Skin: He wanted full contact

by Johanna Hawke

  “Yes?” I’d expected a rude, cold response, much like what I’d seen on TV, but the officer reminded me more of my great-uncle, an older but kind gentleman.

  “What exactly are the charges against me?” The question was probably ridiculous, but the past few hours had been a blur, and I hadn’t had the slightest inclination to listen when they undoubtedly told me the charges. I had to know how bad it was. Was this just the school security officer’s way of making sure I learned my lesson, or was I really in some deep shit?

  “Vandalism,” the officer said. “Plus, breaking and entering, of course.”

  I retreated back to the bench with my head hung down. Sure, it was no murder or assault charge, but it still sounded pretty damn bad. I hated myself. I hated myself for ruining the night Roni had been looking forward to for months. I hated myself for not trying in school and having no motivation. I hated myself for being an unnecessary leech in Roni’s life. I knew I was trouble, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. The stern looks on the faces of every police officer I came in contact with told me that this was the pinnacle of all trouble I’d ever been in.

  This was the final straw, the breaking point that told me I was no good for Roni. I loved Roni more than anything. She was the best thing that had ever happened to me, and I knew that every smart decision I ever made was for her or because of her. Every knuckleheaded move I made, like this dumb act of vandalism, was caused by my immaturity and selfishness. I had to break things off with Roni. I knew it would hurt like hell, but it was the only way to keep from holding Roni back.

  Tears filled my eyes as I sat in the corner of the cell, curled up in the fetal position. I didn’t want to say goodbye to Roni, but I had to. Tonight was supposed to have been one of the most magical nights of our lives, and now it was going to change our lives forever, but in ways neither of us could have expected.

  In a purple dress that was one of my favorites, Roni sat across from me looking as beautiful as ever. If it wasn’t for the glass window between us, I would’ve leaned in for a much-needed hug and kiss. I had practiced this conversation in my head over and over again for the past two weeks, but I knew that still wouldn’t make it any easier.

  I picked up the phone, our sole means of communication, and motioned to Roni to do the same. “Hey,” I said.

  “Hey?” Roni screamed into the phone. “You abandon me at prom, send your mom to break up with me, and take a plea deal that puts you in jail for two years, and all you have to say is hey?”

  The hurt in Roni’s eyes made me wish I could go back to that fateful night, admit defeat to my friends, and dance away the night with Roni at prom. “I’m sorry,” I said, playing it cool. “I screwed up.”

  “Baby, we can make this work.” Roni’s voice softened as she relaxed the muscles in her face. “I can stay here in Linfield and get a job. Screw New York! I’ll wait for you. I love you.”

  “I don’t want you to.”

  “To what?”

  “Wait for me.”

  Roni shifted in her seat. “What do you mean?”

  “I don’t love you,” I blurted. “I never loved you, and you don’t mean anything to me. Can’t you take a hint?”

  “You don’t mean that,” Roni whispered, tears falling on the counter in front of her.

  I said the only thing I could think of. “Yes. I really do.”

  With tears streaming down her face, Roni slammed the phone back in its holder and ran from the room. I felt my own tears wet my cheeks as the guard walked me back to my cell. I couldn’t be seen crying. Prison inmates didn’t like wimps. Each time the image of Roni’s hurt flashed in my mind, I felt my heart fall into my stomach. It broke my heart to break her heart, to deny my love for her, but it was the only way to get her to follow her dreams. If I admitted to Roni how much I cared for her, I had no doubt in my mind that she would have stayed in Linfield for me. This was what was best for both of us.

  Still, it broke my heart each time over the following weeks that the guards told me Roni was here to visit and I told them I didn’t want to see her. The truth was, I wanted to see her more than anything. I wanted to soak up that infectious smile and smell her strawberry shampoo again. But I knew it would only make things harder for both of us. Roni’s attempts to visit went from every other day, to every week, until they finally stopped altogether in mid-August. I figured that meant Roni had gone off to art school in New York, and I was proud of her for that.

