by Sarah Daltry
“The last time, I was fourteen. It was the same thing as always. I’d learned to take care of myself, and Mom did nothing. Dad came home, she was a mess, and they fought. I don’t know what changed for him, but suddenly, he couldn’t deal with it anymore. Their fight became more violent than normal. Hitting each other was never out of the question, but this was different. I don’t know who started it, but eventually, he stopped it. He snapped her neck in the middle of the living room. After that, I came to live here with my grandmother.”
“I’m sorry.” It’s a weak thing to say, but it’s true and it’s the only way to express how I feel about what he’s gone through.
“Yeah. I hear that a lot.”
Nodding, I reach for my clothes. It seems dirty and wrong that we’ve been acting the way we have. Jack has bigger needs and, if I’m honest with myself, I have to admit that I am not the person to meet them. I want to be his friend, but I don’t think I can handle all this. I’m not planning to leave, but I do feel naked being, well, naked.
“Don’t leave, Lily. Please?” In his voice is something I haven’t heard since I met him – weakness.
“I don’t think I can handle this,” I tell him.
He’s quiet and I know why. He doesn’t want to have been right about me, but I just confirmed that he was. I hate myself for being afraid, for feeling like this is too much, but I can’t help it. This is huge and I’m nineteen. I’m about to say something, to explain all this, when he looks at me and his eyes break my heart. In them, I see that little boy – the dirty eight-year-old who didn’t understand why his mommy left him all summer. I see the teenager who couldn’t save his mother, not only from his dad but also from herself. And I see the man he’s becoming, the guy who throws himself into situations that will give him physical release even though he’s still hurting inside. Handling it no longer seems relevant. The question is can I handle him? Do I want to handle him? He reaches for my hand and I know that the answer is yes. I want to be there for Jack, even if it’s the hardest thing I’ll ever do.
“I’m not asking you to handle it,” he says. “I told you I can’t be your boyfriend. This is why. I can’t be a boyfriend. I won’t end up like him. I refuse to put anyone through that. You don’t have to feel guilty.”
“Jack, even if you were my boyfriend, you wouldn’t end up like him.”
“What makes you so sure?”
I shake my head. “I don’t know. I barely know you. I know that you took me drinking and fucked me to stop me from being depressed a few days ago. I know that you are facing demons that I can’t even imagine outside of a bad movie. I know that you’re scared and that you don’t want to let me in, but I also know that you genuinely cared that I was depressed. And, in the only way you knew how, you tried to help. Finally, I know that I want to know you.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know.”
“That’s a pretty pathetic answer,” he says.
“Maybe. But it’s true.”
“I’m a broken mess, Lily. I can’t be your Prince Charming.”
“You’re right. You can’t. But you can be someone genuine, which is far more important.”
“You’re still running away,” he points out.
“I’m not running. It’s just… I don’t think I know how to make it okay for you. I’m just a perfect princess, remember? My life is easy.”
“My pretty, perfect princess,” he says and squeezes my hand. “You could never be incomplete like me.”
“I’ve been incomplete.”
“But not broken.”
“No. In that way, you’re right. Jack, I don’t know how to be anything more than me. Take it or leave it.”
“You know,” he says. “When I moved out here, I had to start high school all over again. So, that meant that not only was I the new kid, but I was also the killer’s kid. High school sucks and it’s bad enough for regular people. It’s unbearable for people like me. People shunned me. It took me forever to make friends. I had two for the rest of high school. Two friends. I couldn’t wait to get away, to go to college, to not be that kid anymore.”
“I’m really sorry,” I say.
“I thought you were like all of them. All those people who only saw that kid. But no matter how mean I was, you just didn’t stop looking at me like I was a whole person.”
“You are a whole person. And I wish I could be stronger than I am.”
“I know,” he replies and we sit together in quiet for a moment. I can’t promise Jack anything and he can’t promise me, either. He’s broken and I’m missing a piece. Together, there is still emptiness between us.
“C’mon,” he says. “Let’s eat something and I’ll bring you home.”
Jack’s grandmother says nothing when we enter the kitchen. I don’t suppose he brings many girls, or even friends, here. She doesn’t ask how we know each other. She makes us sandwiches and we all eat in silence. The entire house feels sad. I can see that his grandmother has taken on a great deal of the family’s misery, because she was the only one left. For the mother that Jack lost, she also lost her daughter. There is nothing but pain here in this house, and I can’t leave fast enough.
After we eat, Jack brings me back to the dorm. He hasn’t said anything, which makes my weakness even worse for me. I wish he’d yell at me, tell me I am just like everyone else, and tell me that he’s ashamed of me. I know I’m ashamed of me. When we get to our floor, though, he doesn’t say a thing or make any move to touch me before turning down his side of the hall and leaving me by the elevator.
