Authors: Monica Alexander
“Because I haven’t told anyone,” I said honestly. “I hate talking about it, and outside of my family and the therapist I saw when I was younger, no one knows.”
“Except Kate,” she said, and I found it interesting that she went there.
I had a feeling she wanted me to tell her that even Kate didn’t know the whole truth about my past, but telling her that would be a lie.
“Yes, Kate knows. She lived through most of it with me.”
“I guess it makes sense that you guys are so close,” she said, nodding thoughtfully, but there was still an edge to her voice.
“That’s why,” I confirmed as placidly as I could, but as I said it, I thought back to my conversation with Kate from the night before. I wished I could say we were still that close, but I knew it wasn’t the case anymore.
I was sure hearing that would please Alyssa to no end, but I wasn’t going to tell her. What went on with Kate and me was none of her business.
“Jack, I’m your girlfriend,” Alyssa said then, and I could hear a level of hurt in her voice. “We’ve been together for over a year, and in all that time I had no idea you’d lived this other life. I had no idea about your parents. Hell, you told me they died in a car accident. You lied to me.”
“It’s the lie I tell everyone,” I told her simply.
“But I’m your
girlfriend
,” she repeated. “I’ve told you about my past – about my parents and the assholes I’ve dated and my insecurities. You know everything about me. I’ve opened up to you, but you didn’t do that.”
“Lys, you’ve never actually told me any of those things,” I told her, feeling like I needed to tread carefully. “I know about them because you’ve made passing comments, and I’ve pieced them together with things you’ve said when you’ve been drunk or not thinking. Not once have we had a meaningful conversation about your past or anything else real for that matter.”
Alyssa looked like I’d stunned her. “That’s not true. We talk about real things all the time.”
I shook my head. “No, we don’t.”
Alyssa looked away as she let out a small barking laugh. When she looked back at me, I saw anger in her eyes. “Well, I’m not so sure that’s my fault. You’ve never introduced me to your aunt and uncle – the people who apparently rescued you and raised you, the most important people in your life. You’ve never invited me to come home with you for a weekend, and outside of the times we’ve hung out with your friends, you’ve barely let me into your world.”
“What are you talking about? You’ve been my girlfriend for over a year. You’re in my world.”
She shook her head. “No, I’m not. We hang out, we party, and we have sex. Do you even love me, Jack?”
“I do,” I told her. “I know you asked me that on Sunday, and I didn’t answer you. I’m sorry for that, but I do love you Lys.”
She nodded. “But you also said you loved Kate that night.”
“Yes,” I said reluctantly.
“You said you loved her as a friend.”
“Yes.”
“Did you mean that?”
“I did . . .”
“But?”
She knew there was a but. Was I that obvious?
“But there might be more to it than that,” I told her, figuring it wouldn’t do me any good to beat around the bush. I was going to have to tell her eventually.
Alyssa nodded. “I figured. Have you slept with her?”
“No, I haven’t. I almost kissed her last weekend, but I didn’t do it.”
Alyssa closed her eyes for a few seconds, and when she opened them, I saw so much pain in them. “Jack, I love you. I love you
so
much, and I
want
to be with you, but I won’t be with someone if I don’t have their whole heart. And I feel like that’s what you’re telling me is happening here.”
“She was my first love, Lys. And I don’t think those feelings ever really went away.”
“So, you love me, but you love her more. Is that what you’re saying?” she asked bitterly.
“Yes,” I said slowly, knowing as I said the word that it was the truth.
I’d never stopped loving Kate. I just hadn’t realized it until the night before when she told me how she felt. I’d been stunned and a little confused, and I’d been pissed that I’d hurt her in any way. And then she’d left, and I’d wanted so badly to chase after her. I’d wanted to follow her back to her apartment, catch her before she went inside, and tell her I loved her. I’d wanted to kiss her, finally and for real, because I hadn’t stopped thinking about doing that since Saturday night. Hell, I hadn’t stopped thinking about it for the past eight years.
But last night I had a girlfriend, and I didn’t want to start something with Kate, something that I knew would be real and right and possibly forever, unless I was unattached. I owed her that. And I owed Alyssa an explanation.