  Three months into my two-year sentence, I received my first piece of mail. It only took one glimpse at the handwriting on the envelope to know who it was from.

  Jesse,

  There’s not a day that goes by that I don’t think about you. I don’t know why you did what you did, but I hope someday you can help me understand. It’s still crazy to me, and to all of our friends, that you weren’t there for the last few days of school or graduation. I always thought graduation was something we would celebrate together.

  It breaks my heart every time I think about how you said that you never loved me. I refuse to believe it, but I suppose that your disinterest in seeing me when I’ve visited the prison proves otherwise. Girls around town have said that you were playing me all along. Maybe they’re right, or maybe they’re just trying to hurt me. I’m not sure if I’ll ever know the truth. I choose to believe that our love was real. I know that my love for you was real. That’s for sure.

  I’m in New York now. I started school last week and I love it. I’m taking four classes this semester, and, assuming things go well, I’ll take five in the spring. My roommates are great, and I’ve met some really nice people who share my love of art. I don’t know how things fell apart so quickly for us. It feels like it was just yesterday that we were making love in the hotel in that little town outside of Norfolk. My, how things have changed.

  When people here ask if I have a boyfriend at home, my first thought is, “Yes.” I guess there’s no good way to say, “My boyfriend of over a year ditched me on prom night to vandalize a gym, then broke up with me and told me he never loved me.” Does that pretty much cover it all? You know, this old-fashioned letter writing thing would be kind of romantic if I wasn’t addressing this to the county prison, and if we hadn’t broken up.

  You broke my heart, Jesse Parker, but I want to move past it all. I suppose this is a fresh start for you and me. No matter what happened between us, I hope prison isn’t treating you too poorly. By the way, I’m going by Veronica now. I think it suits the new me. I hope you find whatever it is you’re looking for while you have all the time in the world in prison.

  Love,

  Veronica

  I read and reread the letter until my eyes hurt from staring at the paper. I couldn’t write back. What was there to possibly say? If Roni was hurting even half as badly as I was, I knew that these past few months hadn’t been easy for her. I wished there was a way to explain everything without ruining her life and jeopardizing her future plans. I supposed it was too late now. Roni deserved so much more than ending up in this small town with a loser like me. She deserved the world. That didn’t make it any easier, though, each time I had to decline a phone call or ignore a letter she sent me. If only Roni knew that breaking up with her was the hardest thing I ever had to do.

  Chapter 7

  Roni

  Please give me a chance to show you how much I care. Date at the art museum tonight? New exhibit opening that I think you’d love. It had been over two hours since I received the text message from Jesse—and answered it—but I still found myself reading it over and over again. What the hell was I thinking? We spent a few passion-filled minutes together and now suddenly I was going on a date with Jesse?

  My plan had been to avoid him at all costs, to keep my heart from hurting as it had for a long time, and here I was agreeing to go to an art museum with him. Art was one thing I didn’t want Jesse to ruin for me. I heard around town that Jesse was some sort of big-shot tattoo artist and actually doing pretty well
for himself, but I didn’t know what to think. Part of me wanted to believe that Jesse was this changed man, the sort of guy I could depend on. But, every time I closed my eyes, I was back there at the jail, heartbroken and alone.

  It had taken me so long to get over Jesse, to stop sending him letters and accept that he no longer wanted to be with me. In the back of my mind, I still heard him saying that he never loved me. I still heard the officer on the other end of the phone telling me he didn’t wish to speak with me. Maybe it had all been a ploy, or maybe it had taken Jesse until now to realize what he’d thrown away. It wasn’t like he had made any effort to rekindle our romance after he got out of prison, not that I would have taken him back so easily.

  I wasn’t sure what I’d been thinking when I replied to Jesse that he could pick me up at my parents’ house later, but there was no turning back now. I suppose that I owed it to myself to see if any spark was still there. After our spontaneous parking lot reconnection, I wasn’t sure what to think of the situation. The funny thing was, I didn’t really regret having sex with Jesse. It had been unconventional, sure, but also completely and mind-bogglingly amazing. There was no doubt in my mind that Jesse and I had a physical connection, just as we always had, but I didn’t know if we could ever get that emotional connection back.