Chapter 11
It’s nearly impossible to go back to classes the next day, but I do it. All I can think about is Jack and what he’s told me. I realize I am out of my league; he’s too broken for me to fix. However, I can’t help but want to try. I don’t know if I’m falling for him or if this is just natural empathy, but he’s all I can think about. The day is a blur; midterms and papers are happening all week, but I can’t think about anything but Jack. When I get back to the dorm, I almost go immediately to his room, but I don’t want to look desperate. Besides, I still don’t know what my intentions or expectations are.
Kristen is already back when I get in. She’s sitting on her bed working on a paper. Shit. That’s right. I still have to finish that research paper.
“What’s going on?” I know by the tone of her voice that she wants to ask about my weekend, but it feels too personal. I just shrug.
“Nothing. I can’t believe I forgot I had to finish my paper.”
“Busy weekend?”
“You’re fishing,” I warn her.
“Are you gonna tell me?”
I shake my head. “I can’t. I don’t even know what to say.”
“What about Derek?”
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I haven’t heard from him at all.”
“You didn’t make the effort, either,” she reminds me.
“Maybe I just don’t want to anymore,” I say and it’s the most honest thought I’ve had about Derek since school started. Kristen said to me the other day that I don’t come across as the type to give up easily, which is true. Maybe with Derek, I just don’t want to try or fight for something that was already falling apart.
“Do you think Jack’s right for you?” Kristen asks.
“I don’t know what’s right or wrong anymore.”
“What do you like about him?”
“Other than the physical stuff?”
She rolls her eyes. “Yes. A relationship based on sex is fine for a while, but eventually, it’ll get old. Who is Jack and why do you like knowing him?”
“I don’t know who he is. I only know I really want to find out.”
Kristen sighs and goes back to her paper. “Just be careful, Lily.”
I want to defend Jack, to tell her that she’s wrong about him, but in many ways, she’s right. He’s not his father or his past, but that doesn’t mean he’s right for me. I know this, but it doesn’t
stop me from wanting to make an effort. Still, I tell myself I need to work on my paper and not worry about guys right now. Unfortunately, I decide to check my email first and there is a message from Derek.
Lily, I’m so sorry about this weekend. I promise I will make it up to you. I’ve been trying to call. I left a bunch of messages. Are you okay? Let’s do something this weekend? I love you, sweetie.
For the past few days, I was so lost in Jack and escaping from reality that I nearly forgot all about Derek. It all crashes down on me now and I start sobbing. I have loved Derek since I knew what it meant to like boys. Why isn’t it enough anymore? What am I doing wrong? I know he’s been distant, but I haven’t been easy to deal with, either. We used to be so good together. Am I just looking for an excuse for it not to work? Would I still be this confused if Jack had never talked to me that morning while Derek took a shower? It’s a mess and I promise myself that I will focus on school and then talk to Jack this week. We can try to stay friends and I’ll fix things with Derek this weekend.
My resolve lasts all of an hour – up until Jack knocks on my door.
“Hey,” he says. In all my selfish desire to hide from myself, I never really looked at him. However, aside from the darkness he carries around with him and his attempts as being outwardly different, he is really cute. Not just sexy, but cute as well. Right now, he looks uncomfortable standing in the doorway being the vulnerable one and I want to hug him. His eyes are beautiful; they look sad and yet hopeful when he looks up from staring at his feet. “Do you want to come to dinner with me?”
“Yeah,” I say. “Of course.” It isn’t a big move, but after all his talk about not being a boyfriend, it seems like a huge step. It’s not much of date, but I’ll take it. He takes an even bigger step when we get outside and he takes my hand. I feel like I never have; this is what relationships are all about. The nervous energy and innocent discovery of another person. Maybe the reason it was missing with Derek has something to do with our history. For some people, friendships make strong foundations for relationships; for others, they aren’t strong enough to hold up the weight of anything that serious.
“I thought you’d run away and never come back,” Jack says.
“Well, I didn’t.”
“Even after you saw what I am.” There is awe in his voice.
“I told you. You’re not your father.”
“Tell that to everyone else.”
“Everyone else is stupid.”
He laughs and it’s a beautiful sound. “That they are.”
“So you’ve never had any friends? At all?” I ask.
“I had two. I wasn’t kidding when I said two before. My best friends and only friends. Dave’s in the Army now. His parents are almost as fucked up as mine. Well, okay, maybe not. But they’re both drunks. We got along immediately because of it. He isn’t that smart, but he’s a good guy. He only passed high school because everyone felt bad for him. His dad has been known to show up at school events and make a scene. The last time was graduation, when Dave’s father stood up during the ceremony and started shouting about the lies that the government tells us. He was pissed when Dave signed up for the military.”
“Why’d he sign up?”
“One way we connected was that we were both desperate to get out of town, to become new people. His grades weren’t good enough for college. He thought the Army was a good option.”
“Is it?”
“I’ve only heard from him twice since he left. I think he hates it.” Jack sounds depressed talking about Dave. I have no insight into the military or whatever it is that is putting that sadness in Jack’s voice.
“You said two friends?” I say, trying to change the subject.
