by A.R. Rivera
22
-Angel
My unseeing eyes stare at the air of the interview room, still caught in that moment beside Jake. I can smell his deodorant. He didn't wear cologne very often, so that was the most recognizable scent. And he always smelled so good. I can't even describe it, because I haven't been around anything scented in a long time. It was just a Jake smell.
Without thinking, I try to raise the wrong hand, to run it through my hair, but just feel the cuff cutting into my wrist. My other hand is still free but any sense of freedom that lingered in my memory disappears, replaced with bitter resentment.
"I'm pretty sure that all of this is my mothers' fault. Because of her, I have been trapped my entire life."
Some people choose to take a lonely path because they like the solitude, but some people have no choice. Some people just live a loveless life: they can't pass on what they don't have and so, remain alone. Even after they get married and long after they have kids.
It's not a crime to live without love; it's just a shitty road to take. My mother didn't love herself so she couldn't love me. It's that simple.
Taking a deep breath, I let the words I usually keep down, surface with my anger. "She treated me like her perfect little doll: comb my hair, put me in pretty dresses, but don't feed me. Don't listen to me. Definitely don't talk to me, because that might make you want to care. No. Just set me in the car. Don't let me buckle up. And drive as fast as you can straight into a tree."
What recourse is there when the people who brought you into the world reject you? You're small, helpless, and have no way of knowing that life should be different.
There was nothing to do but try to deal with being born to a father I never met and a mother who tried to kill me when she killed herself. The part that really eats away at me is that I don't think she put that much thought into killing me.
For all I know she had no plans to include me at all. I was an afterthought. She decided to drive off an embankment into the trees, and on her way to the car she saw me and thought, "oh yeah, I should do something about that." How pathetic is it that I want to think she cared enough to plan to my murder?
Love is the most wonderful and powerful force on earth. It's the drug that gives you the most wonderful highs and horrific lows. It means the most to people like me, who grew up deprived.
When you're young and desperate, and you're presented with something you want, you don't think twice about it. You take it without even knowing what it means. Life with the boy you love, who has no idea he barely knows you-that you barely know yourself?
Take it. Don't think twice about what it means to run off two months before you turn eighteen, to turn your back on the one woman who spent the last year nurturing and caring for you without a second thought. Leave the only friend you ever had to move off to a place you know nothing about. Do it for the boy.
Jake was that important. I didn't think twice. Not an ounce of apprehension after those first five seconds of shock.
With Jake, I felt truly loved by the one person that mattered more than any other and having that was like . . . oxygen or sunlight. I depended on it. As long as I had him, I knew whatever we came across we'd be fine and I gave it no more thought beyond those three words-go with me. It meant he loved me. That he chose me.
+++
Jake showed up twenty-five minutes after he got off work-a whopping nine minutes after the Foster left for her graveyard shift at the confection factory.
When I opened the front door, he was just climbing out of the van. I stepped out onto the porch wearing a bright yellow sundress. It wasn't really my style, but Jake liked that the straps tied up on my shoulders. He was freshly showered and carrying two forty-ounce bottles of beer.
"Contributing to a minor?" I teased taking the sweating bottles from him when he reached the porch.
"That's nothing new." He tugged at the ties on my shoulders with his newly freed hands and smirked. "So, Austen's home?"
Both of us turned to the curb out in front of the trailer, where Austen's faded gold Mustang was so obviously parked. "Yup."
"Damn."
I put the beer in the fridge and stirred the sauce that was warming on the stove. As I plunked the spaghetti noodles into the pot of boiling water, the echoing riff of Rush's Dreamline began drifting from the living room. I glanced back to see Jake moving from the Fosters stereo cabinet. My heart thundered at the sultry way he strolled towards me. It was slow and deliberately provocative the way he lifted the front of his shirt to touch his stomach.
"Honey, you cooked?" His dark grin made my insides melt.
"Oh yeah. You know me." My sarcasm was obvious. I couldn't do much beyond boiling water.
