by Lisa Swallow
“It’s Ruby.”
The gate clunks and I open enough to slide through sideways. Keeping a lid on Ruby is hard but I manage. How I’ve kept my silence and not screamed at the press, I’ve no idea. I pause and turn to the reporter closest to the gate. He’s young, not much older than me, and practically salivating over his proximity to the new Blue Phoenix scandal. I run a disdainful look over his close-cropped hair and smart attire.
“If Jem Jones had done this to my face, would I be here now?” I ask as the metal gates close between us.
“Hey, money can fix anything. I hope he gives you what you want.”
It’s a good thing the gate’s between us or his mouth would match my injured one right now. I see myself through his eyes, his lack of respect for someone who looks like me. He called me a cheap whore in not so many words.
“Fuck you,” I retort and head to the front door.
The door’s ajar but Jem isn’t in the hallway. I stomp upstairs enjoying the heavy sound of my combat boots; the ones I resisted using on the feet of each media asshole I came across outside.
“Jem?”
“In here.”
Jem stands in the lounge room, close to the window; and when he looks over, pain lances my heart because he’s the Jem I saw in the kitchen surrounded by broken glass that evening, haunted and confused. This is my fault.
I hate myself for thinking this in the moment, but I’ve seen the thought in Jax’s eyes today. Have I fucked up the relationship between Jem and Ruby Riot, the one moving us on?
“I’m sorry,” I say.
Jem drags a palm slowly down his cheek. “What did you tell them? The police.”
“I told them what happened. I told them it was Dan. They’ll question him, not you. I don’t know where this has come from.”
“I do. It’s who I am, isn’t it?” He turns to the window and looks to the people below, the defeat in his tone pulls further at my guilt.
I cross and touch his arm. “No, it’s not.”
“And so it starts again. Not that it ever stops.”
“What doesn’t?”
“Their control, moulding me into the person they want to see. This last year has been worse, after… Liv, I’m painted as a man who hurts women. Now this.”
The whole time, Jem’s gaze remains on the window, at the world outside threatening his new peace.
“Jem, you were cleared with Liv. It wasn’t you.”
“What’s the saying? Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. They want me to fail. They want him back.” His voice is the flat. Dead.
“But he doesn’t exist, Jem, not unless you let him.”
“He does. I’ve done some bad shit. You have no idea.”
“I don’t care; he’s not here. Don’t let them drag him back up.”
Jem turns to me and we share another of those moments where we recognise each other’s rawness; see the lies we tell ourselves. “You, saying that, almost convinces me.”
“To me, you’re Jem and not the Jem Jones they say you are. This Jem is a good guy. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. They don’t know you.”
A muscle twitches in his cheek. “You don’t know me.”
“I know enough,” I say quietly. “You’re good. In here.” I place a hand on his chest and he flinches. “Don’t you like being touched?”
“If it’s you, I don’t mind.” He gives a small smile and curls his hand around mine.
Jem’s words confuse me considering his reaction two days ago. The kiss. His freak out. Now his knight in shining armour routine from last night. I hated him yesterday for how he treated me; but now he’s back to taking care of me, looking at me in the way he once did. My head is a screwed. Everything is screwed and I shouldn’t be here.
Yet there’s no other place in the world I feel calmer or safer right now.
“Just no kissing?” I ask.
Jem’s grip on my hand tightens. “I came to apologise about that last night. That’s the reason I was there.”
“Whatever the reason you were there, I’m glad. And you don’t need to explain yourself. I just wish you’d left things and not kissed me the other night. You messed with my head, Jem.”
“Yeah, I messed with my own too. I couldn’t stand the thought I’d hurt you more by being such a dickhead.” With his other hand, he strokes hair from my face. “Did I? If I did, I’m sorry.”
I shrug. “I’m used to it.”
“Exactly. I spend weeks telling you to believe in yourself, to show you how much you’re worth to the world, and then I do that to you.”
