s cheating, nor does it mean she’s in mortal danger, so just take a deep breath, psycho, and relax. You went out. Now she’s out.
Eventually, I can’t stand being alone with myself, so I go to talk to Noah. I sit down next to him on the couch. He doesn’t say anything for a while, just passes me his bong. I milk it hard, filling it to a thick white smoke.
Noah whistles when he sees it. “Take her gentle,” he says. I look at the wisps that are escaping from the top for a second. “It’s going to get stale,” Noah says. I remove the slide and inhale, slow and gentle just like he said, determined to clear it completely.
I’m successful, but on my next breath in I go into a coughing fit that makes my eyes water and cheeks feel hot. When I finally can repress the coughs, I fall back into the couch. My skin is full of static. “So, where’s Jaselle?” I ask.
Noah shrugs. “What makes you think I know?”
“She didn’t say anything when she left?”
“Sure, she did. ‘Bye.’”
We pass the weed back and forth for hours. I nervously keep pulling on it, smoking just to smoke, taking small hits, just enough to keep me numb. I don’t want to feel this anxiety. I don’t want to worry about her. Every time I look at the clock and get a jolt of panic I just take the weed from Noah and try to drown it out. I’m desperate not to cry, not to fall apart. I figure keeping Noah next to me will force me not to.
I reach for the house phone to try calling her again, but Noah just gently touches my hand. We stay like that for a second, his hand on my hand on the receiver, and he shakes his head almost imperceptibly. I take a deep breath and nod.
“Thanks.” I look at the clock again. It’s almost one in the morning. The tears well up, and I’m not even exactly sure why. I don’t know where I think she is. I don’t know what exactly I’m afraid of. I just know my insides hurt. I feel like I’m huffing paint again. She must know I’m home by now. I went to band practice, and she probably thought I’d be there longer than I was, but at this point she must know I’m wondering where she is. Doesn’t she know I’ll call? Wouldn’t she check her phone for that reason alone if nothing else? Where could she be that she can’t talk to me for five seconds?
“You talk to your parents ever?” Noah asks.
“Huh?” I know my expression is pure bewilderment.
“Your parents.”
“No. My dad is dead and my mom and I don’t get along,” I say.
He nods and goes quiet for a while before he speaks again, too loud. “She doesn’t like that you’re gay?” he guesses.
“Among other things.”
“Jaselle’s mom hates that she’s gay too. She’s a real piece of work. I’m sure you’ll meet her someday.”
“I hope not,” I say.
“So, you never talk to your mom? Not even on Christmas or whatever?”
“Especially on Christmas.”
He takes another rip of weed. “So, where you from?”
I repress a sigh of frustration and look at the clock again. It’s almost two now. I realize Noah is just trying to take my mind off Jaselle. I turn soft for a second. He knows exactly how much I’m suffering, despite my attempts to hide it.
“Where the fuck is she?” I blurt. I figure I might as well since he obviously sees through me anyway. He just looks at me sympathetically. “Would it kill her to just call and tell me she’s okay? I know she’s seen my calls by now, how could she not?”
“She’s fine. Don’t waste your energy worrying.”
“But this isn’t like her. She’s never done this. What if she’s not fine? What if she went back to that house or something?” What if she’s shooting up?
“Rainn, she’s fine.”
“How do you know?”
�
��Because, I hate to break it to you, but this is like her. This is exactly like her. You’ve just been too glued to her to see it yet. She likes her freedom, and if you don’t give it to her, she’ll take it. Now relax, hit the bong, and she’ll be home when she’s home.”
I let that settle for a minute. I know he’s known her longer, but I still feel like I know her better. He sees me fighting his advice and pointedly holds out the bong.
“You have no way to find her. You have no choice but to wait. Why spend that time going crazy when you don’t have to?” He jabs it at me again. I cave and take it from him, taking a huge hit.
It’s three in the morning. The TV is a blur of colors and sounds, white noise in my ears. And I can see you there, somewhere, falling to your knees, and the things you locked away are ripping through your seams. There’s a part of you, apart from me, and when I breathe it eats through me.
