by Karina Sharp
“We are not.”
“Hold the phone! You didn’t notice that loads of usuals and locals were asking about the two of you? Everyone, and I mean everyone, looks at the two of you in wonder. They’re in awe of how closely connected you are. They tell me what a beautiful couple you are and how refreshing it is to see two people in love like the both of you are.”
We’re not actually on a phone call as she is sitting right next to me, but since she just told me to hold a phone, I’m going to use her turn of phrase and turn it against her.
“Whoa. This call needs to move to call waiting because real life is beeping in to tell me you’re insane. No one said anything about love.”
“Take that call. I’ll hold. I bet ‘real life’ is beeping in to beat you over the head until you see things for what they really are.”
“It’s not love, Lex; it’s friendship. Plus, Jack is like a delicate baby bird. I can’t bring him into my tangled world of drunken binges, taking major exams while hung over, my inability to settle down, nor my crazy impulsiveness. He’s someone who has it all together, obviously. He’s successful, articulate, worldly, and responsible. He’s not looking for someone like me. He doesn’t realize that with me, the party doesn’t stop after I go back home.”
“A smart, loyal, major babe who has his shit together? You’re right, who would even want that? Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?”
“Your call waiting is beeping again, only this time it’s every other woman and a few select men on this planet calling to tell you you’re being a bona fide bottle of ridiculousness.”
I shake my head in defiance. “Anyway, I’ve screwed it up in a major way. And George didn’t make it any better.”
“Oh… He is such a sack of Summer’s Eve!”
“Don’t you think just saying ‘douche bag’ would be easier? And yes, he is.”
“I’m not vulgar like you, ho-cake. I’m a lady.”
“Sure,” I guffaw.
“I’m sure he will understand and move past it. Everyone does stupid things. It sounds like he doesn’t think you should be ashamed, but that he’s more concerned that you don’t know exactly what you want. I bet if you two tried to make it work, you could.”
“I can’t do it, Lex. I just can’t. I can’t let him fall for me only to crush him when he realizes I’m not everything I’m cracked up to be. I’ve never even lived on my own or paid my own bills. Am I supposed to say, ‘Yes, Jack, uproot your entire life and come join me at medical school, but beware that I have no idea how to write a check or even check the balance on my account because I know it will always be full?’”
“I don’t know that I would approach it that way, but whatever you think works for you.”
“Shut up, hooker. You know what I mean.”
“Yes, I do know what you mean, so I’m not going to push the issue anymore. I love you and want you to be happy.”
“I think I have some serious growing up to do that I’m not ready for just yet. Remember, I’m younger than all of you and kind of spent my entire adolescence studying and cheering. Look at me, Lex. I drink and do all kinds of crazy things, like flash mobs of people.”
“So? You didn’t do anything wrong last night. You’re a young twenty-something having a good time. Maybe you could’ve kept yourself from blacking out, but you did black out. Big whoop.”
“So, I’m not ready to give up this life yet, and no one wants an impulsive, hot mess by their side.”
Okay, my arguments may not have been completely truthful. In an effort to be more mature and focus on med school this past year, I pretty much gave up all of the weekend parties and drinking binges before I came here. I also wanted to be the kind of person that a responsible man would want as opposed to the booty call for lots of other men. But, I blew all of that away in a matter of minutes. Cue extreme self-loathing in three, two, and one...
“I know you missed out on a lot of your youth, Journey, so you’re kind of making up for lost time, and then some. I just find it interesting that you never have eyes for one man longer than a few weeks, hell...often not longer than a few hours, yet when we’re here, Jack’s the only one you see. Think about that.”
What I didn’t know at the time was how often Jack would not simply be a part of my thoughts, he would consume them.
Chapter 8
Three Years Later
Jack
Don’t bother texting or reaching out to me again. I’ve changed my number. I’ve moved on. I never had feelings for you and I never will.
I stared at the screen on my phone willing the words to say something else. Willing another message to come through. But it didn’t work. That was the last direct communication I’ve had and will probably ever have with Journey Ferrer. I still have the message saved on my phone- I refuse to delete it. It’s as if I’m missing something about the entire situation. I tried texting and calling her, but they were all ignored.
I don’t understand what happened. We were talking regularly, planning for this year’s trip, and then a bomb was dropped on me as I was going through family finances and business matters. I had to drop everything I was doing, leave New York, and come back home to New England to deal with it.
I knew she went to Cabo anyway, as I hoped she would, I didn’t want to ruin her vacation. I knew because my buddies kept tabs on her and told me about it, and she texted me from there. Every message had been what she was doing and where she was going and how was not the same without me there. Life certainly isn’t the same without her in it.
Most professionals, especially those like me who wouldn’t have any public musings to share, don’t have a Facebook or social media accounts. Even if I did, I don’t have a real friends to be “friends” with on those accounts- just business associates. I was so pathetic, that didn’t stop me from looking her up on social media. She seemed to be doing well and even seemed happy. Eventually, I quit looking. No one in their right mind constantly checks up and follows someone who has either moved on or wants nothing to do with them.
