Love Left Behind (28 page)

Jackson's face was
taut, agony etched over every surface of his face. It killed me that his eyes
were glassy with tears. I didn't know what I would do if he started crying.

"You're lying, I
know you're lying." Jackson grabbed my hands again, desperately clutching
them as he pleaded with me. "Emma, tell me you're lying! Goddammit, you're
lying!"

"I'm not
lying," I whispered, knowing that I had broken the promise of always
telling him the truth. "I'm sorry, Jackson. I'm so sorry."

Jackson pulled me to
him, burying his face in my neck. I could feel his tears against my skin and I
couldn't stop shaking, a part of me not being able to believe what I was doing.

"Sweetheart,
please," he begged, his face still against my neck. "Don't do this to
us. I can't live without you."

I felt physical pain as
I restrained myself from soothing him, from rubbing my hands down his back that
was shaking with sobs. I didn't do anything except sit there, my hands laying
limply on my lap.

This is for Jackson
, I kept telling myself.
You need to do this for Jackson.

I didn't move as
Jackson's shudders gradually stopped, clenching my hands into fists to quell
the desperate desire to comfort him. Jackson sat up, looking at me with
red-rimmed eyes and devastation across his face. "You told me we would be
together forever."

I couldn't take any
more. I buried my face in my hands, my body wracked with sobs and I cried for
everything I was losing, everything I was throwing away. There was something
wrong with me. I told strong beautiful men that I would be with them forever,
that I would love them forever. Then I destroyed them.

After my sobs subsided,
I looked up at Jackson. He was watching me with dead eyes, his mouth in a thin
line.

"Is this your
decision then? You're choosing Sean?"

I nodded, although I
was screaming
liar
inside my head.

He stood up, his face a
mask. There was no longer any emotion on his face, except for a flash of
disgust as he looked down at me.

"I'm going to be
the biggest regret of your life."

Jackson left, slamming
the front door behind him. I heard the engine of a car and then he was gone. I sat
on the couch for hours after he left. When my mother came home and asked me
what was wrong, I laughed hysterically and then started sobbing. She held me,
but didn't ask me again what was wrong, and I didn't volunteer any information.

It took me a week to
realize that Jackson was right. He was the biggest regret of my life. I had
thrown away something precious because of a misguided sense of duty. If Jackson
wanted to give up his big break to be with me, why was I the one protesting?

With my heart in my throat,
I called him late one night. I didn't know whether he was back in New York or
in California. I was startled when a female voice answered his cell phone.

"Hello?"

"Uh, is Jackson
there?"

"Emma, is that
you?"

"Claire?" I
felt a sense of relief from hearing her voice. I wasn't sure why she was
picking up Jackson's phone, but I welcomed an ally wherever I could find one.
"Claire, thank God it's you. I was a little taken aback when a woman
picked up Jackson's phone. Is he there?"

"Emma,"
Claire said, sounding nervous. "I figured you'd be the last person to
call. I thought you guys were over."

"I made a huge
mistake. I can't believe I was so stupid. Is Jackson there? I need to talk to
him."

"Emma, I feel
horrible telling you this but...Jackson and I are together now."

I was silent as my
brain tried to process what she had just said. I was sure I had just misheard
her. "What did you say?"

Claire sighed heavily.
"I'm so sorry, Emma. We never meant for it to get serious, but...things
just got out of control."

"Claire!" I
screamed, panic overtaking me. "What the fuck are you talking
about!?"

"We're in
love," she whispered, sounding pained. "We thought we were just
having fun, but then our feelings got in the way."

"Is this some kind
of sick joke? Is Jackson trying to get back at me for breaking up with him? How
the hell can you be telling me that you and Jackson have fallen in love in the
span of a week!?"

"I never meant to
hurt you. I knew he was in love with you and we were just having fun on the
side. It's been going on for a long time, longer than you two have been
together. You were never supposed to find out. But once you were out of the
picture, he realized he loved me. I feel the same way."

