The Duet

by D'Angelo, Jennifer

  Jay started back inside, hoping to guide the crowd toward the secondary exit. He looked behind him, and saw Cooper bent over at the waist.

  “You okay, man?” Jay asked. Cooper raised a finger, then nodded, but didn’t raise his head. Jay kept moving. He figured Cooper just needed a minute to get his breath back, and he would follow when he could. Inside, people were really in a state of panic now. The club was filled with smoke and there was a chorus of coughing and screaming all throughout.

  The sound of the fire trucks finally pierced the air. Jay knew that with help now here, he should just get out of the building himself. Izzy was probably out there; logically that made sense, but he just wanted to be sure. What if she was trapped in the stock room? He couldn’t lose anyone else. He needed her. He realized that with crystal clarity as he covered his mouth with his shirt and made his way toward the back of the club.

  He could see flames now, and his heart sank. If Izzy wasn’t out by now, she wasn’t getting out. The hallway leading to the bathrooms and the little closet they used as a break room was completely engulfed, and the fire was getting dangerously close to the bar. He had to check for Izzy and get the hell out, and he didn’t have much time.

  He looked back toward the main part of the club. The smoke was so thick he couldn’t see anything, He felt a wave of dizziness and he knew he was close to passing out. He tried to take short, shallow breaths through his nose, pressing his shirt into his face, but the nauseous feeling was getting worse and he knew he was going down.

  He felt a strong hand grab him by the arm just before he dropped to his knees. He was yanked up and pulled toward the entrance of the club; the opposite way from where he was headed. He knew he had been trying to do something, but his mind wouldn’t let him remember what that was. It was important though. Wait… he was trying to find something… someone. Izzy. He tried to struggle, but his attempt was meager at best. They were almost to the door, and somehow through the haze, Jay knew that once they reached the door it would be hopeless. He struggled some more, putting everything he had into it.

  “I’m getting you to safety. Stop fighting me,” the gruff voice of the firefighter said through his mask.

  “Izzy’s in there,” Jay croaked, followed by a fit of coughing that made his body feel like Jell-O.

  “If you’re referring to the dark haired chick with the foul mouth who smacked my chief until we sent someone in here for you, then she’s outside. With everybody else. Where it’s safe.” They reached the door and Jay coughed violently as the fresh air filled his lungs. The firefighter steadied him, then pointed off to the left of the parking lot.

  It took a minute for him to focus, but he started to stumble over in that general direction. There she was. He had never been happier to see anyone in his life. She was okay, he was going to be okay, and he wasn’t wasting another day trying to keep her at arm’s length.

  He didn’t comprehend the scene in front of him right away. Izzy wasn’t looking toward the building waiting for him to come out, like he’d expected. She was focused on something on the ground. Someone. As Jay approached, he saw two paramedics crouched down over Cooper. They were giving him CPR. Izzy looked up and when he reached her she collapsed against him, her body shaking violently.

  He held on to her, too choked up to say anything. He watched with a strange sort of detachment while the paramedics hustled to get the AED on Cooper, and then stared when they gave up, shaking their heads in defeat.

  There were people everywhere, screaming, crying, hysterical; recounting their horrors of the night, but Jay couldn’t hear any of that. All he could hear was his heart beating in his ears and the faint sound of Izzy sobbing into his shirt.

  He could see vague shapes in front of him; the ambulance and its obnoxious blinking lights, the paramedics lifting Cooper’s lifeless body into the back of the vehicle, Trisha being held back by a stoic and solemn-looking Darden. Everything was blurry and colorless.

  He raised his head to look up at the sky, then squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He tried to replace the real images with better ones. He concentrated on changing the scene in front of him, so that when he opened his eyes, he would see Cooper standing next to him, a goofy grin on his face, a mischievous glint in his eyes. He focused on hearing his friend tell one of his stupid jokes, followed by that hearty laughter, punctuated with a little snort. He willed those things to happen. If he wished hard enough, surely it would come true.

