by Kelly Oram
Jordan shook her head. “Don’t do that. Drive back with her. You guys need some time. Don’t worry about me. I can get back on my own.”
“I’ll drive back with you,” Ty offered quietly.
“Or I can,” Chris added.
When Jordan shook her head, Dad spoke up. “I can ride down with you, if you’d like.”
She met the faces of my dad and brothers with a look that showed both how touched she was by their kindness and how much it pained her to refuse it. “It’s okay. I think I’d prefer to go alone. I could use a nice, quiet drive. A little downtime after this crazy weekend will be nice.”
She smiled, but there was something devastating about it. This wasn’t fair. This wasn’t supposed to be how this went. We’d just had the most amazing weekend. It shouldn’t end like this. I got the feeling I’d just broken her heart, when I was the one who’d sworn I would never hurt her. I wanted to scream. Shout. Reassure her that this was nothing, and that nothing would change between us, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think that was true, and I couldn’t lie to her. “I’m sorry.”
She sucked in a deep breath. “Me too.”
The next week was one of the longest of my life. School was gearing up for finals, I’d taken on a really ambitious task with this new song I’d written for the showcase with only three weeks to find the right musicians and pull it all together—and Sophie was endlessly nagging me about this, that, and basically everything in the universe. My life really had gone from the peaceful, playful happy Technicolor world of White Christmas to the dark, suspenseful, stressful, doom and gloom of Die Hard.
Sunday afternoon, Jordan was gone at work, and I’d finished all my homework. Sophie had wanted me to call her to discuss the possibility of living together next semester. I hadn’t figured out a way to shut her down without having her freak out on me, so I wasn’t about to make that phone call. Instead, I decided to take a page out of the Jordan Kramer playbook and watch a movie while gorging myself on ice cream.
I was about halfway through the movie and three quarters through a pint of chocolate peanut butter when Jordan came home. She was grumbling about the cold as she stripped off the numerous layers she’d been wearing and hung them on the coatrack. It hadn’t snowed here in the city yet, but it was freezing. It had made her grumpy.
“Ugh! Stupid freaking cold!” She kicked the shoe rack when she rolled her ankle trying to take off her UGGs. “I miss your fireplace, Nate. We should totally get one installed. I don’t care how much it would cost, or that we’d have to build a chimney through all the apartments above ours.”
She stopped grumbling when she noticed me zoned out on the couch. After looking me over from head to toe, she smirked. “I hate to say it, but depression kind of looks sexy on you.”
I snorted at the unexpected comment.
“No, really. Sweatpants and a plain white T-shirt is a look I’ve never seen on you before, and what is that, two, three days’ worth of scruff?”
“Eight,” I muttered.
Laughing, Jordan plopped down on the couch and ran her hand over my beard. “Well, some men are just meant to be clean shaven. It looks good, though.”
I stiffened beneath her touch. Not because she’d made me uncomfortable, but because my entire body ignited the second her fingers connected with my face. When I sucked in a deep breath, Jordan froze. Our eyes met briefly; then Jordan dropped her hand and turned to face the television. There was a brief, awkward pause before Jordan laughed again. “Knocked Up?”
“Seemed fitting.” My eyes drifted back to the screen. “You never know; maybe it’ll have some answers.”
“You’re looking for parenting advice from a Seth Rogen movie? Heaven have mercy on your child.” I don’t think the horror in her voice was exaggerated. We fell silent again, but Jordan couldn’t relax. “Is it at least giving you a good laugh? I remember it being pretty good.”
I wish. “Nope. It’s amazingly not funny right now. Movie fail. I guess I don’t have your talent with life analogies.”
Jordan leaned her head on my shoulder with a deep sigh, taking my hand in hers. “Do you know what you’re going to do?”
I’d known this conversation would come up, and frankly, I was surprised Jordan had given me a week before asking. I still wasn’t ready for it, though. A week, a month, a year—I would never know what the right answer was. “What can I do? It’s my kid. I have a responsibility. I’m not going to be some deadbeat dad.”
