by Marie Meyer
I grasped it with my tissue-less hand and held it to my cheek. The cold of the bottle broke through the numbness I felt at revealing my past. I enjoyed the cold for a second before pulling off the cap and taking several large gulps.
“Thanks,” I said, replacing the cap. “I’m sure this is exactly what you had planned for tonight,” I scoffed.
Sarah took a drink of her water and put the cap back on. “I’m not just your roommate, Jillian, I’m also your friend. I’m glad you trust me enough to tell me all this. I know it’s hard. Like I said before, you can tell me anything.”
I smiled a little. She wasn’t Griffin, and no one could replace him, but right now, I was glad she was here.
I took another sip of water and continued. “I was in first grade that year. Jennifer was in fifth. I don’t remember much about school that day, other than the teachers kept us in from recess. It wasn’t until we got home that afternoon that things changed.”
“My school closed early,” Sarah added. “Being from Yorkville, I wasn’t too far from lower Manhattan. Even though I was only in first grade, I remember everything like it was yesterday. It was so scary. At the time, my mom was teaching at my school, so I was able to be with her through all the chaos. My dad, being a doctor, was called in to help with the injured, but he was eventually sent home because—” she paused and blew her nose— “there weren’t any.”
In the back of my mind, I remembered Sarah saying she was from New York, but not truly understanding the geography of the state, I didn’t realize she was so close to everything. “I’m sorry; this is probably hard for you, too. You were there. You lived it.”
“I did and it was horrible. But at the end of the day, I didn’t lose anyone. In my six-year-old world, I still felt a sense of security because I had my parents. I can’t even imagine what you went through.”
I buried my head in a tissue again and held my breath, holding back a fresh wave of tears. Sarah’s hand moved in counterclockwise circles on my back while she listened to me sob. I concentrated on her hand, counting each circle she drew. One…two…three…four…five…
Fifteen… Feeling like I could get through the rest, I straightened up and drew in a large breath. “I’m sorry,” I said. Sarah’s hand fell away and I grabbed at the tissue box, pulling out five at once. I wiped tears and snot from my face.
“It’s okay,” she soothed, patting the blanket wrapped around my knee.
“Okay, where was I?”
“Things changed when you got home from school,” she prompted.
“Oh, yeah. When Jennifer and I got home from school, my grandparents told us about the planes crashing into the buildings. We already knew that much from what our teachers told us at school. Then, Grandpa told us that Mom and Dad were in one of the buildings.” I choked on my tears, coughing as the words fell out. “He also told us they left a message for us on the answering machine.”
Sarah gasped, covering her mouth. “No.”
I nodded. “At the time I was too little to really understand. It wasn’t until years later that I worked up the courage to listen to the message. They told Jennifer and me good-bye.”
“Oh, Jillian. I’m so sorry.” She wrapped her arms around me, letting me cry quietly on her shoulder for a long time.
Sarah shh’d and soothed. She even drew her counterclockwise circles on my back again. I liked that. It gave me something to focus on when I felt like I was spinning out of control. Sarah’s lazy circles would work in the absence of Griffin’s strong arms. They both had their own special way of holding me together.
“I’m sorry I dragged you to that party tonight. I know now why you didn’t want to go.”
“It wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know,” I mumbled against her shoulder.
“So, what’s this Griffin guy like?” she asked. I could tell she was trying to shift my thoughts to a more pleasurable topic.
I lifted my head from her shoulder. From all the crying I felt my heartbeat pulsing behind my eyes. “What about him?” I croaked.
“He’s your best friend?” I heard the skepticism in her voice—the unasked question: Why?
“Yeah.” I nodded, rubbing my forehead.
“What’s wrong with him?” she asked.
I laughed, confused by her question. “What?”
“Well, from what I’ve gathered.” She held up her finger and began ticking off what she knew about Griffin. “He’s talented, being in a band and all; he’s kind and caring, because you’ve said as much; and he’s got the smoldering bad boy look working for him. So, I’m wondering why he’s just your friend. What’s wrong with him?”
