Ended?

by Kilby Blades

  "Oh?" I still didn’t know what he was doing here, but I was ready to get to the point. "Have I done something wrong?"

  "I don't know, Jagger. Have you?" He asked with an eyebrow raised.

  I’d grown three inches over the summer, which made us the same height, but he was still a big man, and he had an imposing energy about him. I sometimes mused that if he hadn't become a woodworker, he ought to have become a cop.

  "I never want to do anything wrong in your eyes, sir," I replied instead of lying directly. It wasn't untrue, but Roxy and I were teenagers – sometimes we broke the rules. But if Luke Vega was going to be my future father-in-law, I needed him to like me.

  "What are your intentions with my daughter, Jagger?"

  My heart raced at the question. I had expected such a conversation, only, not so soon. And I'd expected to initiate it—had expected to ask for Roxy’s hand in marriage sooner than anyone thought.

  “You know that I love your daughter, sir…” I had told him this myself. After last year's unfortunate incident that involved me lying to Roxy and then paying the price, I’d spent several nights shivering under a blanket and sleeping on the Vega porch. When Mr. Vega told me she wouldn’t speak to me, I’d respectfully asked that he let me stay so that I could show Roxy how much I loved her.

  "Yeah… I got that,” he replied.

  "And I’d like to spend the rest of my life with her,” I blurted out.

  I straightened a little then, even as I bounced little Claire, more than capable of multitasking with a baby in my arms. Before he could protest, I sallied forth with haste. “But I know we’re way too young to get married. So that’s not for now. It’s for someday. But, Mr. Vega, I will ask.”

  I wanted to be respectful, but I also wanted him to know that I was serious, and that I was grown enough to have my own plans.

  “And, just when is someday, according to your timeline?” He crossed his arms in front of him.

  I stood my ground. "After we graduate college."

  “And you'll still be together after college?” he goaded.

  “Yes we will, sir. I don't plan on us ever breaking up.”

  Mr. Vega put his other hand on his hip then, pursed his lips, and looked down at the ground for a silent moment.

  Whatever he was going to say next, it scared the bejesus out of me, but I liked that Luke Vega was a straight shooter.

  “I was you once, kid—so in love I couldn’t walk straight. So sure of my future with Star, I had it all mapped out. Wanna know what it looked like?”

  I nodded A hint of something wistful whispered at Mr. Vega’s voice and for a fleeting second I saw it clearly: the loss in his eyes.

  “Before Roxy…” he began with emphasis, “…we talked about going to Nashville. I played the guitar and Star sang and each of us was gonna do a little of both. You know—me writing songs for other people, her performing songs as a solo artist, and us having a singer/songwriter act we performed together.”

  I listened intently. Roxy didn’t talk very much about her parents’ relationship, though I knew that Luke and Star were estranged. I’d endured one awkward dinner with Roxy and her mom that summer, after Star had dropped her back off in Rye following her two-week’s visitation. Things between Roxy and her mother were pretty chilly. And when Star had asked me nonstop about my mother’s music business ties, things had gotten a little weird.

  “Then we got pregnant,” Luke continued. Only, when he said it, he didn’t sound grim. He said it like it was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

  “And I knew we could still have the dream. Even if it took us a little longer than planned. You ever hear Star sing?”

  I shook my head.

  “You wouldn’t know it from looking at her career now, but she had talent. Back then, I was confident—too confident—that both of us would make it in the music business. In hindsight, I’m the one who would’ve gotten chewed up and spit out. And I’d have been okay with things if I never made it. But Star…she really had a shot.”

  I still didn’t know what all of this had to do with me and Roxy, but I wanted Mr. Vega to tell me more. It seemed uncharitable to ask why Star hadn’t broken through, seeing as how she’d taken Roxy and left Luke to go after said shot. I spit out the most intelligent question I could think of in the hopes that he would keep on.

  “Is that why you didn’t take yours?” Jagger wanted to know. “You realized you didn’t want it bad enough?”

  Luke shook his head. “See…me and Star always talked like we wanted the same thing—like the music was it. But when it came down to it, it wasn’t the music I wanted—it was her.”

  Jag let the words set in, knowing Luke Vega was trying to teach him some sort of lesson. But, Jagger didn’t see what. Because, of course Luke had wanted Star. He and Star had been in love and she was the prize.

  “What I failed to realize…” Luke continued, “…until it was too late, was that, no matter how alike our dreams might have sounded, they weren’t the same. Star wanted music first. The other blessings meant nothing if music didn’t come first, but for me—“

  I didn’t mean to cut Mr. Vega off. “—Star and Roxy were your blessings.”

  I thought about this for a long time.

  “Look, kid. I don’t want to burst your bubble. I know you love my daughter. And, to tell you the truth, part of me likes the idea of the two of you going to college together. Of her having a good kid like you looking out for her. You think I like the idea of my single, eighteen-year-old daughter going to college parties alone?”

  Suddenly, Mr. Vega looked as sick as I felt.

  “Mr. Vega…are you suggesting that Roxy and I break up?”

