Remember You This Way

by C. R. Jane

  Besides the one story about how he fell in love with music, I haven’t heard much about Jensen’s family. Looking at this cold, foreboding house though, I’m not sure I want to. Jensen pulls into a garage that’s made of the same glass material as the house and is big enough to fit at least ten cars. I see a few sports cars and a minivan parked next to us. Jensen turns off the car and lets out a big sigh.

  “I haven’t been honest with you about today,” he says. I look at him in surprise, not sure what’s about to come out of his mouth. “One of the guys usually comes home with me if I have to come home at all. Things aren’t good right now. I promise nothing will happen to you, it’s just that everyone behaves better if there’s company.” He sighs again as I absorb everything he just said. “Fuck,” he yells, hitting the steering wheel and making the horn sound. “I’m a selfish prick,” he says to me, finally turning to look at me.

  I’m nervous. But I can’t imagine anything being worse in Jensen’s house than what can be found in my trailer so I’m up for the task...even if Jensen was being a selfish prick in taking me here without saying anything.

  Jensen gets out of the car and opens the door for me. He grabs my hand to pull me into the house with him. A nervous flutter takes over my stomach at our contact. Ever since our brief kiss Jensen has been standoffish with me. I soak up the contact with him now.

  We walk into the house through the garage entrance. It’s silent with the exception of the sounds of a game playing somewhere in the house. I let out a sigh of relief when we don’t see anyone as he leads me up the stairs. The long hallway we walk down is full of closed doors which somehow seem menacing. We’re about to the end of the hallway when we finally pass a door that’s open. I happen to peer through the door as I walk by, unable to control my curiosity. It’s done up like a teenage girl’s room, with light pink walls and posters filled with actors and various music groups on the walls. There’s dirty laundry on the floor, and the bed is unmade.

  “I didn’t know you had a sister,” I tell Jensen. He glares at the offending door, a dash of pain in his gaze as he prowls to it and slams it shut.

  “I had a sister,” he says, before grabbing my hand and pulling me forward past a few more doors until we get to what I guess is his room. My mind is full of questions as I gaze around his room, but I hold them all in knowing that out of the three of them, Jensen is the most closed off. He has to decide to tell you something, you can’t force him.

  Unlike his sister’s room, Jensen’s room is devoid of any character. His room could literally be anyone’s room. The walls are completely bare, his king bed is made with what looks like military precision, there’s nothing on the floor. It’s a blank slate. Even the colors in the room are plain-all greys and beiges that blend into the wall color. Jensen closes the door behind us and then hops up onto his bed and lays back with a sigh of relief.

  “I hate it here,” he says to me quietly.

  “Why didn’t we go to Jesse’s house or even the library then?” I ask, getting up on the bed and laying on my back as well to stare up at the ceiling.

  “My dad made a rule that he’ll only continue to support me if I come home every day for at least a few hours until I graduate,” he says in an angry voice. “Since we need him to keep helping fund the band, it’s a necessary evil.” He takes a small breath as if he’s trying to gain courage and then he continues on. “I come home for my mom too, just to make sure she’s alright. She hasn’t been the same since Maddie died.”

  My heart clenches at the hint of vulnerability in his tone as he talks. It’s so unlike everything that I’ve known about Jensen before this.

  “I guess we should do our homework before dinner and band practice,” he says with a huff, sitting up and grabbing his bag from where he threw it. I reluctantly get out my bag and start trying to work on my calculus homework, “trying” being the operative word.

  Jensen has scooted back towards the headboard of the bed and is writing in a spiral, meaning that he’s actually writing song lyrics and not working on homework. I’m itching to see what he’s creating but again I control myself and continue to meddle through the mess of numbers in my book. I’ve always been a good student with the exception of math and I’m afraid that calculus might be the final nail in my math coffin. I finally throw my book down and flop backwards onto the bed, moaning in frustration.

  “What’s wrong?” Jensen asks, cracking the first smile I’ve seen since he met me after school.

