Jessie
Page 13
I had no idea he could be so romantic. He’s gone to so much trouble to make tonight special, and if he’d taken me to the most exclusive restaurant in town, it wouldn’t have measured up to this evening.
We taste our cheeses and try our wines and all the tension of the day, of the last few days, vaporize. I’m relaxed.
I don’t know why I ran off back to my place. It’s strange how that house was my spot. I envisioned it being my permanent home. And yet, within days, it has transformed back into the pile of bricks and mortar it was before I moved in. It is just an address now, and no longer my shelter of choice. And I know why that is. It was only a home when I hadn’t met the piece of my life which makes my soul sing.
When I set off tonight, I had every intention of asking Zac what kept him from communicating with me. I wanted to figure out if we had a way back from the divide which separation had channeled between us.
But now I’m here. Instinctively I grasp what he’s been doing. I fear we may have had a miscommunication born out of a lack of communication. And that’s a lesson, one which I know he has also learned.
I have seen enough to understand he was busy planning our evening, and I feel so light against the contrast of the heaviness of my heart just a few hours earlier. I could fly from this rooftop like one of the grubby city birds nibbling on his feeder.
The light is dropping, and a plane rumbles overhead, disturbing the tranquility created by being removed from the hustle of the city a few stories down.
“Look.” He points, covering his eyes against the low setting sun. It’s unusual to see one on this flight path, especially at this time of day.
I grin. The playful scarlet of the plane is branded with white lettering. I point too. “Oh look! It’s one of those message planes. I’ve not seen one of those since I was a kid on vacation with my family.” I think back. “It was one of our better trips, one with happy memories.” The plane skims our roof; it’s so low I can see the undercarriage and I can almost say 'hi' to the pilot through the dome glass of the cockpit.
Its tiny jets are lugging a banner against the backdrop of a cloudless evening sunset. It reads, ‘It’s always your move. Napoleon.’
“That’s an odd message. I hope it’s an in-joke because it’s kind of weird compared to the normal happy birthday greetings these things normally pull.”
“Yeah. Must be an inside joke,” he muses.
We stand, arm in arm, leaning against the other, watching the message as it disappears off into the sunset. The sliver of the banner is now lost in the distance to the naked eye.
“It’s a nice thought though isn’t it? Always having the freedom to make your next move without any pressures.”
I think about it for a second. “Yeah, I suppose it is. Because that way, life is easy, and in theory you’ll always get what you want.”
“If you know what you want, that is?” That sounds like a question.
I eye him, trying to figure out the change in his tone. I want to ask if he knows what he wants, but the atmosphere between us has shifted, the space charged with something unidentifiable. My palms sweat against the waist of his pants. His breathing has accelerated and although we’re still standing in exactly the same position, watching exactly the same scene as we were half a second before, nothing is the same.
“Smart man, that Napoleon.”
“Guess he was.”
Zac
Suddenly all my preparations flee my mind. My brain is full of static, buzzing like an old TV after the air time has finished.
I stop, staring at the sky for longer than is needed. The small jet has disappeared against it now and so, while the orange glow of the setting sun is beautiful, I can’t appreciate it.
This is my moment.
Part of me screams, ‘Don’t open yourself up. Your well-being isn’t just about her choices.’
But it is. And I’ve accepted that.
My happiness wholeheartedly resides with Jessie; she is my future, and the only way to make her see that is to ask, not push. And to do that, I must open my heart and have the courage to trust that in so doing she will follow hers.
I let me arm slip free from her waist and then step away. She looks at me, her neck seems stiff as she twists. She senses the change in my mood and isn’t sure what’s going on. I’m spooking her, I need to get on with this before she flees again.
“I…,” I cough, clearing the phlegm which catches in my throat. Smooth! I try again. “I have something else for you tonight.”
“OK?” She extends the syllables, caution overtaking the easy atmosphere of earlier.
I hurry over to my hiding place. As I shuffle over, my knees and hips lock so I walk with an odd gait. All the fluidity is lost from my body and I creak like I’m thirty years older. Ignoring how irregular she must be thinking I look, I construct elaborate scenarios for why this moment will turn out as I planned in my head when I plotted out tonight.
Primarily, she feels the same as I do, whether Jessie’s ready to accept that though is what fuels the voice nagging in the back of my mind. Its volume is deafening.
As my fingertips locate the tiny box from under the sofa cushion, my frazzled nerves jangle in a cross section of doubts.
No more excuses.
This is it.
She hasn’t moved; she’s still standing in exactly the same position I left her in to waddle over here. Her eyes laser into my back; her focus, like mine, entirely on my next move.
The mood hangs. The breeze, which lightened the air earlier, has evaporated and I struggle to even out my breathing.
Tipping my head, I give her a lopsided smile. She still doesn’t even take a step toward me.
