Don't You Remember

by Lana Davison

  I took my single and walked back to the newsstand and apologized to Jason for running off.

  “That’s OK. Are you all right?”

  “Yep. I just got a message from someone I used to know,” I said, thinking that message was, ‘I’ve moved on’.

  This information changed the goal posts for me. My future was about me, alone. I thought about how he made me feel and had to remove those thoughts from my head, realizing I wasn’t doing myself any favors dreaming about someone who didn’t even care for me any more. I was not going to stoop that low and chase after him. Fuck you, I thought. Fuck you, Johnny Cromwell, you lied to me; you said I was the one and I believed you. You have broken my heart. The one person I had trusted more than anyone had let me down. The pain barriers started to go up and I fought my feelings, telling myself I had been through worse, but I hadn’t. I had never felt the anguish and pain of a truly broken heart. This wasn’t the same pain as when Johnny left, it was worse, because it meant we were over.

  I reminded myself that I got through Johnny’s departure and I could also get through this. I didn’t want anyone to know what was going on. I had not mentioned Johnny to anyone at school and I wanted to keep it that way. This was my business and I would get through it in my own way, on my terms.

  At school everyone started to talk about the new band, ‘Johnny Cromwell and The Fuel Injectors’. Girls plastered pictures all over their folders and talked to each other about their new favorite band. Even the boys seemed to like Johnny’s band – they were becoming a big hit everywhere.

  I threw myself into school work studying for my final exams. I was asked to go to my end of year prom by a boy called Luke who I worked with on the school newspaper. I agreed to go only if there were no strings attached. I took up photography and used the school camera to build up my skills. Luke was an excellent photographer. We became firm friends through our common interest in camera art. He even invited me to his house for dinner one evening so that I could look through his work.

  Luke’s dad was the editor-in-chief at the local newspaper and suggested I apply for a traineeship with them if I really wanted to be a journalist; particularly if I wanted someone else to pay for my training. This was an appealing option for me, particularly considering I needed to do something straight after school. I figured this would earn me some money and some professional journalism training to help me decide if this was really what I wanted to do with my life. Luke’s dad said it was an ideal way to start out and it didn’t cost anything. It seemed like a win, win situation.

  I became a permanent fixture at Luke’s house, often going there for dinner and enjoying the conversations at a proper family dinner table. I knew Luke wanted our relationship to develop into something more than our platonic friendship but I told him I had been deeply hurt and was not prepared to talk about it. By leaving it in a little box in the back of my head meant I was dealing with it. But was I?

  I watched ‘Johnny Cromwell and The Fuel Injectors’ go from being a reasonable big new band to hit the circuit to being an enormous band, a household name, if you like. They were on tour now and everyone who was anyone was talking about going to see them.

  Luke bought two tickets to one of their concerts and presented them to me, suggesting we go together. I refused, simply saying I didn’t like them. It was hard enough dealing with Johnny’s rejection, I wasn’t about to let him rub it in my face.

  The magazines were filled with Johnny out and about with his girlfriend. Then I would open another magazine and see him with a new girlfriend and then a different girl in another magazine. He was certainly getting out, never short of a girlfriend or two.

  After talking it over with my father, I decided to apply for a job as a trainee journalist. I wrote my CV and gave Luke’s father several articles I had written at the school newspaper, presented neatly in a portfolio. I was quite happy with my writing style, kind of friendly and with facts. Some of the other kids at the newspaper told me I was suited to a career in journalism and, with that, things were decided fairly quickly.

  I received a job confirmation letter before the last two weeks of school and was due to start at the end of July. I was happy with that as I had nothing better to do. At the newsstand I kept myself up to date with Johnny’s career. My heart sank a little each time I looked at a new picture, particularly when I saw a picture of Johnny with a beautiful girl on his arm. His latest was blonde and reminded me of Sam, because of her big, American girl smile. I felt like a secret magazine stalker, but while I didn’t want to be in love any more, I couldn’t seem to lose the way I felt. I told myself I might always love him, but that I had to get over him.

  *****

  Prom night finally arrived. This time I didn’t take long to get ready, I didn’t even want to go. The whole evening was just one big reminder of the Prom night with Johnny, one of the best nights of my life. I remembered the beautiful dress Johnny had bought me which was now gone forever, burnt to smithereens in the fire.

  My dad bought me a blue, strapless, knee length dress. It fitted tight to my upper half and flared out a little. I liked the dress, it was the best I could find in such little time and especially when I wasn’t in the mood. I preferred the dress I wore to Johnny’s prom and unconsciously searched for something similar, but there was nothing like that in the stores.

  Luke turned up to my house to collect me with a corsage as a gift, more of a traditional accompaniment to my outfit, but so not me. I put the corsage on nonetheless and Luke complimented me constantly.

  “You look beautiful. So lovely.”

  “Thank you. You look really nice, very smart.” Luke was wearing a black tuxedo with blue cummerbund and blue bow tie.