I’m supposed to be focusing on getting my family back in order and researching how I can continue moving forward with my life and right several wrongs I’ve made. I haven’t spoken to George Foster in years, and for good reason. He has betrayed me in the worst of ways, but it doesn’t bother me. It doesn’t hurt me. He will get what he deserves. Call it pride, but, I can’t believe I allowed myself to lose control over my emotions and be affected like this.
I thought she understood. I thought she felt the same. I thought I would never be taken for a fool. I thought wrong.
*****
Journey
Just a year ago, I was very busy with school, but not too busy to live like I am a reality show starlet attending tons of social events and parties, plus consuming alcohol by the bucket load. Following that last vacation in Mexico, my behavior and life began tumbling wildly out of control and I made some of the worst decisions of my life. Suddenly, I had this kind of fuck-it attitude and took YOLO too much to heart.
My life became akin to a montage of every Ke$ha music video montage of people drinking and dancing. I say it was like a montage, because that’s how my brain registers that period of time- in vivid bits and pieces, unable to see the rest of the story. Most people say they drink and party to forget, but I did it to keep up the memories and feelings I had when I was happy. When I was with Jack.
I wasn't addicted to alcohol; I was addicted to the feelings partying gave me. You would think the debacle with flashing my tits on camera would be the last of its kind, but I was contacted by that magazine to pose nude again, and I did. I told myself that it was the opportunity of a lifetime. Since you only live once, why not? Am I ashamed of my body? No. Am I ashamed of being a free spirit and doing some fun things? No. Conversely, I’m a little proud that I was able to pose in a magazine. What I didn’t consider at the time was how my decisions potentially affect other people. I am someone’s daughter, someone’s docto
r, and simply someone who should be able to live their life free of judgment, but when you put yourself into the public eye you’re subject to a great amount of scrutiny. On flip side, doing that kind of work gets you invited to some amazing parties.
One night, I was at a party where I did not keep track of my alcohol consumption. I had driven to and from clubs and parties over the legal blood alcohol limit plenty of times before, so I justified my decision by that terrible logic. Fortunately, I was pulled over before I could hurt someone. Unfortunately, I was arrested and charged with Driving Under the Influence or DUI. It was the most life-changing and humbling experience that could have ever happened to me. I didn’t have a substance abuse problem; I had a self-abuse problem. Since that incident happened, I always arrange to have a designated driver or take a cab home, then go pick up my car the next day.
I took an intense evaluation of my life and where it was headed. Just because someone appears to have everything they ever wanted and acquired it with ease, doesn’t mean they are happy. Sure, things seem that way from the outside looking in, but as the old saying goes, looks can be deceiving.
Perhaps being a bit more reactionary than I should have been, I disconnected myself from everything and everyone, from that period of my life, and reconnected with people who mattered, like my family and my friends who supported me through the entire ordeal.
My father was able to hire a great attorney for me who had the charge reduced and everything erased from my public record. I was very lucky that this happened to me before I finished med school, or else it wouldn’t have been swept away quite so easily. Regardless, I take full responsibility for all of my reckless decisions and behavior.
On that fateful day, I vowed I would never be that person again. And since then, I’ve kept true to it. I justified everything by only living once and lapping up as much fun and joy as possible in this life. Except, it was all fleeting. When I leave this earth, will the memories of partying and living life on the edge be the last ones I play in my brain? No.
My only regret is that I didn’t reach out to Jack and keep in contact with him. I suppose, in a way, I continue to punish myself. Not to mention that I am so ashamed, I don’t think I could ever tell him everything that happened. It doesn’t matter at this point, though. He’s long been an entity of my past. I pushed him away after that last spring break, where I was half naked in front of thousands of people. When George informed me that he sent pictures of my actions to Jack, I just knew that he wouldn’t want to have anything to do with me. It’s better to cut people out of your life before they do it to you, right?
It’s been three years since my last spring break in Cabo- the one without Jack. I’m getting ready to finish med school and preparing for the residency portion of medical school where you begin working in the field and concentrating on your chosen path of medicine. Even throughout the long daytime hours of lectures, studying, exams, and nighttime hours at the hospital, my thoughts often turn to Jack and our vacations together. Despite my memories of him, I have my life on track, having long put George Foster and my irresponsible behavior behind me, but not without hitting several major bumps in the road and learning some serious life lessons.
I’m moving on, and the farther in the past Jack becomes, the more distant the memories.
Chapter 9
June, 5 Years Later
Journey
I have never seen such a picturesque place in my life. This is exactly what my life needs. Most of my friends and family thought I was crazy when I decided to leave my very good and cushioned job as a resident pediatrician at Texas Children’s Hospital to start a family practice in the small, quaint, seaside town of Kleinert, Maine. I always pictured myself staying in the big city with my wealthy fiancé, and soon to be husband, attending the best social galas, having the most prestigious clients, and eventually sitting on a hospital board.
I had the option to go to college and medical school anyplace, anywhere in the world. I opted to get my undergrad at the University of Kentucky because of the cheerleading scholarship and the fact that they were national champions, several years running. My attendance did not break that cycle. Feeling landlocked in the Midwest, I chose to go to medical school on an entirely new coast- California. My experience at Berkeley led to my internship in California and residency in Austin, Texas.