  Mr. Vega shook his head slowly, seeming to be careful as he chose his words. “I’m coming to you directly, even though Roxy would cold shoulder me for a year if she found out what I was doing. I’m coming here to say—no matter what she says and how short she sells herself sometimes—beneath all of that, Roxy has dreams.

  “Part of that’s my fault…letting things get too far with her mother in L.A… She doesn’t know what she’s capable of right now, and she doesn’t know how bad she wants it. But the day she does will come. And I don’t want anything to stand in her way.”

  “I understand, sir.” My words sounded stoic even to my own ears. I suddenly felt stiff. I didn’t 100% understand what he wanted me to do, but I got the gist. “And I do appreciate you coming to me, man-to-man,” I added on with sincerity then.

  But Luke didn’t leave, even though could have and maybe even should have, and maybe even like I wanted him to. His tone was apologetic when he spoke.

  “I know when you’re young, you think everything’s gonna turn out alright. And maybe it will. Roxy says your parents met in college and they’ve been happily married ever since. But, take it from me. It could go the other way.”

  I was quiet again. By then, Claire had fallen fast asleep, unable to be bothered by such serious afternoon talk.

  “If you had to do it all over again…” I trailed off, not finishing the question he knew I was asking.

  “Star and I would have ended up friends—might even have ended up together—if I hadn’t held on so tight.”

  7 Love is a Battlefield

  You're begging me to go,

  then making me stay.

  Why do you hurt me so bad?

  It would help me to know,

  do I stand in your way?

  Or am I the best thing you've had?

  -Pat Benatar, Love is a Battlefield

  * * *

  Jagger (Late November)

  Send me a happy song, I texted Roxy after dinner, grateful for the sanctuary of my room. I was sprawled, face up, on my bed, seconds away from pressing what I’d started referring to as “her pillow” to my face. Days after she’d been here, it still held the faint aroma of her shampoo.

  Uh-oh, what happened? She texted back. I’d just endured another tense dinner. I tapped out
the one word that would tell her everything she needed to know:

  Parents.

  Midterms or piano? She shot back quickly. She knew they’d been on my case. But I hedged, because Roxy didn’t need to know my parents had put her at the center of my war over Juilliard.

  Both.

  I waited for her text, but instead, my phone rang. I didn’t need to speak a greeting.

  “You’re so lucky your dad’s cool about grades,” I groused, detecting the slosh of water in the background. I pictured her standing in her kitchen, washing dishes.

  “Yeah, well the bar’s a lot lower for me,” she said at the same time the sink turned on. “By the time he was our age, he’d dropped out of high school and had a kid.”

  Something about her comment made me uncomfortable, even though it was all true: Roxy’s dad was cooler about studying than my parents. Maybe that was because Roxy came home with straight As and he wasn’t going to badger her to fix something that wasn’t broken. But never once had he telegraphed low expectations of his daughter. I couldn’t tell Roxy about our talk at the hospital, of course, but I still wished I had a way to get through. There was a way Roxy talked about her prospects sometimes that I didn’t like.

  “When can you get out of jail?” I asked, instead of bringing any of that up. I couldn’t handle another tough conversation.

  The water cut off. “Not ’til Friday night.”

  Roxy sounded disappointed. Not as disappointed as me. If there was one thing Luke Vega was a hard-ass about, it was making sure I didn’t have unfettered access to his daughter. To him, that meant absolutely no going out during the week. He was already suspicious about the study group we did at Annika’s house on Tuesday nights. Nowadays, I mainly saw Roxy at school.

  “But you’re still clear for Journey weekend, right?” I had to double-check. Having something amazing to look forward to was the only thing that would keep me sane. Journey was playing AT&T Park and Foreigner was opening for them. It was a long enough drive to San Francisco that we’d have to stay the night. Mr. Vega had almost vetoed the trip. But my parents had saved it, arranging for us to stay the night in the totally-supervised and apparently enormous apartment of my mother’s friend.

  “It’s only a month away, not that I’m counting the days.” Roxy’s weary little chuckle gave me comfort. It told me she hated all of this as much as me.

  I was about to tell her I’d ordered us original vintage band T-shirts from Journey’s Escape Tour in the ‘80s, when I heard a knock on the door.

  “Jag, honey?” came a gentle voice from the hallway.

  “Shit,” I told Roxy. “It’s my mom. I gotta go. I’ll call you later, love.” We were used to hasty goodbyes, though I preferred our lengthier, sweeter ones.

  Pulling myself up off my bed, I crossed the room to let my mother in. No doubt, she was here to check that I was okay after the argument over dinner. My dad would come around, but not until he’d brooded for a while. But my mom liked to mend fences right away.

  "Dad knows he was wrong,” she began straightaway.

  Dad knows he was an asshole, I kept to myself. I'd been a bit of an asshole, too. Despite the long list of items I had acquiesced to, the college situation continued to escalate. My dad didn’t like that every place where I applied came with a plan for how Roxy and I could be together. He also didn’t like that I kept pointing out our friends were doing the same thing.

  "I think we owe each other an apology," I conceded. "Neither of us should've gotten so angry."

  “Well…your father does an excellent job of coming off as angry when he's really scared."

  This was the part I didn't get. "Scared of what?” I had to know. “It’s not like Roxy and I are running off to join the circus.”

