Less Invisible

by Emma Rose

  "Listen, Oliver, I'm not the same person I was when you knew me. I'm exhausted and I don't see the world the same way I did when I was a little girl, but I'm a fighter and I don't think I'll ever stop fighting. So, here's the deal, you can stay here, but only if you promise you're going to be a fighter too," I said after we had finished our pizza.

  Oliver took a long, slow deliberate sip of his water. Then, he shook his head. "I'm not like you, Jemma. I'm not a fighter. I go with the flow. I follow the wrong leaders, and I do whatever feels good. And I'm screwed up because of it. I wasn't born strong like you. I'm not like my brother. I'm not smart. I'm not special. I'm not who the world wants me to be. I wish I could promise you that I will be a fighter, but I can't. I'm not good at making promises and I've failed at everything I've tried."

  I could not believe what this kid was saying. Why couldn't he at least pretend like he was going to try to get better? I rested my head on my hands and closed my eyes so I could think. Then, I realized that Oliver and I were two of the same, little kids who started out hopeful but got crushed by the world into two bitter, broken adults.

  I sighed. "At least you're honest, Oliver. I have the next two weeks off. Stay here if you want, leave if you don't. We're both fucked up, so I guess it wouldn't hurt if we were fucked up together."

  "Thank you," Oliver whispered. I could tell by the way he was looking down at his plate and folding his napkin over and over again that he was feeling emotional and trying not to cry.

  I showed Oliver to the guest room and guest bathroom before wishing him goodnight. Then, I went to my bedroom and drew tiny butterflies with a sharpie marker all over my body until I was too tired to draw anymore and I fell asleep on the carpet.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: OLIVER

  As I laid on the king-sized mattress in Jemma's guest room, I questioned whether the day's events were real or merely a dream.

  For years, I'd avoided being caught by the police. I'd had nightmares about it before, but part of me always fancied myself too elusive and too clever to ever get caught.

  It wasn't like I got busted at a party dealing out heroin or crack either. It was just me and a few of my buddies sitting in the back of a truck smoking pot listening to R&B on the radio when two police cars drove up and they arrested all four of us. Thank God, I only had eight ounces of weed on me. I figured I would probably just get a fine or little jail time at the worst. If the cops had found me two nights before when I was carrying around a thousand dollars in cash and hundreds of pills, things would be much worse for me.

  I'll be honest, getting arrested scared me a lot especially when my dad and brother didn't come to pick me up. It made me want to quit drugs even more than I already did. The only problem was I didn't know if I had the willpower or the strength to quit.

  I could barely process the fact that Jemma had come to bail me out especially because I thought she was so tight with my tough love brother. I hadn't seen her in person for years. Although, I did sometimes stalk her on social media.

  She had grown up to be very pretty, but something about her had changed. She didn't have that same spark she used to have. I suppose she probably thought the same thing about me.

  The truth was I still loved Jemma, but I could barely roll out of bed in the morning most days. I didn't have the energy, desire, or ability to maintain a steady relationship. The reason I always went for easy fucks was that I couldn't really handle anything else.

  I wondered why Jemma even bothered with me. I wasn't exactly a gentleman to her, but she came to my rescue and was generous enough to let me stay in her luxury home. I didn't deserve her kindness. I fell asleep that night with happy tears in my eyes because I was so grateful Jemma found me yet again.

  I woke up late the next day still in my clothes from the day before. It was a summer Saturday, and the sun was shining brightly through the window. I had no idea what the day would hold for me, but I knew it needed to get started so I wandered out of the guest bedroom down to the living room where I found Jemma curled up on the couch with a cup of coffee and a book.

  I sat down on the chair adjacent to her. "What are you reading?" I asked because I didn't know what else to say.

  Jemma looked over at me startled. She had large frame glasses on that made her look extra cute.

  "Oh, I didn't hear you come in," she said, "I'm reading Little Women. It's dorky I know, but it's a good escape from reality."

  "Why would you want to escape reality? Do you know how many girls would kill to be you?" I asked.

  Jemma shook her head sadly. "I'm just not cut out for it, I think."

  "I listen to your music, you know."

  Jemma smiled at that. "Is that true?"

  I nodded. "Yeah, of course. I've always thought you were a lovely singer."

  "That's kind of you, Oliver," she said. I didn't understand why my compliment meant so much to her. She sold millions of records, obviously, people liked her voice. I'm not sure why she needed to hear it from me.

  "I did some research this morning," she said, changing the subject.

  "On butterflies?" I interjected snarkily referencing the drawings all over her arms.

  She laughed which surprised me. "No, I'm just crazy that's why those are there. I did some research on your charges. With a decent lawyer, you can get off without any jail time and just a heavy fine."

  I ran my hand through my thick, messy blonde hair. The thought of going to court overwhelmed me.