“Nothing,” I replied defensively.
Sarah cocked her head. “Bullshit, nobody’s perfect. There’s got to be a reason why you two are ‘just friends.’”
Last spring popped into my head. The night I’d kissed him. I shrugged off his rejection and smiled at Sarah. That was a story for another night. “He’s a terrible slob. I’m talking month-old pizza boxes under the bed, dirty dishes everywhere, and he never puts the seat down.”
“That’s awful.” She gasped in mock horror. Her giggling sold her out. “He’s totally not relationship material. Wait a minute, what the hell am I doing with Brandon?” she asked. “He never puts the seat down either.”
I laughed too. “I don’t know how you survive.” After tearing away the wall I’d built around my emotions, it felt nice to laugh about something completely ridiculous.
“What time is it?” I asked.
Sarah reached for the iPad sitting on my dresser and pressed the button at the bottom. “It’s one.”
“I’m so tired and my eyes hurt. Do you have classes on Thursday?” I asked.
“Yeah, but I may be ditching tomorrow,” she said, standing up and stretching.
“It’s the first week of classes. You can’t skip yet.”
“Watch me.” Her devious grin morphed into a big yawn.
“You bad girl, you.” I looked at my bed and noticed a mountain of tissues, but I was too tired to dispose of them properly. I shoved them onto the floor and flopped on my side, pulling the comforter up over my ears.
“Hey, missy,” Sarah said. “You just told me that Griffin was the messy one.” She pointed to the tissues on the floor.
I shrugged. “I never said I was a neat freak.”
“Right.” She smirked and pulled the blankets back on her bed. “Thank you for telling me your story.”
Even though I had only touched upon one part of my dark past, the fact she knew that much made me feel better. “Thanks for listening.”
“Anytime.”
When Sarah flipped off the lights, images of the past flashed across my mind, but the only thing I could think about was what it felt like when Griffin’s lips touched mine.
Chapter Six
My iPad blipped on my desk. Still half asleep, I sat up and reached for it, feeling around until my hand touched the corner. I pulled it onto my lap. Through my swollen eyes, I tried to focus on the screen. A FaceTime call from Griffin.
I glanced at Sarah who was still asleep and crept toward the door, not wanting to wake her. I was also thankful for some time alone with him and I would take it any way I could get it.
Shutting the door behind me, I slid my finger across the bottom, and Griffin’s smiling face filled the screen. “Jillibean,” he said.
At seeing his face, relief washed over me. I felt like I hadn’t breathed since he’d left a week ago. “Hey, Griff.”
I headed for the stairwell, hoping to find an empty music practice room so we could talk in private. The hallways were already crowded with people getting ready for their 8:00 a.m. classes.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “You don’t look so good.”
“Well gee, thanks.” I ran my hand through my blue and blond mess of hair. “You’re one to talk, Daniels. Trying to grow a beard?”
He rubbed his stubbly jaw, turning his head from side to side. “Wha
t? I thought you liked my scruffy look.”
Actually, I did. It looked incredibly sexy on him, but right now, he did not need his ego fed. “You’re looking more like a rock star every day.” I smiled and pulled open the door to one of the three practice rooms in Victor Hall. I pushed the piano bench up against the wall so I could lean back and prop my iPad on my knees.
“How was your party last night?” he asked.
“After I talked to you, some sleazeball hit on me and I convinced Sarah to leave. I wasn’t in the party mood.”
Three tiny creases appeared between his brows, a telltale sign that he was worried. “Did the sleazeball hurt you?”
“No. But I wasn’t so good last night. Like I said before, starting classes this week sucked.”
“Your eyes are swollen,” he commented. “You spent the whole night crying, didn’t you?” He would know. He’d been with me on countless nights like last night.
“I did.”
“Bean, you need to call Dr. Hoffman.”
“I’m fine, Griff. When Sarah and I got back to the dorm, I talked to her. I told her what happened to Mom and Dad.”