“So, you’re breaking up with me,” Alyssa said flatly. “That’s why you invited me over? To break up with me?”
“To an extent, but I also wanted you to understand that this wasn’t in my control. So many things happened before we ever met.”
It hadn’t been my intention, but I was fairly certain saying that pissed her off even more.
“Just answer the question, Jack. Are we breaking up or not?”
“Yes. I’m sorry, Lys, but I think it’s for the best.”
“For you, maybe,” she huffed out, crossing her arms over her chest defiantly.
“For both of us. We both knew this wasn’t going to last forever.”
“We did?” she asked in disbelief.
“Well, yeah, I just figured we were having fun.”
Alyssa looked at me like I was crazy. “For over a year? Really, Jack? I thought you were supposed to be the smart one in this relationship.”
I shot her a disapproving look. “That was uncalled for.”
“I disagree. And for the record, I was in this for the long haul. I thought maybe we’d even get married one day, but I guess I read the signs completely wrong.”
Yeah,
that
wasn’t going to happen.
“Lys, you’re the one who said a few minutes ago that all we do is hang out, party, and have sex. I’d say that’s the textbook definition of ‘having fun’. That doesn’t really sound like a relationship that’s headed down the aisle to me.”
“That’s because you’re so busy all the time with school and volunteering at the hospital and hanging out with Charlie, not to mention your bro time with your boys and the time you spend at the gym,” she spat. “I’m not sure I fit into your life anywhere but at night and in your bed.”
“So, we’re saying the same things.”
As soon as I said that, she looked at me like I was insane, and maybe I was. Maybe I’d spent too much time with a girl who I knew wasn’t right for me because it was convenient. But I’d assumed we wanted the same things. Until now I’d never realized that assumption was wrong.
Alyssa threw her hands up in frustration. “No, we’re not saying the same things at all. I’m
complaining
about the state of our relationship. You’re the one thinking it’s so great. Then again, you’re also the one who just broke up with me, so I guess this is kind of a moot point,” she said as she got to her feet.
“Alyssa, come on. Don’t be upset. I’m sorry if I hurt you. I was just trying to be honest.”
“Yeah, well, honesty can be brutal. I can’t believe you invited me over here, told me that sob story about how your dad killed your mom to get me to feel sorry for you and your tragic childhood and your long lost best friend, and then you broke up with me. That was a shitty thing to do, Jack, but then again, you’re the son of a murderer, so maybe the apple doesn’t fall so far from the tree. I guess I should get out of here before you grab a knife and repeat history.”
In that moment, I saw red. No one had ever treated me as badly as she was in that moment, and she supposedly loved me. Fuck that.
“Get out,” I told her as I got to my feet. “Get the fuck out of my apartment. I don’t want to see you again.”
“Gladly,” she spat on her way to the door. “Fuck off and have a nice life.”
The door slammed behind her, and only when she was gone did I realize I was shaking. Rarely had I been so pissed off in my life, but that had done it. Comparing me to my father was apparently the one thing that could set me off.
I’m not like him. I’m not like him at all. I’m
nothing
like him.
I’m not like him. I’m not like him at all. I’m
nothing
like him.
I’m not like him. I’m not like him at all. I’m
nothing
like him.
I said the phrase three times, just like my therapist had taught me when I was thirteen. I hadn’t had to say it in a long time, but it sure as hell came in handy when I felt like I might completely lose my shit. I was
nothing
like my father, and regardless of what Alyssa had said, it wasn’t true. She was mad, and she was hurt, and she’d tried to hurt me in the process. All that told me was that I was right to break up with her. We weren’t good together, and I wanted nothing to do with someone who could be that hurtful.
Nothing about our conversation had gone the way I’d planned, and I regretted telling her my story. Who knew what she’d do with the information. I’d been trying to be open with her, to help her see why I was ending things and why I wanted to be with Kate. My feelings for Kate ran so deep into my past that it was fruitless to fight them. I hadn’t wanted to hurt Alyssa, but in the end, that hadn’t been an option. I probably should have just ended it clean, but I’d been trying to be a good guy. I guess I was wrong.