  Flicking my long hair behind one ear, I took Luke’s hand as he led me to his car, an old white Ford escort, well looked after and in good condition.

  “When are you going to get your licence?” Luke asked.

  “When I can afford a car, I guess.”

  “Can you drive?”

  “Yes, but it’s been a while.”

  “Really? You never mentioned you could drive a car.”

  “It never came up.”

  “When did you learn?”

  “I learnt when I was in Rushton.”

  “Oh, OK,” he said, surprised by this revelation. “You don’t like to talk about Rushton very much.”

  “There’s nothing to tell, Luke. I didn’t lead a very exciting life.” Although that would change if I told him I used to go out with Johnny Cromwell, but that was something I would keep to myself. I believed the moment I let that out of the bag would be the moment I would have to confront my past; best to leave it where it is for now and move forward in a new direction.

  As we walked through the entrance to get to the school hall, we had to stop and have a photo taken together, all in the spirit of the evening. The school hall was decorated with balloons and streamers, typical of what you would expect at a prom dance. The lights were dimmed low providing a more grown up ambience. There were large round tables with crisp white table clothes able to seat about ten people placed strategically around the room, leaving a space for a dance floor in the centre. The music played in the background as everyone talked and commented on make up, hair and out-fits.

  Luke and I danced the night away. I was having a much better time than I thought I would have, in that way when you are not up for going out and then all of a sudden the night turns out to be a huge success. As the hours ticked and the evening started to come to a natural close, the music started to get slower and slower and Luke and I danced together. I could tell Luke was going to make a move and kiss me. How would I respond? I put pressure on myself to think quickly in advance, I didn’t want to hurt him. I told myself a kiss is a kiss, it’s no big deal. I let him hold my chin and tilt my head back and kiss me. As we kissed I imagined Luke was Johnny, I didn’t mean to, it just happened. I kissed him passionately, intensely, the way I kissed Johnny. As the kiss lingered I s
napped out of my dream state, realizing where I was.

  Luke smacked his lips together. “I didn’t know if you would want me to kiss you, but I took my chances and I’m glad I did. That was the best kiss. If I didn’t know better, I would say you’re very experienced at kissing.”

  I didn’t comment. I just smiled.

  “Perhaps we should leave,” he gestured.

  “OK,” I said, taking his hand and walking to his car. I hoped I hadn’t given him too much hope. I certainly wasn’t prepared to go any further tonight.

  As Luke drove me home he took a turn to a secluded location, down a dirt track where there where lots of trees, hiding the car from sight. “Not very many people know about this place,” he told me.

  “Why are we here?” I asked almost sternly. I didn’t want this.

  “I just thought we could spend some time together.”

  “We just spent the night together,” I argued.

  “You don’t want to be here with me?” he asked flatly.

  He taken our relationship a step too far, probably thinking if I was prepared to kiss him, perhaps I was prepared to do more. It meant I would now have to crush his dream of going further. I should never have kissed him. I immediately began to compare him again, thinking Johnny would never have put me on the spot. If I rightly remember it was me who had come on to him first. Yes, but then again, Johnny did something I never thought he would do, let alone was capable of; he broke my heart, he moved on without me. I guess subconsciously this was another reason for not wanting to give my heart to someone else. However with Johnny I hadn’t just given him my heart I had given him my soul, my everything, why would I give it away again, when it still hurt? And because I cared about Luke, I wasn’t prepared to hurt him by letting him think we were more than we were.

  “You know, Luke, I don’t want to go any further tonight. That’s not to say it will never happen.”

  “Are you scared? You know I won’t ever hurt you.”

  “I’ve heard that before,” I let slip.

  “What? You’ve been with someone else?”

  “Look, I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Now it all makes sense,” he nodded as if a light bulb had just gone off in his head.

  “What does, ‘now it all makes sense’ mean? It’s not what you think.”

  “When you’re ready to talk I’ll be here.”

  “Thank you,” I said. “Thank you for being understanding. It’s complicated OK?”

  “OK. But, Jen, I want you to know I would never hurt you. Really I mean it. You’re amazing. I mean you truly are and you don’t even know it. You’re so beautiful, so smart, ambitious, reliable… Jen, you have so much going for you.”

  I blushed. “Thanks. And thanks to you I’ve got a good chance at a good future.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, I don’t know if I would have got a traineeship at the newspaper if I didn’t know your dad.”

  “That’s where you’re wrong, Jen, you would have. You would have got a traineeship with or without my dad because you’re talented.”

  “Thank you. And you will be going to university studying civil engineering soon.”

  “Yes, and I will still be here, so it’s not like I’m going very far.”

  “I’m glad you’ll be here,” I said, rubbing his shoulder and meaning what I said. I was happy he would be here as he had become a close friend. As close as a friend was ever going to become without knowing my past, without knowing about my broken heart.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Johnny’s life changed from the moment he met Michael. He was living a whirlwind life of success, being taken in anew direction. Michael had matched Johnny up with The Fuel Injectors band and the music they produced together was commercial rock and it worked. Johnny and The Fuel Injectors were now on tour around the States, with sold out gigs everywhere. Johnny’s career was even better than he had thought it could ever be, but he felt alone in many ways because he had no one to share his success with.