“Here it is.”
I hand it over. Her eyes drop to the box, then to meet my eyes. “What’s this?”
“Open it and find out.”
Her fingers shake as she fiddles with the lid. Doubt overtakes any remnant of remaining logical thought. Is she shaking because she doesn’t know how she will respond? There are only a few things which turn up with such foray in a small square box.
She pops the cap. “What’s this?” She pulls out the platinum ring with a key dangling from it.
“Read it,” I instruct as though I’m fully in control of my every faculty.
“It’s always your move. Napoleon.”
I’ve had the inscription engraved into the rectangular metal which holds a key not only to my home but more importantly to my heart.
Jessie
I handle the key to Zac’s apartment, fingering the keyring. And then it dawns on me; the sky writer was a message to me. This wonderful man who stands beside me through everything, organized for me to see that plane tonight. This whole elaborate setup was a precursor to now.
But, what is this? I hold the key up and wiggle my eyebrows.
“It’s for you. I’m serious about you, Jessie. I did not enjoy you going back to your place this week; the way I felt made it clear. I want to share my life with you, my home is a big part of that. I don’t want you to have a separate place to live anymore, but if that is too soon for you, I understand and I’ll just take you coming and going as you please.”
Does that mean that he wants me to move in with him, or is he just giving me a key to his home? I’m struggling to make sense of all of this. The last few days threw me way off, and this curve ball has my mind surging with the complexity of the options. Maybe he just explained, but I only heard the odd word. It’s all moving too quickly for my brain to process.
“Say something.” He’s smiling, but his jaw is set, his eyes glinting with concern, not happiness.
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand?” I place the key back in the box. “What are you asking?”
“I’m asking for whatever you can give.”
Not helpful. OK. I need to be blunt. “What would you like out of this?”
“For you to move in with me, see...” he points at the key fob in the box. “Your move. This is
your move. I’d like you to move. But it’s your decision and if all you’re ready for is to know that I want you around, then I’ll take that.”
OK. Now I get it.
“You want us to live together?” I don’t know why I say that. He’s just said he does. But, it’s the first thing that spills from my nervous mouth.
He nods. “Yes, Jessie. Do you need time to think about it?”
“No, not at all. This week has been horrendous without you. I’ve gotten so used to us being around each other, the last thing I want to do is spend time away from you. We’re going to be separated way more than we’d like anyway, I don’t want to exacerbate that. I was just giving you space, but it was hell on earth.”
“So, you’ll move in then?”
“Yes.” Now he’s spelled out that he wants exactly the same as me from our relationship the tension slips away and tears roll down my face. Happy tears which make my mouth twist awkwardly as I laugh at the relief spilling down my cheeks.
We hug, we kiss, and we hug some more, grasping at the other as though this is our last meeting rather than the first in the rest of our lives.
Our tongues tangle, our breaths mingle and our hearts collide until it’s difficult to tell one from the other, our bodies representing our minds.
We are one, a whole, a perfect union of everything which is important.
Jessie
There’s a cloud on the horizon. I need to tell him. I roll the words around my mouth, trying to find the right time in this celebration to spit them out. There is no right time, so I’m just going to have to throw them out there and see what happens.
“I don’t know when we’re going to arrange this for though, what, with me going back to work this week.” That’s it. Done. I mask my internal cringe with a huge smile.
He doesn’t blanch and a weight shifts from my shoulders. “How about next weekend? Are you going on the road again?”
Another cringe, but this time it’s not as bad, I’m able to stand taller as I nod. “Yeah.”
“OK, so when you’re back then?”
“Done.” I shake his hand, like this is some new-fangled business deal, but it’s a language he understands, and his beam matches mine in response. Our mirrored smiles last only seconds. Our lips meet first before he wraps me in his arms and pulls my body against his. He presses his body hard against mine, his mouth gently forcing mine open and my desire matches his.
His lips move across my cheeks, leaving a trail of light kisses in contrast to the compression of our bodies. His mouth runs under my ear and I squirm with undulated pleasure.
As my body involuntarily spasms to his touch, he whispers in my ear, “I love you, Jessie.”
When I hear not only his words, but the tone in which he said them, it’s as if every ounce of breath was taken from my lungs and is floating into the air in a trail behind that plane.
He kisses me again, and I show him my love in the tenderness of my touch. My mouth, my tongue, my motions are all soft, coveting this moment, this man, and our new conjoined life.
He holds my face between his warm hands, and it’s as though the knots in which my stomach has been tied since we met, slacken until their frayed ends relax enough for them to relinquish their nervous grasp on my happiness.
This is it, the moment when I not only know, but am ready to admit I have fallen in love. I want him to hold me in his arms for eternity, this is the moment I have been too scared to admit that I’ve been longing for. Now I can’t bear to lose it.
