The Tragedy of Loving Jamie Clarke (17 page)

-27-

Erik’s Hummer spits as we pull up to my house. Normally I don’t like coming home to an empty house but I’m grateful for the quiet. I’m not in a talking mood and if I pretended to be okay my parents would see right through the act and I’d be up all night explaining the fight to them.

“Doesn’t look like anyone is home,” Erik says as he leans forward to
look out
my window. If this were two-years-ago I would be a frantic mess having his face this close to me. I feel like those days are from another lifetime.

The exterior of the house is unsettlingly dark. Most nights, when they go out or if I am getting home after they’ve gone to bed, my parents will leave the porch light on so I don’t stumble up the stairs but Dad broke it last week when he was battling a spider.

“My parents and Amber’s are out tonight,” I reply.

“Maybe I should bring you back to the party. You can hang out in my room, watch a movie or whatever at least until someone comes home. Or we can swing back to my house and pick Amber up and she can stay with you until your parents come home.”

It’s not that Erik has never been caring toward others before, during the summer he volunteers at York’s Assisted Living Facility, but he’s always been this goofy jock who says things like, “Dude!” and “
Off the hook
.” I’ve never seen this side of him before.

“Thanks, but I’ll be okay,”

“Hey so I heard you’re writing a book. Is that true?” Erik asks.

My family, Amber and Jamie are the only people who know about my recreational habits so Jamie must have told him.

“I’m trying to but it’s not as easy as I thought it would be,” I say.

“Well, it’s pretty awesome that you’re trying though. Jamie was super proud of you when he told me about it.”

The distance in Jamie’s eyes as we stood in Erik’s foyer tonight and the uncertainty of where our relationship lies stings as I remember promising Jamie that he would be the first person to read my book. I can’t believe how far we’ve fallen in the last hour.

“Did he say anything? Jamie, before he left? Other than that he had something to do?”

“Look,” Erik puts his hand
on
my knee the way my father does when he is trying to comfort me. “I don’t know what happened between you two but just give him time. He’ll come around.”

Isn’t it strange that the person who is the cause of the fight is the one trying to reassure me?

“Yeah. Maybe. Thanks for the ride.” I say as I pull the lock on the door. I can’t remember the last time I was in a car with manual locks.

“Hey, April,” Erik flips his head to remove the hair from his forehead. “I’m sorry about what you’ve had to go through this year. You know with the master lock incident and everything.”

I didn’t think anyone, except Jamie, my parents and Amber knew about that.  I didn’t want anyone else knowing about it because I knew they would do one of two things, they would either make fun of me for it or give me the sympathetic puppy-dog-eyed look Erik is giving me right now. “You know I would have gladly kicked their asses for you.”

“I know,” I laugh. “How did you hear about that?” I ask, picking at the red nail polish that has begun to chip on my fingers. “Were kids talking about it at school? I have seen people whispering a lot more than usual when I walk by them in the halls.”

“No, Jamie told me,” Erik says, cocking his head to the side.

He is just spilling everything about me isn’t he?

“He did? Why?” I can feel the heat rising to my cheeks.

“He came over a few days after it happened and he was in such a bad mood and seemed so angry. I prodded him until he told me. He said it took every ounce of strength he had not to find those guys and kick their asses.”

I knew he was angry but I had no idea Jamie was still bothered by the incident days later. He might have been a jerk tonight, but what kind of a girlfriend would I be if this didn’t make me smile a little bit?

“Yeah he was pretty angry about it.”

“So whatever happened between you two tonight, do the kid a favor and cut him some slack. Dude, he’s crazy in love with you.”

“Thanks Erik, I appreciate that.”

“One last thing and then I promise I’m done counseling you,” Erik teases. “No matter what idiots say, you’re still awesome with or without that brace.”

I stumble backward and catch myself on the door handle. This isn’t Erik Marshall, school jock I am looking at, it’s Erik Marshall, my friend.

“Thank you, Erik. That really means a lot,” I reply. “I’ll be okay though, I have Jamie.”

Do I still have Jamie?

The house is eerily quiet. I’ve been home alone before but usually my dad’s mother, Grandma Alison, comes to stay with me but she’s still getting over the flu. While I could really use one of her delicious cherry pies, I welcome the quiet. If she were here she would ask me a million questions about Jamie and I’d have to either lie to her or tell her about the fight. Grandma Alison is great at giving advice but I’d rather not listen to advice. Right now, I want to open a tub of ice cream and
drown myself i
n sugar and the Backstreet Boys.

