Always Us by Lizzie Morton

 

 

 

Twenty-Five

 

 

Jake – 8 years earlier

 

 

It’s been four days since the shit show with Abby at my house. The night keeps playing on a constant loop in my head from the moment I open my eyes and keeps me awake at night. I can’t get over it. I’ve been blatantly ignoring her, but what is there to say? Guys, we don’t get embarrassed easily, but even I’ll admit I’m humiliated by what happened. Being caught by your mom, about to take your girlfriend’s virginity … there’s no coming back from that.

I’ve wanted to speak to her since the moment I watched her walk out the door, but I can’t get the image of mortification on her face from my mind. Each time I go to call her, I bottle it. My behavior is unjustified, I know I don’t need to react like this, because Abby isn’t like all the other girls and that’s what I’ve grown to love about her.

Yes, love. What I said wasn’t a half assed attempt to get into her pants. I knew from the moment I first saw her she was going to be trouble. There’s something which draws me in, and I stopped trying to fight it a long time ago. Any other girl, and the effort it would have taken to break through those walls would have put me off, it wouldn’t have been worth it. With Abby it’s different, the chemistry between us is there constantly simmering away. But damn, if my balls don’t feel like they’re going to explode just being near her, the restraint it takes sometimes to hold back and keep going at her pace is physically painful.

She’s worth it though, the effort, the patience. The other night I got a snippet of what it could be like and now I want more. I had her so close, got to taste her, hear her moan my name. I now know there’s nothing better than the feeling of her under me, in my hands. It’s been the main focus of my fantasies which have more than doubled since that night, I’m lucky I don’t have friction burn. I could have it all. But first I need to stop acting like a pussy and call her.

Finally, I work up the courage and decide I’ve messed around enough. Pulling my cell from my pocket, I get her name up on the screen ready to call and settle things. She might be a little hurt that I haven’t been in touch, but we can get past it. She’s not the type to hold a grudge, she was right there with me and experienced each humiliating second. I know I’m not the only one who’s embarrassed.

Looking at the picture of us together that I’ve saved for her caller ID makes me smile like an idiot. God, she’s so beautiful, it takes my breath away. Shaking my head, I try to get myself together. I’m beginning to sound like some pansy chick novel, but this is what she does to me. The cool Jake I try to make everyone see has gone out the window when it comes to her.

I’m about to hit call when a throat clears, the sound coming from my doorway. I look up from where I’m sitting at my desk and find my Grandpa, filling the doorway with a stern look on his face.

Here we go.

It wasn’t enough that Mom spent the past four days chewing my ass over and over, about how irresponsible I’m being with my future, but now the old man is back in town and I get to go through another few rounds with him too, great.

“Can I help, or are you just going to stand there all day?” I ask.

I attempt to stare him down, hoping if I can make him back away, then he will realize he can’t push me around anymore. But he’s relentless, my mom didn’t get it from nowhere.

“Your mother had an interesting story to tell when I got back last night …” he says.

The only saving grace of this whole scenario was that he was out of town working when shit went down. Even though he should be retired, the old git still wants to keep earning money, keep pushing his social status, because between him and my mom, they can never have enough. The two of them together are a force to be reckoned with and the only person I ever got any peace with was my grandma, but she died years ago. There might be some truth in thinking that they put all their grieving and energy into me when she was gone. It’s ironic and makes me bitter, because she wouldn’t care what I did with my life as long as I was happy. She’d have made it well known that how hard they’ve pushed me over the past couple of years, into a life I don’t want any part of, was wrong.

“Are you listening to me?” Maybe I zoned out there.

“Yeah, I’m listening,” I reply.

“So, you’ve found yourself a girl, a band … you’re becoming quite the little rock star.”

He’s smirking, but his eyes are cold as ice. He’s not done with me yet and this isn’t going to work in my favor, I know him too well.

“It was a mistake. I’ve already said sorry to Mom.”

“But if it hadn’t been here, it would have been somewhere else. You’re a teenage boy, of course you’re not going to be able to keep your dick in your pants.”

His harsh words take me by surprise. He can be hard sometimes, but this feels different. How he’s speaking, it’s detached and can’t be a good thing, it means the worst is yet to come.

“She’s my girlfriend, we’ve been together for a while … I love her.” I hesitate at telling him the last part.

We’ve never had the sort of relationship where we talk about happy things and feelings, I’m hoping that by opening up to him like this, he might back down and give me some room to breathe.