  “I’m going to fail math,” I sigh, pointing dejectedly at my math homework which is now strewn across the bed. He picks it up and immediately starts to erase and fix things.

  “What are you doing?” I ask, sitting up.

  “Helping you,” he mutters.

  “It’s not very helpful if you just do it for me,” I retort. “And are you even good at calculus?” I ask suspiciously, considering I’ve never seen the guys actually do homework. He rolls his eyes at me and pats the space next to him. I ungracefully scoot to sit by him.

  Over the course of the next hour, Jensen has me wondering what else the guys are hiding since I’m pretty sure that Jensen is actually a mathematician or some kind of genius. In sixty minutes, he’s managed to explain an easy way to do all the problems, something that my teachers have failed to do since elementary. This side of him unfortunately has me liking him even more. Who knew I was attracted to the smart guys?

  I glance at him out of the corner of my eye. “What?” he asks, not looking away from the song lyrics he’s working on again now that I’ve finally learned how to do my math homework.

  “You’re kind of a nerd,” I say with a grin. He rolls his eyes, but I can see the smile that he’s trying to hold back and the fact that his cheeks are blushing a bit.

  We work steadily for another thirty minutes until my curiosity wins out. “Can I see what you’re working on?” I finally ask, holding my hand out to see his notebook.

  “Ya, that’s not happening,” he says, not bothering to look up. Unperturbed, I snatch the spiral out of his hand. He looks up at me shocked before suddenly launching himself at me. I’m so surprised that I end up on my back, holding the spiral over my head while he holds himself up on top of me.

  The playful moment quickly spirals into more. Jensen’s green eyes hold a lustful longing as they gaze into mine. I can’t take my eyes away from his and as I watch, his face begins to descend towards mine. Our lips are just about to touch when a voice sounds in the room.

  “Jensen stop fucking around and come help your mother with dinner,” says the voice and I sit up so suddenly that I bang my head straight into Jensen’s head so hard that I see stars.

  “Ow,” I say quietly as Jensen recovers next to me. “What was that?”

  “My father,” Jensen says with a sigh. “Maybe you should stay up here.”

  “Not a chance,” I tell him, sliding off the bed and holding out my hand. When he looks at me, it’s like he’s seeing me for the first time. Like there’s something about me that has changed in the hour we’ve been in his bedroom. His hand is shaking as he reaches out to grab mine. I wonder what could be so bad that this strong, beautiful man is filled with so much fear. I guess I’m about to find out.

  I open the door, and we start to walk down the long hallway. Halfway down the hallway, Jensen seems to find himself again. His strides become less tentative and he begins to lead me. We walk down the stairs and through a few perfectly decorated living rooms, each one more lavish than the rest. Why would anyone need this many living rooms? I make a note to ask Jensen later on.

  We finally get to the entrance of the kitchen, and Jensen takes a deep breath before dragging me with him into the room. There’s a tiny blonde woman stirring something on the stove that smells delicious. She doesn’t notice us come in, and Jensen lets go of my hand to slowly approach her.

  “Mom,” he says softly, and she drops her spoon with a loud splash as she whirls around, her hand over her heart in fear. It’s
an odd reaction and the uneasiness I had been trying to push aside on our journey down from Jensen’s room rears its ugly head.

  “Oh, it’s you,” she says in a high-pitched girly voice as she looks adoringly up at Jensen. “How was school?” she asks, pulling him into a hug that looks a bit awkward since Jensen towers over her. I can’t see any similarities between her and Jensen. Everything about her is fragile and almost bird-like. And she looks young. More like a sister than a mother, but maybe that’s a benefit of being rich...you stay forever young.

  She starts to say something else, her hand stroking down Jensen’s arm, but he cuts her off quickly. “Mom, I want you to meet someone,” he says, turning towards me and gesturing me forward.

  “Oh,” she practically squeaks as I notice she pulls her hand quickly away from Jensen. “I didn’t know we had company.” She sees me and her eyes widen a bit as she stares at me. “A girl...” she says, as if she’s stating something novel. I look down at my clothes, making sure I do in fact still look like a girl.