She paused the movie and gave me a soft smile. “Of course you won’t. Even if Seth Rogen is your mentor.” When I cracked a smile, her grin fell crooked. “I might recommend not letting your brothers babysit the squirt unsupervised, though.”
We both chuckled, and she went back to leaning on my shoulder. “You’re going to be an excellent father—just like your dad. I was talking about with Sophie. Any idea what you’re going to do about her?”
My body slumped in on itself. “I don’t know. I don’t know anything anymore. Everything is so complicated.”
The room got so quiet I heard her swallow. “You know I’m here for you,” she whispered. “Right?”
I lifted my arm over her shoulders and she fell against me, curling into my side while she hugged me. I squeezed her tightly back, as if that might soothe the sudden throbbing in my chest. “I know.”
The mood changed from stilted and awkward to a sort of peaceful reverence, allowing me to truly relax for the first time in a week. Jordan, once again, broke the silence with a timid whisper. “I don’t mind a little complication.”
The throbbing in my chest turned into a full-on crushing sensation that made it impossible to breathe. I was literally aching for her. She lifted her head from its comfortable spot against my shoulder, needing a response from me. The real meaning behind her words settled heavily between us.
I glanced down at her—my want battling with my conscience—and tried to find the words. “I want to. You have no idea how badly I want to.” Her eyes fell shut against the pain of my rejection. It broke my heart. “We’re not talking about a little complication, Jordan. I’m going to have a baby. And a whole lot of baby mama drama on top of it. I can’t ask you to deal with all of that. You don’t deserve to get stuck with that kind of responsibility or headache.”
“Do I deserve it any more than you do?” Jordan’s voice filled with anger. “You thought you were being safe. What Sophie did to you was manipulative, cruel, and downright revolting. She’s psychotic, Nate. This wasn’t your fault. You don’t deserve it, either.”
I couldn’t let myself think like that. It would only fuel my bitterness and make a difficult situation even harder. “It still took both of us. It’s my kid. I don’t have a choice in this, but you do.”
She slipped her hand into mine again. “And if I choose it? If I want to choose you, baby mama drama and all?”
My silence was enough for her to understand my answer. “So, really, I don’t have a choice.” She slumped back into the couch, folded her arms across her chest, and glared at the TV. “Does that mean you’re getting back together with her? After the way she lied to you? Tricked you? Betrayed you?”
I couldn’t win. Rubbing the growing tension in my head, I tried not to huff as I let out a breath. “I don’t know, okay? I’m so angry about what she did, but it’s not just black and white. She wasn’t being malicious. She panicked because she knew she was losing me. She acted out of desperation. And now she’s scared. She’s nineteen, she’s pregnant, and I dumped her. She’s a planner, you know? This doesn’t fit into her plans, and she’s terrified of the future.”
Jordan’s mouth fell open. “Then she shouldn’t have done it!” She shot to her feet and began pacing the living room. “It wasn’t an accident, Nate. She made a choice.”
“She made a mistake! Can you tell me you’ve never done that?” I took a breath, counting to ten before I spoke again so that I could talk without yelling. I didn’t want to fight. Not with Jordan. She was
the one person I never fought with. “What’s done is done. It can’t be taken back, so I can hate her for what she did, or I can forgive her. Either way, she is the mother of my child and will be a part of my life forever. Things will be a lot better for us all, especially for the baby, if I get over myself and fix whatever relationship with Sophie there is left to repair.
“Our child needs his parents to be, at the very least, on speaking terms. He needs a family. You know what it’s like to have parents who hate each other. I haven’t decided if I’m going to get back together with her or not, but I can’t just write off the possibility while I’m too mad to think objectively.”
“But, Nate—”
“I also can’t get into a new relationship when I’m so stressed and confused, and risk hurting you, either. It would kill me to hurt you, and Sophie’s already been through enough. If you and I got together right now, it would be a slap in the face to Sophie. It doesn’t matter if she deserves that; it would destroy her, and she’s already in a bad place. As angry as I am, I can’t do that to her.”