“Forget about it,” I say, smiling in a way I hope fools him into thinking I’m not bothered.
Jem reaches to touch my cheek and I shift so he doesn’t. “Your face… If I ever see that fucker again…”
“Bit of a mess, but nothing permanent. At least he didn’t break my nose.”
Jem scowls. “The way you deal with this is wrong. Don’t play this down.”
“Jem, I’ve been to the police like I promised, but I’m too tired for any more lectures. I need to deal with this in my own way. Surely, you of all people understand that.”
He nods slowly. “But we need to talk; we can’t leave things as they are, you know that.”
“I know. But not now. I need a smoke and a rest.”
Jem drops his hand and I grip onto the illusion I’ve created around myself today, the strong girl coping with the pain and fear of the situation in a way that’s had people commenting how brave I am. But I’m not fooling Jem; and if I stand here for a second longer, I’ll break down in front of him, and if I do, I’m not sure what’ll happen.
Aware heavy words hang between us and the anxiety growing with my nicotine craving, I offer Jem a reassuring smile I’m sure he doesn’t believe and head toward his garden and the fresh air I’m about to pollute.
I take up my usual spot on Jem’s patio, sitting on the edge of the wooden chair as I light up and stare at his neatly mown patch of green in the middle of the city. Of course, he has a gardener, to go with his cleaner; and God knows what other minions he has when he has a need. The garden is bordered with white and yellow roses, my favourite flower. The ones I have etched on my skin.
I stub the cigarette in the terracotta tray and sit back, focusing my mind away from anything Dan, Jem, or painful. The door bangs and Jem stands in the doorway, watching me silently.
“What?” I ask. “You’re freaking me out staring like that.”
“They both stopped me,” Jem says.
I shake my head at his sudden comment. “Who did? What are you talking about?”
“The kiss.” He rests against the doorframe.
“Jem. Forget it.”
“I can’t.”
“You don’t have to explain. It’s cool.”
Jem ignores me. “Liv.” He shakes his head. “My Mum. I can’t separate you; you’re like both of them together. It’s like being pulled back in time. The demons controlling you are the ones that torture me too.”
I straighten, unsure what to think and why he’s chosen to say something so strange out of the blue. “Do you speak to your counsellor about all this?”
He tips his head. “Do you mean shut up and talk to your counsellor?”
“No. It’s just…”
“No stress, Ruby. You’re right. I’ll talk to my counsellor.” Jem puts a hand on the door, ready to go back inside.
“No. Talk to me.”
He smiles weakly and I realise I’ve killed his attempt to open up. “No. You don’t want to hear.”
“I’ll tell you about Dan,” I blurt. “About why. You asked once. Jax knows, doesn’t matter if you do too.”
Jem pulls on his bottom lip. “I don’t know.”
“You mean shut up and talk to your counsellor?” I mimic.
“No. If you want to talk to someone, I’ll listen.”
“That’s not what I mean. Forget about it.”
Jem walks over, sits in
the chair next to me, and reaches out. That’s exactly what he’s doing - reaching out. But why? “I know that’s not what you mean. I’m making excuses for myself. It’s because if I know more about you, you’re harder to keep away from.”
When Jem takes my hand, I don’t want to let go and squeeze his as I force back the tears in my eyes. “You mean if I let you know about Tuesday?”
“Such a weird name,” says Jem.
“Such a weird girl.”
“Weirder than Ruby?”
“She suits Jem more than Tuesday.”
He frowns. “What?”
“Rubies – they’re gems.”
“Is she?” His mouth tips at the corner.
“Ha-ha.” I pull my hand away, fighting the urge to light up another cigarette. “Dan was my brother’s best friend.”
“Was?”
“My brother died three years ago.”
“Oh, shit. Sorry to hear that.”
If I close my eyes, I don’t need to be here. I could stay in the calm quiet, amongst the rose scent of the garden and not engage. But I have to. I want Jem to know me; and then at least, if he rejects me, he’s rejecting who I really am.
