by Kilby Blades
And, it was. I nearly peed my pants at least twice, once from laughing at Jagger's commentary on the spectacle of brave men charging ahead of the enormous beasts, and again at one point when said beasts got too close to our hiding place for comfort.
We napped again in the afternoon, enjoyed an amazing dinner at an outdoor café, and drank in a cellar bar for a while with Cato and Jane. The two had taken a strange liking to one another and, at eleven at night, informed us that they'd be spending the rest of the evening alone.
So we walked. It felt like we walked the entire city. It seemed like we talked of every subject under the moon. Under the moon was where we found ourselves at some lookout above the city, watching the landscape sprawled out below.
I was telling him about one of my professors, a Pulitzer Prize winner who was a literary genius but who took himself way too seriously, when I stopped mid-story as soon as I noticed a strange smile ghosting over Jagger's lips.
"What?", I asked, cocking my head, unable not to smile, myself. Jagger Monroe turned me into a goofy, grinning idiot and I couldn't find it in myself to care.
He shook his head slightly, insisting, "Nothing. I'm listening."
I kicked his foot a little.
"No, you're smiling. Now, tell me what."
He looked down for a minute, worrying a pebble between agile toes, let his eyes scan the horizon for a long moment before they came back to me.
"You're happy, Roxy."
His lashes fluttered slightly as he said it, his smile faltering for a split second as sorrow clouded his eyes.
Oh, Jag.
"Today I'm happy," I corrected gently, laying my head on his shoulder. "Every other day I'm just content."
Maybe it was the wine; in that moment I couldn't think of a single reason to pretend he didn't still sit near the center of my world. The decision of a naïve, eighteen-year-old me had done nothing to change how I felt about Jagger; and twenty-year-old me had nothing to prove.
"C'mere."
His whispered command was more like a plea, and he didn't wait for my response before bringing me into his fold. Instead of remaining side-by-side facing the vista, he encircled me in his arms with me between his legs, my back to his front. And, just like that, we were silent, our stories forgotten like the wine—now untouched—by our side.
Time warped. We may have heard the sounds of the celebrating city below us for hours. The stars in the night sky seemed to take forever to fade. My eyes were closed when the sun peeked over the horizon.
I melted into him. He held me tighter. I listened to him breathe. He planted soft kisses in my hair, and I couldn't be sure but I think he might have whispered my name. He cupped my jaw just as I felt the warmth of sun, the tip of his nose tracing the line of mine before sweeping me in for a kiss.
I still love you, it hummed. I never stopped loving you. I'm not sure I ever will.
It was the epitome of decadence—both sinful and sweet. His tongue, as wickedly skilled as ever, stroked mine deliciously, fanning the flame that had never stopped burning inside. Yet, his lips—so gentle and deliberate—calmed me, their softness a salve to my soul.
"Roxy," I heard him whisper, this time certain that he'd said my name. I looked, and his eyes were aflame with sunrise. He hesitated to speak, but my mouth silenced his, eager once again to taste home.
Both of us knew by then: the confession would change nothing between us, just as not confessing hadn’t made any feelings go away. We both had lives to get back to. It seemed we’d passed through yet another gate on this bittersweet journey: being as tethered to one another as ever, but without the strings.
Later, at the train station in Donostia, he bought me breakfast at the same café where he'd found me two days before. Jane and Cato conversed with their voices; Jagger and I, with our eyes.
Take care of yourself. You know I worry.
Jagger spread jelly on his croissant, keeping half for himself and passing half to me.
Don't let those prima donnas in Vienna get to you.
I replaced his hand with my own as it tugged through his crazy hair.
I'll miss you, too.
His thumb gently tugged my bottom lip from where my teeth worried it.
I know. We'll see each other soon.
After we'd finished eating, he fiddled with my phone for twenty minutes with his right hand as his left held mine atop my knee. I didn't see the entire playlist he was making, but smiled sadly when I caught a glimpse of Midnight Radio.
Walking to the platform, we trailed Jane and Cato, going slowly, hand in hand. And then we stopped. And he turned to me, looking down into my eyes.
This was always the hardest moment—the moment of goodbye, though we rarely, if ever used that word anymore.
"Those Scottish guys are naked under their kilts—you know that, right?"
My sad smile mirrored his own.
"You have more talent in this little finger…", I choked out holding up my right pinkie.
I trailed off before my voice really caught.
He kissed my finger, and left.
14 What Hurts the Most
What hurts the most was being so close,
and havin' so much to say,
and watchin' you walk away.
And never knowin' what could've been.
And not seein' that lovin' you
is what I was trying to do
-Rascall Flats, What Hurts the Most
* * *
Jagger (Senior Year)
“Thanks for saving me a seat, Mr. Vega,” I said breathlessly after making my way to the chair he’d directed me to by text, minutes before Roxy’s graduation was set to begin. I’d just seen my own parents off to the airport that morning and helped my roommate pack up his stuff the day before. I still had half a week’s worth of my own packing to do, but already, I had one foot out of New York.
“Good to see you, kid.”
To my utter surprise, Luke Vega rose and greeted me with a cheerful smile, gave me a man hug and held me for a minute by the shoulders at arm’s length, getting a good look at me before I sat down.