  She shook her head and looked mildly disappointed.

  “Just because you’re eighteen doesn’t mean our instinct to protect you magically disappears. He’s scared of letting you make a mistake you’ll regret.”

  I quieted, because I knew this. I just didn’t understand why they were so specifically invested when I would be fine either way.

  “What we know, that you don’t…” my mother continued, “…is that there’s a dark side to sacrifice. You see how we are now, after we made it through our struggles. But we nearly broke up, your father and I."

  "I know,” I said a bit impatiently, “I remember, when I was little…the summer you shipped me off to my cousins in Alaska.” It was just after my baby brother had passed away—a terrible time for everyone. I didn’t understand what any of it had to do with sacrifice.

  “Twice, then…” my mother revised, throwing me a matter-of-fact look. “Love’s messier than you think.”

  I didn't need to ask the question out loud. My eyes must've said it all: why?

  "If you add it up, the truth was, we were just too young.”

  "Everyone keeps saying that,” I said with as little frustration as I could. “Like being young is some kind of curse. But no one says what being “too young” really means.”

  I realized how truly I’d been waiting for this—some specific objection to me and Roxy’s plan.

  She was quiet for a minute. I could tell from my mom’s look on her face that I wouldn’t like whatever she said next. It didn’t stop her from asking. Because, unlike my father’s way, which was to tell, hers was to ask.

  "I'm not saying I think this will happen, but have you thought of what UCLA might be like if the two of you broke up?"

  I knew she wasn't really looking for an answer. I didn't think that we would break up. But my mom was right—without Roxy at UCLA, I'd be lost.

  "I know Roxy’s from Los Angeles. She’s mentioned that’s one reason why she wants to go back. But have you ever met her friends? Or thought about what it will be like for the two of you when you go to a place where she knows people and you don't?"

  It was another question I had thought about—another question I hadn’t wanted to, a clear signal that I probably should.

  "Now, picture yourself at Juilliard. Pretend Roxy had a reason to go there and that the two of you were there instead of UCLA. Now ask yourself the same question: if you broke it off, but you still got to go to Juilliard, would it feel like everything would be okay?”

  But I couldn’t take any more of her questions. “I’m gonna make mistakes, Mom.”

  She nodded. “I know you will. But some mistakes have bigger consequences than others. Being young means being ignorant, in the literal sense of the word. No one’s saying you haven’t thought it through, or that you’re being stupid. But there are things you can’t know about yourself, or about her, or about what you really want from the world until you’ve gone out on your own and lived in it.”

  “I see your point, but…” I let out a heavy sigh, still not knowing how to get through to her. “They’re still my mistakes to make.”

  She nodded again. “They are. But life is long and regrets can eat at you forever. I regret following your dad to Minnesota for his residency.”

  The sentiment surprised me, because I’d never heard her talk about their years in Minnesota that way. Though, as I thought about it, I realized she never talked about them fondly.

  “It was a great opportunity for him—the Mayo Clinic—but it was career suicide for me. I gave up a great job at a studio in Oakland. I was building my reputation, I had people who knew me…I was even starting to get some gigs in L.A.”

  “So why didn’t dad just do his residency someplace else?”

  “Because that’s not how residencies work, and that’s not how relationships work, either, and I didn’t know back then how to advocate for what I needed.”

  I frowned. “I don’t understand. Why would Dad be okay with going to Minnesota if you had to make a choice like that?”

  My mother looked at me pointedly. “Like I said, I don’t think it was the right decision. Thirty-year-old us wouldn’t have made that decision. But, twenty-three-year-old us did. We didn’t have the
tools to navigate the imbalance in our power dynamic and other things that were going on.”

  My mother and I had a great relationship, but she’d never spoken to me about such things. I knew at that moment, we were about to have a very different kind of a talk.

  “What power dynamics?” I had to know.

  “Things I didn’t think had to matter, but they did. His money. My gender. How starting a family would mean different things for each of us. And what those things should have meant for our choices. You think the only person we’re watching out for here is you—that this is about us wanting the very best for our son. You forget…I was Roxy once.”

  It was the last thing I’d expected my mother to say, but when she did, some of the puzzle pieces came together.

  “Have you ever even considered that UCLA may not be where Roxy belongs?” she asked sensibly.

  I admitted something I wouldn’t have in front of my father. “UCLA was her idea.”

  “Roxy doesn’t think like you. And she's never had the same choices. Right now, she’s doing what every other kid in California is doing and applying to UC schools. But when the moment comes when she knows her potential, she may not want what either of you think. Right now, her dreams only stretch as far as she can see.”

  I thought about this for a long, long time. I thought about it for minutes. Wasn't it me who always chided her for not understanding her worth? My mother was right, but so was I. Roxy would see herself differently one day. But we loved each other too fiercely to let go.

  "I can't control when or how that happens," I said. "I understand what you're saying, but I can't solve for that."

  "No, you can't," my mother agreed. "But college can."

  I turned the words over and over in my mind, even as she continued to speak.

  "I have no regrets about loving your father, Jag, but I also have no illusions,” she concluded. “Committing to one another when we were so young held me back."