The Foster made the sauce after she got up that afternoon. I had already eaten with her and Austen, but I guessed that Jake would be hungry when he came over.
Jake crept up behind me, taking me by the waist, and kissing my neck and shoulders while I tried to prepare a plate for him.
"This foods gonna end up on the floor." I sighed, leaning into his chest. The plate teetered.
Jake stepped back and eased into a dining chair at the small table in the kitchen. He said nothing, but slowly looked me up and down. I tried to focus on the food, but the heat he exuded had my blood blazing.
"Hey, man." Austen greeted, appearing from the hallway.
Jake halted his visual groping, releasing me from the spell, and turned to greet my foster brother. I took advantage of the clarity and drizzled a little olive oil over the noodles, followed by a sprinkling of salt and pepper before hitting them with the sauce. It was the way his mom served it when I went over for dinner once. I remembered because it was odd to me that she kept the noodles separate. I'd never had it like that before.
Jake got a very goofy smile as I set the plate in front of him. Like his face was made of taffy, it softened and pulled further than I had ever seen.
I poured some beer in a glass and grabbed a napkin before setting them in front of him and taking my seat.
"You know how I like my spaghetti." He set his napkin in his lap and started twirling his fork. "Thank you, baby."
"You're welcome."
Austen was on the couch, folded over to tie his shoes.
"You want some beer?" Jake offered, nudging my arm.
"Nah, man. I'm leaving." Austen got up and walked back towards his room. A minute later, he was back, standing in the mouth of the hallway, staring into the open kitchen at Jake and me. His car keys jingled in his hand.
Jake waived-his mouth full of food. Austen waived back and locked his stare on me. "I'll be back in a while." He turned towards the door then paused. "My mom's not off until seven."
Jakes eyes widened. "Seven in the morning?"
Austen kept his eyes on the door in front of him as he explained. "They got everybody pulling overtime for the next couple weeks." With that, he stepped out the door.
"He's still with that girl?"
"Sheila. Yeah."
"Good for him." Jake took his empty plate over to the sink and set it inside. "Come here," Jake commanded, using that sexy, stern voice of his as he leaned against the counter.
I walked over, but not fast enough. Hooking the tie of my dress strap with his hand, Jake pulled me closer. When I leaned into him, he widened his stance, making his tall frame shorter than usual. I got up on my toes to kiss him as he set his arms around me. I felt every ridge and ripple of his lean body through his Ozzy t-shirt and sank my nose into the smooth cotton and inhaled. He always smelled so good.
"Did you tell Deanna?"
I almost laughed. "No."
"Why not?"
I pulled back to look, alarmed by his suddenly wounded tone. Sure enough, his forehead was creased.
"What if she tries to stop me?"
He shook his head. "It's not right. She's been good to you, Angel. She'll be worried. You need to tell her."
All the air left my body. "What am I supposed to say? My boy
friend wants me to skip out on my graduation to follow him across state lines?"
"That's a start, but you might also mention that I love you and how we're in a committed relationship." He slipped his hands into my hair, cradling my head. "I have every intention of taking care of you. I'll be there with you, if you want. We can tell her together."
"She's going to say no. She doesn't like me going to see you play. How do you think she's going to react when I tell her I'm moving away with you?"
Jake sighed. "Angel. What she says doesn't matter. It's the principle. If you and me are doing this, we're doing it right. You have to give her the respect she deserves as the woman who took you in. You may not like what she thinks, but you have to let her voice it. Besides, she's a reasonable person. She didn't try to stop you from seeing me, did she?"
"Well . . . no."
"Even though she doesn't approve, because she understands she can't control you like that."
"But what if she doesn't understand this time?"
"We can explain it to her. Baby, I can't risk cops chasing me across the state. It's bad PR."
As soon as he said it, something clicked. "You talked to Pierce about me?"
He tightened his hold on my waist. "Of course I did. He's trying hard to impress us and . . ."
I waited for him to finish. When he didn't, I asked, "And?"