  Jensen pulls me forward and wraps his hand around my waist. His mother’s eyes somehow get even wider, and I get more uncomfortable. I was under the impression he brought someone home with him every day, but maybe it’s just been Tanner and Jesse. She’s looking at me like she’s never seen a girl before.

  “Hi Mrs. Reid,” I say, holding out my hand with the hope that I can turn this interaction around. She stares at my hand like it’s poisoned before a cough from Jensen seems to move her into action. Instead of shaking my hand, she grabs me into an awkward hug that turns me into the squeaker. I freeze for a second, shocked at the turn of events, and then I pat her back uncomfortably. The hug lasts for far too long, and I’m about to try and retract myself when I feel her body start to shake and I realize that she’s crying. I look at Jensen in panic. He has a “kill me now” look on his face and he hurries to my rescue, softly pulling his mother off of me.

  She’s practically hysterical, crying so hard that her mascara is dripping down her face. “I’m sorry,” she sobs, not taking her eyes off of me.

  “Mom, why don’t you go get ready for dinner, and I’ll finish this up. Beef stroganoff, right?” he says, talking to his mother in a soothing voice. Watching him I realize that this is a practiced move for him, something he must have had to do quite often.

  His mother shuffles out of the room, still crying. Jensen and I stare after her for a moment before he turns to the stove and starts stirring things.

  “Can you get some mushrooms out of the fridge?” he asks after he tastes one of the dishes. I nod and hurry over to the built-in fridge. My eyes widen as I look inside. It has every food you can think of arranged in perfect order. It’s easy to find the mushrooms because the vegetable drawer is alphabetized. I pull the mushrooms out and Jensen gets out a cutting board for me to start slicing them.

  We’re quiet for a moment as we each do our tasks, me slicing and him peeling potatoes. Finally, I say something. “So that was interesting,” I tell him, giving him the side eye to see his reaction. At first, he’s quiet and I think I overstepped, but then he starts laughing. His laughter grows until it’s almost hysterical and he’s now wiping his eyes. It’s the most emotion I’ve ever seen from Jensen, and I realize that he’s laughing this hard so that he doesn’t cry.

  “Interesting. That’s a good word for it,” he finally says, when he’s stopped laughing enough to talk. He’s about to say something else when the intercom sounds again.

  “Lucinda, how much longer until dinner?” a voice snaps. Jensen rolls his eyes and takes a deep breath. He walks over to the wall where I notice a speaker for the first time.

  “Ten minutes,” he says gruffly. “And we have company,” he adds. The voice doesn’t respond.

  Jensen finishes preparing the sauce and the mashed potatoes for the stroganoff, and I prepare a salad, butchering the vegetables since I have very little experience with cooking. He has me grab the salad bowl while he pours the food into some serving dishes. Just as he finishes, his mother walks in, dressed to the nines like she’s going out to dinner rather than staying in. There’s no sign on her face that she ever cried, and in fact she doesn’t even look at me as she passes by. Looking at her more closely, there’s a vacant expression on her face that wasn’t there before. She must have taken something. She grabs some of the serving dishes and then walks out to the dining room which has already been set.

  I glance at Jensen to see what he thinks about this latest development, but his face is totally blank. Looking away quickly, I grab another dish and follow his mother out to the dining room.

  I take a seat at the table that’s large enough to feed thirty people. It seems odd for our small group to be eating in here, but what do I know about normal family gatherings. The three of us are silent as we wait for the person behind the rude intercom voice to join us. Jensen’s mother stares off into space while Jensen studies his plate next to me, his hands nervously drumming the table. Finally, I hear footsteps leisurely making their way to the room. I guess his demand for everyone to hurry up with dinner didn’t apply to him coming to dinner.

  A man steps in the room and I’m caught off guard by how much he looks like an older Jensen. I feel like I’m seeing what Jensen will look like thirty years in the future. His appearance seems to knock Jensen’s mother out of whatever daze she’s been in, and I watch as she pours herself a tall glass of wine with shaking hands.