Griffin bit his bottom lip and rubbed his chin as he contemplated his response. “How do you feel?” he asked cautiously.
I took a deep breath. “Better.”
“Really?” He was skeptical. “I don’t want you to start hurting yourself again.”
“I’m not. The thought never even crossed my mind. It actually felt good to open up to Sarah. She’s amazing.”
Griffin’s dark eyes sparkled when he smiled. “I’m so proud of you, Jillibean. That took a lot of fucking courage to let her in.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t think I had any more tears left, but they welled up in my eyes nonetheless.
“But, I still think you should call Dr. Hoffman. I worry that you’re not meeting with her on a regular basis. College is stressful.”
“If things get crazy, I promise to call her.”
He exhaled, shrugging off his anxiety at the same time. “Okay.”
“What are you doing up this early? Didn’t you have a show last night?” I asked, trying to change the subject.
“The guys and I have a meeting with a producer this morning. But I’m not sure how that’s going to work. Fucking Adam broke his wrist at the show last night. We didn’t even play the full set.”
“Whoa, back up a minute. A producer?”
“Yeah, the day I got back from taking you to school I got a call from a guy who heard Mine Shaft play about a month ago. He was interested in our sound and wants to meet with us.”
I straightened up on the bench, grabbing my iPad in excitement. “Are you kidding?” I squealed. “Griffin, that’s awesome. Why didn’t you tell me?” I was so proud of him, yet a small pang of sadness hit me when I realized he hadn’t called me when he’d gotten the news.
“I was going to tell you, but things have been so busy. And now all this shit with Adam.” Griffin rolled his dark brown eyes. “Besides, I knew you were starting school this week and I didn’t want to distract you.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it. I always want to know what’s going on with you. No matter what.”
The right corner of his lips pulled up in a sheepish grin. “Forgive me?” He pressed his hands together and pouted.
God, I missed him. “Yes,” I grumbled. “But you better not do it again. You better fucking call me the instant something happens.” I pointed my finger at the screen, scolding him.
“Yes, ma’am.” He saluted.
“You said Adam broke his wrist? How did that happen?”
“We were at the Sig Nu house last night, and according to Adam, he saw a frat boy with his hands all over Trina.”
“Uh-oh,” I replied.
“Yeah, Adam went ballistic. He chucked his drumstick at the guy’s head and went after him. Adam said the dude had a jaw made of fucking steel. Needless to say, he couldn’t finish the set and we had to pack up and leave.”
“Ugh, I’m sorry.”
“We can’t afford to cancel the rest of our shows. And there’s no way in hell I’m going to miss out on what this producer wants just because Adam can’t control his fucking temper. We’re going to have to replace him until he can play again.”
“Anyone in mind?”
“Not off the top of my head. We’ll figure something out. I don’t want to talk about Adam; it just pisses me off.” A wavy lock of hair hung across his forehead and he brushed it away in his frustration. “You said some jackass was hitting on you last night?” I didn’t think it was possible, but his eyes got darker and the warmth disappeared.
“Yeah, but don’t worry about it. He knew I was not interested.”
“Hold on a second, Bean.” I heard the doorbell ring again as he set his iPad down. I was left staring at his red and black bass guitar that sat in the corner of his living room. After a few seconds, the image on the screen jostled around and Griffin came back into view, sharing the screen with Erin.
“Hi, Jillian,” Erin said, waving.
“Hi, Erin.” A knot developed in my stomach and I suddenly felt very self-conscious. Erin’s shoulder-length blond hair was straightened to perfection and her makeup was flawless. I also didn’t miss her hands lightly massaging his shoulders.
“Hey, Bean, we need to get going. I’ll call you later and let you know what the producer said.”
“Sounds good.”
“Bye, Jillian,” Erin shouted over Griffin’s shoulder.
“Bye, guys,” I said.
“Bye, Bean.” He smiled and disconnected the call.
Staring at the blank screen, I was hit with a wave of jealousy. Even though Griffin was never without a girlfriend, I was always there for him when something was important. I should have been the one going with him to see the producer, not Erin.