"And that scares the shit out of me."
I looked up, touched his chin. "Scares? I thought you wanted it?"
"I shouldn't be concerned about someone offering me fame and fortune on a silver platter?"
What he said caught up to me. "He tried to sign you already!' I swatted at his arm, "Didn't he?" Jake shrugged, as if the answer was obvious. "Did you turn him down?"
"No, but I haven't agreed. I need to know more: what he's about, what he can offer us. I'd be stupid to take him at his word."
"So he's pushing?"
"Hard." He took a hand from my hair and set it on the back of his neck, rubbing the stress. "I'm not comfortable with the contract. The way some of its' worded. And it's fucking huge, Angel. Pages and pages of legal bullshit. How am I supposed to understand what I'm signing? I told Pierce, I want to keep doing what I'm doing-I have to maintain our sound. I can't sign something that will make me change. I can't have a team of people putting their stamp on my music to dissect and sell. I have to do it my own way and they want me to sign it all away."
I thought for a second. "So Max and Andrew . . . ?"
"He talked to them before me. I'm the hold-out."
"Wow." I thought over what that meant. He was living with two anxious, persistent, musicians who wanted exactly what Jake wanted. "He talked to them. Before you? And he knows you write the songs?"
"Of course."
"Jake, there has gotta be other labels sniffing around."
"I haven't heard anything."
"Well, there is a reason he's pressuring you. You're smart to wait. You need someone who understands contract law to make sure you're protected. How much does it cost to get someone to explain something like that?"
He sighed, setting his forehead on mine. "If it's this much weight just being approached . . ." Tucking me into his chest, he breathed in my hair. "You're the only one who gets it."
I looked into his eyes and felt the words bubble up from the truest part of me. "I love you, Jake. I want what's best for you. And I'm so happy that you asked me to go with you." My hands stretched around his back.
"Are you kidding?" His hazel eyes smoldered like coals over his black t-shirt. "I can't believe I had to ask."
"What?"
His lips stretched a little, like he was trying to hold back a laugh. "Naturally, I assumed you were coming. I mean, why the hell would I go without you? But you never said anything and you started getting more headaches and acting weird. I wondered if it was because I didn't come right out and say what I thought was obvious. Then, when you came by my job, I figured better to be safe than sorry."
He dropped his hands, his forehead crinkled. "You were surprised, I could tell. Angel, why didn't you know?" My lips trembled as he cupped my face. "Because you should know by now, baby."
"Know what?"
"That I'd never leave you behind."
He said it so matter-of-factly, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Hearing those words, watching them form on his lips, it was like being born again-they made everything new. I wasn't being left behind. Jake considered my part in his life such a permanent thing, that my leaving with him was never in question. The two torturous words he fumbled were quieted and the threat of that guitar playing girl seemed ridiculous. His assumptions, the feelings that put them there in the first place, were the only thing that mattered.
My chest expanded, filling with a sensational high.
"I told you from the get-go." He moved closer, touching the bridge of his nose to mine. "I won't go anywhere you don't want me to. Even if it breaks up my band," Sweeping his lips gently over my mouth, he whispered. "Even if it breaks my heart, baby. You are more important to me than any of that shit."
He covered my lips with his and picked me up, setting me on the kitchen counter. I stretched both arms around his neck and held him to me, deepening the kiss. My legs snaked around his waist.
I whispered when his mouth moved to my neck. "I shouldn't be so insecure. It's just you said 'Not-"
"No." he pulled back, staring me in the eyes. "You shouldn't be insecure. Because I want you."
"I want you, too."
A groan echoed from Jakes throat as I pressed closer; a wonderful humming that drove me crazy. Our mouths collided and the wonderful heat coursed through me. Little explosions of excitement rippled over my body as I wiggled to the edge of the counter top.
Jake picked me up and waltzed into the living room where he laid me on the carpet and hovered above me.
With a light tug, he untied a shoulder strap on my sundress. Promising, "I'm gonna give you rug burns."
+ + +