  But when he opened his eyes and glanced around, it was suddenly crystal clear. He was never going to see or hear Cooper again. And that was just unacceptable to him.

  30

  I managed to get Jay into the car and back to the apartment. I should have taken him to the hospital to get checked out, but I couldn’t think straight. He didn’t speak a word the entire time. I knew intellectually that I needed time to process Cooper’s death myself; it wasn’t good to ignore the raging feeling in my gut over losing my best friend. But I was too worried about Jay’s reaction to focus on myself. I was pretty sure he was in shock.

  I got us undressed and into the shower. The hot water washed away all the soot, and pooled at our feet in gray swirls. I reached up to touch Jay’s face and he stared at me vacantly. Alarms were going off in my head. I tried a different tactic and wrapped my arms around him, my head against his chest, the shower spray against my back. I felt him shudder once – maybe a sob he was trying hard to tamp down. But his arms finally held me tight, and I felt as if maybe I’d broken through just a little.

  We dried off and silently climbed into bed. I curled up against him, and welcomed sleep as it consumed me almost immediately.

  Sometime in the night, Jay reached for me. He made love to me gently, taking his time, touching me everywhere. It was almost painful the way he tried to communicate with me in this way. He was heartbroken, and I could feel it in every movement of his body.

  My decision to leave two weeks later was not one that came easy. In the days following the fire, Jay withdrew more than ever into himself. He would disappear for hours, he never answered his phone. I stayed in my old room in the apartment, as difficult as it was without Cooper there. But I was afraid to leave Jay alone, and staying with the O’Donnell’s was just too much. A couple of times I would hear Jay come in late at night. He never came to my bed. Sometimes he would sit in the chair in my room, not moving, and sometimes he would stand in my doorway for a few minutes then go into his own room. He didn’t touch me and he wouldn’t talk.

  We found out that Cooper died with a boat load of Vicodin and a blood alcohol level just over the legal limit to drive in his system. The adrenaline spike from the fire may have been a factor, but ultimately, the pills and booze were what made his heart stop. I know that Jay blamed himself. There were dark moments when I felt responsible too. We were his closest friends and we knew he was in trouble, but we failed him.

  I tried so many times to reach Jay. It would certainly help us both if we could mourn together, if we could figure out how to live with this as a team. I yelled, I begged, I tried to speak to him rationally, telling him maybe he needed help; that I needed him. But nothing worked. He was unreachable.

  Then one night, I woke up to the sound of giggling, somewhere around four in the morning. Jay had left the apartment early that afternoon without a word, and I hadn’t heard him come back.

  I got out of bed and tiptoed across my room, pressing my head against the door to hear better. When the giggling got louder, I threw open the door and stumbled out to find Jay on the floor, straddled by some chick I may or may not have seen at Darden’s a time or two. They were both well beyond intoxicated – obviously; nothing good comes from getting home at four in the morning. I was stunned, but not sure what surprised me more – Jay’s blatant disrespect for me by fooling around right under my nose, or that he’d been drowning his sorrow in alcohol – something he swore he’d never do.

  I stood over the two lovebirds for several seconds until Jay’s eyes loc
ked with mine. They were unreadable, of course, and the fact that he could barely open them didn’t help. I made sure he got a good long look at my disappointed face, then I stormed off, locking myself in Cooper’s room. I suddenly needed to feel my friend’s presence. I flopped onto the unmade bed – no one had set foot in there since the fire – and fell asleep with my head sandwiched between two Cooper-scented pillows. I didn’t hear any more giggling, and I was beyond caring.

  It wasn’t even that incident that made me snap. This was a very intense situation; Jay and I were both devastated over Cooper, and I was willing to give him a pass. In my naïve mind I thought we might still get through this together.

  But then, a couple days later, I found Jay standing in the kitchen, staring off into space. He hadn’t shaved for days, it looked like he hadn’t slept. I walked over and put my arms around him, but he stood like a statue, not responding. I kissed him on the chin, but he pulled away. Then he reached behind him and picked up the half empty tequila bottle, bringing it to his lips and taking a nice long sip.