Jordan stopped pacing and looked at me, the anger bleeding out of her from head to toe. I rose to my feet and slowly crossed the room to her. “I’m sorry. I just don’t know what to do yet, or how any of this is going to play out.” I took her face in my hands. “I can’t make any promises right now, so it’s not fair of me to let you make any. Does that make sense?”
Her eyes fell shut and she nodded. I kissed her forehead and pulled her into my arms. She melted in my embrace. “Always so loyal.” She sighed. “Thoughtful. Responsible. Forgiving. You are the most amazing man in the entire world, Nathan Anderson.”
I squeezed her as tightly as I could without hurting her. “And you are the most caring, loving, amazing best friend that ever existed. Thank you for being so understanding. I really don’t know what I’d do without you right now.”
“Lose yourself in your music, no doubt.” Jordan pulled her face back to look up at me. A small, wistful smile crossed her face as she combed through my messy hair. “You’d pour all of your emotional angst into your songs and become the most famous singer/songwriter that ever existed, winning a record-breaking number of Grammys.”
When I laughed, the light returned to Jordan’s eyes. “There it is,” she said, voice warm with satisfaction.
“There what is?”
“Your smile. I haven’t seen it all week. The scruff might be sort of sexy, but it’s nothing compared to your smile.”
I rolled my eyes and finally let her go. Immediately, I felt cold and nearly pulled her right back into my arms. If she hadn’t stepped out of my reach, I probably would have.
Jordan picked up the ice cream container off the coffee table and frowned when the last few bites were too melted to eat. “So you probably have more work to do, huh?”
“Actually, no.” I folded up the blanket I’d been sleeping under all day. “I’ve done as much as I can until everyone gets together.”
“That’s right.” Jordan glanced my way from where she was now rummaging in the kitchen. “You nervous for the big rehearsal tomorrow?”
“Terrified,” I admitted. “I’ve never directed anything before, and this song… It sounds like it will all work on my computer, but I know everyone thinks I’m crazy. You should have seen Mark when I asked him to come back to the project and to bring his own drums with him, along with a violinist and a cellist that can play plugged in.”
“Mark?” Jordan’s eyebrows rose. “You found a use for tympani drums?”
“Like I said.” I smirked. “Everyone thinks I’m crazy.”
“Crazy brilliant,” Jordan quipped. “You’ll do great, and you’re going to blow those judges away.”
“If you say so. Are you coming?”
“Tomorrow’s my late class, but I’ll hurry. I should be able to make it for the last twenty minutes. Just in time to hear what you’ve got put together.”
I let out a breath. It was amazing how just knowing she’d be there for even five minutes calmed the majority of my nerves. Even if everyone in that room thought I was nuts, Jordan would love it. Of course, Jordan’s taste in music was extremely questionable so her opinion couldn’t be trusted, but her support was invaluable.
Jordan stopped staring into the cupboards and settled on popping a bag of popcorn. “So, if you don’t have to work, you up for a movie? I thought of the perfect one for you the other day in the spirit of all the composing you’ve been doing, and it’s on Netflix right now.”
I groaned. “Not another teen romance dancing movie, Jordan. Please. I promise you, I can’t take another one.”
“Very funny.”
“Who’s being funny?”
She grabbed a couple of sodas from the fridge and dragged me into the living room. “No dancing, I promise. Well, maybe one dance, but it’s not a dancing movie.”
“What is it?”
She laughed at the suspicion in my voice and pushed me down onto the sofa. “It’s Gwyneth Paltrow. You like her.” She handed me the sodas and went back for the popcorn. “I really think you’ll like this one. I promise I was thinking of you.”
Sure, she was. “Like you were thinking of me when you made me watch Magic Mike with you?”
“Hey! That was Colin!”
“You were there.”
“Well, sure. I wasn’t going to pass up that opportunity. But no, I promise, I really truly did have you in mind with this one.”
