by Joelle Duff
I don’t remember ever feeling this terrible. Not when I had appendicitis, or when I fell out of my grandma’s tree and broke my arm. I was eleven years old, and Daniel had dared me to climb to the top. He was a cute boy so of course I had to prove myself, and then proceeded to fall twenty feet after a branch broke underneath me. My mother had yelled at me for the thirty minutes it took to ride to the hospital, telling me that young ladies did not climb trees and break their arms. That was for boys, and I was most definitely not a boy. I didn’t climb a tree again after that. In addition to the cast that I had to wear for six weeks, I also had to get twelve stitches on the back of my head, and three on my eyebrow. I still had a scar above my eye, though I’d perfected covering it up with concealer and powder since.
“Mellie,” I could hear my name, but I didn’t know where it was coming from. “Mellie Rose, can you hear me?”
Jackson used to be the only one who called me that, but that was my name to almost everyone since the premiere. I didn’t like it; not really. It had been a special name, and I kept meaning to ask Jackson if he said it on purpose, or if it was just a slipup.
I heard my name again, but I couldn’t tell if it were coming from my right or left, or if it was just my imagination. It sounded so far away, but so close at the same time. The voice was gentle, but it just contributed to the hammering in my head, like it was cracking away at my skull until my brain oozed out. The thought made me wince, and wincing made me cringe. I was a fucking mess.
I groaned, and the voice called my name again, more urgent this time.
“Mellie, I know you can hear me.”
It was Jackson calling my name. Nobody ever said my name like that; only Jackson.
I tried opening my eyes, but the bright light just got brighter. I squeezed my eyes shut, feeling as if the light had already wiggled its way into the crevices of my brain. Gross.
“Come on baby, I know you can do it. Open my eyes.”
He wanted me to open my eyes, and I wanted to. If only so that I could see him. Maybe he could make it all go away.
“Jackson,” I said. Or, at least, I thought I said. He didn’t acknowledge that he heard me at all.
I tried again. “Jack,” was all I could get out, but he heard me this time. Thank god, because I don’t think I could have done it again.
“Mellie, love, I’m here.” I felt him touch my forehead, and all of the sudden it was all okay. He really was here. I couldn’t leave him now.
“I love you.” I moved my mouth, but I couldn’t hear myself say anything. My mouth felt dry when I moved it, as if I hadn’t had a sip of water in days. I groaned.
“What do you need sweetheart? I’m here, just tell me what you need Mellie.” His voice was exactly what I needed. I felt like just hearing him say my name was enough, but I knew it wasn’t.
“Water,” I tried to get out, but I wasn’t sure if it worked. I was too tired to try again; I just wanted to feel his hands against my face again. And water.
“Of course love,” he said, but his voice sounded further away this time. I whimpered at the distance, suddenly feeling exposed, as if his absence was going to make it hurt again. Before I knew it, however, he was back. “Here, drink this.” I hadn’t opened my eyes, but I felt something at my lips, and I opened my mouth willingly.
I almost cried at how good the water felt sliding its way down my throat. It took the thirst away, of course, but made my head feel slightly better too. I let myself stay in the darkness for a few more moments before trying to open my eyes again.
I was more successful this time, but I instantly regretted the attempt. There were fluorescents right above my bed, and they bore directly into my head. I winced.
“Too bright,” I mumbled, and turned my head into the pillow. My neck was stiff too, but I needed to get away from light.
“I’ll get the lights sweetheart,” Jackson said, and a few seconds later I heard a click. I risked opening my eyes again, and was relieved when I realized that the lights had been turned off. It wasn’t completely dark, but it was better.
I turned my head in the other direction, to where Jackson’s voice was coming from. I had to squint my eyes, since even the little light in the room made my head ache, but I could see him. He was really here, wherever here was.
“Where am I?” I asked, trying to take in my surroundings. Everything was white; white walls, white ceiling, white floors. The room wasn’t big either, but I did notice a few chairs sitting in the corner.
