It certainly helped that Mom and Maria weren’t barraging me with an “I told you so” attitude. Each respectively encouraged me to continue being supportive, which made the whole situation easier for me to deal with.
In the immediate future I had graduation to help me focus my energy. Since Maria and I were like members of each other’s family, our parents thought it would be nice for us to all go out for dinner after the ceremony. Over the weekend, Maria’s parents would throw her a big party at home, with her many relatives.
Every year our school held graduation at a large convention center in Manhattan. Mom and I hitched a ride with Maria and her parents. The trip was long and hot, even with the air conditioning blasting. Maria and I were decked out in fancy dresses, our hair high and stiff from hairspray. After half an hour, we both complained profusely about how long the ride was taking, and what we were going to look like if we didn’t arrive soon.
We walked three blocks in high heels after leaving the car in a hot, fume-filled parking garage. Now we had something else to complain about: aching feet.
Once we arrived at the convention center we made our way inside and into the comfort of air conditioning. But the damage had already been done. Our hair and makeup didn’t weather the heat as best we hoped. Neither of us said as much, instead, we pulled and pushed at each other’s hair in hopes of making it better.
We stood in the great hall amidst a huge crowd, trying to figure out where we were supposed to go. We looked around aimlessly until we spotted a couple of teachers sent out with the purpose of finding graduates and herding us backstage.
Maria and I joined a group of classmates clumped together, joking and laughing, waiting for our cue to line up for Pomp and Circumstance. We were giddy. One phase of our lives over, the next one ready to begin.
The seating order went according to last names. Luckily, Maria and I weren’t too far from each other and were placed on the same side of the stage, so we could stay together until the last few minutes. I watched Rob and Maria laughing, holding on to each other before we marched to our seats.
He kept his arm around her shoulder or waist, his fingers entwined with hers. No matter what she did, he didn’t lose the contact. Her eyes danced when she looked at him. I realized for the first time how much they really loved each other. And as much as I was part of her life, he was a part that I didn’t belong in.
It wasn’t jealousy that swept over me but a sense of the future. He’d soon consume more of her days. He already took up most of her nights. I understood as their relationship continued to thrive and grow, she’d have less room for me. Like soul mates, they shared their innermost selves with each other. I just didn’t belong. I felt alone.
More alone than ever.
I wished by some miracle Jordan were seated in the auditorium. It was no surprise he declined the invitation but still I was disappointed. He was the one I shared my innermost self with, without ever meaning to. It just happened.
I took a breath, closed my eyes and imagined him out there, waiting to see me receive my diploma. I pictured him standing when he heard my name, clapping, a look of pride on his face. I knew it was only in my head, but for a moment, everything was perfect.
We were called to attention as the countdown to the commencement began. Arms reached and grabbed for one last hug, as we knew this would be the last time many of us ever saw each other. People were calling out, making a last promise to keep in contact. All this was done with the same good intent of preceding classmates, knowing these vows would be broken.
All through the ceremony I tried to stay focused on the guest speaker’s words. “Take hold of the future, grasp with both hands. Believe in yourself, stay true to your heart.”
I did my best to stay in the moment, to relish the bright lights and cheering crowd. I hoped if I remembered every nuance, I might take from it more than a sad sense of nostalgia. No matter what, I wanted to hold the night in my heart forever.
I spoke to Jordan often over the next month. Usually at least once a day. Most conversations were short and lacked any substance.
“What did you do today?” he’d ask, more out of common courtesy than because he had any real desire to know.
“Not much,” my stock answer before getting into a recap of my day. “Went to work, spent the day at the beach, shopping with Maria. How about you?”
He’d either answer with “Nothing,” or “went for a walk,” sounding totally uninterested in anything.
I’d search for questions to ask, “Anywhere special?” I thought if I could get him to elaborate, maybe it would stimulate his brain and revitalize him a bit.
“Just around.” he’d answer, not wanting to play along.
Even though getting my teeth drilled for fillings was less painful, I looked forward to hearing his voice, a reassurance he was alive. But I couldn’t help the nagging voice in my head telling me to back off. I wouldn’t listen, he needed me. And it would have felt too much like giving up on him, and he never gave up on me.
“Do you want to do something tomorrow? Go to the movies maybe?” I’d ask every once in a while, wanting badly for him to say yes, for no other reason than to clear his mind.
“Nah, I have a meeting with my lawyer.”
He always claimed to be too busy. Stock excuses were physical therapy and meetings with his lawyer. He had more meetings with his lawyer than any other client in the history of the world.
A few weeks after graduation on a particularly beautiful night, I decided to walk home from work. It wasn’t the warm, dry breeze, or the clear sky illuminating an unusual amount of stars, even for the city, that made the night so perfect. It was the surprise of finding Jordan sitting on his front stoop listening to the radio.
“Hey!” He called out, “Don’t you know it’s dangerous to walk alone in the dark.”
My pulse quickened, and I bit my lip, trying unsuccessfully to keep from smiling, “Are you making me a better offer?”