  My plan was to go into the date with an open mind but a closed heart. There was no harm in seeing how things went, but I also wasn’t exactly seeking a relationship with Jesse again. I was still readjusting to life in Linfield, and I wanted to do that without having Jesse as a factor in the equation. Most of all, I still couldn’t believe this was happening. I spent a good chunk of my freshman year pining over Jesse, telling my new friends stories of our passionate relationship, conveniently leaving out the ending. Now, fate was giving us a second chance. As much as I felt like there was a giant stop sign in my head telling me to tell Jesse to get lost, I couldn’t ignore the part of me that wanted to be good old Roni and Jesse again.

  I spent the better part of the afternoon trying on outfit after outfit, trying to figure out what sort of impression I wanted to make. Jesse had the whole bad boy thing going on. Should I go with some leather pants and a revealing halter? No. I didn’t want to change a damn thing for him. Roni, don’t do this to yourself. Don’t fall for him again. Don’t let him in, and you sure as hell shouldn’t change for him. I gave myself little tidbits of encouragement during the hours leading up to the date I’d been both dreading and anticipating.

  Jesse had hurt my heart. He had stomped all over it without giving it a second thought. Every time I thought back to those last few weeks of high school, I wanted to throw all the clothes I hadn’t fully unpacked back in my suitcase and send Jesse a text message saying I changed my mind. I changed my mind, just like he had four years earlier.

  But something inside of me told me to go. I was curious. I wanted to know who we’d become and if there was hope for us, even as friends. Despite the passionate relationship Jesse and I had in high school, we’d also been best friends. That was why it was so difficult when I lost it all. Snapping back to my full-length mirror that still had the crack from when I’d dropped it in middle school, I decided on the most “Roni” outfit I could find. The black and red floral blouse was a favorite of mine, one I’d definitely gotten my money’s worth out of with the dozens of times I’d worn it. Some faded jeans and black slip-ons completed the look.

  The last thing I wanted was to look like I was trying too hard. Sure, deep down, I wanted Jesse’s approval more than anything. After being rejected by him, proving to him that I was, in fact, worth it would always be in the back of my mind. But, when it came down to it, I didn’t want to act like some primped-up, glamorous city girl, or dress that part. I was just plain old Roni, and he’d have to accept that.

  “Going out?” Dad asked when I emerged at the bottom of the stairs.

  I hadn’t thought this part through. If there was anyone who hated Jesse for what he did to me more than me, it was my dad. He held me in his arms as I cried, asking why I wasn’t good enough for Jesse or how he could stand me up on prom night. There was no way he was going to take catching up with Jesse, in any sense, lightly. Maybe I should just say it as casually as possible, then Dad would believe it was really just something casual. “I’m going to the art museum with Jesse,” I said.

  Dad stopped in the middle of unloading the dishwasher and turned to face me. “You’re what?”

  “I ran into him the other night,” I said. “And we made plans to catch up.”

  “He came around here looking for you yesterday. I told him to get lost.”

  “Daddy!”

  My father had an unmatched stern look on his face. “Roni, he broke your heart. I don’t want you having anything to do with him.”

  “Dad, I’m an adult now.” I threw my hands up in the air for dramatic effect. “I’m not a little girl.” I took a deep breath to calm myself down and decided that the best way to get Dad to listen would be to speak rationally. Dad always answered to logic. “Don’t you believe people can change?”

  “People, yes,” he replied. “Jesse Parker, no.”

  “Everyone around town has said how well he’s been doing for himself.”

  Dad sighed. “I’ve heard it too, sweetie. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

  “Dad, I think I need this,” I said. “I don’t think I can ever fully move on until I see where things stand with Jesse. It’s just a trip to the art museum. It’s not like we’re eloping.” I wasn’t sure if I was trying to convince my dad or myself, but I hoped it would work on both of us.