Now I just had one more thing to do. I needed to tell Kate how I felt, and I figured that might be harder than anything else I’d done, because she currently wasn’t speaking to me. I was going to change that, because I wanted to be with her, and now that I’d come to the realization, I wasn’t going to stop until I got what I wanted. It was what we both wanted, and it just made sense.
I hated that I’d hurt her in any way. I’d had no idea that when she’d sat across from me and I’d blurted out that I wanted to kiss her that she’d wanted me to. Had I known that, everything would have been different. I probably would have kissed her.
But there I was feeling like a complete jerk for pushing myself on her when I figured she wanted nothing to do with me. That feeling had been worse than knowing I’d almost cheated on my girlfriend. I don’t think I realized it at the time, but later on, as I’d been lying in bed, trying to fall asleep, I’d been kicking myself for being so reckless, and it had been because I’d
wanted
to kiss Kate so badly.
All night I’d been watching her and wishing for things that were so off-limits, but it was like I couldn’t help myself. When it came to her, there had always been an underlying feeling that she was mine. Now I knew it was because I was completely in love with her. I always had been, and I needed her to know that. I just had to figure out a way to get her to talk to me, and I needed to get her to listen.
Kate
I told myself I was glad that Jack didn’t come into see me at work on Thursday night. I didn’t want to talk to him – not after our encounter the night before. I couldn’t believe I’d cried in front of him and that I’d admitted what I had. I was embarrassed, and I felt like such a fool, but more than that, I was angry. How dare he say that he’d wanted to kiss me once – just to know what it would be like. It made my very real feelings for him seem that much more ridiculous.
But a part of me – a mildly pathetic part, apparently – wanted
to see him. I guess I had a burning desire to get my heart punched a few more times, since what had happened the night before and on Saturday night hadn’t been enough.
Or maybe I was just hoping that telling him how I felt had sparked something in him and he’d suddenly realized that he loved me too. It was crazy, but what I was learning was that when you fall for someone – when you fall hard – you’ll rationalize just about anything that could lead to getting what you want. I’d never experienced that before. Hell, I’d never really put that much thought into the guys I’d dated. None of them had mattered, but to me, Jack was everything.
What happened when I was with him was a completely foreign feeling, but at the same time it felt so right. It felt like for the first time in my life that I wasn’t supposed to be anywhere but in that moment with him. I’d never felt that before. My whole life had been about doing what I could to get by, to get through, and to make sure the past didn’t repeat itself. It was about moving forward, onto the next thing that would earn me money, or at the very least earn me a ticket out of Indiana. Even when I’d gotten to Texas, it had been about getting the best grades, the best education, and the best internships so I could move on to something better.
It wasn’t until Jack was in my life that I stopped obsessing about the future. I lived in the present, I had fun, and I let myself disconnect, even for a short while, because there was nowhere else I wanted to be than with him, laughing and joking and living life.
Then I had to go and fall in love with him. That was where I knew I’d gone wrong. If only I could have felt nothing for him, we would still be friends, there wouldn’t be a giant hole in my heart, and I wouldn’t feel like I’d lost everything. Why couldn’t I have fallen for Cullen or Justin? Why did it have to be Jack – a guy that wasn’t available and wasn’t interested in me? Life could really suck sometimes.
I pulled into the closest space to my apartment that I could find, and then I trudged toward the steps, feeling achy all over. I had studying to do, but it was going to have to wait until after I took a bubble bath. Maybe then my head would feel clear enough to think about schoolwork.
When I got to the top of the stairs, I chanced a look at Jack’s front door. I knew he was home. I’d seen his truck when I’d pulled in. Just the fact that he was only a few feet away from me, possibly on his couch on the other side of the wall, made the ache in my body spread to my chest. God, I missed him, which was the least healthy thing for me to be thinking. But I couldn’t help it.
I shifted my gaze to the door to my apartment, fixing it on the doorknob. Within seconds I’d be inside, there would be some sort of distance between Jack and me, and I’d be able to relax – or at least I hoped I would.