I was trembling with
rage, not believing a word she was saying. "Put Jackson on the phone
now
!"

I heard her talk to
someone in the background and I froze when I heard the faint but distinct sound
of Jackson's voice. I couldn't make out what he was saying but I knew it was
him. If my heart had been shattered before, it was now obliterated into a
million pieces, disappearing in a haze of despair.

"I'm sorry,
Emma," Claire said, coming back to the phone. "He doesn't want to
talk to you. He said that you guys discussed everything that needed to be said
when he was in Merrittsville and there's nothing left to talk about."

"You bitch,"
I spat out, my pain turning into rage at Claire. "How could you do this to
me? You were supposed to be my friend! Instead, you're telling me that you were
screwing Jackson the entire time we were together?!"

Claire had been nothing
but apologetic during the conversation but her tone now turned gleeful.
"You're the one that gave him up, Emma. I just picked up the pieces."

I heard the phone
click, signaling the end of the call. I felt immobilized by pain and fury. All
this time I had hated myself for what I had done to Jackson, not knowing that
he had been betraying me the entire time. No wonder I would catch odd looks on
Claire's face every so often. She was probably laughing at me behind my back for
being so naive.

I didn't know what to
do now. My life seemed empty. Hopeless.

How far can obligation
take you? It took me from the arms of the one man I loved into a life that
became meaningless. It took the joy out of my life, leaving me with nothing but
pain and regret.

Five years later

"I forgot how
humid New York gets in the summer," I said, fanning myself with my hand.
"I always expect it to be cooler up here than D.C."

"Try wearing a
wool skirt in this weather!" Trisha exclaimed scornfully.

I grinned at her as I
scanned her outfit. "I told you it would be too hot to wear that."

Trisha pouted, looking
down at her outfit. "But it looks so cute."

I laughed at Trisha's
put-out expression. She had insisted on making the trip up with me to New York,
saying she needed a girl's weekend. I hadn't objected, grateful to have company
on the long drive.

The air conditioning of
the rental car we drove to New York had sputtered and died while we were still
on the outskirts of New Jersey. We had opened the windows, but it hadn't done
much to relieve the stifling heat.

By the time we made it
to the Upper West Side, sweat was dripping down my back and I was praying that
I would be able to find a parking spot.

"Our luck is
looking up," I said as I spotted an open parking space on the same block
as my new apartment and quickly parallel parked. We both jumped out of the car,
eager to stretch our limbs, the long drive having taken its toll.

"The first time I
lived here, I had to lug two huge suitcases up three flights of stairs," I
said as I opened the trunk of the rental car. "Thank God for
elevators."

My new apartment
building was far from the Trump Towers, but it had an elevator and a doorman,
luxuries in New York. I had shipped most of my belongings beforehand, so I only
had one suitcase and a couple of boxes with me, in addition to Trisha's
suitcase.

"Can you take my
suitcase too?" I asked, lifting both of our suitcases out of the trunk and
setting them down on the sidewalk next to Trisha. "I'll grab the
boxes."

Trisha and I made our
way into my apartment, stopping to introduce ourselves to the doorman. I heaved
a sigh of relief as I unlocked the door to my apartment and stepped inside,
happy that it looked exactly as it had in the pictures. It had been hard
coordinating a move from D.C., but I had no time to spare to see the apartment
in person. I had been scrambling to wrap up my projects at my old job before I
left.

"This is
nice," Trisha said, setting our suitcases down in the living room.

"It's small but
it's in a good neighborhood and I really wanted a place with a doorman and
elevator."

I set the boxes down
and started to explore my new home. The bedroom was small but the large living
room made up for it. The bathroom was serviceable if a bit cramped but the
kitchen was a thing of beauty with stainless steel appliances and plenty of
counter space. The apartment was currently filled with boxes and furniture that
I had shipped from D.C. and I didn't relish the thought of unpacking
everything.