“The hospital,” Jackson said.
As soon as he said it, I felt myself panicking. So it was real. Everything that had happened, in my apartment with Collin, had actually happened. Those few minutes had played themselves over and over in my head for I don’t even know how long, but it just felt like a terrible dream. A terrible, explicit, real dream.
I wanted to cry. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. I was supposed to be with Lucy, eating an expensive dinner and drinking fancy champagne and dancing at an exclusive club. Even if I hadn’t wanted to at the time, it was what I wished for now.
Lucy! I had called her when it happened, told her not to come up, but had she listened? The last thing I remembered was Collin hitting me, and then falling toward the bathtub. I prayed that she hadn’t come into the apartment and gotten hurt too.
“Lucy,” I said, trying to pull myself up, but Jackson had his hands on me, holding me down.
“Shhh,” he said. “Lucy is fine.”
“She didn’t come up?” I asked, though I knew she couldn’t have, not if she was okay.
“Don’t worry about that,” Jackson said, and I felt his hands start to stroke my face. I strained to open my eyes a little more so that I could see him.
As soon as his face came into focus, it was like a weight had been lifted off my chest. He was all I needed to feel strong. To feel safe.
“You’re here,” I cried, reaching up so that I could touch him. Realizing what I was trying to do, he leaned forward so that my hand found his cheek. He hadn’t shaven in a few days, and I was instantly reminded of Collin’s uncharacteristic scruff. I had to tell myself to breathe, that this was Jackson. He smelled like Jackson, if not a riper version of Jackson, and he had Jackson’s soft, melodic voice; the voice that had put me to sleep so many nights.
“I’m here baby,” he said, leaning forward a little more so he could press a kiss to my forehead. I felt better the moment I felt his warm lips on my cool skin. He really was here.
“I was so scared,” I said, and I knew I was whimpering. I really hoped there was nobody else in the room, but I couldn’t open my eyes enough to see.
“I know,” Jackson said, and I could hear the fear in his voice too. “But you’re safe now. I’m here, and I won’t let anything hurt you ever again.”
I felt myself nodding, but drifted off as he pressed his lips to my forehead once again.
Chapter 31
My head didn’t hurt so much the second time I woke up. When I opened my eyes, the lights were still off but I knew instantly that Jackson wasn’t next to me anymore. It felt so much colder in the room without him. When I turned to look where he sat before, I was surprised to see someone else. I wasn’t sure what else I was supposed to feel.
“Mom.”
She was here. Sitting next to me. In my hospital room. I hadn’t seen my mother in almost a year, but she was here now. As far as I knew, she’d never even been outside of Kansas, let alone all the way to California.
She was also giving me a look. One that I knew very well, but it felt different this time. She was looking at me harshly, scrutinizing me, forcing me to feel every ounce of disappointment I knew she carried. But now, even here in this unfamiliar hospital room, it didn’t affect me the same way that it used to.
“Melanie,” she said. I could hear the coldness in her voice. It was the same coldness, disappointment that I knew growing up. She was always so detached, but there was something else there now. I don’t know that I�
��d ever noticed it before, or maybe it just never had been there before.
Fear. It was unsettling.
“Why are you here?” I saw her wince slightly, before returning to her typically indifferent demeanor. I didn’t mean for it to come out in that way. I was glad she was there, in a way. She was still my mom, and it meant that she cared, even if it was in her own fucked up way. “What I meant was, you’re here.”
“Of course I’m here Melanie,” she snapped, but then her voice softened. “My daughter was attacked and nearly killed. Of course I’m here.”
“I’m alright though,” I said, really to only myself. I needed to reassure myself that I really was okay. My muscles still ached, and I felt like I’d swallowed an entire bag of cotton balls. I could feel all my toes and fingers though, even though just moving them felt like I was performing some incredible feat.
“Yes, the doctors say you’re going to be alright. You broke two ribs, and bruised a few more. There was some internal bleeding, and a concussion, but you should be okay to come home in a few days.”