As I opened the door, a white envelope that blended in with the white of our apartment door caught my eye. It didn’t have anything on the front, and it felt like there was a card inside. I figured it was a party invitation, since they’d made their way to our front door fairly regularly since we’d moved in. Someone in our complex was always having a party, and since my sister seemed to know everyone, we always got an invite.
I wasn’t all that interested in who was celebrating the weekend in style, so I tossed the envelope onto the kitchen counter and headed toward my bedroom. Sara wasn’t home, so I had the apartment to myself. I honestly preferred it that way. Since I’d told her about Jack, she’d been watching me with concern and asking me if I was okay on a daily basis. I knew there wasn’t anything she could say or do that would help the situation, so I just told her I was fine, even though we both knew I wasn’t.
I turned on the light in my room, dropped my bag just inside, and headed to the bathroom. When I flipped on the light, the first thing I saw was an envelope propped up against my bottle of perfume. It looked like the one that had been on the door, and it was also missing a name. This one I opened, my curiosity getting the best of me.
I remember the first smile you ever gave me.
I frowned as I read that, not sure what it was supposed to mean. The card inside was plain white, and the lettering was typed. I turned it over, looking for a signature or some indication as to who had sent it, because it was borderline creepy, and I wanted to be sure there wasn’t a psychopath hiding in my apartment waiting to dismember me. There was nothing on the back.
Frowning, I set the card and the envelope on the counter and started to undress, but then my need to figure out who was possibly stalking me took over, and I threw on a white t-shirt and yoga pants before making my way back to the kitchen.
I paused in front of the counter where the first envelope sat, and for a few seconds I hesitated, not wanting to know what might be inside. Then I decided to just bite the bullet and open it.
Unfortunately that note was just as cryptic as the first one.
I remember the first time I ever saw you. I remember it like it was yesterday.
Well, damn. What did that mean? Aside from the obvious meaning. Then I noticed there was another card propped up against the coffeemaker. What the hell was going on?
I remember your hair flying out behind you, the wind tangling it as you ran, but you didn’t care.
Was that creepy or just observant? And was this a joke of some sort? If it was, I didn’t get it.
I sighed as I turned in a circle, surveying my apartment. Just from my vantage point, I noticed three more white envelopes that I hadn’t seen when I’d walked through the first time. I walked over to collect them, since even if there was a crazy psycho-stalker in my apartment waiting to eat my flesh, I was sort of curious at that point.
Gathering them all up, and one more that I’d found in the middle of the coffee table, I sat on the couch and held them in my lap. Then I proceeded to open them all, one by one, until I had four cards in my hands. I read them one at a time.
I remember sitting outside eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.
Weird.
I remember your eyes, so blue and so intense, and so caring. No one had ever looked at me like that before.
Was that sweet? I guess it depended on who the author was.
I remember waiting for you to get done with your chores so you could come outside. Then I didn’t feel so alone.
I blinked a few times at that obvious reference to a very real part of my childhood. Were these from Jack? I realized they were when I read the next one, and my heart sank a little.
I remember when you said my name for the first time – Johnny. I’d never liked my name until you said it. After that, I relished every time I heard you say it.
They were from Jack. And I had a feeling I knew what he was doing. He was sorry. He missed our friendship, and he was afraid of losing me. This was his way of reminding me how long we’d been friends and of how close we’d been. But, damn if he didn’t understand that regardless of our history, I couldn’t be friends with him – at least not until I got over him.
I turned the last card over in my hand, absently twisting my wrist as I puzzled over what to do. That was when I saw there was more written on the back of that one, in Jack’s handwriting.
I debated writing this one, because I don’t want you to call me Johnny – not anymore. I want you to call me Jack. Honestly, I just want you to call me, because I miss you. I miss you so much, Kate, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.
I felt tears prick my eyes at his words, my heart breaking a little more. I didn’t want to hurt him. It wasn’t in my nature to do that, but being around him hurt
me
, and for the first time in my life, I needed to be a little selfish.
I looked up a few seconds later when I heard the front door open. My sister came in and gave me a smile. “You found them?”