"What should we do
first?" Trisha said, collapsing on the couch that was still wrapped in
plastic. "Please don't tell me you want to start unpacking."

I grinned at Trisha's
pleading expression. She had come for a weekend of fun, not one filled with
bubble wrap and packing tape. "Don't worry. The last thing I want to do
now is unpack. I have plenty of time for that. I need to return the rental car,
but why don't we get lunch afterwards? I want to explore my new
neighborhood."

I waited while Trisha
changed into an outfit more appropriate for the stifling heat. She looked much
more put together than I did in her white shorts and gauzy blue shirt worn over
a tank top.

"Don't you want to
change?" she asked.

"You're the
fashion plate, not me. I'm happy with my jeans and t-shirt." For as long
as I had known Trisha, she had always looked put together, even in middle
school. We had been best friends since the sixth grade except for a small bump
in our friendship after my broken engagement to Sean. After his accident, Trisha
had admitted that she had always been in love with Sean and hadn't been able to
accept what I had done to him. She had tearfully apologized for abandoning me
and begged for another chance. Fortunately, all the hours that we spent
together helping Sean rehabilitate himself had made us realize that our
friendship was worth salvaging. We had been close again ever since. It didn't
hurt that Sean ended up falling in love with Trisha and they had gotten married
two years ago.

After dropping off the
rental car, Trisha and I walked along Amsterdam Avenue, debating which
restaurant to choose out of the dizzying array of options. We finally settled
on a Thai restaurant and gratefully stepped into the air-conditioned interior.

"Does it feel
weird to be back?" Trisha asked after we had ordered.

"Kind of, since
this is the first time I've been back since I lived here, except for the quick
trip up for my interview. And I spent more time in the airport than in the city
when I came up for it. It doesn't even feel like the same place to me. When I
first lived here, I was so wide-eyed and naive. I thought New York was some
magical place that was going to change my life. Now I know it's just another
city."

Trisha hesitated before
asking her next question. "Does it bring up painful memories of
Jackson?"

I sighed, trying to
examine my feelings. I had mixed emotions when it came to Jackson Reynard and
the memories he stirred in me. Losing him had been one of the most painful
experiences of my life, second only to losing my father. It had taken me a long
time to put myself back together, but slowly and surely, I had. I had moved
back to D.C. after Sean started making real progress, knowing that he was in
the capable hands of Trisha. I had worked my way up in an advertising agency until
I was made an account manager, becoming somewhat of a workaholic as my mother
had once feared. Burying myself in work had helped take my mind off Jackson.

Not that it had been
easy. Recovering from a failed relationship was hard enough. It was even harder
when the person you were trying to get over had their face plastered on every
magazine cover. Jackson's career had exploded after he starred in
Negative Exposure
, the John Warner movie
that he had almost passed on because of me. Since then, he had been labeled as
the intelligent man's action hero, starring in two more blockbusters
afterwards. His meteoric rise to fame meant that every time I turned on the TV,
every time I passed a bus shelter or a newsstand, I was at risk of seeing his
green eyes looking back at me.

As hard as it was, I
got used to seeing Jackson's face everywhere, until I didn't feel that
gut-wrenching pain every time I saw an image of him. I told myself that he was
just somebody that I used to know, a far away memory that still haunted me
sometimes but had lost its power to make me feel that slicing lance of pain.
Knowing that he had betrayed me with Claire, and that the desperate love I had
believed in had been built on a bed of deceit, helped me get over him.

This didn't mean that I
didn't avoid his image. I never went to see any of his movies and I avoided any
TV show or magazine that he was featured in. I told myself that it was normal
to still have those nights left over from when the breakup had been fresh.
Those nights where I lay in bed, reliving the memories of us together as I
clutched the diamond pendant he had once given me with eyes full of love. Those
nights when I pleasured myself with my hands, imagining that it was Jackson
caressing me. My body still craved him, even though my mind knew that he had
deceived me, had cheated on me with Claire.