“Alana is the other. She was the first person to acknowledge me after I changed schools. She didn’t care about the stories. She’d been the victim of her own fair share of rumors. Although in her case, they weren’t true.”
“Like what?”
“Nothing, really. Typical high school shit. She was a slut. She had slept with a teacher. She had a fake ID and was a stripper. Basically, whatever they could think of to demean her.”
“Why?”
“Because they could.”
I nod. My high school was small and although I’m sure there were people who were picked on, it was never obvious. On the other hand, maybe I’ve just been oblivious for most of my life.
“She’s always been there,” Jack says. “Alana is the person who always knew how to pick up the pieces.”
“Did you date her?”
“In high school, we tried. It wasn’t good. Her dad left when she was young and her mom hates all men. Combined with my own shit, we were dysfunctional from the start.”
“Was it a long relationship?”
“The relationship wasn’t. We still hook up every so often. It’s easier being friends and messing around. Alana embraces sex, because she grew up figuring she was already marked a slut anyway. She says she may as well enjoy it.”
I think of my own night with her. Part of me feels guilty, as if I objectified her just like everyone else has, but then I remember the way that she kissed me. Alana doesn’t let anyone objectify her.
“Do you think you’ll ever get back together? Try to make it work?”
“I love her, because she’s my best friend. We have sex, because, well, we’re horny. But we have no delusions that we will ever be more than we are right now – and we’re both satisfied with that.”
We reach the cafeteria before I can ask him more about Alana. Their situation is foreign to me. Derek had been the only guy I had ever been with, and I spent most of high school dreaming about him. The idea of casual sex, of having a friend you fuck but don’t have a relationship with, is entirely new. I’m still trying to make sense of Jack, but I realize that most likely whatever we have is nothing new to him. It bothers me, but rather than get upset about it, I remind myself that he trusted me with his story. That’s got to mean something.
In the cafeteria, I get a look from the people I normally sit with when I join Jack instead. It’s curiosity, not distaste, but he doesn’t seem like he’s ready to meet my friends. I shrug and follow Jack to a table in the back. I don’t remember ever seeing him in the cafeteria before, although he is so antisocial that perhaps I just never noticed. No one comes to sit with us and Jack picks at his food. I feel nervous eating, as if I’m upsetting him by being comfortable doing so. It dawns on me that this entire dinner invitation was about me; this is Jack attempting to be something he isn’t. All for my sake.
“Do you wanna get out of here? Let’s go somewhere else to eat,” I suggest.
The relief washes over his face. “Anywhere in particular?”
I smile. “Wherever you want.”
We end up at the cafe where he works. Despite everything I have seen of Jack, here he seems comfortable. Everyone is happy to see him and friendly to us both. He grew up not far from here; it turns out he worked here in high school as well. It was far enough away that no one instantly recognized him as the son of the killer. Because of that, it was one more haven for him and played a role in convincing him to go to school here.
It’s weird that I was here with Derek not that long ago. I can’t pinpoint the exact moment when I became a different person, but even when I think about how to reply to his email, I don’t know how to answer him. It’s only been a few days – a month technically if we are talking about our time apart physically – and yet a chasm has opened between Derek and me. It’s heartbreaking, because he truly was the reason I believed in love. I just don’t know if I believe in it anymore. Maybe the problem is that I just don’t believe in it with him.
Jack orders sandwiches for both of us and we spend the entire meal not saying much. It’s not an awkward silence, though; it only becomes awkward when we head back outside. He takes out a cigarette, offering me one as well. I take it, but I don’t really like the taste, so I mostly just hold it while he smokes.
We still haven’t made any decisions about where we are taking this, but I know Jack is trying to be what I need. The question is whether or not I can be what he needs. I watch him smoke and think about everything I know about him. The sex is fantastic, but as Kristen said, it isn’t everything. The little that I know about Jack’s personality is confusing. Sometimes, he’s mocking and cruel; at other times, like now, he’s sweet and vulnerable. His story helps me understand the shifts in mood, but it still doesn’t help me face them.
“I’m glad you came out with me tonight,” he says.
“Me too.”
“So what now?”
I don’t know what my answer is to that. Without saying it, he’s asking if I’ll be going back to his room with him, which means one thing. Again, half of me is ready to hop on his bike and take this elsewhere; the other half is still yearning to get far, far away. Since I can’t come up with an answer, I decide to prolong this conversation while I think.
“Why’d you choose to live on campus?” I ask. “I mean, your house isn’t that far from school.”
“Like I said, all I wanted was to get away. Sure, college isn’t total freedom, but most people here don’t know anything about me. I live nearby, but everyone in the dorms comes from all over and they haven’t heard the sordid gossip about my life.”
“Has it helped?”
“Helped with what?”
“With escape.”
“Yes and no,” he admits. “On campus, I have school, the band, and even a few friends. I still have to try not to get close to them, though, because I know what will happen if they find out. So, it’s escape, but I always need to be on guard.”
“I found out – and I’m still here. I’m sure most people would give you a chance.”
“Percentages seem to dictate otherwise.”
