Abstract Love

by Samantha Christy

  Jace: No more than you are, Keri. It’s no different than what you did with Tyler the other day. I guess we’re just two of a kind.

  Two of a kind. I smile over at him. He keeps finding ways to penetrate the wall I’ve put up around my heart. The wall I need to keep firmly in place to keep him out. The wall that crumbles a little bit more every time I’m around him. I pull out my phone and text him because I’m not sure I can speak past this lump in my throat.

  Me: I need a side effect.

  He reads it and nods his head. He knows what that means. He understands how I feel. No explanations are necessary between us. He gets me.

  Stacy’s interruption is welcome, as she comes over to unhook me for the very last time. As she pulls the catheter out of my arm, I feel like I’ve crossed the finish line. I’m overcome by emotion and I look over at Jace. He nods at me again. He gets this, too. Two of a kind.

  After I say my goodbyes and read the graduation card they have all signed, Jace walks me out of the clinic. But instead of walking me towards the parking lot, he pulls me in the opposite direction, towards the marina. My eyes get wide and my breathing accelerates. He rented a boat? I look up at him and he shrugs at me and looks quite nervous. We walk down the dock, passing all kinds of boats and my excitement builds as I try to figure out which one we will go on. As we keep walking down the dock, the boats get larger and larger. In fact, we have passed the boats and are now into the yachts. I think that maybe we aren’t going on a boat at all, but that maybe he’s taking me to the end of the dock so we can go fishing or something.

  Yes, that has to be what is happening. We reach the end of the dock and he stops, by one of the nicest yachts here, it must be fifty feet long. He reaches down and squeezes my hand. Then he gestures towards the yacht. I look at him in confusion and then I turn my head to look at the extraordinary vessel. From what I can tell it has three decks. I take in the beauty of it all, amazed that people can even have such an extravagance. I wonder if he knows someone who has loaned it to him for the day. Then I look at the very back of the yacht, to where the name is, and my world comes crashing down. In a matter of seconds, it all makes sense. The spa day, the gifts to everyone at the clinic, my raise, and the incredible tips I’ve been getting. I think back on the hours upon hours of conversations that we had. Did he ever tell me his full name? Did I even ask? How have we known each other for months without it coming up? How can I have these intense feelings for him without even knowing his full name? Yet, it’s obvious to me when I see the bright blue lettering on the back of the yacht.

  The Double J.

  I spin around and bark at him, “Jarrett? Your last name is Jarrett?”

  Chapter Nineteen

  I walk over to sit on one of the benches that line the dock. I try to absorb the reality of the situation. He’s a Jarrett. The same Jarrett that owns the bar I work in. He is my boss. He’s been playing me this whole time. Have I simply been his charity case? Part of me wants to think that our connection is real, based on the conversations we’ve had, his paintings and my gut feeling. But why didn’t he tell me? Why did he string me along and make me think that he was a struggling artist? Oh my God, I suddenly remember the times I told him about how poor my family was and that Tanner had to take on more jobs to pay my bills. My medical bills—the ones that were much lower than I thought they should be—I’m sure he paid those too. I’m so ashamed.

  His hand touches my shoulder as he reaches down to whisper in my ear, but before he can, I shake him off and start to walk away. I won’t be anyone’s charity case. And I certainly won’t be like Connor, being with someone just to have access to money.

  Before I get very far, Jace grabs my hand and jerks me back. He pleads with me with his eyes to not run away until I’ve heard him out. I close my eyes and take a breath. I should run away. I should leave and not look back. Protect my dignity, protect my heart. But instead, I walk the few steps back over to the bench and sit down.

  He is typing away on his phone as I try to steady my breathing and control the rapid pace at which my heart is beating.

  Jace: I don’t tell people about my family, about my money, if I can help it. They look at me differently. They treat me differently. I never know if they like me just for me or for my money. I never wanted to deceive you. The more I got to know you, the harder it became to figure out a way to tell you. What was I supposed to say? Keri, this doesn’t change anything. I am who I am with or without money. It wasn’t my choice to be born into money just as it wasn’t your choice to be born without it. I don’t look at you any differently because you don’t have money. Actually that may not be entirely true. I think you not having money is one of the things that I like about you. You don’t have anything, yet you would give the shirt off your back to help another.

  I read his texts and I get what he is saying. I don’t tell people that I’m an orphan because of the way they react to me. Is that any different than him not telling people about his wealth because he doesn’t want that to define him? Still, that doesn’t excuse the fact that he’s spent so much money on me.

  “But the money, Jace. I know it was you that got me the raise. You are my boss? And all the tips . . . what, did you have people come in and put money in the tip jar for you?” Then it dawns on me, that is exactly what he did. I remember two guys in particular, right after I told Jace where I worked, who came to the club and asked all kinds of questions and then left a ridiculous tip.

  Jace: I’m not your boss, Keri. My dad owns the club. I just merely suggested that Mike review your file and when he did, he made his own decision to give you and Tanner that raise. It wasn’t my call and you wouldn’t have gotten it if you didn’t deserve it.

  “What about the tips? What do you want from me? Do you expect me to have sex with you now, to pay you back for everything you’ve done for me?”