She sat down next to me, covered us with the throw blanket I’d just folded, and set the popcorn in my lap. When she pulled up the movie on Netflix, I slid her a glance that got me elbowed. “Shut up. You will like it.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were thinking it loud enough for me to hear it.”
“Is that guy wearing an ascot?”
“That is Joseph Fiennes. Key word fine. And he is playing William Shakespeare. He’s allowed to wear an ascot.”
“Shakespeare, huh?” I refused to quit frowning, but I stopped with the sarcasm. As a songwriter, I appreciated poetry, and I actually really liked Shakespeare’s works. “Stop smirking.”
“I’m not smirking.”
“Your smugness is so overbearing I’m choking on it.”
“Whatever; you’re going to love this movie. I promise.”
. . . . .
At the risk of losing my man card forever, I really did love the movie, ascots and tights and all. Never in my life has a movie caught me so off guard as Shakespeare in Love. I hate to admit it, but it’s absolutely amazing. I sat down with every expectation of hating the movie, but before I knew it, it was over and I was staring at the rolling credits in awe. I felt like I’d been hit with a truck, but in a good way, and it surprised me more than I think anything ever had. “I can’t believe it.”
“Can’t believe what?”
I blinked at Jordan, dumbstruck. “You did it. You found my favorite movie.”
Jordan pointed at the TV and asked again just to make sure she understood me right. “This? Shakespeare in Love is your favorite movie of all time?”
She sounded doubtful, but I was sure.
“Are you serious?”
“You don’t like it?”
“I love it,” she said. “It’s beautiful, and moving, and well made. It’s an Academy Award winner. The movie’s fantastic. I just don’t get it. I was acting overconfident when I told you I thought you’d love it.”
Jordan sat back, mystified, waiting for an explanation. As I tried to figure out how to put it into words, suddenly I was filled with all this pent-up passion and I had to get it out. “It’s just that I know exactly how he feels. His life is falling apart around him. Everyone he knows is on his case about something, and he’s just stuck. Everyone’s expecting greatness, and he can’t write a word. Then she comes along, opening the floodgates, and he writes his masterpiece. He found his muse.”
A soft smile ghosted across Jordan’s face. “His muse, huh?”
>
“Every artist needs one.”
Jordan gazed into my eyes as if she were searching for something. Finally she said, “She was a lot more to him than just his muse.”
“Yeah, she was.” My gut clenched. We weren’t talking about Shakespeare anymore. “So much more.”
The atmosphere thickened again with the sad tension that had followed us all week. The silence became painful. “You didn’t mind the ending?” Jordan asked. “The ending is the only reason this movie isn’t in my top three. It’s so depressing. I prefer happy endings—the cheesier the better.”
I shook my head. “Shakespeare in Love wasn’t a cheesy movie. A perfect romance ending would have cheapened the whole thing. The ending they had wasn’t just more realistic and true to the time period, it was the way their story was supposed to end. It was tragic—like Romeo and Juliet. Like what you’re always doing with your movie references, Shakespeare’s play mirrored his life. It was the ending that really made the story impactful. It was the punch at the end that made you feel it.”
“The sucker punch,” Jordan argued. “Why do I want to watch a movie about two characters who don’t get to be together in the end? How fair was that?”
Jordan was known to get passionate over a movie, but I was fairly sure the annoyance she was venting now wasn’t because of the ending of the movie. She was talking about us again.
“It wasn’t fair, but life isn’t always fair.” My own frustration was starting to seep into my voice. “They couldn’t be together, but at least they knew how they felt about each other. They at least got to experience an amazing once-in-a-lifetime love, even if it was brief. They had something to hold onto, a memory to keep them going. Shakespeare took that experience and used it to tell his next story. He was a better man for knowing her, as was his writing.”
“And that’s a good enough ending for you?”
The credits of the movie had finished, and the room had quieted. I met Jordan’s pained gaze in the stillness, unsure how to answer her question. “Sometimes you need bittersweet in order to appreciate all those sugary endings you love so much.”