“These?” I questioned, holding up the cards. Then I nodded, realizing when I saw her face that she already knew what Jack had been trying to do with his messages.
“It’s sweet, right?” she asked.
“I guess.”
“He had very specific instructions about where he wanted them placed. I thought a few of the places were a little odd, but I guess he had his reasons. Did you find all eleven?”
I frowned. “I found six.”
Sara smiled. “There are more – mostly in your bedroom. I don’t know what they say, because he wouldn’t tell me, but I had a feeling they might make you tear up. I guess I was right.”
“I’m not crying,” I told her, because no tears had fallen. My eyes were partially filled with them, but I hadn’t cried – not yet.
I didn’t want Jack’s words to affect me, but they did – so much. He’d captured moments from our childhood in such perfect succinctness that the darkness surrounding why we’d eaten peanut butter and jelly sandwiches outside or why we’d eaten them so often didn’t come into play. I didn’t think about the fact that I’d had to do chores because my mother was sleeping off her late nights of partying. And I didn’t have to remember why I’d liked running so much – because a part of me felt like if I could just run fast enough and far enough away from my life, it wouldn’t be so bad anymore. And I’d been right.
No part of me regretted leaving Indiana. I had no desires to go back. I felt free from the reminders of my past that had haunted me for years, lurking around each corner. I’d never been happier than the past two months I’d been in Texas, and whether I wanted to admit it or not, a lot of that had to do with Jack. He’d made my life feel as complete as it had when we were kids. He was the best friend I’d ever had. He understood me like no one else. I didn’t want to lose that, but how could I go on being his friend when I loved him like I did?
Even if I didn't yet have an answer to that question, I wanted to see what else he’d said. Almost bringing me to tears with a few words, and I could only imagine what else he could say that would do me in. I almost didn’t want to know, but there was no way I was going to leave those envelopes unopened.
I got up from the couch and headed to my room, knowing I’d find more in there.
“There’s one on your desk – on top of your economics book,” Sara said, having followed me. “One propped up against the bubble bath in your tub, one in your closet in the pocket of your Ray’s t-shirt, one by your TV, and there’s one on your pillow. He said to open that one last.”
I looked back at my sister as I gathered the notes I could see. “He went to a lot of effort.”
She smiled. “Yeah, well, he didn’t do this on a whim. There was a lot of thought put into it.”
“Why?” I asked her as I ducked into the bathroom, grabbed the note, and then went to retrieve the one from the closet.
“He had his reasons,” she said, and I had a feeling she was being purposefully vague, because she couldn’t help the wide smile on her face.
“Yeah, I’m sure he did,” I muttered as I sat on my bed and started to read Jack’s words.
I remember not knowing what anyone was talking about when they referenced TV shows on cable networks. I loved that you knew how that felt too.
That had been the one propped up against my TV, and I remembered what he was talking about all too well. When your mom snorts most of your money, you can’t really afford cable.
I remember when we used to talk about what it would be like to take a bubble bath. You couldn’t do that in our crappy trailer showers.
That one made me smile and reminded me why I loved bubble baths so much. Next I opened the one that had been in the pocket of my work shirt.
I remember the second I realized who you were. I can’t remember ever feeling so utterly happy and confused at the same time. I’ll never look at barbecue again and not think of you.
That was sweet, and it made me feel warm all over as I remembered the first time we’d really talked. I’d had no idea who he was that day and for a while after, but it had been a memorable conversation when I looked back on it after I’d learned the truth.
I remember the night we studied for Macro, and I let it slip who I was. I thought that was the worst thing I could have done, but it ended up being the best mistake of my life.
I couldn’t agree with him more as I picked up the last card – the one that was on my pillow.
I have no idea how many nights I climbed into your bed when we were kids. That’s something I don’t remember, because the number is too high to count. Last weekend I did it again. It seemed as natural as anything I’d ever done. It seemed as natural as us. (TURN OVER)
I followed his direction and flipped the card over, already feeling overcome with emotion, the fresh tears in my eyes threatening to spill over at any second.