Our fridge is like a who’s who of small farm foods. Mom and dad do most of their shopping at the local market, Maine’s Best a small grocery store in town. We have things like Maine’s Best Milk, Maine’s Best Water, Maine’s Best Apples and you get the picture, most of their products come from farms and small town factories. So instead of Breyer’s I pull out a carton of Maine’s Best Mint Chocolate Chip. It basically tastes the same as Breyer’s but for the ice cream experts, like Amber who always has to have Breyer’s, it has a cardboard flavor to it. I don’t taste the difference but even if I did
it will do
the trick.

I fluff up the pillows on the couch, including the one with a black patch on it that my mother tried to sew in an attempt to be more domestic, and pop in
Backstreet Boys: In Concert
circa 1998 and throw open the ice cream. I’m ready to wallow and allow the soulful sounds and smooth dance moves of the boys to take me to a happy place. The video gears up and the roaring sound of the screaming crowd floods my living room. It takes me back to the second time I saw them live.

I had dragged Amber, practically kicking and screaming, to the State Theatre in Portland because I had no one else to go with. The venue wasn’t anything spectacular and seemed rather small for the thousands of teenage girls flooding the double doors to get inside. I felt like we were about to walk into a different dimension where only teenage girls and the five men in the group existed, and that would have been fine with me. The moment my foot hit the pavement in front of the venue I was running on adrenaline. I didn’t care that we had nosebleed seats. I didn’t care that a fellow Backstreet Boys fan had spilled her soda on me when we collided whilst running to find our seats. I didn’t care that Charlie had called me ten times in under an hour. All I cared about was the fact that we were there in the same building as my idols. As the lights dimmed and the crowd erupted, I looked over at Amber hoping that she was at least slightly excited, but she was just sitting there with a blank look on her face. The entire crowd was on its feet screaming and jumping up and down and my best friend was playing Temple Run on her phone. I should have been annoyed because I had paid for the tickets with my allowance and because who doesn’t scream and freak out at a Backstreet Boys concert? But I had no room for annoyance because all I could feel was euphoria as my boys exploded on stage.

They were magnetic and pulled the loudest and most uncontrollable screams
out of me
. I felt like my throat would fall out. For the two hours the group was onstage I thought about nothing other than the sheer joy of seeing those boys live. All of the stress that went along with being a freshman in high school, the worry about how unhappy I was with Charlie, wearing the back brace and anything else that might have plagued me that day, fell away like ash burning in a fire. Those five men were there for me no matter what mood I was in and seeing them, no matter how small they looked, only increased my respect for them. There was nothing like hearing their voices serenading the crowd and giving us all they had. I remember being so grateful to them for so much and not just giving me an escape from my problems, but for giving me hope in times when I didn’t think there was any.

I had written them a letter a long time ago thanking them for changing my life but, as most fan mail does, I am sure it was tossed in with the millions of other thank you notes, teddy bears, drawings and underwear (not mine…ever) that they receive on a daily basis. Still, I fantasize that one day I’ll receive a letter from them or some kind of acknowledgement. What can I say? I’m optimistic, sometimes.

That night in Portland was the happiest I had ever been until Mrs. Honor’s class six-months-ago when Jamie asked me to be his girlfriend. Isn’t it amazing how things can change so quickly? A few hours ago Jamie and I were happy, in-love and feeling like we could take on the world and now I’m sitting here eating a carton of ice cream, watching the same video I’ve watched a hundred times and I’m completely shattered. Maybe I should just call him and ask him to come over so we can work this through. But he
left
me at that party. So
he
should be the one to call
me
!

I have to be strong and I have to, “make him grovel,” that’s what Amber had said before Erik took me home. “You make him beg for your forgiveness and if he calls or texts you tonight don’t jump on your phone, let him wait it out.”  She was very insistent about it and usually when she’s that clear on her instructions she knows what she is talking about.

I slink onto my back and fluff the throw pillows so they’re comfortable enough to lie on and focus on the music. I hope the boys do what they’ve always done for me and take me away from the thoughts in my head.

-28-

Buzz, buzz, buzz.
The vibration of the phone bouncing around on the coffee table wakes me up. I didn’t even realize I fell asleep. I catch the phone mid-bounce and pull it to my face. I rub my eyes and try reading the name on the screen again. JAMIE CALLING. Ha! Ha! Amber was right he really couldn’t go an entire night without speaking to me. Part of me wants to answer it and apologize for everything but the other part of me wants to let it go to voicemail.

“I can’t believe you used my being honest about the whole Erik thing as ammunition in a fight!” I shout at the vibrating phone. Ugh!