“She’ll be home tonight, right?” Sandpaper eyes. “Noah?”
“What will it mean to you if she’s not?”
It’s four in the morning. The streets call to me. They’re swallowing my love into a gutter where the mud that isn’t mud carries disease, and the flies love your skin. They love your gray eyes, glass and glossy liberation. Who broke your fall?
It’s four thirty in the morning. Greasy-haired sympathy, passed out on the couch next to me, and he sees what you’ll never see. Hazy smoke and broken scales, profit off another’s inhale. Let them die if they so choose and wait until it comes to you.
A key, pulling me, scratching in the lock.
“Rainn,” Noah says, “keep your cool.” He gets up to leave, retreating to his room. I hear them say something as they pass in the hall. I can’t pick my head off the couch, my neck won’t stand for it.
She turns the corner. Her eyelids are dark and heavy. She stands by me, quiet. I’m not here right now. I can’t see you. She squeezes my arm. I’m too far away for that. She descends to her knees, gently maneuvering her way between my legs. Her lips brush over my neck. Her fingers trail down and she corrupts my silence, pressing against me, smothering my misery. She tries to pull me back to life. She wants my surrender. If I don’t stop her soon, she’ll take it whether I like it or not.
I make her earn it, resisting every step of the way. She weaves her fingers into my hair and pulls so I have to look at her, forcing me to reconnect with those damn eyes. She’s too warm. She’s too good. I love her too much. I’m too afraid this is the last time. I pull her against me as hard as I can, hoping it hurts. You’ve broken me. I’ll break you too.
“Come to bed, sweetie,” she says when I release her. I lie on the bed next to her. I can feel she won’t sleep. Her body is too alert, too wired. I breathe her in and close my eyes, knowing she’ll watch me fade away.
“Jaselle.” All I have strength for is a whisper. “Where were you?”
“You know where I was,” she says. The truth is I don’t. I feel like I should, but I don’t. Smoking, obviously. Partying, somewhere. Maybe that’s what she means. I know she was getting fucked up. Does it matter where?
“Not there though?” Not at the house. You promised.
“Of course not, love.”
She’s painting when I wake up. I sit up slowly and let the night come back to me. I can’t believe I let her touch me, no questions asked. The rage I was too worried to feel last night creeps into my chest and squeezes. For some reason, I hear Noah again, telling me to keep my cool. Keep my cool? Like she doesn’t deserve an interrogation? No, Noah, I will not.
“Where were you last night?”
She spins around. She hadn’t even realized I was awake. “Good morning,” she says.
I keep staring at her. “Jaselle, you scared me to death.”
“I was out.”
“Where?”
“Why does it matter? You went out. I went out,” she says.
“You knew where I was. And I wasn’t out all night.”
“You could have been if you wanted. I wouldn’t grill you about it.”
“Because you don’t give a shit what I do?” I snap.
“Uh, no, because unlike you, I trust you.”
“This isn’t about trust, Jaselle. I haven’t accused you of anything. I was just worried about you. Why don’t you get that? All you had to do was call me and say you were going to be late. I wouldn’t have said anything.”
“That’s horse shit and you know it. You would have wanted to know exactly when I was coming home, where I was, what I was doing, who I was with…”
“What’s wrong with that? If you wanted to know those things it wouldn’t bother me to tell you. There’s a reason you don’t want to tell me. What are you hiding? Why don’t you want me to know?”
“Because I’m not thirteen years old. I don’t need a mother. I don’t need a parole officer.”
“You can do whatever you want, Jaselle. All I want is to know you’re safe.”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Really? Because I know you’re out getting high and then you don’t answer the phone for twelve hours. Don’t act stupid.”
“You’re the one acting stupid. I didn’t answer the phone because I knew you’d be like this.”
“I’m acting like this because you didn’t answer the phone.”
“No, you would have been like this anyway, or at least wanted to come with.”