  That was what did it. I threw on some clothes and went for a drive, feeling like I was very close to losing it and thinking that wouldn’t do either of us any good. When I came back, he was gone again; no answer on his phone. I didn’t see him for the next forty-eight hours.

  I gave up on him. Maybe I should have given him more time, maybe I should have tried harder. But now I was angry. I needed to grieve for Cooper, and hadn’t allowed myself that luxury because I was consumed with worry over Jay. Well, he was a grown man and I couldn’t help him if he didn’t want to be helped.

  I packed up my things, and left a note for Jay on the coffee table while he was sleeping. The note was brief, and probably cold, but I was done. I had thought we’d turned a corner that day at the studio, but I had been wrong. He would never trust me enough to let me in. I was too tired to keep trying.

  I would drive to New Jersey and start over there. I would go where I was needed and try to forget that I ever knew Jay Archer.

  Part Two

  31

  Seven Years Later

  “Tell me what makes you feel like you need to get high. What is so hard in your life that you have to escape?”

  Jay tapped his pencil absently against his notebook, feigning indifference. But he was completely in tune to the boy sitting across the desk. The key was to make them relax as if they were having a conversation with one of their buddies instead of forcing them to talk to a therapist. But at the same time, direct questions had to be asked. And they had to be asked in rapid fire if he wanted to break through.

  Cody had been coming to see Jay for a full year, mainly as an outpatient. They’d made a lot of progress after his first lengthy stay at the rehab center, just six months before. But then a string of very bad decisions landed the sixteen-year-old back in as a resident. Jay was undeterred. He knew this kid by now, enough to be sure he could beat this.

  “Cody? Kid, are you still with me?” Jay teased, snapping his fingers.

  Cody just shrugged, then leaned back in his chair, his posture screaming defensiveness. It was time for another approach.

  “Do you feel like no one understands you? Is that it?” Jay prompted.

  Another dismissive shrug.

  “Are you insecure; not sure where you fit in?”

  “Whatever.”

  Jay removed his leg from where it had been resting on his desk, and slowly got to his feet. He ran his hand down his cheek and closed his eyes as if he were thinking very hard. Cody’s eyes followed him as he rounded the desk. But the boy never expected what came next.

  Jay grabbed the back of Cody’s chair and dumped him unceremoniously onto the floor. Cody sat there, stunned.

  “Bullshit!”

  “What?”

  “I said it’s all bullshit, Cody. You’ve been whining to me for a year about how hard your life is, and I’m not saying that it’s not. But you take pills because it’s easy. It’s easier to create a tangible problem that everyone around you is forced to address, than it is to suck it up and live your life every day.”

  Cody stood up, still a little dazed from this turn of events. “I don’t…”

  “You know what your problem is, Cody? Do you know what your only problem is? You are lazy, plain and simple. You’re lazy and you’ll continue to be lazy as long as your parents, your friends, and me, buy into this crap you’re spinning. You have two parents who love you despite all the shit you’ve put them through for the last year and a half. Two parents! Do you know how rare that is? You have a circle of friends who are productive and intelligent, and who care about you enough to stick with you throughout this ordeal. And you still choose to manufacture reasons why your life is just too damn hard to cope.”

  “Fuck you, Jay! You have no idea what I go through.”

  Jay just stared, his arms crossed over his chest, his eyes squinted. Whole minutes went by in absolute silence.

  “Say something!”

  Jay still remained silent. He prayed this little gamble would work. It could just as easily backfire.

  “You just don’t get all the pressure I’m under!” Cody swiped angrily at the tears that had now started. “Everyone expects stuff from me, and I keep on disappointing them.”

  He was visibly shaking now. Jay didn’t make any attempt to comfort him. He’d been an angry, confused teenage boy once too, and he knew that wouldn’t accomplish anything.