I had everything in place and my life was set, or so I thought, as did everyone else. Thus, when I packed up my Porsche my dad bought me as a gift for scoring my job in Austin, and left town with just a few texts and a handwritten note or two to my best friends, everyone thought I had gone mad. From socialites, to colleagues, to my sorority sisters, all of those around me had an opinion on what it all meant. So many questioned if I needed to visit the psychiatric hospital, or just needed a trip overseas to get away for a bit. I was determined, and for once in my life made my own decision, to be responsible and build a life of my own, without things handed to me and without my past coming to haunt me.
Maine was my ticket to freedom. I love the northeast, and as a little girl, I dreamed of living on Prince Edward Island, where the show Avonlea took place, but I decided Canada seemed too much like a foreign land. While conducting some research, I saw an opportunity for family practice in Kleinert, which is a little under an hour and a half north of Boston, I found a quaint cottage near the shore to purchase, and left my old life behind.
I am beginning my second month in Kleinert, and I’ve started getting a steady stream of patients. In a small town, not only is the population of potential patients much smaller, but people tend to not change family practitioners very often. In my research, I learned that Dr. Moore, the most highly regarded family physician in town, was retiring his practice. I seized the opportunity to take his place and am getting to know the locals slowly, but surely.
“Thank you so much for everything, Dr. Ferrer.”
“You’re very welcome. Don’t forget to take all of the medicine as prescribed, but your throat should start feeling better soon.”
It is the end of the week and I have dealt with my usual stream of patients with strep throat, stomach viruses, pink eye, and every other common ailment that gets passed around daycares, schools, and small towns faster than dandelions take over a pitcher’s mound.
“Dr. Ferrer, I believe that’s the last patient of the day,” my RN and right-hand gal Teresa tells me as she places the patient’s file onto the very large stack of files that need to be put away. “Any progress in finding an assistant to help file?”
“Not just yet, Teresa, but keep your ear to the ground for me, okay?”
“Will do. Any big plans for the weekend?”
“Not really. I think I might paint my bedroom,” I tell her as I take the stethoscope off of my neck and place it into the sterilization cabinet. I let my dark red hair out of my loosely pinned bun and shaking strands out of their up-do.
“What color?” Teresa asks me, locking our medicine carts and other equipment cabinets.
“A nice, beachy blue, I think.”
“Ooo...that’ll be nice. There’s some fantastic blueberry picking on the weekends. This is when they are the most ripe for picking.”
It’s June, and I’m aware that Maine is famous for its summer blueberry harvest. I love blueberries: blueberry muffins, blueberry scones, blueberry martinis, blueberry moonshine, blueberry vodka… But I digress.
“That sounds wonderful.”
“There are lots of great places in this immediate area if you want recommendations. Speaking of, where are you headed for dinner?”
“Oh, I don’t know…” I haven’t had much of a chance to venture out and sample local cuisine. I have been busy unpacking, setting up my office, and fielding phone calls and texts from those ensuring I haven’t fallen off a cliff, never to be heard from again.
“Well, if you want some awesome seafood chowder and a wicked lobster roll, go to the Maine Diner,” Teresa tells me passively.
“I’ll have to c
heck it out some time. Thanks.”
I wait as Teresa gathers a tote bag and some personal effects, and we exit my small doctor’s office after which I lock the front door behind us.
Driving along Route 1, which follows along the coast of Maine, I roll down my windows, allowing the salty sea air to expand my lungs. This is the life. Although, I have yet to really experience much of what the surrounding scenery has to offer.
Back in my tiny cottage, I begin unpacking memories, releasing them from their cardboard storage. Yearbooks, pictures, sorority sweats, and diplomas remind of happy days past. There were many trips with the girls, outings with campus clubs, and, of course, cheerleading competitions. I come across a photo of one of my fellow Kentucky cheerleaders, Derek, and me where he’s holding me high above his head with one arm in a stunt or pose called a Liberty. This was when we won the duo stunt competition.
I pull out a brown envelope and am flooded with less than happy memories. I look through pictures of me drunk, passed out, flashing the camera, and hanging on anyone and everyone. I shudder at some of the memories of things I’ve done. Even more disconcerting, I can’t remember a good portion of my antics without the assistance of the Kodaks.
I put them away for safekeeping, out of sight and out of mind, then distract my thoughts away from them by devising a plan to actually go to the beach in the morning.
Chapter 10
Journey
I drive up the coast toward a neighboring town, Kleinport, which is more like a suburb of Kleinert and whose students attend Kleinert schools. I find myself cruising along the shore line on Ocean Avenue. This is the area of Maine where families like the Vanderbilts, Kennedys, and Bushes spent their summers. I am quite accustomed to spending time on Martha’s Vineyard and in the Hamptons, so I’m not seeking large estates with large garden parties. Instead, I am in search of a little privacy- a slice of coastal heaven where I can bathe in the sun and not be bothered.