Good god, all that couldn’t have happened to me. Could it? I knew I felt like shit, but what she was describing didn’t sound like it could have happened to me. That kind of stuff happened to other people, not normal, boring me.
“How long have I been in here?” In some ways, it felt like it all happened decades ago, but it still so fresh in other ways. It was strange.
“Three days. Josephine called me on Thursday morning, and I flew out later that afternoon.”
“Oh,” was all I said. I knew I shouldn’t have been surprised that she was there. Even if she was disappointed in me, I was still her daughter, and she still loved me. Or, I hoped she did, at least.
“Can I see Jackson?” I asked, turning my gaze toward the ceiling. My neck was starting to hurt from turning my head in her direction, but of course my mother didn’t see it that way.
“You’ve just woken up, and all you can think about it seeing your boyfriend? Always so selfish, that’s what you are Melanie. Did you even think of how all of this would affect us? There have been reporters back home for days now, hoping to get a statement out of your father or sisters. Not to mention, they’ve completely taken over your cousin’s café. Josephine hasn’t been able to open her doors since the attack. Have you thought of any of us?”
Josephine hadn’t been able to open the café? Well, now I felt like shit, and my mother knew it. She always knew exactly how she made me feel. It was why she did it in the first place.
But it pissed me off too. For years my mother gave a rat’s ass about Josephine, and now she was using her as a weapon. She still didn’t care about my cousin, but she knew that I did. It was just another one of her manipulative tactics, and I tried so hard not to let it get to me.
“I want to see Jackson,” I said again, my voice firmer this time. Even if I felt bad for bringing this shit storm on my family and friends, my mother didn’t have a right to make me feel this way. Not anymore.
She laughed, in her condescending way. “You’re not going to see him Melanie. As soon as the doctors release you, I’m bringing you home with me. It’s time that you’re done being so childish. You obviously can’t take care of yourself here. Not to mention, Daniel misses you, and you need to come home to him.”
Daniel misses me. Of course she brought that up too. She didn’t know half the story, but she would use what she did know until the end of time, making it feel like it was all my fault. Like leaving him somehow disgraced our family, and made me a terrible daughter. It was why I didn’t even bother telling them the whole story; either they wouldn’t believe me, or they just wouldn’t care.
I turned my head back toward my mother. My neck screamed in pain, but I ignored it. “I’m not going back with you. My home is here now, with Jackson. There’s nothing you can do or say that will make me go back to Kansas.”
My mother smiled, and I instantly felt sick to my stomach.
“I knew you would say that. Don’t worry, I came prepared.” She leaned down to the ground, reaching for something next to the chair. I was too high up, I couldn’t see what it was until she brought it up in front of me.
She nearly shoved the magazine in my face, forcing me to read the headline even though I refused to take it from her.
Jackson Traver seen in New York City with old flame Sophia Lewis.
Right under the caption was a picture of Jackson and Sophia, holding hands and laughing.
I knew what she was trying to do. She was an expert at manipulating her family, telling us all what we should feel and when. All of our lives had gone according to her plan, up until I packed up and moved to California, at least. This was her way of taking back that control, and compelling me back into that plan. She wasn’t forcing me physically; she was manipulating me emotionally. The Devlin family did not have feelings; not ones that we expressed, at least. We were submissive, quiet, complacent. We did what we were supposed to do, when we were supposed to do it. This was my mother’s way of showing me that my own way, my needs and my wants, were wrong. They would hurt me; that being dutiful was more beneficial to me than being independent.
A year before, I would have gone back to Kansas. I would have listened to my mother, and just gone back to my old room in my parents’ house. I would have laid in bed at night, trying desperately to get the tears to come, but knowing that they wouldn’t; not while my mother still had control over me.