“You’re looking well, Mr. Vega,” I managed.
And a lot friendlier than you used to be.
“None of that Mr. Vega shit. You’re not in high school anymore. Call me Luke.”
His smile soured a bit as he looked toward the person in the seat on the other side of me, who I hadn’t yet heeded given Luke’s hearty hello.
“You remember Roxy’s mother…”
I turned to Star Vega, who had always had us on a first name basis. “Of course,” I said with a polite smile and a lean over to kiss her cheek. “It’s lovely to see you, Star.”
Apart from my own high school graduation, I hadn’t ever seen Star and Luke Vega together. Roxy still didn’t have much contact with Star, and had some trepidation about her mother even attending her graduation. I’d already resolved to distract Star some, and to diffuse things between her parents, if it would make things easier on Roxy.
But that wasn’t going to be an issue—at least not yet. Luke was too busy grilling me about what my plans were and hearing about my final year at Juilliard. He knew an astonishing set of specifics around what I had done, which meant he’d either googled me or that Roxy brought me up in conversation. A lot.
“You ever meet this Poindexter kid?” Luke asked out of the blue. People in caps and gowns were lining up and I’d become distracted scanning the crowd for Roxy. Luke’s mention of her boyfriend snapped my attention right back.
“I think his name’s Percival,” I pointed out mildly. Star looked up from her phone.
“Luke knows his name. He just doesn’t like him.”
“What do you think of him?” Luke wanted to know, leaning forward a bit in his seat. I was pretty sure Luke hated him, and my baser instincts told me to pile on. The truth was, this Percival guy was nowhere near good enough for Roxy.
“I hear he’s a talented writer,” I hedged. Bu
t Luke scoffed.
“Every blowhard nowadays thinks he’s gonna write the great American novel.”
“And I think he just won some prestigious award,” I continued.
“Come on, get to it…” Luke insisted. “Do you like this kid or not?”
I didn’t totally want to sell the guy out. After all, I’d been in his position before—subject to the harsh, scrutinous eye of Luke Vega. But I didn’t want to bless him either, which would run counter to my own self-interests.
“I trust Roxy’s judgment, and I’m sure there’s something great she sees in him, but…” I paused for effect. “He listens to Nickelback. In a non-ironic way. And I heard him say to Roxy once, and I quote: “David Bowie is overrated”.”
There were plenty of lackluster things I could find to say about Percy. I might have chosen that one knowing that Bowie was one of Luke’s favorite artists. But that was neither here nor there. When Luke seemed deeply scandalized, I knew my comment had hit its mark.
The ceremony itself was unexciting. The university president’s speech was dry, but I couldn’t blame Luke for being rapt with attention. This was surely a day he had imagined for years. Since I’d heard plenty of inspirational words at my own graduation, I scanned to look for Roxy in the crowd. When I followed Star’s stare to see whether she’d done the same, I actually found Roxy. A warmth spread in my chest and a smile pulled at my lips, even from this far.
“I misjudged you,” Star said out of the blue. I swung my gaze over to her, not having expected much in the way of conversation. She’d barely said two sentences since I’d sat down.
“I misjudged Roxy, too.” Star shifted her gaze back to her daughter. “She’s made better choices than I have. And she’s always been a better judge of character…” Star said it slowly, settling her gaze on me once more. “Roxy will make the right choice in the end.”
I was confused for a second, and then it clicked: she was talking about Percy. It picked at scabs I’d been desperate to heal. Not about Percy—about Roxy and me in general. I knew she was too smart to end up with a guy like him, but I did worry about her meeting a much better guy.
By my math, the probability of this was only getting bigger. Without a punishing course load, she would have more time to date. Providence was a small city, so not a lot of fish, but Roxy was already on her way to a bigger pond. And our stars continued to misalign.
I could have brushed it off, or just nodded, or discredited Star Vega completely. She might be dead wrong about Roxy to the extent that they weren’t close, but I sensed motherly wisdom at play. So I said what I was thinking, and did it with a little shrug. “Roxy has a lot of options. She can have whoever she wants.”
Star smiled in a way that reminded me of Roxy and her eyes flickered—for only a split second—to Luke. “When it’s the right person, you never stop looking for a second chance.”
Two hours later, graduation was over and we were at a crowded restaurant with an outdoor garden bar that doubled as a waiting area. They were running late with our reservation, so Roxy and I were killing time and taking a break from her parents.
Star had said she had a phone call to make. Luke had said he wanted to stretch his legs, which left Roxy and I alone for the first time that day. I’d showered her with congratulatory hugs earlier, and had her dad take a picture of us with her holding up her degree. But now that it was just us, my arm was around her again.
“I wish I could’ve come to yours,” she said with an apology in her eyes. It was a warm day and we’d each ordered a beer. We found an empty little rope swing bench at the far end of the garden under a big, old tree.
I waved my hand and brushed it off. “You had finals.”
“Still…” She looked past my shoulder and collected her words. “This moment is…” she let out a breath, then looked back over at me. “…why we did it, you know? So that you’d have Juilliard and I’d have this.”