He didn’t answer. Rather he got up and approached me. My heart ached seeing him up close. He looked as if he had just gotten out of bed, unshaven, eyes cloudy. I’d never seen him so disconnected from the world.
“Is that what you do all day, listen to music and hang out?” I asked trying to keep my tone light and friendly, so he wouldn’t retreat back into himself.
“Sometimes.”
“You look better,” I babbled through the awkward moment of silence between us. “I mean your arm isn’t in the sling. That’s got to be a good sign.” I made it a point to focus on the positive.
“It’s amazing what painkillers can do,” he cracked a smile. “C’mon, I’ll walk with you.”
Even though he was somber and the conversation felt forced at times, especially in the beginning, it felt almost normal. Desperate to believe his internal bruises were healing, as well as the external ones, I gratefully accepted, almost normal.
Once we got to my house, I tried with little success, to keep him talking and engaged in conversation.
“Do you want to come in for a minute? Can I get you a drink or something?”
“I really should be getting back,” he answered, looking away.
I nodded and reminded myself it had been his idea to walk with me, and that definitely constituted progress. Before going through my front door, I turned back. He already started toward home, but he did seem to have more bounce in his step.
More often than not my phone would ring late at night when he tried his hardest to ward off sleep and the awful visions it would bring.
“What are you still doing up?” he’d ask.
“Talking to you.” I tried to sound more alert than I actually felt.
“You’d be better off getting some sleep.”
“Don’t worry, if I get too tired I’ll just close my eyes,” I assured him.
“I hate the night,” he confessed on more than one occasion. “It’s too quiet. No one’s around. No one’s awake.”
“Want to co
me over?”
Most of the time, his answer was “No.” But on two occasions, he surprised me.
“Steph it’s almost midnight. I doubt your mother would go for that.”
“If she says yes, do you want to?”
“If she says yes,” he hesitated. “I’d love to.”
Much to my amazement my mother did allow it. Aside from Maria, I wasn’t allowed visitors past eleven o’clock, but if Jordan felt like coming over at midnight, Mom was okay with that. It only happened twice but I was surprised it happened at all. She suddenly had a soft spot for him and hadn’t the heart to say no. She even made it a point not to come out and embarrass me.
The scent of alcohol hung on his breath. He didn’t stumble or slur his words so I knew he wasn’t drunk, but his eyes weren’t right. They looked wild and frightened. The way he fidgeted and his eyes darted around, he looked like he couldn’t bear to be in his own skin.
“It’s too quiet. I can’t sleep.”
“You’re not listening carefully,” I tried to lighten his mood. “There’s always noise outside, sirens or horns. Always something.”
He shook his head, his tone, his expression, everything about him seemed so serious. “When I close my eyes, I hear nothing but the pounding of my heart in my ears. And it’s so loud.”
“Sleep with music on,” I offered.
He snickered. “Like I haven’t tried that. I hear it through anything. It’s like a bad joke. Like the universe is trying to remind me I’m alive.”
What do you say to that?
“Do you want to talk about the accident?” I offered, understanding the true cause of his nighttime angst.
“No.”
I wanted so badly to wrap my arms around him. I moved closer, he stood and found something of interest on the other side of the room. I ached to ease his pain, I just needed a clue how to.
The next midnight visit he wanted to talk. The subject matter caught me off guard.
“Besides the sleepaway camp, do you have other bad memories of your father?” he inquired.
I didn’t understand what his purpose was at first. I thought maybe he felt so depressed he wanted me to feel bad along with him. After all, misery loves company right?
“No.” I answered. “I guess that’s why I miss him so much.”
He mulled that over for a minute, “You know, every single memory I have of my father is bad,” he confessed, his face grim. “All but one.”
“And what is that?”
“The day he left.”
It seemed I only played into his depressing, destructive line of thinking. I wondered if that was why he came, because he knew I didn’t have the slightest clue how to make him feel better.
“I’m sure he must have done something nice.”
Jordan shook his head, a distant look in his eyes, “He was nice the nights he only locked me in the dark attic. They were better than the ones where he beat me with his belt first.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“If I knocked my glass over at dinner, or I spilled something, if my room was messy or I didn’t answer him quick enough, I’d be stuck in there, sitting on the dusty, wood floor feeling my throat close.”
I stared at him silently in disbelief as he went on.
“I’d hug my knees pretending I could curl up in a ball and make myself invisible. My throat would hurt. It was raw from crying and screaming for my mother to help me.” He shook his head; a nasty sneer on his face. “She never did. Not one time.”
It was the first time I ever caught a glimpse of anger or resentment toward his mother. I reached for his hand and held it. He allowed me that much. But when he looked down at our joined hands with a detestable look on his face, I felt a stabbing pain in my heart. Feeling dejected I drew my hand back.
“She never did anything to help you?”