  He looks at me in a panic and frantically types on his phone.

  Jace: God, no, Keri. I never give anything with strings or expectations. You deserved all of it, every penny. Money means nothing to me. I know that sounds conceited, but it’s true. I don’t want it. Yes, it has made my life easier, but it doesn’t come without guilt. I never wanted to be like my parents. It’s why I work at the foundation. My money can help other people, it can make them happy and make their lives easier, that’s all I was trying to do for you. You do things every day for people, never expecting anything in return. Look at what you do for the Freeway kids . . . what you did for Tanner. Do you expect them to be indebted to you?

  He has a point. I gave Tanner everything I had and never expected anything in return. Still, I don’t want Jace’s hand-outs. “I appreciate what you are saying and no, I never expect anything in return. But Jace, I don’t want your pity. I don’t want your money. I know you paid some of my medical bills. It makes me feel cheap, like I can’t provide for myself and like I’ll always owe you something.”

  Jace: I’m sorry you feel that way, it was never my intention. But if it makes you feel any better, I paid some bills for everyone in our Monday morning group. Ask them if you want to. I also paid for Steven’s funeral expenses and a few other odd things for people.

  I remember a few weeks ago when Grace told me that she had won a trip to Europe. She was always talking about going there whenever she watched The Travel Channel, but she figured with her medical expenses, she would never get the chance.

  “Grace’s trip?” I ask him. He nods his head. “So it wasn’t just me?” He shakes his head. Then I look over at the yacht. How does someone who claims to not want money own such an extravagant possession? “But the yacht, how can you say you don’t like money and then have something like this?”

  Jace: Yes, I’ll admit it appears contradictory. But I don’t own it. I mean, yes, it’s mine, my parents gave it to me for my college graduation. They knew I would just donate it or sell it and donate the money so they kept it in their name. I rarely even use it, unless it’s for the foundation. But when you t
old me your story, about you and your dad and the boat, I knew I had to bring you here. Please, let me take you out on her. There is nothing I want to do more.

  Damn it. I do want to go on it. I know it will remind me of my dad and I really do want to feel close to him, but at what expense? I’m fighting an internal battle in my head when he sends me another text.

  Jace: One of the reasons I don’t tell people who I am is that I never get to see people for who they really are. Do you think I want to give money to people who ask for it? People who tell me how much they deserve it? Those aren’t the people I help, Keri. I help the ones who help others, who don’t think they are themselves worthy. But, do you know what? Those people are always the worthy ones, and the fact that they don’t even know it, makes them so.

  I think about everything that he has said. I go back and re-read the texts he has sent me today. I even start to believe that he means what he says. Maybe his money doesn’t matter, maybe it shouldn’t matter, but in some small way, it does. And it’s just one more reason why we could never be together. We come from different worlds. But I’m not sure I’m ready to lose him for good either. So I make a snap decision to make it not matter, to not treat him any differently—because he’s done the exact same thing for me.

  “So, why The Double J?” I ask him, pointing to the name of the yacht. “And why The Triple J, and The J Spot for that matter?”

  Jace: My dad is Jason Jarrett, Jr. Thus, The Triple J. I’m Jason Jarrett the third, thus The Double J. The J Spot is owned by his corporation. He tends to use the letter J in all of his business ventures.

  “And his foundation? What is that called?” I ask.

  Jace: It’s not his foundation, it’s mine. My parents try to appear philanthropic, and they do contribute to my foundation, as well as others, but I think it’s merely for appearance sake. It’s also a good tax deduction.

  He looks embarrassed for them.

  Jace: I set up the foundation right after my college graduation, when I was awarded the trust fund my grandfather left me. Learning how to run a foundation is what I went to college for. I just picked up art along the way. I always thought of myself as different from my parents, different from my grandparents. I wanted to break the cycle of my family’s vainglorious existence. So I named my foundation The Third Watch.

  His foundation? I’m dumbfounded. A young twenty-something man fresh out of college inherits God knows how many millions and immediately sets up a foundation to give it away to others. How can I possibly hold a grudge against him? A smile creeps up my face. “The Third Watch. Because you are Number Three, right?” I ask him, referring to the nickname Jules gave him when they were kids. He nods his head at me. “Well, are you going to take me aboard, or what?”

  He visibly relaxes as his eyes briefly close and a smile lights up his face. Then before I let him pull me up, I add, “Under one condition. You don’t give me any more money. None, I don’t want it. I will never be a Connor.”

  Jace: A Connor? Sounds like there is a story there. Maybe you’ll tell me someday. And Keri, I can’t promise that I won’t spend money on you. I want to do nice things for my friends and you are going to have to learn to deal with it. But you should also know that I don’t live a large life so it’s not like I’ll be flying you to Paris for the weekend. More like buying you a cheeseburger and a ticket to the movies. I do promise not to pay for anything else without you knowing about it first. Deal?

  I nod my head in acquiescence. Then I let him take my hand and lead me up the short ramp to the finest vessel I’ll ever set foot upon. I vow to make the next few hours count, before I have to endure my final Monday Madness.