I fight tears with all my soul. I expected her to at least make up some crap lie about her phone dying or something, not just blatant admission she didn’t want to deal with me.
“God forbid I come with you.”
“Yeah, ’cause you get all weird and freaked out about me smoking and you just fuck up my high,” she says.
“You’re an asshole.”
“You wanted to know, Rainn. You had to push. You should have just left it alone. I need to be able to go out if I feel like it without you having a meltdown. I’m not dealing with rules. I didn’t cheat on you. I didn’t lie to you. I just went and saw some friends. Deal with it.”
“Don’t you see yourself?” I scream. And as I pore over all the features I want to expose to her I find I’m exposing them to myself. Her face is gaunt, hollow cheeks. Her bones jut out. I want to scream. I want to slam into her frail skull what’s happening, but when I open my mouth all that comes out is a pathetic squeak worthy of her dying lungs. I sink to the ground. If she can’t see it in the mirror, at least can’t she see it in my face?
But her expression is stone. “Don’t be dramatic.”
“I can’t do this, Jaselle. I can’t watch you die.”
That seems to touch her, but the depth it’s gaining comes to a halt with the ring of her cell phone.
She looks at the screen and smirks. “It’s your boyfriend.”
“What?”
She turns her phone around so I can see Jayden’s name. “You can’t be serious.”
“You can’t be serious. What do you think I’m a fucking moron? I’ve seen you two together. He calls constantly. He tells you what a piece of shit I am all the time. I’m sure that’s why I can’t go out without you being suspicious in the first place. He put shit in your head, didn’t he?”
“This is stupid. There’s nothing between Jayden and me.”
“Tell me I’m wrong,” she yells.
“You’re wrong.”
“He doesn’t tell you I’m no good for you?”
I put my hands in my pockets.
She steps closer. “He doesn’t give you the pathetic puppy eyes and tell you that you deserve better while he shoves his cock against his girl jeans hoping you’ll notice?”
“God, what is wrong with you?”
“Tell me you honestly don’t think he jerks off to you.”
“Wh—”
“And I bet you think of him too, don’t you?” She lowers her voice to a whisper in my ear, pressing close in a cloud of her smell.
“Who are you?” This is not Jaselle. Her eyes are so cold. Her movement
s are inhuman. Slimy. She’s a demon. A demon takes over her body when she’s high.
“You want to fuck him, don’t you, Rainn?”
“No.”
“You want to be with him? Is that why you started this fight? You want to go be with him, but you can’t stand being the one to blame, can you?”
“I want to be with you if you’d fucking let me!” I yell. I can’t let go of this demon concept now that I’ve pinpointed it. This is not Jaselle. This thing has raised straight up out of hell. Its every gesture is evil. Heartless.
“Tell me he doesn’t tell you I’m a piece of trash!” she screams.
“It doesn’t matter what he says.”
“Tell me he doesn’t tell you to leave me!”
“What do you expect!” I scream. She winces a little, but I pretend I didn’t see it. “You hurt me, Jaselle. You pushed me and screamed at me and you do this fucking shit all the time.” I slam my hand over the bag of meth and hold it in her face. “You’re a drug addict. Of course he tells me to leave you!”
“Then fucking leave!”
I fling open her bedroom door and do just that.
“Go fuck your boyfriend!”
Chapter Seventeen
I choose to lock myself inside my storage unit for the night. The weather isn’t as severe as it normally has to be for me to pull this move, but for some reason I crawl in there anyway. Maybe because as pathetic and uncomfortable as it is, this little space is the only thing in the goddamn world that is mine. If I want to close a door to the world, this is the only way I can do it, and I need to slam that door. The only thing I can afford to focus on is not going back. Any break in my concentration and I’ll fold. I know it.
Benny doesn’t even know I’m back until he catches me crossing the bar to use the bathroom a few days later. He appears on the back step with a soggy sandwich and coffee a few minutes later.
“You want to talk about it?” he asks.
Shadows of a Dream Page 13
