by Karina Sharp
For a moment, I watch the light from street lamps sparkle in her eyes.
I place her hand in mine and continue. “While I was living in New York, George’s father, Big George, contacted me, saying that my father wasn’t doing so well, and that his health was beginning to deteriorate. My mother, who normally took care of him, had fallen and broken a wrist. When I spoke to my parents, I mostly spoke with my mother and she would report that she was feeling tired and less able to ambulate than normal, but when I offered to come stay with them while she healed, she insisted that they didn’t want to be a burden. She stated that they had talked to Big George about it, and he was willing to help them out and make minor medical decisions.”
“I don’t like where this is going. I take it that they gave him Power of Attorney.”
“Yes, but I made sure it contained very specific wording to only give him Power of Attorney for limited medical decisions and no access to money. He convinced my parents to move out of the house and into assisted living.”
“How old are your parents?”
“My father is seventy-two and my mother is sixty-seven.”
“So, just sixty-six and sixty-one when all of this happened?”
“Yes. It turns out that while mother informed me that she suspected my father was experiencing some ‘memory slips’ here and there, she hid from me that he was actually experiencing dementia. What makes me ashamed is that I was so caught up in my own work, coupled with self-loathing and self-pity that I refused to see what was really going on. I told myself that my parents were cared for and the Fosters had it under control. It wasn’t until I came across a tax bill stating my parents were in arrears that I realized there was more going on. My father was always very meticulous about finances and had people in place to take care of those matters. When I came back down to visit them two years ago, I found the house in disrepair, found that all of my parents’ financial advisors had been fired along with their estate attorneys and replaced by friends or family of the Fosters.”
“Oh my god. Say no more. I get it. Are you at least going to be able to publicly call them out?”
“I highly doubt it. Not because I lack the evidence, but because I don’t want to publicly humiliate them. Also, it will cause a giant spotlight to be shone upon both families in this case. I’d rather settle it behind closed doors, and I’m working on that process.”
“But, what if they do it to someone else? What if it’s worse than you thought?”
“I’m not everyone else’s keeper, Journey. I want to focus on my parents’ health improving, moving them back toward independence, and moving on with my life.”
“I can’t believe you don’t want to stick it to them, especially after George betrayed you in Cabo.”
“I’ve moved past that. George and I don’t talk anymore, but I’ve moved on.”
A silent pause passes as I watch Journey’s internal struggle to determine whether or not she wants to say something.
“He asked me out when he interviewed me.”
My blood runs cold. I know Journey has no interest in George, but still, the thought of him hitting on her makes me want to punch something. Hard.
“Do you know what he said to me the last time I saw him? He told me that I tempt and tease him, and I basically do it on purpose. He called me a whore and said he wanted to know what made you so hot for me. The trip before that, he told me you were a golfer in college and he pinned me to the bar. I had to signal to Rico to help me out. If anyone deserves contempt and retaliation, it’s him.”
I didn’t know those things, and George better hope he never crosses my path again.
“I can’t exactly pin things on George, but if I ever do get something to pin on him, trust me, you’ve now convinced me to make those matters very public.”
“That’s my boy!”
Our question and answer session continues into the night, not allowing for much sleep or anything else, for that matter. I tell Journey about playing on the golf team during undergrad and touring with golf. I also relay to her that I had the potential of going pro, but I was tired of traveling and tournaments, so I didn’t have the heart to do what it took to be a pro. I also tell her of my spending the past two years painstakingly renovating the interior of the house and slowly moving to the exterior.
Her last question before closing her eyes and drifting into sleep for a few hours is, “Can I meet your parents one day?” to which I respond as I delicately kiss each of her eyelids, ”I was hoping you would ask that. Now that I’ve opened up to you, will you answer one question for me?”
“I suppose that’s fair.”
“What happened that made you push me away?”
“I didn’t push you away, Jack. You said you didn’t want anything to do with me after George sent you those photos.”
“I never said anything like that. Wait, what photos?”
“This is even more difficult in person. I was topless in Cabo at a big party. I was also very drunk on tequila, not that it’s an excuse, but I’m just letting you know my frame of mind. He was creeping around there and took pictures of me partying and acting crazy. He told me that he sent them to you.”
George lied to her about me? That fucker.
“He never did, Journey. Even if he had, I would have never said I didn’t want to talk to you again. Why didn’t you just reach out to me and ask?”
“Because I was beyond disappointed in myself. I knew I had let you down, and everyone else who could find out about it. I couldn’t handle the thought.” Her speech halts for a moment. “But, if you never said that, then everything I went through afterward was for nothing?”
I’m worried now. What does she mean? Why wasn’t I more persistent?
“What did you go through? I’m partially to blame. I should have called or even just flown out to you like I planned in my head so many times. I became so hurt, I wanted to forget you existed and move on.”
“Oh wow… I know that exact same feeling. I began losing sight of who I was and wanted to become. I started partying, and when I mean partying, I mean partying hard. That’s when I simply didn’t care anymore and allowed those pictures to be printed in the magazine. It’s also when the worst experience of my life happened.”