“She’s your girl, how sweet.” His tone is sarcastic, and any hope I had that being open about my feelings with him might change his mind with whatever punishment he has in store goes out the window. “Will she be your girl this time next year when you’re away at college? Long distance romances don’t last, don’t be naïve and think yours will be the exception because it won’t. Just because she was going to let you pop her cherry, doesn’t mean she won’t open her legs to the next guy that looks her way.”

I knew he could be a cold-hearted bastard, but this is a side to him I’ve never seen before. How can someone that held you as a baby and raised you as their own, speak to you this way? If I ever need an example of the parent I don’t want to be when I’m older, all I need to do is look at this miserable old fuck.

“There’s a letter downstairs for you …” he continues.

He doesn’t need a response or reaction. He knows what his words are doing. He also doesn’t want my opinion because he’s going to stand here and tell me how shit is going to fly. Once again, I have to sit and listen to what’s expected of me, then I have to follow in line, the way I have done my whole life.

“It’s an acceptance letter to Columbia,” he confirms.

Dread fills me. I don’t want to go to any of the colleges they made me apply for. Truthfully, I don’t want to go to college at all, I want to carry on with my music, but they would never accept that. Sometimes at night I lay awake, wondering if there is a way around it all, that maybe they will see the light and see my happiness matters more than going to an Ivy League school. Yeah. Right. Things can’t get any worse, so I may as well try and put up some sort of fight to get what I want out of my life.

“I don’t want to go to college.” The words come out quiet, almost shaky.

I feel like a pussy, but I’ve never defied him in this way, never answered back or stood my ground. I’ve always just conformed so I’ve no idea what his reaction will be.

“Speak up boy. I can’t hear what you’re saying.”

“I said, I don’t want to go to college.” This time when I speak, I stand up from my bed and square my shoulders, attempting to appear strong.

He narrows his eyes, processing, clearly unable to believe what he’s hearing.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I. Don’t. Want. To. Go. To. College.” I speak slower and louder, making my point clear as day.

“I heard you the first time. You don’t have to speak to me like that. I’m old, not senile.”

“Well, you said excuse me,” I grumble under my breath.

Why does he always have to be such an asshole? Most people’s grandparents are loveable old men, but not him. Even knowing what he can be like, I don’t expect the conversation to take the turn it does.

“What I meant was: excuse me, who do you think you are, telling me what you will be doing, like you have a say?”

In case he wasn’t cold enough towards me, at the moment when he’s about to rip my world from under my feet, he laughs in my face.

I swallow, answering back, with my voice sounding braver than I feel. “Because it’s not like college should be my choice, right?”

“No, it shouldn’t. This family has decades, generations of standards to maintain and if you think pissing about in a band is going to fly, you’ve got another think coming.”

“Most families would be supportive with what I want …”

“We’re not most families. We’re one of the most prestigious families in Manhattan. That doesn’t come without making some sacrifices.”

“Some? You’re asking me to give up everything. You want me to ignore what I want to do with my life, what I’m passionate about and love … for what you want.”

“I’m not asking you to do that.” His words give me a glimmer of hope, but when I look up at his face, the expression there tells me that what he’s about to say, I’m not going to like. “I’m not asking you because I’m telling you. Who do you think would fund this little dream you have? Me. Will I do it? No. You will follow what I say and do what all of the men in our family have done before you.”

“Right …” If he thinks I’m giving up the band he’s got another thing coming. I’ll do what I’ve always done and go behind his back. It’s surprising what you can fit into your day without your parents knowing.

“On to more pressing matters. It seems as if your focus has been even more compromised as of late.” I didn’t think it was possible, but his eyes get a degree colder. Chills run down my spine and I hope he’s not about to go with the conversation where I think he is. “So, there’s a girl?”

Of course, he’s going there, he’s ruthless, why wouldn’t he?

I swallow. “She’s special …”

“Special enough for you to fuck her under my roof, where anyone could walk in on you?”

“It wasn’t like that,” I mumble, a slight flush creeping up my neck as I try not to remember the other night, how mortified she looked.

He narrows his eyes. “Humor me. What was it like?”

“I love her.”

My voice breaks and I know it makes me look weak, but I hate speaking about Abby with him. I want to protect her from this world that my mom and grandpa are insistent I be part of. Kind, gentle Abby doesn’t need to be part of all this. Nobody knows the deceit and the lies that go on behind closed doors. To the outside world, everything seems so perfect. It’s a life most would dream to be part of ‘the elite’.