Time evaporates as our bodies blend into one, right up there under the sunset, giving way to the end of an era and the start of something fresh and exciting. To the start of adulthood. And the start of being part of something way more important than individuality.
“I love you too,” I whisper.
Zac
The rest of the week is a nightmare. Not only can I not wait for Jessie to be here with me, officially and permanently, but she’s gone away. The emptiness is worse than anything I felt while I was giving her space as it’s now crowned off with an unhealthy dose of restlessness born from impatience to just get on with things.
I’m not the type of man who can sit around thinking about what I’d like to do. If I see an opportunity, I grab it with both hands. This part of my personality has its downsides, but this is how I’ve made my life such a financial success.
I went to train at an investment brokerage and within six weeks I was taking on my own clients. It was only at that point that I discovered just how much money can be made and I set about starting up my own concern.
The first years were tough. I was working out of my tiny, rented, and scruffy home, while portraying the image of someone who had already made it. Clients don’t trust someone who can’t afford dick, and so there were some heavy investments.
Once I’d gotten sufficient funds on the go, I delayed paying my suppliers long enough to be able to show a healthy balance sheet on the back of which I could borrow. I set myself up for a huge financial fall which I was not willing to take. I absolutely had to make this business a success. Failure was not an option.
And so I did. I worked like a Trojan, not only the hours brokering the deals, but even more wining and dining at the best restaurants London could provide. My credit line was enormous and it still make me shudder now when I think back to how I had to juggle one card with another to put milk on the table for breakfast some weeks while lunching in the most exquisite of establishments.
My dad wasn’t impressed. He saw my investment as ‘frittering away money.’ “You’re careless,” he’d remind me often.
“Pa, this is what I need to do. I have to impress these people. They’re trusting me with hundreds of thousands of pounds. They won’t just hand it over to a young guy working out the back of a van.”
He never got it though. He’d shake his head and wheel his chair away from me in favor of some activity that didn’t fill him with such frustration at a son who just won’t learn from the lessons he’s made.
So, I’m used to being a disappointment to my father. Even now, he can’t allow himself to be proud of my achievements. I think it’s because I’ve made my career my own way, but I will never be certain.
I accept it now, and much as it makes me sad to my core that I’ll never be the person who will make him glow with satisfaction at a job well done. I’m at peace with it.
He will not be happy when he learns about my latest move though.
Zac
It’s the big day. Jessie has moved her belongings into my apartment. It looks like a huge bomb has exploded in here if I’m honest, but I don’t care. The vision of her directing the movers on exactly where her items should be placed fixes any scars left by the doubt of her delay in accepting.
She’s thought hard about which pieces to bring and how they will work in our joint space. She has way more framed photos than I banked on and this insight into her personality and what is important to us makes my mind flutter with new possibilities. I will be part of her confused family history with all of its incompatibilities, and she mine. Our futures will be intrinsically linked with the pasts which made us who we are today. My body tingles, and I’m alive with potential.
I have cleared out drawers and invested in a new double level closet system which allows us both to store our clothing with adequate, accessible space. The top level racking hooks down - that will be my space. I’ve already accepted that with a huge grin and my outfits are arranged, leaving space for her to fill the remaining. Boxes surround the shelf I’ve had installed just under the ceiling. As yet they remain empty, but I’m sure Jessie will find any amount of accessories, the likes of which I’ve never known, to fill them until they’re overflowing.
Her home is on the market to be rented out to suitable tenants and I’m hoping that in time, this income will provide her with the self-sufficiency to cut down her working hours. I’m not going to push though. She’s an independent woman, of that I am in no doubt and so,
only time will tell whether that’s what she chooses. It’s certainly not part of the deal; I want her regardless.
“Shall we get a takeout tonight?” She’s dressed in a denim coveralls nipped in at her narrow waist with a tie band. Her gorgeous hair which usually floats around her shoulders and down her back is secured under a funky, red and white spotted headscarf. Tendrils escape down the sides and the copper undertones catch in the light. The whole outfit is way more sexy than she intended, and I fall for her a little harder. If I wasn’t so exhausted from the move, I would bat away any suggestion of food in favor of meatier offerings.
As it is, I agree. “Takeout sounds fantastic. I’ll go and see whether I have some menus from local places stuffed in a drawer.”
I float away. My home is no longer that. Along with Jessie has come all her possessions which change the dynamic of the place. While it is a total wreck, and will be until we find homes for all her things, the energy has changed. This is now our home and knowledge of what that means electricity courses through my body. This is it. The start of the life I didn’t realize I was waiting for. I thank my lucky stars that Elliott and Kyle married on that remote island this summer, that my pilot had his inconvenient family emergency, and most of all that every star aligned to bring Jessie and me together.
Start at the beginning of Jessie’s story here
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