The Demarcation of Jack

by Blakely Bennett

“But I’m not sure I can be any different than I am.”

  “I’m not sure you can be, either,” she said sadly.

  “You know, I’m enjoying my life. I like my life. Even when I’m down and pissed off about a sculpture, I’m enjoying my time. I enjoy my friends. I like to have them come over. You know, it’s not like I’m hurting anybody nor doing anything fucked up. You know, I’m … I’m not sure what you want … other than for me not to be who I am. What do you really want from me?”

  “I guess what I’m saying is that I can’t stay with you the way you are. And you’re right, it would be wrong for me to ask you to change.”

  “But you haven’t said, other than me not being how I am, you haven’t said what it is you want. What is it that you want? You want me not to have my friends over anymore? If I’m in a bad mood, how does that affect you?”

  “I think it’s an accumulation of years of the rollercoaster. I’m not willing to put up with it anymore,” she said, straightening her back. “The craziness, the—”

  “I don’t think you’re being fair, Jenna. I mean you still haven’t said what you want. What is it I could do to make your life happy?” he asked, taking a swig of beer and placing it a little too hard back down on the end table.

  “Ideally, I would like you to have a real job,” she said as if saying the words pained her.

  “Why? We don’t have any money problems. You don’t have to work if you don’t want to.”

  “It’s not that. As an artist you … you … it’s emotionally draining to have to take care of you.”

  “But you don’t have to take care of me.”

  “Well, that’s how I feel,” she said, moving from the bed to the rattan chair next to the table and crossing her arms in front of her.

  “Jenna, you … but you’re the one who’s changing. I mean, I don’t know what to say to you. I mean still, you want me to get a different job? That’s the one thing you want and you know it’s the one thing I’m not going to do.”

  “No. You know what? I’ve said this from the beginning, this is about me, and this is

  not about you. I’m angry with you because I’ve changed. And that’s not fair. I’m the one that’s made the changes,” she said, glancing away.

  “Yes, but I’ve never asked you—”

  “I’ve changed away from you.”

  “This is ridiculous. I’ve never asked you to take care of me. I mean, those are choices you made for yourself and now you’re holding me responsible for them,” he said, pointing at her and then back at himself.

  “Well, I don’t know how to reconcile the two. I don’t know how to be who I am and you be who you are and stay in this relationship. I don’t know how to do that right now, Jack.”

  “I don’t want this relationship to end,” he said, dropping his shoulders.

  “I know you don’t,” she said, sitting rigid and clenching her teeth so hard the muscles in her jaw flexed and ached.

  “I love you so much,” he said.

  “You know what? I believe that, I really do,” she said, uncrossing her arms. She stood and began to pace.

  “Why don’t you take some time to figure out who you are or whatever it is that’s going on with you? I mean why is this … you know, I don’t understand why you’re angry all the time.”

  “I’m … I’m not as angry as I am afraid. I don’t want this relationship to end, Jack, but I’m afraid that’s the direction it’s heading and I don’t know how to stop it.” She stopped in front of the TV console and rested her elbow on top of the cabinet.

  “Sounds to me like you do want it to end. I mean—that’s what I’m hearing.”

  “Then I don’t think you’re listening. If I wanted to end it, I would walk away. I wouldn’t have come on this trip,” she said, crossing her arms again. “I wouldn’t have put up with your crap for the last couple of months.”

  “Well—”

  “I think my behavior indicates I want this relationship to work, Jack. I just don’t know how to make it work.”

  “Well, what do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know. This may be our last hurrah,” she said, looking him straight in the eyes.

  “See? But again you’re talking about the relationship ending and yet you say you don’t want it to end,” he said, staring back with a pained expression on his face.

  “You’re not listening again Ja—”

  “You’re confusing me. This is our last hurrah?” he said, holding the sides of his head as if to keep it from exploding. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  “I didn’t say it was the last hurrah,” she screamed back. “I said it may be.”

  “That’s a pretty pessimistic attitude, even coming from you,” he said, turning away.

  “Well, you can keep pushing my buttons, Jack, and you’re going to get what you say you don’t want,” she said, glaring at him.

  “I don’t want it to be over but you—the only thing you can tell me is that you don’t want me to be an artist anymore.”

  “No. I want you to listen to what I’m saying and you’re not.”

  “I am listening,” he said, raising his arms in the air with his palms up. “I asked you what you wanted from me,” he said, slapping his legs with both hands. “And you said you want me to have a normal job. And you know that’s not going to happen. It’s not in my makeup and I still don’t get what that will change—”

  “You don’t listen—”

  “It’s not like you’re even giving me the chance to do anything different.”

  “Jack, you are who you are. This is so beyond—maybe you can’t hear what I’m saying,” she said as if an epiphany had revealed itself. “Or maybe we’re going to end up being the best friends two people can have for the rest of our lives.”

  “Well, that won’t work for me,” he said sadly, holding his arms in close.

  “You can close the doors in whatever direction you want to but—”

  “You know, you say you don’t want it to end and everything out of your mouth is its ending.”

  “I’m going for a walk,” she said, getting up and stalking toward the door without looking back.