What they don’t know is that it’s an empty life, lonely. It’s a dog-eat-dog world and Abby is too kind to have any part in that.

He scoffs at my words. “You’re too young to know what love is.”

“I’m not a child. I’m almost eighteen and in the eyes of the law I’ll be a grownup.”

“Then start fucking acting like one,” he roars.

I’m shocked the windows don’t rattle with how loud and angry his voice is. He shows his true colors when he practically spits the next words at me.

“You will end things with her. I’ve turned a blind eye to all this band stuff or whatever you want to call it, but this, is too much. You need to stay focused for the last part of the year and make sure you keep your grades up to get into college. We’ve worked too hard to get you this far and I won’t have you giving it up now.”

“What do you mean we? From where I’m standing there’s only one person that’s worked their ass off in school, and that’s me.”

“Grow up. Your grades are average at best.” This is a lie, he knows it. My grades are exceptional and above all my classmates’, but it’s a minor detail in this argument. “Do you think you’d be where you are and have gotten into one of the greatest colleges in this country if it weren’t for the strings I pulled and the connections I have? Who do you think it is funding this little music daydream you’ve been acting out? Me. And who can take it all away in an instant? Me.”

I swallow hard again, knowing he’s right. For the first time in years, he takes a step into my room, but it’s not for a sincere grandfather grandson moment. It’s so he can get in my face and intimidate me with the next words that come out of his mouth.

“You will end things with the girl.”

I finally find my voice. “Or what?”

If there’s anything worth fighting for even more than the band, it’s Abby. I’m not going to go down without fighting for our relationship.

“Or I will file a case against you for the attempted rape of a minor.”

A faint ringing begins in my ears and the room feels like it starts to spin.

This time, it’s me that says the words, “Excuse me,” at a complete loss.

“You’re both underage. Your mom walked in and saw you attempting to rape the poor girl. The people in our social circles know what a wild card you are and wouldn’t put it past you. I also have my foot in the door with the police …”

“But why?” I stammer. “I’m your grandson, your blood. How could you do that to me, to her?”

“As I’ve said, we have generations of standards to maintain. You’ve pushed and pushed, tested and this is how far we’ve come. Now, it’s time I put my foot down. I told you that you will fall in line and you will. You will fulfill this family’s expectations of you, or you will be pushed out. I don’t want to do it, but I have done it before and will do it again.”

He’s calling my bluff, but I don’t dare defy him. Nobody speaks about my aunt who was kicked out at sixteen because she wound up pregnant. Grams told me about her, how Grandpa refused to let her see her. I know that when it comes to this shit, he means business and won’t back down for anyone.

“Think about it, you’re a smart boy deep down and I know you will make the right choice.”

He places a reassuring hand on my shoulder and gives me a warm smile as if I’ve just had a normal conversation with my grandpa.

Manipulative fucker.

As he leaves, I see my mother’s shadow in the hall, where she’s obviously been listening to the whole thing. Listening to her own father treat her son this way, ripping his future away from him. I should have known better. Known that she’d never fight for me because then I wouldn’t feel as disappointed as I do, but she’s my mother and I thought she’d at least try.

I was wrong.

I don’t acknowledge that she’s there, instead I slam the door with every bit of strength I have. It’s lucky it doesn’t come off the hinges it slams so hard. Falling back on my bed, I stare up at the ceiling wondering what I’m going to do. But really, what can I do?

They’ve got me backed into a corner and they know it.

Every part of me wants to fight for Abby because I love her. But what choice do I have? Either way we’re screwed. If I walk away, she will never want to speak to or see me again. If I stay, we will never get to be together. My grandpa will make sure I’m kicked out of Brooklyn and my ass is in some minor’s jail. If that happens, even in the future, I could never be with her. Her family would never allow it, not if they believed the lies, he told.

No matter which way I turn, we’re screwed, and I don’t know what to do. None of the paths I choose lead to Abby. My hand has been forced, and there’s only one person in all of this I can look after. If we’ve any hope in the future, I have to look after myself. It’s the only way I can make sure there’s even a slight possibility we can be together one day, years down the line when the old git is buried six feet under.

If she still wants me, then maybe we can finally be together.

It’s simple when I think about it. All I have to do is walk away. Walk away and leave my heart in Abby West’s hands and hope that one day in the future, she will give it back to me.

For me it’s us. Always us.

 

***

 

Abby

 

 

Jake breaks me from my Dan induced trance, pulling at my arm a little too roughly.