  "That's good, I guess. I'm not sure how I'm going to get a lawyer, but-"

  Jemma interrupted me, "I've decided I'm going to help you. Not because you deserve it though, because you definitely don't. I just don't want to be reminiscing about my childhood and then remember that you're in jail and have my entire mood ruined."

  Jemma made her statement with such a straight face it made me laugh out loud.

  "Why are you laughing, Oliver?" she pouted crossing her arms.

  "Your reasoning. I don't know. I just thought it was kind of funny."

  She rolled her eyes at me. "You haven't changed, have you? Everything's fun and games until you get in trouble, right?" she asked in good humor.

  I shrugged. Jemma wasn't wrong. That was the typical attitude I took toward things.

  "So, what's your story, anyway? What are you up to? I mean besides being a pothead," Jemma asked snuggling a little deeper under her blanket.

  "I'm on summer vacation for college. Supposed to be living with my dad, but I mostly just couch hop between my friends' apartments and yeah, you know, just hanging out and stuff."

  Jemma nodded. I guess that was the mediocre answer she expected. "What's your story? Aren't you supposed to be like at a photoshoot or something?" I asked, trying to deflect her attention away from me and my pathetic life.

  "I told you. I'm off for a couple of weeks, at least. Celebrities get to have holidays, you know."

  "What grand plans do you have for your holiday? Partying with Lady Gaga and Katy Perry? Taking a jet plane to some exotic private island?" I teased but part of me wondered if it might be true.

  "Nah, I'm going to sleep and enjoy talking to no one," Jemma said.

  "Oh," I mumbled.

  "You can sleep and talk to no one with me if you want," Jemma offered.

  "Alright," I agreed.

  After Jemma and I had Cinnamon Toast Crunch and chocolate milk for brunch, I snuck in my dad's apartment and got my extra clothes and things to take back to Jemma's.

  We spent the rest of the day making awkward small talk and watching endless episodes of The Office on demand.

  Our friendship wasn't back to a friendship yet but we were slowly becoming comfortable companions.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN: JEMMA

  Some days, I still couldn't believe I was allowing Oliver to live with me. I mean he really was almost a stranger, but at the same time having him around was like reuniting with a long lost family member.

  The first few days he was with me, we didn't do much. We j
ust hung out really. It's not like I can go anywhere in public peacefully so I just enjoyed spending my time at home.

  On the fourth day, Oliver was with me, I was sitting in my music studio playing guitar when Oliver came in looking distressed.

  "What's wrong?" I asked as he sat down on the chair beside the piano.

  "Uh. Well nothing, really. It's just that- this is embarrassing but, I haven't gotten high for such a long time and I guess it's just making me feel a little on edge," Oliver admitted reluctantly.

  I felt bad for the poor kid. Being honest like that is really difficult.

  "Oh, Oliver, I'm sorry about that," I said, unsure of what else to say.

  Oliver shrugged, "It's not your fault. I just thought maybe I would come in here and listen to you play and it might calm me down."

  I blushed. It made me feel so happy to know Oliver took comfort in my music. As much as it built up my ego to perform for a stadium of screaming fans, it was even more validating to hear him tell me my music brought him peace.

  "Music has a way of doing that," I nodded.

  I started strumming some random chords for a tune I was working on and then a song popped into my head that I hadn't sung in a very long time.

  Slowly, I started picking a melody so familiar to me but almost forgotten.

  I looked over at Oliver to see if he recognized the song, but his face was blank.

  I began to sing the lyrics softly.

  Raindrops on roses

  And whiskers on kittens

  Bright copper kettles and warm woolen mittens

  Brown paper packages tied up with strings

  These are a few of my favorite things

  Cream-colored ponies and crisp apple strudels

  Doorbells and sleigh bells

  And schnitzel with noodles

  Wild geese that fly with the moon on their wings

  These are a few of my favorite things

  Girls in white dresses with blue satin sashes

  Snowflakes that stay on my nose and eyelashes

  Silver-white winters that melt into springs

  These are a few of my favorite things

  When the dog bites

  When the bee stings

  When I'm feeling sad

  I simply remember my favorite things

  And then I don't feel so bad

  I hadn't been paying much attention to Oliver while I was singing. I was so absorbed in the music and in feeling nostalgic. The song brought just as much comfort to me as it did to him.

  "That was lovely," Oliver smiled.

  "Thank you," I said, "My Momma used to sing it to me."

  "That's nice," Oliver said. "You know before my mother passed, she used to sing all the time, when she was in the kitchen baking, in the car, doing laundry, anywhere and everywhere. That's what I missed so much afterward. Our house got so quiet."

  Oliver's story made me sad. He never talked about his mother much growing up, but I knew that was just because it was too painful for him.

  "That's why, isn't it?" I asked.

  "That's why, what?"

  "That's why you did everything you did, to numb the pain, to make things in your life a little less quiet."