  She tried to slam the door hard enough to make a statement, but the door resisted and quietly shut behind her.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Jenna trudged down the carpeted hall carrying the weight of the argument on her mind. It seemed inevitable she would have to make a serious decision in the near future. At the end of the walkway, she saw a courtesy telephone. She contemplated calling Marc but hesitated because of her growing attraction to him. She ambled around the resort for a while trying to clear her thoughts. She finally picked up a phone and dialed his room.

  “Hello,” Summer said.

  “Hi Summer, is Marc available?”

  “He’s not here at the moment. He went downstairs to the lobby to confirm dinner for Le Gourmet on Thursday night. Can I help?”

  “Sure. I wanted to discuss a couple ideas about Jack and me with Marc.”

  “Well, that’s his forte and for good reason. I’m not very good at listening to the whole story. I hope you find him. Tell him you talked to me and I won’t expect him back for a while.”

  Jenna went straight to the concierge’s office where Marc had just received an envelope confirming his reservations. She pushed through the glass door and stood next to him.

  “Hi. This is a nice surprise. What are you doing here?” he said, shifting in her direction.

  “I need to talk with you if it’s okay,” she said, looking down at the floor.

  “Sure. What can I do for you?”

  “By the way, I found you because I spoke to Summer,” she said, peeking up at him. “She said to tell you that she would see you later or when you get there or something.” She lowered her voice and asked, “Anyway, if you can spare a few minutes, can we talk about my relationship with Jack?”

  “Sure. No problem,” Marc said. “Let’s take a
table at the back of the Calabash.”

  They walked through the nearly empty open-air restaurant and sat at a table in the far corner away from the pool.

  “I’m not sure what’s going on between us, but that’s not what this is about,” Jenna said. “I need to sort out what’s going on with me and Jack.”

  “I completely understand and will endeavor to keep my lips to myself.”

  “Good,” she said, holding back a smile.

  “I should tell you up front it’s really important to think over what you’re about to do. Once the talking has started, there’s no turning back,” he said, tilting his head slightly forward and raising his eyebrows. He waited for a reply that didn’t come.

  She sat across from him, staring toward the pool area.

  “Are you sure I’m the person you want to do this with? I don’t want this to cause any problems between us.”

  Jenna turned back to him and said, “That’s the last thing I would want. I really want to bounce some things off you and get an idea of where I want to go and what I need to do to get there.”

  “Okay, that’s fine,” he said.

  “It’s Jack, or should I say, it’s our relationship. Things have changed, and we seem to be having so many arguments these past few months,” she said, flipping a napkin back and forth. “I feel like I’m pushing him away and there’s nothing I can do about it. The end of us seems inevitable.” Jenna grimaced at having said the words aloud and began tapping her foot against the leg of the table. After regaining control, she continued, “I’m very confused about all of it and Jack’s not making it any easier.”

  The two sat in silence for a minute with Jenna’s body speaking volumes: her foot bobbed up and down while she bit the end of her fingernail.

  “You seem very much like a volcano that’s been letting off steam once in a while, but now you feel like you might blow.”

  “That’s a good description. I’m ready to erupt and I don’t know how to stop it once it’s underway. I’m terrified of the results.”

  “That’s understandable.” He sat forward, placing his forearms on the table. “I’m hearing a couple of things that I would like for you to help me understand more clearly. It seems to me that this is not about Jack, but about you.”

  “I hear what you’re saying but you don’t know what it’s like being married to him. He doesn’t listen when I talk. Shit, our whole lives revolve around him.”

  “And whose fault is that? If you look, you’ll see that you’ve been making choices for yourself all along. You’re at the point now where you want to start making different choices. I think you can do that and still be with Jack.”

  “Maybe this was a bad idea,” Jenna said, angling her body away from Marc.

  “Maybe, but I think you have the strength to take a good look at yourself. It’s easy to focus on Jack and his problems. As you’ve said, you’ve been doing it for years. Why not take the chance to dive into you, find out what’s making you tick?”

  “Because I feel like ... if he would just do certain things, everything would be fine, that I would be fine.”

  “You can’t be fine based on someone else’s behavior. You’ve lost the most important part of any relationship—the feeling that you’re staying in the relationship through your own choice.”

  “Maybe I do have a choice, but not one I like,” she said, folding her hands on the table. She paused. “Yeah, okay, I can see how you would say that. So how do I get my choice back?”

  “That’s an interesting question. You never lost your choice—you only drew that conclusion because you perceived yourself as trapped. But you’re not trapped at all, except by your own devices. You’ve concentrated so heavily on Jack that you may have missed your own solution.”

  “My solution to what?”

  “What’s the bottom line for you right now? What’s driving this anger about who you are or who you’re becoming? This is about how you feel about yourself in this relationship. Jack has his own issues, but they belong to Jack. When you think about you in this relationship what comes to mind?”

  “I mostly think about how Jack is still where he was ten years ago. He needs to grow up,” she said, folding her arms in front of her.

  “And you? Are you satisfied with your ‘growing up’ at this time?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Are you more grown up than Jack?”

  “Yes. At least I’m responsible,” she said, coming forward in her chair.