  “Please be careful, Roni.” Dad slowly made his way across the kitchen, his frail face turned down toward the floor so he could watch where he was walking. “You think with your heart, just like your mother. Sometimes that gets you in trouble.”

  I leaned in and hugged my dad. Sure, his overprotective nature could be annoying at times, but I knew I was lucky to have a dad who cared so much. I gulped as the thought crossed my mind that I didn’t know how much longer I had with him. I needed to soak in all of his love and knowledge while I had the chance.

  “You know, I could’ve picked you up,” Jesse said. Beneath the sunset, his wavy locks and muscular arms looked even hotter than I remembered. I stood on the steps of this art museum a dozen times before, and, surprisingly, it felt just like old times. The only changes seemed to be that Jesse’s hair was longer, my hair was shorter, and we both had more tattoos than we had back then, with Jesse’s covered arms definitely outshining my measly two quarter-sized tattoos.

  “Yeah right,” I groaned. I had to play it cool. I wouldn’t let Jesse get to me so easily.

  Jesse softened his gaze. “Roni, I know this must be hard for you. I treated you badly, and I just want you to know how sorry I am. I was an ass.”

  “Who are you and what have you done with the Jesse I used to know?” I said. I let it come out as a joke, but I meant it. In high school, Jesse had treated me well for the most part, but he had never really put my feelings first—or even apologized for anything he ever did wrong. Self-deprecating Jesse wasn’t someone I knew, but, I had to admit, he was someone I was interested in getting to know.

  “Come find out,” Jesse said with a grin. He gestured toward the front entrance and gave the lady at the ticket booth money for two tickets before I even had a chance to pull out my wallet.

  “You didn’t have to do that,” I said.

  “We have a lot of lost time to make up for.”

  I smiled. “Thanks.”

  Jesse led me through the exhibits that had changed since my last visit, talking so intelligently about each piece of art that he could have easily been mistaken for a tour guide. I couldn’t believe this was the same Jesse who had groaned and complained his way through the museum each time I’d dragged him along with me. “This is what I thought you’d love,” Jesse said, spreading his arm out toward a wall of paintings.

  The wall was covered with
stunning impressionist pieces that made my heart race. Impressionism had always had a soft spot in my heart, since the first time I’d laid eyes on Monet’s Water Lilies in middle school. I wasn’t sure what amazed me more—the gorgeous art or the fact that Jesse remembered how much I loved this style of art. I squinted at some of the nameplates as I searched my memory for any recollection of the names. Between the Monet and Manet pieces were landscapes by unfamiliar artists.

  “This exhibit is a combination of famous impressionists and modern day Virginia impressionist artists,” Jesse said.

  “Wow,” I whispered.

  I felt a tad silly for being so enamored with the work, but then I looked over at Jesse, whose eyes were glued to each piece. We walked back and forth alongside the wall for a good half an hour, talking about each piece and pointing out our favorite elements to one another. I still couldn’t believe that Jesse knew art, and knew it well. It felt like an amazing first date, maybe the start of a second chapter of sorts.

  “How did you get so into art?” I asked. “I mean, no offense, but this was one of your least favorite places in high school.”

  Jesse shrugged. “Believe it or not, I found my love of art in jail,” Jesse said. “I took art classes and studied art, and it’s also where I learned to tattoo.”

  “The tattoo part I might’ve expected,” I said, hoping Jesse would take it as a joke instead of a jab. “The art part, not so much.”

  “I just wish I would’ve opened my eyes to art back then, so we could’ve enjoyed it together.”

  I smiled. “Well, we’re here now.” I couldn’t believe it. I was really, truly starting to fall for Jesse all over again. Well, I could believe it. There had always been something about him, about us. But seeing him speak so passionately about art, one of my own greatest passions, gave me renewed hope that maybe we could at least forge a friendship of some sort.