  Oliver paused for a moment. I could see the gears working in his head. All of a sudden, he buried his head in his hands and sobbed.

  Quickly, I put my guitar down and knelt on the floor in front of Oliver.

  "Oh, Ollie," I whispered, wrapping my arms around his neck.

  He didn't say anything for a while. He needed to cry. He had been holding it in for years.

  "I'm sorry," he whispered, "I'm sorry I'm so messed up."

  "Oliver, you're not messed up. Your life is just a little messy right now."

  "No, Jemma. Everything is all wrong. I'm broken and I can't be fixed."

  Oliver's words broke my heart. "Oliver, Oliver," I said so he would look at me. "I want to show you something," I said bravely.

  Oliver stopped his crying for a moment. "What is it?" he asked, caught off guard by my sudden change of subject.

  I took a deep breath and closed my eyes. Then, I slowly unzipped my jean shorts and slid them off my legs. I was standing before Oliver in my underwear and a blue tank top, but I didn't feel ashamed or embarrassed. Instead, I felt like I was finally being freed from a cage I had been in for far too long.

  At first, Oliver kept his eyes up on mine. He was confused and he didn't want to look at anything he wasn't supposed to.

  "It's okay, Oliver, you can look. I only wanted to show you that I have scars just like you," I said touching a large white line on my thigh.

  Oliver's breathing hitched and he released a fresh set of sobs.

  "Jemma," he cried, "How could you?"

  I pulled up my shorts and buttoned them. I ran my hand through Oliver's hair and looked into his sad eyes.

  "We're both messed up, Oliver," I whispered, "but we can get better."

  I sat on the arm of Oliver's chair and rubbed his shoulders until his breathing slowed and his sobs reduced to tears.

  Oliver looked up at me and smiled slightly, "Jemma?" he asked.

  "Yeah, Ollie."

  "Will you run away with me?"

  CHAPTER TWENTY: JEMMA

  "Oliver," I laughed. "Running away won't solve your problems."

  "No, it won't, but it would get us out of the city. Don't you ever just want to go somewhere no one knows your name?"

  "I don't know if there is any place I can go where no one will know my name," I frowned.

  Oliver sighed. We sat with our thoughts for a moment and then Oliver piped up suddenly.

  "I know, let's go camping. Somewhere remote. In the woods or the mountains. Maybe in Pennsylvania," he suggested eagerly.

  I'll be honest, his idea did sound wonderful to me. I was tired of hiding all the time. I thought it would be nice to get away and not have to worry about being seen or about appearances or anything.

  "I don't know, Oliver," I said hesitantly.

  "Come on, you said it yourself, you have time off and you're tired of being around people all the time."

  "Well, what's your plan?" I asked. Oliver was good at schemes but not at plans.

  Oliver rubbed his chin and thought for a second. "I got my driver's license last year and my dad, he's got a car just sitting in a garage he never uses. I've got the keys upstairs. I say we take the Jeep and we just drive," he said thinking himself quite brilliant yet again.

  "What? Just drive until we reach Neverland?" I chuckled.

  "Yes," he grinned. He wasn't phased by my sarcasm.

  Suddenly, flashbacks to my first night with Blayke came flooding back. I had done this whole thing before. I had let my emotions take control. I had been impulsive. I fell in love too quickly only to realize I wasn't actually in love. I was just lonely. This situation was feeling eerily similar. I couldn't repeat what I had gone through with Blayke.

  I sat back down on the piano bench and rubbed my eyes. I was feeling dizzy and lightheaded. I wanted to be alone all of a sudden.

  "No," I whispered, shaking my head.

  Oliver took a deep breath in and closed his eyes. I had disappointed him again.

  He reached out to grab my hand, "Please, Jemma?" he asked hopefully.

  "Oliver, no," I said turning away. "I'm sorry, but no," I said firmly.

  Oliver nodded in solemn resignation. He took a deep breath in, stood up, thanked me for the music, and walked back up to the guest bedroom.

  The truth was I was afraid of falling for someone again. I wasn't ready to be vulnerable with anyone again so soon.

  I started playing minor chords on the piano and I wondered why everything in my life always turned out so tragic and then I remembered something. My mother was from Pennsylvania.

  Suddenly, I wanted to go there and experience what it was like to be in the land she grew up in. It would be like discovering a new part of her I had never really gotten to know.

  Nervously, I
got up from the piano and methodically climbed the stairs. I knocked on the door to what had become Oliver's bedroom.

  I stood at his door cracking my knuckles waiting for him to open it.

  "Ollie," I whispered as he opened the door slowly.

  "Yeah, Jemma?"

  "Let's do it."

  He looked at me with suspicion. "Are you sure?"

  "I'm sure, Oliver, but you have to promise me something."

  "What's that?"

  "That we won't become anything more than friends."

  Oliver didn't say anything. He just held out his right hand with his pinky extended.