Chapter Seven
Standing up from the piano bench, I clutched my iPad to my chest with one hand and pounded the lower octave piano keys with my other hand before marching back to my room. I didn’t know why Erin’s presence irritated me so much. It wasn’t like I could go with Griffin to see the producer anyway.
When I opened the door to my room, I glanced at Sarah, who was still asleep. She hadn’t moved an inch since I’d been gone. I wondered if she were serious about skipping class today. I couldn’t wait to get to class—anything to take my mind off of Erin’s hands. And the fact that she was with him right now and I wasn’t.
I looked at my alarm clock: 7:30 a.m. I didn’t have class until eleven, giving me plenty of time to make it to the fitness center and work off the growing tension in my muscles.
I tossed the iPad on my bed and went to my dresser. Pulling open a drawer, I rifled through a stack of t-shirts, looking for workout pants. Not finding any, I slammed the drawer shut and pulled open another. Where the hell did I put my workout clothes? Not finding any in the second drawer, I slammed it shut, too.
“Jillian?” Sarah said groggily. “What are you doing?”
I turned around. “Sorry. I was just looking for something.”
Sarah rolled onto her side and beat her pillow a couple of times. “You’re up early.”
“Griffin called.” I walked over to the closet and started shuffling through my clothes. Maybe I hung my yoga pants up when Griffin and I unpacked everything.
“Oh, really.” I noticed a lilt in her voice even through her grogginess. “What did he want?”
“Nothing.” I was in no mood to talk about him…or Erin. I pushed a hanger aside and it clacked against another one. “He just called to say hi.”
“Mmm-hmm,” she mumbled. I glanced over my shoulder and scowled at her innuendo. She readjusted her blanket and smiled. “What are you looking for?”
I turned back around and shoved another hanger across the bar. “My workout clothes. I was going to hit the gym before class.” As soon as I said the words, my eyes zeroed in on a box I’d shoved into the back of the closet. The box wi
th my yoga pants. And pictures.
I turned around and looked at Sarah snuggled in her bed. “Do you have any yoga pants I can borrow?” I asked. After last night, I refused to open that box.
She smiled. “Bottom drawer.” Her hand crept out from under the blanket and pointed in the general direction of the dresser.
I walked over and opened the bottom drawer. “Thanks.” I pulled out a pair of black pants and held them up to me. Even though Sarah was a few inches taller than me her pants would work until I could get myself a couple of new pairs.
“Is everything okay?” she asked. “You seem…irritated.” She shifted. I could feel her watching me.
I turned and looked her in the eye. “I’m fine.” Or I would be after forty minutes on a treadmill. “Thanks for letting me borrow these.” I held up the pants and walked back to my side of the room.
“Sure, no problem.” Sarah rolled over and faced the wall. “But, if you want to talk about what’s bothering you, I’d listen,” she said.
Once again, I shuffled through my drawer, this time looking for a tank top and sports bra. “Thanks, but I’m really okay.”
“Okay,” she said. “I’m going back to sleep. Have fun at the gym.” She pulled her long brown hair out from under her face, fanning it on the pillow.
“I will.”
* * *
When I walked into the Fitness Center, it resembled a Walmart on the day after Thanksgiving. I scanned the room for an open treadmill, finally noticing one in the back corner.
Weaving my way through rows of Nautilus equipment and sweaty bodies, I plugged in my earbuds, drowning out the sounds of clanking weights and grunting meatheads. I scrolled through my playlists looking for Mine Shaft.
In a cramped, dark corner, I mounted the treadmill and pushed play, turning up the sound as loud as it would go. Moving my index finger to the treadmill’s settings, I held the upward facing arrow until the soles of my feet hit the rubber mat with the same steady beat as Adam’s drum intro and Griffin’s driving bass riff.
With each stride, my muscles welcomed the familiar stretch, while my lungs drew in large breaths. I quickly found my rhythm and settled in, already feeling my irritation melting away.
