Living Backwards

by Tracy Sweeney

  “How about the lot by the cliffs,” he replied. “Six o’clock?”

  “Sure. Six o’clock,” I repeated, trying to appear calm and confident when I was anything but.

  I wasn’t even sure what I was going to say to him. Before Luke, I never had to tell someone how much I wanted them or how much I needed them. No one had ever made me feel the way he did. He honestly scared me to death. But since there was no way of knowing if I’d ever get back to my life in 2011, if I was stuck in 1999, I wanted to be stuck with him.

  “I have to meet Josh to work on some problems for our chem final,” he said, looking at his watch. “I’ll see you tonight?”

  His eyes burned through me, and I wondered if he planned on kissing me again. Instead, he grasped my hand tightly and rubbed a small circle into my palm with his thumb. After a quick squeeze, he released it and walked back into the building without another word.

  I stood frozen in place, watching him as he left. Well, I watched certain parts of him as he left. Why hadn’t I watched him leave more often?

  I knew it would be impossible to concentrate on finals when I had just been minutes away from tearing Luke’s clothes off behind the school gym. Instead of studying like the good girl I once was, I was ogling Luke’s ass and wondering if he wore boxer briefs or rolled commando.

  I spent the rest of the day extremely distracted, but somehow managed to tackle my last two final exams. Driving home with my stomach full of butterflies, I counted down the hours until I could see him again. I found myself envisioning Luke in a tuxedo at the prom, and wearing his cap and gown. I saw myself riding on the back of his bike again, and laying side by side in the grassy clearing by the ocean’s edge, looking at the stars. My thoughts shifted to the future, wondering what it would be like to have the man in the black and white photo standing behind the bar and smiling that smile at me.

  When I walked into my living room a short time later, I was startled to find my mother home, sitting on the couch, and my father pacing the room furiously. The sound of the door closing caught their attention and their stern faces turned to me. I winced as I noticed the empty bottle of Captain Morgan on the coffee table. I forgot that I shoved that under my bed.

  Fantastic.

  “Sit down, Jillian,” my father began in a scarily calm voice. I could tell he was upset, but I had never really gotten into trouble before so I wasn’t sure how angry he really was. I decided it was best to comply.

  “What…how…I can’t believe….”

  Okay. He’s super mad.

  “Henry,” my mother interrupted, sending my father a look that said she would continue the interrogation. I had to say, for a police officer, he was rather ineffective.

  “Jillian,” she began. “Can you explain to me why I found an empty bottle of rum underneath my seventeen-year-old daughter’s bed? Is this the same bottle that’s been missing from our liquor cabinet?”

  I stared blankly at my mom. Offering to run to the store and replace it probably wasn’t what she was looking for.

  “Mom, Dad, I’m sorry, I was…curious and when I tried it…it just tasted horrible. I can’t believe people actually drink that stuff! I, for one, was disgusted so I just…poured the whole thing down the drain,” I blurted out. I felt my body inadvertently shudder. I would never waste alcohol.

  “Do you really think….are we supposed to…” my father continued fuming until my mother shot him another cautioning glare. Thank God the crime rate was low in Reynolds, and he didn’t need to do this often. He might hurt himself.

  “Let me get this straight,” my mother added doubtfully. “You took a sip, hated it and decided to rid the house of alcohol by pouring the remainder down the drain?”

  “Yes?” I replied, wavering. I’d admit this wasn’t the best excuse I probably could have come up with, but it had been a rough day.

  “Nice try, Jillian,” she replied. “Go to your room. You’re grounded.”

  There was a part of me that was a little excited to be grounded for the first time. It was a rite of passage that I never experienced. However, when I remembered that I was supposed to meet Luke at the cliffs, my heart plummeted. While I had planned to put on my best disgruntled teenager act, I didn’t really need to pretend. I stormed upstairs and into my bedroom. The phone rang as soon as I closed the door.

  “Hello,” I answered in a huff.

  “Hey, Jillian! Great news!”