  “Does Jack cheat on you, beat you, or lie to you?”

  “No. He doesn’t clean up after himself. Sometimes he gets into a funk and doesn’t produce anything for weeks on end.”

  “And you don’t know if he will again?”

  “Yes, exactly,” she said, uncrossing her arms.

  “And that leaves you feeling vulnerable and dependent on Jack, but you don’t want to be independent because, you would have to—what?”

  A silence fell and the two sat quietly for a few moments.

  “Grow up,” she said, chuckling at the realization. “This is about me. Damn.”

  “Listen, take it easy on yourself and on Jack, if you want,” he said, smiling broadly. “It seems to me what you’re going through is a very healthy part of the growing and evolving. It’s good for you to clarify your values every few years.” Marc sat back in his chair allowing his legs to slide under the table. “We aren’t static beings, you know. We change. I suspect even Jack has made a few changes along the way, imperceptible as they may be to you.

  “I believe it will be difficult to clearly see what’s going on in your relationship until you can clearly see yourself. It seems it’s time for you to get to know yourself again and make the changes you need. Three weeks from now you may still want to kick Jack to the curb, but at least you’ll be clear about your motives.”

  “Whoa, that’s a lot to take in. I’ve got so much to think about,” she said as she reached over to touch his arm. “Thanks … thank you. I think it’s time for a long walk on the beach.”

  “Sounds great. We’ll see you tonight, I hope.”

  “Yeah, maybe.”

  Jenna stepped to the edge of the terrace and inclined against the wall. She looked out over the beach and decided to find a more secluded area to meditate on her new revelations. She walked back through the lobby and asked at the front desk where she could go for a quiet retreat.

  Jenna meandered to the garden, where she hoped to spend time thinking about her conversation with Marc. The Couples garden left nothing to Mother Nature but the growing. The gardener manicured every corner, tended every flower with the care of a foster father, and yet, the garden had the appearance of a rainforest. Giant rattan swings, roughly in the shape of elephant trunks, hung ready to curl a couple into an intimate private space. Jenna rolled into the first swing, turned onto her side, and mulled over her conversation with Marc.

  Oh my God, what’s happening to me? Her lips began to quiver and she could feel her stomach tighten as thoughts flittered in her mind. What do you want? No, not that … I’m not even going to think it. I love you, Jack, you asshole, she thought and could not hold back what had been pushing on her throat and pulling at her heart for the last few months. “This hurts so badly,” she said aloud, finally weeping. She turned away from the trail to cover the convulsive gasps she emitted as she sobbed. She allowed the fearful crying to continue unabated until she felt drained. If this is all about me, then all the fighting is my fault. Oh, Jack. She lay quietly. The afternoon passed while she made decisions that she never thought she would have to face.

  “My lady,” a resonant voice said from behind her. “Are you okay?” A man strolled closer and asked, “Trouble in paradise? Not to worry … no problem. The day after a storm in Jamaica is always the most beautiful, my lady,” he said in a deep reassuring tone. “It clears the air and everything is brighter. Ya? Ya mon.”

  She brushed her hair from her face and looked at the stranger. “Are
you the gardener?”

  “Ya mon. Is there anything I can do for you, my lady?”

  “How do I adopt the ‘no problem’ attitude?”

  “You focus on what is instead of what you wish for and therefore are always satisfied.”

  “Huh. That makes sense.”

  “Anything else, my lady?”

  “I think you’ve given me just what I needed,” Jenna said. She sat on the side of the swing, preparing to stand up.

  “Irie, mon. Remember, in Jamaica a problem is no problem,” he said, turning to walk away.

  “I’m beginning to believe that,” she said and eagerly pushed out of the swing, heading straight to Jack.

  Jenna knocked on the door of the room and waited. I am so sorry, she rehearsed in her head, and I’ll make it up to you. Jack didn’t answer. “Jack,” she called. “Jack, are you in there?” She felt a rush of angst as her imagination took over. “Oh shit. Jack. Did you—”

  “You shouldn’t leave your key in the room,” he said from behind her as he teetered up to her on his crutches.

  “Jack ... Jack, listen, I am so sorry about what we’ve been going through,” she said, holding back the tears.

  “I’m sorry as well, but can I get in there and off my foot?” he said as he squeezed past her. “I want to hear all about it. Please don’t leave anything out.” He winced. “I swear to god, I’m listening for all its worth and I promise to do a lot more of it. Okay?” He unlocked the door and headed for the bed.

  “What were you doing out there?”

  “I felt like shit because of our argument. Thought I might be able to find you.” He stood the crutches next to the end table and wheeled around, allowing his full weight to drop onto the bed. He lifted his leg onto the pillows and sighed.

  “Oh, honey, that’s sweet, but don’t do that again,” she said, pointing her finger at him. “We have some partying still to do and you need to get well.” She helped him straighten his leg and propped it up on two pillows.

  “What the hell brought you around?” Jack asked.

  “I had a talk with Marc, but the clincher was the gardener. It’s a long story. I’ll tell you all about it later, but right now, do you think I can stretch out here next to you and we can make out a little?”