Buzz, buzz, buzz
. JAMIE CALLING. No! I didn’t have to tell him about the Erik thing because it is irrelevant but I didn’t want to hide things from him but if this is how it is going to be every time I tell him something he might not like we’re going to have serious problems.

“Jamie, don’t say anything,” I say as I pick up the incessantly buzzing phone. “I’m really hurt and pissed off at how you treated me tonight. I told you the truth about Erik because I didn’t want to hide anything from you and you turned it around on me! That’s not okay!”

“I know,” he replies. His voice is low and quiet.

“Where are you?” I ask as I listen to the chattering voices of a crowd on the other end of the line.

A high squeaky voices jumps through the phone and heat surges through me as I recognize Liza’s voice and hear the baritone sound Erik makes when he laughs. He’s still there! Jamie never left the party! UN-FREAKING-BELIEVABLE! I slump onto the floor with my legs rolled against me.

“Are you kidding me?” I shout. I could scream and throw up all at the same time. “You know what Jamie, you walked away earlier because you didn’t want to say something you’d regret, well now it’s my turn!” CLICK.

I slam the phone on the coffee table and the screen cracks. “Shit!”

I cannot believe Jamie did this. I’ve learned that Jamie is not perfect but I never expected
this.
I would never ditch him at a party and I sure as hell wouldn’t lie about it. We’ve never lied to one another. My heart is thumping wildly and flashes of cold burrow through my spine until they shoot out from my toes. The ceiling and walls are closing in and every breath I take is a struggle. I need my best friend.

Buzz, buzz, buzz.
I almost don’t want to look.
Buzz, buzz, buzz.
I should ignore it but I swear my cell phone is like this giant magnet that pulls me in every time. Still on the floor, I swipe the phone off the table and brace myself. AMBER CALLING.

“You have the best timing,” I sing.

“Jamie is still here,” Amber whispers. “He’s such a dick!”

“Yeah, I know. He called me right before you did and I heard Erik and that bitch Liza in the background. I swear every time I hear her ugly-ass voice I want to punch something. I know she is trying to get with Jamie. She thinks I can’t see it but I can.”

Okay, maybe I am focusing on the wrong issue but I know what my gut is telling me; Liza has her eye on Jamie. This is what she does. Why do girls like Liza exist? Shouldn’t they be reserved for soap operas or romantic comedies? She’s not really that pretty. Okay, fine so she’s pretty but so is Jennifer Aniston and you don’t see her trying to steal other people’s boyfriends.

“Ape? April? Hello?” Amber shouts as she seems to be shoving the entire phone in her mouth. Her voice snaps me back from my ‘I hate Liza trance.’

“Yes, I’m here you don’t have to yell,” I snap pretending like I didn’t miss
the last minute
of whatever it was she was saying. “Amber, did he say anything to you? You know, about our fight and me? Or about the fact that he is a total dick nugget for pretending to ditch me at the party?”

“No, but he is pretty much avoiding me and that’s smart. I told you if he ever hurt you it would be the last thing he ever did.”

Actually her exact words were, “The minute he makes you cry I am going to take him to Camp Pain and by the time I’m done with him not only will he be celibate he’ll never look at another girl again.”

“I can’t believe he did this. It makes no sense. Why pretend to be okay with something that took place two-years-ago if you’re not? Why be mad about something that is so irrelevant? Why are boys so freaking confusing?”

“There’s no point in trying to make sense of Jamie’s stupidity. He’s a boy, which means stupid is embedded in him and it was only a matter of time before it reared its ugly head,” Amber snorts.

Whenever she says something she thinks is really clever she’ll snort while she is laughing and right now she sounds more like a Potbelly than my best friend.

“Amber,” I say flatly.

“Sorry, sorry. So I know you’re probably sitting on your couch downing an entire carton of ice cream and watching one of your bazillion Backstreet Boys DVDs, yuck, but as soon as Erik is done kicking Jeremy out because he puked in Mrs. Marshall’s favorite vase, he is going to drop me at your house,” Amber explains.

“No, you don’t have to do that,” I protest, weakly.

“Ape, there’s no need to pretend. I know you’re wallowing and what kind of friend would I be if I let you wallow alone?”

After the call from Jamie I swore I was done crying for the night...so much for that.

“Okay,”
sniffle, sob, snot,
“thank you, Amber,”
sniffle, sob, snot
“I’ll see you soon.”

Amber sighs and muffles her voice, “Erik, we gotta go...now!”

I wonder how Marlo would handle a situation like this. I doubt she’d be sitting in the dark crying about a boy. Unlike me, she doesn’t need anyone else to give her self-worth. I wish I were more like her then maybe I wouldn’t feel this shitty right now. I’d also be invisible.