  “Danielle, this isn’t a good time,” I began, dragging the corded phone across the room to my desk.

  “This is a fantastic time because I found you a fantastic prom dress,” she replied triumphantly. I was suddenly having déjà vu as I thought back to the day I hit my head two weeks ago because of her damned skinny jeans. A prom dress from Danielle could possibly kill me.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me what it looks like?”

  I knew better than to disagree or debate her. She had picked out some of the most fabulous items of clothing I’d ever owned. I was pretty sure that the prom dress would be incredible, ridiculously over-priced and probably dangerous.

  “Sure. Yes. Of course,” I replied. I really didn’t have time for chatting. I needed to find the aftercare instructions for my tattoo where Luke wrote his phone number.

  “It’s black with silver trim and it’s just the most adorable thing you will ever see,” she gushed.

  “It sounds great,” I added, preoccupied with my search. “Listen, my parents found that bottle of rum I swiped when I made the Pad Thai and I’m in a lot of trouble. Maybe we can discuss this tomorrow?”

  “Oh no!” she muttered. “What are you going to do?”

  “Throw myself at their mercy? I don’t know. I already tried lying and it didn’t go very well. I’m going to hang up before they remember I have a phone in here and take it away,” I explained finally spying the rumpled up paper jammed underneath one of my textbooks. I knocked my Word of the Day calendar over in the process. Today’s word had been misconstrue.

  Misconstrue: 1. to misunderstand the meaning of; 2. take in a wrong sense; 3. misinterpret.

  Thinking of my current predicament, I wanted to toss the whole calendar across the room. I needed to call Luke and explain before he got the wrong idea and assumed I was hiding again.

  “Well, good luck,” she replied sympathetically. “I’ll bring the dress to school tomorrow. I have to get going anyway. Meg found a dress, too, and I’m trying to convince her that heels with six-inch clear platforms are only for strippers and prostitutes. Chat later!” she added before hanging up.

  My stomach again did a flip flop as I stared at the phone knowing I had to call and cancel on Luke. It was already five, so I needed to call soon to catch him. I took a deep, calming breath and began punching in the numbers.

  “Hello.” The sound of Grace Chambers’s voice immediately put a smile on my face, despite my nerves.

  “Hello…Grace,” I stammered. “This is Jillian. May I speak to Luke, please?”

  “Oh, hello, Jillian,” she greeted cheerfully. “So nice to hear from you. Luke had plans this evening so he isn’t home right now. I’ll tell him you called, though.”

  How the hell did we survive without a cell phones?

  “Oh, thank you, I was supposed to meet up with him later, but I’m…well, I won’t be able to make it,” I explained, suddenly embarrassed that I’d been grounded.

  “Oh no,” she replied. “I’ll make sure to tell him. I’ll see you Thursday night, though?”

  “Yes, of course,” I added. “I actually just spoke to my friend Danielle who has apparently found the perfect dress for me. I haven’t seen it yet, but from what I hear, it’s black with some silver in it. The silver has me a bit concerned. I’m just praying I don’t look like the prom date from the future.”

  “I’m sure you’ll look beautiful,” she said kindly.

  “Thank you, Grace, and please apologize to Luke for me,” I added.

  “Of course,” she replied before
disconnecting.

  I stared at the phone again, feeling uneasy. Glancing at my watch I knew in an hour Luke could be sitting at the cliff waiting for me. If he didn’t head home first, he was going to think I stood him up. I just hoped he’d understand.

  That night in my dream, I found myself walking through the front door of a bar.

  Behind the dark wooden counter stood the bartender. I watched his back muscles flex beneath his crisp oxford shirt as he twisted his towel around a glass, then returned it to the drying rack.

  “What do I need to do to get some service around here?” my dream-self asked, settling down on one of the barstools. I crossed my legs, allowing my skirt to fall away from my upper thigh. The bartender turned around, his brown hair askew and his smile crooked as his gaze rested on my legs.

  “I’m fairly certain you’ve been served quite well,” he replied with an evil smirk.