  “Anyone want some?” she asks, holding up the bottle of wine. I shake my head no, but Jensen grabs the wine bottle and pours himself a generous glass as well. The evening is just getting stranger.

  The man, who I assume is Jensen’s father, stops in his tracks when he sees me. “No one said that we had company,” he says in a deep, pleasant voice, one that is intent on charming me, despite the fact that I heard Jensen tell him I was here. “Especially such beautiful company,” he continues, approaching the table and holding out his hand as if to shake my hand. Not looking in his father’s direction, Jensen lays an arm across both my arms so that I can’t shake his father’s hand back. I see a brief look of annoyance flash across his father’s face before he schools his features back into a charming look and sits down at the table.

  “This looks wonderful,” he says, as Jensen’s mother starts to spoon food onto his plate. I watch as her hands shake as she does so, and I wonder at what this man did to her that has made her so afraid.

  Jensen’s father takes a bite of food and then turns towards me. “So how long have you been fucking my son?” he asks pleasantly, as if he’s asking about the weather. My fork stops halfway between my plate and my mouth, frozen in shock. Jensen has apparently been waiting for something like this to come out of this asshole’s mouth, because he’s already up out of his chair, about to get in his father’s face.

  “Don’t you dare talk about her like that,” he snaps, his face reddening in anger. Out of the corner of my eye I see Jensen’s mother drain her glass and fill it up again.

  Jensen’s father has a smirk on his face. He’s about to respond when all of a sudden, we hear the alarm chime and a minute later Jesse walks through the doorway.

  “Oh good, I didn’t miss dinner,” he says, dragging a kiss across Jensen’s mother’s cheek while slapping Jensen’s father on the back good-naturedly. He pretends to ignore the fact that Jensen looks like he’s about to choke his father.

  Jesse disappears into the kitchen for a second before coming back out with a plate and fork. He sits down next to me and starts spooning food onto his plate. “I’ll get you out of here soon, pretty girl,” he whispers to me as he starts eating.

  At this point I’m beyond confused. Jensen still looks like he’s about to murder someone, I can see that his body is shaking in rage. Jensen’s father is eating non-plussed, while it appears that Jensen’s mother has switched to an all liquid diet of wine which is probably not good considering she definitely took something before dinner.

  Jesse chatters about
inane topics while we eat, keeping us all distracted until Jensen’s mother goes to fill her glass once again. Jensen’s father slams his fork down. “For fucks sake Lucinda, you’ve had enough,” he roars.

  “Don’t talk to her like that. She wouldn’t be drinking if it weren’t for you,” yells Jensen in his mother’s defense.

  “I’m sure that’s what you would love to tell yourself, isn’t it son?” Jensen’s father sneers.

  Jensen leaps out of his chair, his fist flying towards his father’s face. Jesse decides at that point that it’s time for us to go. “Come on, pretty girl,” he says dragging me out of the room, down a hallway, and through the front doors. “Wait here for me for a second, ok?” Jesse asks. I just nod dumbly, too in shock about everything that has been going on in there to say anything.

  Jesse comes back outside ten minutes later looking none the worse for the wear. We say nothing as we get in Jesse’s truck, and he backs out of the driveway and leaves the neighborhood.

  “What was that?” I finally ask as we drive. Jesse sighs.

  “Jensen should be the one to tell you this, but he won’t because he’s a stubborn idiot. But he was in the house when his sister killed herself,” he says quietly. I gasp. “Maddie had been depressed for a while, and the truth is Jensen’s parents just were too preoccupied with their own bullshit to pay attention. Jensen had caught her cutting herself multiple times and told his parents, but they didn’t do anything besides get her on anti-depressants. On the day it happened, we had a late concert the night before, and Jensen was taking a nap to try and recover. He had checked on her right before he fell asleep, and she had seemed fine. When he checked on her after his nap she was in her bed unresponsive. I guess she had taken a bunch of their mom’s pain pills. Jensen called the paramedics, but it was too late. His father has thrown it in Jensen’s face ever since that it was his fault.”