  He gives me a tour of the yacht, which is even nicer than I imagined. It is adorned with rich oak and granite and is very tastefully decorated. He introduces me to the captain and then takes me down to one of the two large staterooms so that I can change into a bathing suit. There must be a hundred bathing suits of all shapes and sizes, for both males and females, hanging in the closet. Alongside them are a variety of towels and cover-ups. Everything in here is still new with tags on. Jace must see my eyes go wide because he texts me.

  Jace: I sometimes bring families associated with the foundation on board and I just want to be prepared. Some of the kids that we help have never been on a boat and they don’t even own a bathing suit, so I keep stocked up, just in case. So take your pick.

  He brings kids on the yacht? I thought that when he said he used it for foundation business, he meant fundraisers and that sort of thing. This man keeps surprising me. As I peruse the selection, I hold up a bikini and see his face light up out of the corner of my eye. Yes, this is the one. I smile and start to push him out the cabin door when I notice the painting on the wall. Another Jace Jarrett original. He hadn’t shown this one to me, but I can tell it’s new.

  “Didn’t it bother Morgan to see a picture of me here in one of the staterooms?” I ask him.

  Jace: She doesn’t come on the boat. Like I said, I rarely take it out for personal use. And even if she had been here, she wouldn’t understand the painting. Nobody would. Nobody but you.

  I study the painting. It’s so obvious to me and I wonder how others can’t see what I do. But the more I look at it, the more I get what others must see. It’s a woman sitting on a bench, like one out on the dock, with many boats in the background. She is holding what appear to be balloons. But I know better, and after I count them, I’m sure. There are thirteen of them. IV bags. Bags of poison for my thirteen cycles of chemotherapy. And there is that silly hat on top of my head again. Why he keeps painting me in that hat is beyond me. “It’s extraordinary,” I tell him. “You are so talented, Jace.”

  He simply shrugs his shoulders at me and points to the bikini in my hand. Then he walks out of the cabin and closes the door. I don’t change right away, I stare at the painting for another few minutes. I’m still awestruck that he chooses to keep painting me. Surely he must have paintings of Morgan here as well, or maybe he removed them when she dumped him. I’ll have to remember to ask him about it. I really want to see more of his work someday.

  I can feel the yacht moving before I even emerge from the stateroom. I climb the narrow stairway into the main living area to find Jace wearing board shorts and a University of Miami t-shirt. I take in a breath, I’ve never seen him look so casual. I’ve never seen his legs before. His muscular calves and bare feet have my internal juices flowing. Why are his bare feet so sexy? I try to think back and remember if I ever thought such things about James or Connor. I’m glad his back is turned to me so that I can admire him without his knowledge.

  He must hear me and when he turns around, his jaw drops and he blinks repeatedly. I look down at myself to make sure my bikini is covering the right places. I have a cover-up on over the bright-orange bikini, but you can see right through it and his eyes are burning a hole right into my clothes as he takes me in. I must flush bright red as he slowly lowers his eyes to my curves, all the way down to my feet. Ordinarily, this would bother me, being devoured by a man’s eyes in the same way that a lion looks at a piece of meat. But all I can do is stand here and bask in delight, knowing that my body affects him like this. Then his lips move, as he whispers something not meant for my ears, and I think I see him discreetly adjust himself as he turns away and pulls out his phone.

  Jace: I’m glad you found one that fits. Are you hungry? Do you want lunch? I was always starving after chemo, so I have some things in case you are.

  I nod my head at him. “Yes, thank you. I could eat.” I half expect him to ring a little dinner bell and have elegantly-dressed staff come out of nowhere to serve us from silver-domed platters. Instead, he pulls on my elbow for me to follow him into the galley. He sits me down on a barstool, hands me a bottle of water and prepares our lunch. I should probably get up to help him, but I’m stunned. This man, with his multi-million-dollar yacht that has a closet full of swimwear ‘just in case’, is cutting up different cheeses, break
ing a loaf of french bread and washing a bunch of grapes just for me. He puts everything on a tray and then pulls a bottle of champagne from the refrigerator, along with two chilled glasses. He picks up the tray and motions for me to follow him out to the deck.

  After he has laid out our lunch on the deck table, he texts me.

  Jace: I thought we should celebrate your final cycle. I hope you like champagne.

  As he pours the champagne into the tall glasses, I kid, “What, no Cristal?” He shakes his head at me because he knows I’m joking. He also knows that as a bartender, I know this is a thirty-dollar bottle of champagne. Not the two-hundred-dollar bottle most people might expect to be served in such a venue.

  Jace: I told you, I don’t live a large life, Keri.

  Then he leans over and taps his glass to mine and whispers in my ear, “To the rest of your life.” It takes all my strength to recover from his sweet words and his hot breath on my ear to reply back to him.

  “And to yours,” I say, still melting on the inside from the unexpected pleasures he continues to bring to my life.

  Over the next few hours, all thoughts of chemo and cancer fade away. He lets me drive the boat for a time and then when we sit on deck to absorb some sun, we find dolphins swimming and jumping right alongside us. It is surreal. It is exactly how I imagined it when my dad would tell me stories about our adventures back when I was little.