  “That may be true,” my dream-self quipped, enjoying the banter.

  “But since today is a special day,” he added, coming out from behind the bar. “I may be able to help you.”

  “Today’s a special day?” I asked, teasing him. “Remind me again?”

  “I think I reminded you last night,” he replied, whispering in my ear, “and this morning before work and again in the shower.”

  “I think I may need you to refresh my memory,” I murmured as his lips swept across my neck. I grabbed the back of his head and held his mouth against my neck as he devoured me. Dragging his tongue along my collarbone, he nipped and teased before descending on my lips, leaving me breathless and wanting.

  “Happy Anniversary, baby,” he said softly, grabbing my hand and spinning the rings on my finger.

  “Happy Anniversary,” I replied.

  When I woke up, I could almost smell the beer, mint and Luke.

  Arriving at school, my eyes immediately scanned the lot looking for him. I was struck by how in a day I had gone from skulking around the halls dodging him, to nervously fidgeting as I waited for his arrival. With Senior Week activities officially beginning, the parking lot was buzzing with excitement. Luke hadn’t arrived yet so I wasn’t able to share in the merriment. We were only in school for a few hours for an assembly so I needed to find him as soon as I could. I didn’t want to risk waiting until later in the day. I could easily see him skipping out on the assembly, and I couldn’t imagine him going to a school-sponsored bonfire.

  I decided to be bold and head over to his locker, and explain myself before he got the wrong impression. There was no use in hiding how I felt anymore. I think I had made my feelings abundantly clear when I attacked him behind the gym. I needed him to know that I wanted him as much as he seemed to want me, probably more. I just hoped that Grace was able to convey my regret for not being able to see him and do some damage control. I didn’t have a great track record, and I knew I would think the worst if I were in his place.

  Turning the corner, heading towards his row of lockers, I froze, panic-stricken by the sight before me. Luke’s back was facing me as he leaned against his locker door. Facing him in all her spandex glory, was Val.

  For weeks now, I waited for Val to ask Luke to the prom, knowing that seeing them together would hurt like hell. When he asked me to go instead, I thought that maybe I’d dodged a bullet even if going with him was risky. But nothing prepared me for the pain I felt seeing him leaning into her as she twirled a lock of her over-permed, over-styled hair around her skanky, little finger. I wanted to kill her.

  I slowly inched my way down the hall so that I could hear what she was saying while trying to remain undetected.

  “So have you thought at all about what we talked about the other day?” she asked, chewing on her bottom lip.

  “Oh right,” he replied. “The bonfire. Yeah.”

  “Really?” she exclaimed with a bounce, jiggling her partially-covered boobs in his face. I had always assumed it took years for Val to become the tramp I’d come to know so well. In reality, she’d always been one. “That’s fantastic! I’m so glad we’ll get to spend some time together. It’s been too long.”

  I felt like someone punched me in the stomach. Luke was going to the bonfire with Val.

  I barreled through the doors and down the stairs, desperately trying to hold back the tears that were threatening to fall. I couldn’t function. I couldn’t be here. I couldn’t deal with the idea of Luke and Val. I knew it was possible that he would assume I blew him off, and I was prepared to explain myself, but I never imagined that he would have given up on me so easily. The pain was so overwhelming—so acute—if I didn’t know better, I would swear I needed medical attention. But I knew better. I knew why it hurt so much. I knew why I had never felt this way before, not with anyone else.

  When I reached my car I could barely see the door. I blindly reached for the handle, blinking back tears. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I passed his bike and tears began to fall. I waited too long and I blew it.

  I was in love with him and I was too late.

  CHAPTER 13

  Jillian

  During our first year as roommates, Danielle and Megan introduced me to many new and interesting experiences. I didn’t know what beer pong was. I’d never cut a class. I never stayed out all night or watched the sun come up. I never had a boy in my bed. Hell, I couldn’t even play “I Never” because I had never done anything. So, I relished each new experience feeling as though I was finally an active participant in life instead of a spectator watching from the sidelines.