I wait on pins and needles for her to finish. I’m so anxious, I have to force myself to breathe.
Journey takes a deep breath and continues. “I got arrested for DUI.”
Journey begins to cry, and the only thing I feel for her is compassion and empathy. I cannot imagine how lost and alone she felt.
“I’m so sorry.”
I have no response other than to pull her close to me and hug her tightly. I don’t ever want to let her go. This is the second time I’ve seen her cry. Like last time, it completely shatters me.
“I just wanted to keep memories of you around, Jack. I didn't want to move on. I don’t think I ever did. I only pushed you out of my mind and threw myself into school and work. I’ve been terrified to share this with anyone, but it was especially scary to share with you. I didn’t know what you would think of me. I didn’t harm anyone, and for that I am so thankful. I’m very lucky that it didn’t end up in catastrophe.”
“What happened, exactly?”
“Well, I spent most of my nights and weekends drinking and dancing my cares away. Each time I felt lonely. Each time I felt I wanted you near, I surrounded myself with revelry and at least the environment around me was happy and energized.”
“When did you realize it was a problem?”
“You know, I think I kind of always knew I had a tendency to go overboard, but I refused to see it. I think when I saw myself on the pages of a magazine, at first I loved it and thought it was a big joke. The first time someone recognized me as having been in those pictures was when I first realized that it didn’t bring me the pride I thought it would. Sure, I was proud of myself that I was brave enough to do it, but it’s hard to gain respect when people have seen all of your jui
cy bits, you know?”
“I’ve seen them and I still respect you.”
“I know that, and you keep coming back for more, but you’re not my father or his associates. When he called and asked me why I chose that magazine and why I didn’t talk to my mother if I was interested in real modeling, I felt humiliated. I didn’t even tell them myself. They found out from friends who happened to see or hear about it. His disappointment in me was soul crushing.”
“So, to combat this, you kept partying?”
“Not only was I trying to escape my humiliation, but I think, in a way, I was trying to convince myself that I was fine with it and keeping up appearances in my brain at least. Just as drinking and partying became common occurrences, so did driving home under the influence. I’m so, so lucky.” I look up and meet Jack’s warm and encouraging eyes. “You must think I’m incredibly irresponsible and impulsive.”
“I think you’re a brave woman who has managed to turn a terrible and potentially catastrophic situation into a learning experience. You’re the same person you were when I knew you years ago, except now you’ve adjusted your priorities, and that’s fantastic.”
“Did your parents ever say they were disappointed in you?”
“No, but I could hear it in my father’s voice and the way he looked at me when I visited them after that. It’s like I was no longer his little girl. Something changed, and it made me very sad to not hold that place with him anymore.”
“Maybe he realized you’re not his little girl. Maybe he realized you had matured into a grown woman.”
“Maybe. I went through a lot of soul searching and therapy. I’ve promised myself that I will never be so careless or selfish again.”
“I believe you.”
She’s not just the awesome person for whom I developed feelings and have been unable to get out of my mind, she’s that person and then some. This is a turning point in our relationship and I know things will only get better from here. I think about the text I received from her telling me that she didn’t want to talk to me again and wonder if it was truly from her. We just connected in an amazing way, and I don’t want to risk ruining the moment, so I don’t mention it to her. But, what if all of this time we spent apart was an ornate orchestration by George? I refuse to let the thought of his pathetic existence ruin this moment. I pull Journey into my closer than ever and kiss her with every ounce of expression I can muster.
***
This morning, Journey insisted that I stay in bed and she take the Lexus to work. Not being one to argue when it comes to getting extra sleep, I stayed buried deep in the blankets as she kissed me goodbye. My arms missed being around her warm curves, but I managed to clock in a few more hours of sleep, which is good since I didn’t get a wink the night before.
I’m taking care of some details on a few investment properties that my company is purchasing while Journey takes a nap in the master bedroom after she came home from work. I called Mom and Dad earlier today, and they’re doing well. They were more than happy to hear about Journey and my confession to them of deep feelings for her. I believe their response was akin to “It’s about time,” when I said that she is the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.
It’s now 3:30 P.M., which is the agreed upon time to get Jenny. Allowing Journey to rest longer, I set out to pick up Jenny. Pulling up the drive to the Foster homestead sends strange sensations throughout my body. It’s a place I once knew very well, but now seems to house strangers. I place the Rover into park in front of the main house and see Jenny already skipping toward me with several bags and Louis Vuitton luggage in tow. Her golden hair bounces with each movement, but I still somehow manage to see the little five year old girl I once knew. I always felt sorry for Jenny. Like me, she is an only child, except her parents have never been overly involved in her life like mine were. She didn’t appear to have many friends her own age, usually just tagging along with George, who wasn’t always so kind to her.
“Hiya Jack! Where’s Journey?”
“She’s napping. I don’t think she meant to fall asleep, but she needed it, so I thought I might come do her bidding.”
“You’re too kind,” Jenny says sarcastically.
I meet Jenny halfway to the car and take her bags out of her hands, carrying them and packing them inside the Rover.