  The girls would come and go. Johnny had plenty of women to sleep with, a never-ending supply of girls willing and able. It was easy to have sex; completely different to open up your soul and let someone in. Johnny had done that with Jen and now he had lost her and he wasn’t ready to move on. He might meet someone again if he was lucky, but right now, he was where he wanted to be; completely focused on his work, on his career and enjoying the fruits of his success.

  Johnny was officially a millionaire. He told his mother he would pay for her rehab and then buy her a new house if she managed to stay sober. She dismissed the offer. Johnny reminded her it was an open offer but she would not see a penny while she remained in her current state; she would only drink the money away.

  Johnny bought a top floor penthouse apartment in Manhattan, New York, close to Central Park. It was the type of living space he had dreamed about – he was now officially living the dream. Johnny hired an interior designer to get the apartment right, leaving her in charge of everything while he was away on tour. The space was masculine with lots of reds, browns and charcoals. A large inviting sofa to sprawl on divided the living space from the kitchen and Johnny had a projector size television mounted to the wall.

  Johnny would be on the road for a good year promoting Johnny Cromwell and The Fuel Injectors. They would write songs when they had time and try and have some down time. Touring was tiring, but necessary. Johnny began to drink beer on tour, even though he was wary of drink, given he’d watched his mother waste away. He was not one to feel under pressure by anyone, he just decided it was easier to have a beer than to tell everyone why he didn’t drink. That would open up his past to others and that was unacceptable.

  In Boston, Johnny and The Fuel Injectors performed three sold-out shows and, after the final gig, Michael and a few other people from Hunter Management welcomed a few pretty girls in the audience to come back stage and meet the band.

  Back stage was full of random corridors leading off to various rooms. Johnny and the band shared a large room together, similar to a living room, but with no familiarity, no photographs, no pictures.

  After the gig, Johnny entered the large open plan room where his band members and management team were hanging out. There were some new groupies this evening and they all became very excited when they saw him. He smiled at his fans. He didn’t always like the attention but tonight he would enjoy the company of the girls and go with the flow. Why not? It wasn’t like he had anything better to do.

  Johnny grabbed a beer out of the fridge and sat down on a large single black leather armchair. Soon two girls perched on either side. The after party was just getting started…

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Taking on the traineeship at the paper was the best career move I could ever have made for myself. I had turned nineteen and was well and truly into my work life feeling very much a part of the team. I was given responsibility and was learning at the same time. My mentor was a lady called Susanne who had started her career the same way as I had.

  Susanne would let me write part of her articles; then we would discuss what I had written, what she had written and the differences. Susanne encouraged my writing and told me not to be afraid of criticism because, at this stage in my career, it was only constructive. She reminded me that I should always be true to myself and that not everyone would be a fan of my writing. If I knew these few core details I would never have any problems.

  I really admired Susanne; she was everything I hoped to become, except that she had never moved on from Pittsburgh. I had a plan to move on to another state at some point, not because I didn’t like Pittsburgh, I just wanted to see and experience more. My need to travel came about when I was asked to write about holiday destinations. I had begun to develop a desire to travel and see more of my own home country and also the world. Best to see your own backyard first, my father would say.

  I had started going out with Luke. He was persistent with his affect
ions and, even though I still thought about Johnny often, I came to reason that he had moved on and that I needed to do the same. Luke was a wonderful partner; attentive and responsible, he wanted to please me and to take care of me, not that I needed taking care of.

  Luke went to University in Pittsburgh during the week and lived on campus, but came home most weekends. We spent our time going to bars, mingling with many of the kids we use to go to school with and meeting new ones. I wasn’t a big drinker but enjoyed a beer or two. I always feared I would turn out like my mum, so I stopped drinking before I lost control.

  I had my hair cut into a short pixie style. I could carry it off with my facial bone structure; defined cheekbones, and small nose. I bought myself some tailored trousers for work, which I paired with a smart feminine work shirt. I occasionally wore skirts but felt more comfortable in pants, trousers and jeans. Everyday I put on make-up for work, believing it made me look older than my years and therefore more professional. I sat my driving license test and passed and began to save for a car. My life was moving forward in all the right directions.

  Going out with Luke meant I would ultimately have to sleep with him. My relationship with him was important to me. I would have been happy keeping Luke as a friend, but I knew he was starting to get annoyed at our lack of intimacy. I unintentionally compared him to Johnny, hating that I still held a candle for him. I wanted to forget him, but I just couldn’t.

  Luke loved me and when we were intimate I felt like an actress. I was unable to give all of myself due to have been hurt so badly in the past. I was messed up because I was still in love with a man that was no longer in love with me. I knew in my heart of hearts that Luke would never be more than just a boyfriend, I didn’t love him and I didn’t think I ever would, but I fought my opinions telling myself in time I may feel differently.