  One thing I was not pleased about was Megan’s insistence that I learn to love horror movies. She argued that it was a perfect activity for a first date that had some potential. If the date was going well, there was the opportunity to grab his hand or snuggle into his side when the action became too intense. If the date was a disaster, you could ask to leave because it was too hard to watch. So it was before a date with a cute guy from our dorm that Megan suggested we scope out Final Destination. If I was able to make it through the movie, I could suggest it for our date. While in theory any movie that involved the decapitation of Seann William Scott scored points with me, I still watched the majority of it with my hands covering my face.

  Megan continued to force me into watching similar films. I never took a liking to the genre, but that one movie stuck with me. So now, sitting on my bed, my face red and splotchy, I was reminded of the premise. You can’t cheat fate. Luke and Val weren’t together in the future, this I knew, but it was clear to me that fate wanted them together now. Who was I to fight fate?

  I found it ironic that after almost three weeks of running around in circles, the day I decided to throw caution to the wind and follow my heart, fate kicked me in the proverbial balls. Fate is kind of an asshole. I may have really wanted to be angry at Luke, and I certainly wanted to kill Val, but when it came down to it, there really wasn’t anyone to blame. Luke wasn’t meant for me and it hurt.

  While I tried to come to terms with the fact that he was off somewhere probably getting mauled by Val, I knew there was no way that I was going to the bonfire to witness it. After having him so close and then losing him, the sight of them together would be too much for me to handle. The prospect of sitting on my bed and sulking didn’t appeal to me either. If I were back in 2011, Danielle, Megan and I would buy some obscure and ridiculously expensive bottle of chardonnay, order too much Chinese food from the cute little restaurant around the corner and watch reruns of Project Runway. We’d eat, drink and make fun of the designers until one of us (usually me) passed out or fell asleep. But I didn’t want chardonnay or Chinese food. And I obviously couldn’t watch Heidi and Tim Gunn either. I needed a distraction.

  It took less than a minute to decide what I was going to do and where I was going to go. Hopping off the bed, I grabbed the keys from my desk and scowled at the Word of the Day.

  Candescence: 1. The state of being white hot; 2. incandescence.

  Oh yes, I’m just on fire these days.

 
; I jogged down the stairs and began rifling through the storage closet in the back porch. Once I found an old duffle bag to use, I stuffed the old scratchy wool blanket my dad used for camping inside. I couldn’t find the kerosene lamp I knew we once had so I settled for one of the hundreds of Mag Lights we had lying around. It was one of the perks of living with a cop. I also needed reading material. While That Jillian would have nursed her heartbreak by flipping through the worn pages of Sense and Sensibility, I’d rather poke my eye out. I had already lost the boy. I didn’t need to be reminded that like Marianne Dashwood, my Willoughby was at the bonfire with Miss Grey. Only in my version, Miss Grey had a bad perm, big boobs and a knack for defiling antiques. So instead of torturing myself, I decided to bypass the reading material.

  Fortunately, both of my parents were working so I wouldn’t need to hold a press conference, lying about where I was headed. Throwing the duffle into my car, I climbed in and retraced the route I had driven with Luke just a few days before. After taking a few wrong turns, I soon drove past the small parking area where we left his bike on Sunday night before traipsing into the woods. As I pulled into the lot, it occurred to me that there was a major flaw in my plan. Although I had my dad’s trusty Mag Light, the idea of walking by myself along the dark path was not very appealing. In fact, it was a really bad idea. I could come across wild animals, serial killers or giant spiders. It was the alternative that kept me going. I’d rather chance an encounter with a serial killer—possibly even a giant spider—than head to the bonfire.

  I grabbed my bag from the front seat and jumped out, prepared to take on any spiders or serial killers head-on. On an intellectual level, I knew it had taken twenty minutes or so to walk from the parking lot to the ledge; however, alone at night, I was convinced I had been walking for hours and I’d never find my way back.