“She couldn’t. Then he would punish her for interfering in his ‘disciplinary tactics,’” he said in a mocking voice. “Instead she signed me up for karate. So I’d know how to defend myself against him. I was young and hadn’t been in long enough to use it before he left. She insisted I keep with it long after he was gone.”
Lost was the carefree boy with flirtatious smile and playful eyes. In his place I found an aggrieved, bitter replica. I never imagined he carried so much pain.
“I guess that was the only way she knew how to keep you safe.” Jordan always proclaimed his undying love and dedication toward his mother. So hearing anything but, surprised me.
“It was better than sticking her head in the sand and looking the other way altogether. Still, I hate that she had been so weak, that she didn’t throw him out on his ass. The son of a bitch left us instead.”
I could tell he felt too vulnerable and exposed. He tried to delve into my soul as well.
“Why Steph? Why do women stay with guys who hurt them?
I cleared my throat, searching for an answer. “I have no idea.”
“Why did you stay with Chris?”
I didn’t expect that. I hadn’t spoken to or about Chris since the night of the party when we broke up. Surprisingly, he never bothered me, just as Jordan promised. A few months later, Chris dropped out and took his GED.
“Chris didn’t hurt me. I mean he did, but that was the last night I was with him.”
Jordan snickered, “He hurt you all along. He controlled you, who you saw, who you spoke to.”
I swallowed hard ready to disagree and plead my case. “That’s not true.”
“Then why didn’t you ever come to my locker? When you saw me in the halls, why didn’t you stop and talk?”
He noticed. And he bottled it up for years. “I was inexperienced, and I didn’t know what to do or how to act around you. Actually I thought you wanted me to give you space.”
I didn’t mean to put the onus back on him, it just happened. He was quick to change the subject.
“Where are your drawings?” he asked. “I’d like to see them.”
“Upstairs. But I haven’t done anything special in a long time. I’ve been busy with school and graduation.”
He shrugged, “I don’t care. Go get them.”
I hesitated before explaining, “I don’t share them with anyone. They’re more for me to relax and unwind, than anything else.”
“I know.” He understood they were personal, that was his point. I was just too dense to understand. “But you let me see them once.”
“I didn’t really let you, more like you snatched my book and wouldn’t give it back, until you riffled through all the pages.”
“Was that so bad?”
Bad? No. Just the opposite. To see the look of admiration on his face, it gave me hope. My entire life changed that day. Girls that before, treated me like gum on the bottom of their shoes, gained enough respect for me to end the taunting. Probably afraid I’d make caricatures of them and post them on the Internet. And I let down walls for Jordan, that otherwise were hard as steel.
“I guess not. But still . . . ”
He narrowed his eyes and I saw a flash of anger in them. “I just told you things I’ve gone my whole life without talking about. And you won’t show me your drawings?”
Guilt plagued my judgment. He made it sound so trivial. I understood he manipulated me to get what he wanted. I also knew he had a hard time talking about his feelings. I only began to realize I barely knew him at all. I wanted to be his safe haven.
I caved.
We sat together and went through my entire portfolio. We spoke about every picture, what inspired it, and how I felt at the time. When he finished pouring through my drawings, we sat without saying a word listening to music. He rifled through my CD’s and stopped when he came across Phantom of the Opera.
“Do you mind if I put this in?” he asked.
“Not at all. I love it.”
We listened and he, too, fell in love with the powerful music. I got the sense that he identified with the phantom hidden behind t
he mask, afraid to show the world who he was, striving for a love he could never have. I wondered if Jordan were creating his own mask, one of alcohol, in an attempt to withdraw from the world. Strangely enough it only made him more human in my eyes and I loved him for it.
And then there was Madison.
He wore his guilt in his eyes. Speaking about her was off limits.
“Jordan, I know you miss Madison, I just want you to know you can talk to me about it.”
“There’s nothing to say.”
But I knew when he thought of her. His face looked wistful and his eyes would trail off to the side, filling with tears he didn’t want me to see. I could see he was going to try and make up for the accident by dedicating his life to her memory.
Twenty-Six
I climbed over the wrought iron banister separating our houses and opened Maria’s front door. Over the years the Delucis took to keeping the front door unlocked if someone was home. This way they didn’t have to hear the bell every time Maria and I went in or out. Which some days could be ten times an hour.
I knew her father worked half a day on Saturdays and our mothers left together on a shopping spree. I also remembered Rob was vacationing with his parents at Lake George. I thought we could enjoy the time together. Just the two of us.
She hadn’t heard me come in since she didn’t greet me, or call out for me to come to the kitchen in the back of the house. I smiled to myself thinking I’d sneak up on her and get her blood racing.
“You’re kidding right?” I heard her say.
From the front foyer I peered into the kitchen and spotted her pacing form holding the telephone to her ear.
“You have to talk to Stephanie. You have to be fair.” I heard her say.
My heart dropped like a crashing elevator to the floor. Jordan. She had to be speaking to Jordan. Still undetected I crept into the living room, then the dining room, trying my hardest not to be seen.
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