“Shit, sorry,” he says, as I wince and rub my arm. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Well, you did,” I snap. “What do you want?”

I’m distracted, wanting to watch the remainder of the set and also not wanting to be caught talking to Jake by Dan. If he sees us standing here together, he will know I was lying about things being history between us, especially when Jake’s looking at me like he is.

Not giving up, Jake says, “I really need to speak with you.”

“What’s so urgent that it can’t wait?”

“The truth.”

As I’m turning back to the stage, his words stop me in my tracks.

“The truth?”

The heavens open and rain pours down around us, hitting my skin.

Jake takes a deep breath then says, “The truth … I’m ready to give it to you.”

My eyes dart up to the stage, to Dan. His voice rings out to the crowd, but I know deep down he’s singing to me and only me, and my heart aches for what I’m about to do, to both of them.

Looking back at Jake, I drink him in—the raindrops sitting on his dark lashes, the almost overgrown stubble across his jawline and his brown eyes. My breath catches.

My gaze flicks back and forth between the two. They’re so similar. Tall, dark hair, famous to millions for their musical talents. Yet there are subtle differences, not just that one has brown eyes, and one has blue. Bigger things. One has a habit for flying off the handle but is equally the most passionate and driven person I’ve ever met. The other humble and kind, considerate of my feelings and history. 

How could I ever choose between them?

Dan feigns nonchalance for the purpose of his performance, but his face is strained when he looks in our direction.

Jake’s face is pale, having finally worked up the courage after all these years to give me the truth and tell me the real reason why we broke up eight years ago. It’s then, as I’m torn between my head and my heart, that I understand I don’t need the truth. I could never choose between the two of them because it’s not the right time. When it comes to me and Jake, it feels like it never is. Maybe we’re just not meant to be.

“It doesn’t matter,” I say, looking down to the ground.

I refrain from telling him we’re no longer important, not wanting to give too much away. Now isn’t the time or place, standing in the middle of a festival, surrounded by hundreds of people. The fact we’re having to shout to each other, proves it. This isn’t the sort of news you make public.

His eyes widen. “What do you mean, it doesn’t matter?”

It’s taken years for us to get to this point, and what do I do … throw it back in his face. I despise myself for it, but I have no choice. He looks up at Dan, trying to piece it all together.

He frowns. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

I want to reply, Yes, it’s him. It would be the easy way out. I don’t want to lie, but I can’t tell him anything until I have the answer in front of me. Those two bold lines on a plastic stick are what I need to be certain. I shake my head, hoping he will leave it, as I have nothing else to give. The icy stare I get in return almost breaks me. I can’t hold his gaze, so I look around the crowd to avoid it.

If I’d been told eight years ago that I would be the one to stomp all over Jake’s heart, not once, but twice, I would have laughed. We’re two puzzle pieces that just don’t seem to fit.

I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep this secret. He deserves to know, especially since he was about to tell me the truth. It could be so easy. Tell him, face the future together. I know Jake. He would drop everything for me. But then all the band’s hard work over the years would have been for nothing, and eventually he would resent me for holding him back.

Then there’s the issue of trust. Could I trust him not to walk away, again? Not just from me … from the two of us?

Time seems to slow as Dan continues his performance on stage. When he sees that Jake and I are still standing together, confusion flashes across his face, replaced by anger when Jake takes hold of my arm and pulls me in towards him. His lips find mine. They’re urgent and demanding. My knees tremble, and I feel like giving in and saying, screw the consequences, what does it all matter? It’s the type of kiss that tears your heart apart in such a way, it’s impossible to put it back together.

It hits me like a freight train when I remember why we can’t. I push him away and stumble back. “I can’t do this. Not now. Not with either of you.”

“If not now, then when?” Jake shakes his head. “When are you going to stop playing games, Abby?”

I wish it were a game. I wish someone would pop up and say, Just kidding! It was all a joke, but it’s not. This is as real as life gets.

“I’m not playing games,” I reply. “But I can’t do this right now.”

I dart through the crowds, stumbling and hearing shouts in the background from Amanda and the other girls, demanding to know where I’m going. There’s Jake’s voice too, but it all fades away as I block them out.

Jake brought me here this summer, he tampered with my life and this is where it’s left us. I need time to process things, and then if there’s a decision to make, we make it together.

For once in this whole fucked up scenario, he’s wrong. It’s no longer always us, because there’s about to be someone more important than all of us. We’re no longer the ones that matter.