It didn’t matter if the headline was true or not, though I’d learned (the hard way) not to believe any of the stories that the tabloids published. She wouldn’t win this. Somewhere in the last nine months, in the fear and anger and hurt that I’d felt, I found myself. Maybe it was because of these things that I finally knew who I was, and where I belonged. To be honest, it didn’t even matter where I belonged, just that I didn’t belong to anyone. Not unwillingly, at least. I’d chosen Jackson, and I belonged to him. But it was my choice.
Sometime during that internal monologue, my doctor had come into my room, Jackson with him. He smiled at me, and I knew. All I could see in his eyes was concern and love; not resentment or disappointment or any of the other things that oozed from my mother’s presence. I wasn’t afraid of being hurt by him. He would never hurt me. I’d never been so sure of anything in my entire life. And I loved him for it. It was just one of the thousands of reasons why I loved him.
I smiled back at him, and I barely even noticed the pounding in my head or the pain in my neck. All I felt and saw was Jackson. He was everything to me, and he looked at me like I was everything to him.
Even that didn’t matter. What mattered was that through him I’d found myself. He was the one that let me be me, tears and all. It was why I never felt at home in Kansas; because I was never allowed to be myself. I was always told who to be and what to do. Not here. Never here.
“Ms. Devlin, I’m glad to see that you’re awake. How are you feeling?” the doctor asked. I hadn’t met him before, but he looked nice. And Jackson looked at him as if he trusted him, which made me feel instantly better.
“I’m alright, thank you Doctor,” I said. My voice was quiet, but it was strong.
“That’s good to hear. We’re going to be doing a few more tests, just to make sure there was no permanent damage, but I would say that you can go home tomorrow, if you’re feeling up to it.”
“That would be fantastic. I’m ready to go home.” I don’t know that I’d ever said truer words in my life.
“Now, I wouldn’t recommend that you go back to living on your own just yet. The officers that were in here earlier had a concern with the security of your apartment as well. Do you have someone that you can stay with for a while, at least until you’re back to one hundred percent?”
Before I could respond, the two other people in the room answered for me. I didn’t even have to open my mouth.
I looked to my mother, who was watching me with her mouth set. Nobody ever questioned her authority, or went again
st her decision. Her eyes were hard on me; there was no warmth there. And I knew; going home to Kansas would be like going back to some empty hotel room, void of any affection or love or even concern. Some people could live like that, I knew. It was easier, in a way. Emotion was an all or nothing thing, and it was just too hard to feel sometimes.
And then I looked to Jackson, who was standing at the foot of the bed, watching me with completely different eyes. All I could see was concern and love, nothing cold or empty. His eyes smiled, as if he knew exactly what I was thinking.
He was home. He was always going to be home.
Epilogue
I was discharged from the hospital the next day, and I came home to Jackson’s apartment to all of our friends and Jackson’s family waiting for us. My mother went straight from the hospital to the airport; she didn’t even acknowledge our invitation to stay with us for a few days.
Lucy’s arms were around me instantly, ignoring Jackson’s warning to be careful. I was thankful she was there; I’d yet to see her since the accident, and I wanted to hear her story. Jackson had refused to tell me what happened, not because he was afraid of my reaction, but because he knew that Lucy was eager to tell me.
“So, tell me again what you did when you got into the apartment, like I explicitly told you not to?” I asked, once we were settled on the couch. Everyone else, which included Jackson’s siblings and dad, along with Jude and Josephine and the girls from the café, surrounded us.
“I told you!” Lucy said, laughing. “I ran up the stairs, and grabbed the vase on the coffee table before heading back into the bathroom. You were lying on the floor, and I went kind of nuts. I broke the glass over the bastard’s head, and he was out cold before he even knew I was in the apartment.”
Of course she did.
Everyone was talking at once after that, asking Lucy and I questions about what had really happened. Jackson hadn’t let anyone come to see me in the hospital, afraid that the attention would slow down my recovery, but he couldn’t keep them away once I got home. Thankfully Lucy left out the part where she walked in to Collin with his pants around his ankles. That was still something I didn’t know that I would ever really get over.