I was dying to ask her. I couldn’t spit out the question I’d never stopped asking myself: had we made the right decision? Were we actually better off? I wasn’t sure that I was. At twenty-two, I was accomplished. But I still went to bed alone.
“You made it to all of my performances,” I pointed out, resisting the urge to tuck her hair behind her ear. “In my business the performances are more important than the graduation. Trust me—it was boring as hell.”
She rolled her eyes. “Yeah. I’m sure sitting through a thousand names being called is exactly how you wanted to spend a beautiful Saturday afternoon in June.”
A lump formed in my throat. “I’d have sat a lot longer, just to hear yours.”
But I didn’t want today to turn into one of those kinds of days. I wanted today to be happy. So instead of mentioning my immeasurable pride again, I made light.
“Besides, I wasn’t bored while they were calling the other nine-hundred-ninety-nine names. I got to sit next to your mother.”
She cringed and put her hand over her lovely face. “Holy hell. I’m sorry.”
“You know, I think she’s getting better in her old age.”
Roxy gave me a look. “She’s not even forty. You know that, right?”
“Your dad likes me a lot better now, too…” I baited.
She kept her eyes on me as she took a sip of her beer. “Yeah, tell me about it.”
I chuckled again, surprised by her reaction. I’d thought news of her father’s favor would surprise her too. “Alright…what does that mean?”
“You’ve become, like, this God-like figure to him. He hates every guy I date. Which is pretty easy, ‘cause he compares them all to you.”
“Oh, yeah?”
The exact moment I realized that my tone had gone high and delighted, Roxy said, “Try not to sound so impressed with yourself.”
I made a mental note to have a beer with Luke Vega later, content to know that we had more in common than a simple dislike of just-this-latest-guy. Maybe Luke really was in my corner. Could he be gunning for me? Had he been gunning for me all along?
“And what will Percival be doing with his degree?” I asked.
She smiled a little even from beneath her warning look. “I swear to God, Jag—you’ve got to stop calling him that to his face. It really irritates him, okay?”
“So I’ll be seeing him again?” I asked, after I’d held my hands up in silent surrender and promised telepathically to honor her request. It would take effort, but, for Roxy, I’d refrain from being a dick.
She didn’t look disappointed when she said, “Probably not.”
Oh, thank fuck, I breathed to myself in relief, then had the impulse to tell Luke. Seeing his daughter graduate from Brown and hearing she was breaking up with someone unworthy of her sounded like a perfect day.
“He’s moving to Lhasa for six months to live in a Buddhist monastery. He needs to cleanse his spirit in order to release his writing muse.”
I did my best to button it down, biting my lip as I struggled to keep a straight face.
“It’s okay…you can laugh.” Roxy raised her hand in the air in front of her, making small circles with her finger in a gestured that told me to go on.
“I’m sure he’s very talented,” I said, managing not to chuckle at that very moment, though the smile I allowed might have held the hint of a snicker.
“You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but he really kind of is.” She said it in that honest way of hers, not to push my buttons, but it still made me a little jealous.
“You two gonna stay in touch?” I couldn’t not ask.
“Casually.” She shrugged. “But we’re done with dating.”
Of late, I’d also had to entertain a frightening thought: in the irony of ironies, Roxy was set to move in to my New York apartment. I’d gone in with my parents on buying a place when I’d first gone to Juilliard, but had gotten a roommate so I could have the college experience. The long term-plan was for me to live there indefinitely and for my family to keep it as a pied-à-terre.
I’d always known one day I’d move back to California, but working in the music industry, I would never not have ties to New York.
But off I was to L.A. to intern with an Oscar-winning composer on an epic fantasy film trilogy. The thing was, I’d only looked for jobs in L.A. Because I thought Roxy might end up there, too. It had been delicate—trying to broker us ending up in the same city without us actively being in a relationship. Deciding to move somewhere together would have been much easier if we were.
But Roxy and I weren’t dating. And, at the time we were looking for jobs, I couldn’t even bring up the possibility of getting back together. It had felt funny to even hint at it, seeing as how both of us had been dating other people. Roxy knew some part of me would always be in love with her, and I knew the reverse was true. What she didn’t know was how getting us back together was still at the forefront of my mind.
For a minute—actually, for a month—it had looked like it might work out. Roxy had offers in-hand for a few staff writer positions in L.A. She’d never stopped saying that her endgame was to live on the West Coast. Then she’d gotten a call from Carson Jaye, a big rock star biographer who had followed some of her writing. Believing in her talent, she’d offered Roxy an apprenticeship. Now, instead of writing in L.A., Roxy would travel the world, shadowing her and the rock stars she was profiling, and being based—just like Carson—in New York.
The pay was predictably paltry, which was where my offer of an apartment had come in. I wasn’t using it and even if I were, I’d have insisted she stay. My place was big. It was furnished. It was in an extremely safe neighborhood and, best of all for Roxy, it was free. Everything about it was perfect—except we’d missed our chance. Again.
15 The Caterpillar
You flicker
And you're beautiful
You glow inside my head
You hold me hypnotized
I'm mesmerized
Your flames
The flames that kiss me dead
-The Cure, The Caterpillar