“Quinn was more than a brother; he was the one good thing in my life, and some bastard drunk driver killed him.” I rub my knees. Can I do this? Tell him who I really am? “He was only twenty-one, walking home from a night out and got hit. Instant. He was always there for me and I never got a chance to say goodbye.”
“Fuck.” Jem attempts to reach out again and I tuck my hands under my arms, tensing against any attempt by my body to breakdown.
“Quinn was older than me, things were shit at home, and he looked out for me when everything got bad.” I catch Jem’s eye. “My dad left when I was too young to remember him and my mum left when I was thirteen. She moved overseas to live with a guy who didn’t want her baggage. Quinn and me moved in with my uncle and aunt. My aunt was great, but my uncle didn’t want my mum’s baggage either so things were tough. Me and Quinn helped each other, then Quinn left for uni and I was stuck there.”
Jem shifts and stares at his bare feet. “Yeah, I get the shithouse parents thing.”
This makes sense, another connection I suspected. “When Quinn left for uni, he asked Dan to keep an eye on me, a person to turn to when things got really bad at home. Dan did. He was a great guy, really, nice. Would do anything for me. Dan let me sleep on his sofa each time my uncle scared me enough to run away. I trusted him because my brother trusted him.”
“Dan? A nice guy?”
I laugh softly at Jem’s incredulity. “Yeah, but when Quinn died, Dan changed. Slowly at first. He interfered in my relationships, my life choices, always throwing at me that my brother wouldn’t approve. That was enough for me to listen; after all, my brother trusted Dan, so I should. When things got really screwed up at home, I moved in with Dan.”
Jem looks up. “You moved in with him? He’s my age. How old were you?”
I shake my head. “I was seventeen. We weren’t together like a couple at first, but he was the only man apart from my brother who’d shown me attention. I craved Dan’s love, and he said he loved me, wanted me, and took care of me. I believed him. Over the next three years, he took my control away.”
Jem interrupts. “You stayed for three years? I never understand why they stay.”
“They?”
“People hurt by others they live with.”
“I had to leave my uncle’s and had nowhere to go. I’d put up with abuse from my uncle since I went to live there; everything from him constantly telling me what a bad person I must be for my mum to leave me, to him slapping me around to prove the point. I believed him; my mum had screamed the same shit at me before she fucked off. Around the time I turned sixteen, he got weird.” I inhale. “I’m not going into it all, but he wasn’t looking at me or treating me like his niece anymore. He’d walk in when I was getting changed, that kind of crap.”
“Fuck, Ruby. Please don’t tell me…”
I shake my head and a bloody annoying tear flies out. “No, no… that’s why I got out. I didn’t feel safe. Dan kept me safe. If I’d stayed with my uncle and aunt… I don’t know, Jem.”
Jem puts his elbows on his knees and drags his hands through his curls, swearing under his breath.
“I don’t think anyone understands unless they’ve been there. Dan controlled my life. The psychological abuse came before the physical. He ground me down until I felt like he was doing me a favour even wanting me. That nobody else did or ever would. That I just had to look at how people had treated me, and that it was all my fault because I was a bad person. I tried to leave Dan a few times before but failed until last time. Now Dan’s done what I always worried he would, what stopped me leaving before.”
Jem stands and walks away from me. “This is the problem. This is why I can’t get close to you.”
“Because I’m a bad person?” I ask hoarsely.
“No! You’re the opposite, Ruby. You’re a fucking amazing, strong person and my whole self screams to let you in.”
My stomach lurches at his admission. “Let me in?”
He turns back to me. “They were the same as you. I grew up with a woman who was constantly abused and I fell into a relationship with a girl like you once before. That’s why I stepped away when I kissed you. I realised I can’t go there again. I can’t fix broken people because I get cut on the sharp edges.”
A girl like me? Realisation crashes down. I’m so fucking stupid, why didn’t I see this before? “You think I’m Liv?”