  “Tell me why you get high, Cody,” Jay said softly. “Tell me the truth.”

  Cody shuddered, an attempt to get control of himself. “It’s just easier.”

  “After you get high, and things are back to normal, has anything been fixed, or is everything exactly the same?”

  “Same.”

  “So why do it? Doesn’t it stand to reason that if you focused on fixing what’s wrong instead of avoiding it, that would make more sense?”

  “I guess.”

  Jay sighed. “Cody. I’m not dismissing your feelings. The pressure you feel is real. The insecurities, the isolation, the uncertainty; all real and all valid. But it’s life. You have to find a way to cope with this shit now, because let me tell you – it only gets harder. And if you continue down this path, pretty soon those pills you take or that joint you smoke won’t be enough. You’ll need more to escape. More to make you forget. More to numb the pain. I’m asking you – not telling you – to be smarter. I know you can do it. You just have to want it bad enough.”

  Cody looked down at his shoes.

  “Do you want it bad enough, Cody?”

  He shrugged. Jay chose to accept that as extreme progress. There wasn’t much more he could do today. This stuff had to sink in for a while, and he hoped what he said gave Cody plenty to think about.

  “Listen. While I’m gone this week, I want you to do something for me,” Jay said as he sat back down at his desk.

  Cody groaned. “Awww, man. Not another writing thing. How long will you be gone?”

  “Just a few days. And yes, it’s a writing thing. I want you to write a letter to the one person in the world who you trust the most. Whether you let this person ever read it, is up to you. But I want this letter to be honest and raw. I want you to pour out your heart on paper.”

  “How many words does it have to be?”

  “It doesn’t matter. It can be a paragraph or ten pages. I’m not going to look at it or even check that you did it. This is just for you, but I want you to promise me that you’ll take it seriously.”

  Cody nodded.

  Jay’s lips turned up into a slight smile. “Okay then. Get out of here. I’ll see you next week.”

  Jay spent the next hour catching up on emails and typing a few notes on things he needed to follow up with when he got back. He grabbed a few files from his desk and shoved them in with his laptop, then took one look around to make sure he didn’t forget anything.

  He was just unlocking his car when his phone rang.

  “Hey, handsome
. You all ready for tomorrow?”

  He smiled. “Yep. I’ll pick you up by six?”

  “That’s good. Just don’t be late. I hate rushing and worrying about getting through security in time. My hands get all sweaty and my face breaks out in hives.”

  “I won’t be late. Promise.” Jay threw his bag in the backseat and started the car. “Oh, and Trisha? Thanks for talking me in to this. I owe you one.”

  Trisha chuckled. “Yeah, we’ll see if you’re thanking me this time tomorrow.”

  32

  I paced around my bedroom, feeling like a caged lion, as I listened to my washing machine make the same god-awful noise it had been making since I purchased it two weeks ago. I could hear the muttered oaths of the idiot who was attempting to fix the problem. This was the third idiot in as many days. Why they wouldn’t just replace the lemon with a shiny new machine was beyond me. Obviously when you purchase a brand new state-of-the-art front-loader, you don’t expect the water to gush out the bottom, flooding the entire basement. Nor, after the leak is fixed, do you imagine that your next load of whites will be completely ruined by some sort of foreign black shit that finds its way into the drum – or whatever the hell it’s called.

  I didn’t have time for this today. This was the slowest day at the shop and the only day of the week I could carve out free time. I still had fifty errands to run. Plus, I had no clean underwear; hence, the repairman. And I get pretty grouchy when I am forced to go commando against my will.

  I heard a loud thud, then several more in secession. It just took a second to realize that the degenerate downstairs was actually kicking my washing machine. I tried to take a deep calming breath, but it stuck in my throat. I tore down the steps, looking gorgeous in one of Uncle Fred’s old stretched out T-shirts that smelled marginally cleaner than any of my own, and a pair of old cut-off shorts with a broken zipper, pinned together at the waist.