It’s a short, ten minute drive from her driveway to my front door, but in the time that I was gone, Journey got out of bed, showered, and is now packing toiletries into an overnight bag.
“Hey, Sweetie!”
“Hey, Babe. I see you’re awake now.” I move to greet her with a peck on her lips.
“Yeah, well you could have woken me up to go get Jenny, or at least told me you were leaving.”
“I’m sorry. I thought you might appreciate more time to sleep.”
“Holy Christ, Jack! It looks ah-mazing in here. You’ve done an awesome job with the place.”
My eyes sweep over the room in a circular motion. I have done a great job with home improvements. The house was nice prior to the renovations I’ve done, but it’s now updated and more open than it was before.
“You should have seen it before, Journey. It was nice, but was a little outdated. It was very Kennedy-esque. It looks so nice and timeless in here now. Mind if I look around? It’s been so long.”
“Be my guest.” I sweep my hand in front of me, inviting her to walk around by herself. Turning my attention back to Journey, I take note of the large amount of luggage that’s scattered about the living room. “You do realize that we are just going away for the weekend, right? To Boston?”
“Of course I do, but I never really spent much time in Boston. In fact, I’ve never really toured most big cities, including New York City. I mostly stayed in the countryside- The Hamptons, Nantucket, Aspen...you know. I don’t know what we’re going to do while we’re there, nor do I know what the weather is going to be like, so I wanted to be prepared.”
I pick up a pair of brightly colored tennis shoes. “Are you really going to need these?”
“What if I decide to work out?”
“And these?” I lift up a pair of very tall, very formal, high heels.
“What if we decide to go somewhere nice?”
I spot a tube of candy apple red lipstick with a giant, glittery bow wrapped around it. “And this?”
“In my defense, that’s not for me. I have an entire suitcase full of makeup, bows, bobby pins, safety pins, hairspray, extra uniform parts, and more. Just in case. Without fail, someone forgets something for competition.” Journey stops what she’s doing to look up at me. Speaking with a strappy sandal in her hand that bounces as she moves her arms with her speech she says, “Look, for the past several years, I mostly wore scrubs and a lab coat, unless it was a formal function. I haven’t traveled, albeit overnight, and worn normal clothes in a long time. Humor me, okay?”
“As you wish, but let me help you pack. Your packing skills leave a bit to be desired.”
“You really think you can stuff more junk into a bag or suitcase better than me?”
“Not only do I think I can, I know I can.”
“You’re on, Mister. I'm putting some socks on so you can knock them off.”
After a few minutes of pulling everything out of her bags and suitcases, organizing them, folding them, and repacking them, I have reduced the pieces of luggage to half of the original amount.
“Wow!” Journey exclaims, eyeing my handiwork. “Alright, you win. I eat my words.”
“Simply folding the clothes instead of just stuffing them in works wonders, you know.”
“Yeah, yeah… So humble, you are.”
Jenny comes back inside from the pool area. “Jack, inside looks amazing, but that pool looks straight up like a place where a swamp monster or other creature would live.”
I chuckle. “I haven’t quite made it out there yet. I shocked the pool and moved a lot of brush out of the way over the summer, but haven’t treated
it since because it needs to be resurfaced. I guess it’s time to winterize it, but as you can see, I’ve been busy with the inside. And then I got a little distracted.” I motion my head toward Journey, who sticks her tongue out at me. “See what I put up with?”
“Oh, I’m sure it’s such a sacrifice on your part.” Jenny slowly spins around, looking about the room. “The pool area would be easy to do. You just need to shock the crap out of the water and cover it for the winter. The cement needs a good power washing, but that’s not that hard. We could knock it out in a few weekends while the weather is still nice.”
“I appreciate the offer, but it’s okay, I’ll-”
“Jenny, I think that idea is fabu! Let’s do it!” Journey butts in, bouncing with excitement.
“YES!” Jenny begins bouncing up and down too. “Jack? You in?”
I look to the two faces, staring back at me in anticipation. Both ladies are petite, athletic, energetic, and loving. Jenny, despite her long, blonde hair, reminds me a lot of the Journey I met years ago. Her blue eyes display a sense of wonder and curiosity about the world around her. Journey has equally long, dark red hair, but hers naturally curls loosely, and she has gorgeous green eyes that give off a similar curiosity about the world, but also show a great deal of wisdom. Seeing both ladies, I am filled with light and love. For Jenny, I feel a sense of responsibility and a desire to protect her, almost in the sense of being a mentor or big brother to her as opposed to the romantic love and friendship I have with Journey.
“Count me in.”
Jenny and Journey seem to jump, squeal, and clap their hands in the exact way at the exact same time.
“But first, let’s get down to Boston and win this thing.”
The drive to Boston is no more than a couple of hours. I’ve made this trek many times and could probably do it in my sleep if I had to, thus I offered to drive. Jenny and Journey gab about the competition and what squads are strong contenders. The subject of college comes up and, of course, Journey has many opinions on the subject of where Jenny might go.
“Both Kentucky and Louisville are great cheer schools. It kind of depends on whether you want to be in the UCA or NCA.”