“You are.”
“How?”
“Similar then.”
“Similar isn’t the same, Jem.”
He drags his hair away from his face. “Okay, similar, but I feel I need to rescue you.”
No way. “Rescue me? What the hell are you? A super hero?”
“I mean fix you, make things better.”
I stand. “You think I need fixing? Rescuing? That is so insulting! That’s what you see when you look at me? A weak girl who needs protecting from the world?”
“No… Yes. Shit.” Jem looks past me, chewing on his mouth.
“Is this why you hold back from me? You think I’m weak, like Dan thought I was weak? I’m stronger than you fucking think!”
His refusal to react after I laid myself bare to him does more than irritate me. All I’ve done is give him more ammunition to prove I’m like his ex.
I lean toward him, face close to his. “I’m not Liv! How can I be her? What was she doing with her life? Getting stoned with you. What else was she doing with her life, Jem? How was she changing?”
“She wasn’t. She was stuck. I was helping…”
“Look at my face, Jem. If I needed rescuing, would I have been in the position to get this? Everything I’ve achieved in the last few months began before I met you. I started on a path away from Dan and you’ve helped me by helping the band. But you’re not saving me. I don’t want saving. I could’ve done all this whether you were here or not!”
Mind blown, I can’t think straight. I need out. Away from him. “I think I should leave if that’s how you feel. I doubt the police will bother you and the media will back off when they hear. Call Jax later about the band.” I march to the door and yank it open.
“Ruby. Stop.”
“I’ll pack now. See you in the studio in a couple of days, once the swelling goes down.”
“Wait. Please.” Jem steps past, between me and the open door, and holds his hands up as he faces me. “I won’t stop you physically; you know that. I’m asking you to stay.”
“What? So you can look after me?”
“No!” He places a hand on my uninjured cheek. “Because I want you here; the house is weird since I got back from the States. Empty.”
“Heard it before, Jem. This time you don’t get the kiss.” I twist my head so he’s no longer touching my cheek. “You’re screwing around with my feelings and I can’t d
o it! I have enough shit to deal with; I haven’t got time for yours.”
He closes the door and rests against it, looking straight into my eyes, something he normally avoids. “I dream about Liv.”
“That’s supposed to endear me to you, is it?”
Jem continues to hold my gaze and I can’t look away. This is the other Jem; the one I’m beginning to suspect only I see. “I have nightmares; the scene is on repeat in my head. Trying to wake Liv up and the gut-wrenching realisation, she was dead. It consumes me, Ruby. She’s with me all the time. Everything reminds me of her, that’s why you do too!”
“I’m not her!” I say through clenched teeth.
“Can you begin to understand what her dying did to me?” he shouts, and then lowers his voice as I stumble back. “Everyone thought Jem Jones didn’t give a fuck, but I was terrified. Guilty. They cleared my name, but I did it, Ruby. I hurt her and she took the drugs. It wasn’t an accident.”
“How could you know that? They said it was just a straightforward accidental overdose. Nothing else was found to indicate differently, I remember reading about it.”
“She left a note blaming me. Nobody else knows about it. I took the letter and destroyed it before anyone else could see; but I’ll never forget the words on the page.”
“That doesn’t make it your fault. She was on the edge before you met her.”
Jem’s paled; hands shaking and I take one. “Jem, why have you never told anyone?”
“How can I? I’m not being judged anymore!”
“Look at the mess you’re in over it. The guilt is eating you. People who know you and care won’t judge you. What the hell does it matter what strangers think?”
Like the rest of the world, I thought I knew Jem Jones. Then I met Jem and saw who he is, parts of him I doubt anybody else does. Yet, there’s so much buried beneath the broken pieces nobody sees, not even me. His eyes are vacant and Jem’s somewhere else, the space he shouldn’t go to. I place a hand on his cheek and he blinks back to me.
“You’re not responsible for another person’s mental health; you weren’t responsible for her death.”
