Journey (5 page)

1 year later

Journey

This year is the first year we’ve missed our annual trip together.  I’ve needed this trip.  I’ve needed Jack.

My grandmother passed away six months ago, and I was devastated.  She was my rock and one of the most important people in my life.  I flew home to Connecticut to be with my family.  Conversations and texts with Jack have become a regular part of my life.  He sent flowers to my grandmother’s funeral, which was very thoughtful.   I didn’t ask to see him while I was home in New England, nor did he offer to come meet me.  It would have been crass.  Instead, he listened to me cry and comforted me when I was in grief.  We agreed that we should connect outside of spring break, but each time we talked about either him flying to Cali or I to NYC, something prevented it from happening, so we just set our sights on our always reliable spring break trip.

Just a few weeks ago, Jack texted to let me know something came up and he would be unable to attend.  He did not specify what the issue was, he simply referred to it as an “important family matter.”  He was apologetic, via text anyway, but I can’t quash the feeling of rejection that is beginning to simmer within me.

I came to Cabo anyway, and it is not the same.  Everything feels a little empty.  I am not having fun in the way I am accustomed.  Gone are the tender moments we shared, exchanged for simple memories that are inexplicably uprooting my usual sense of confidence.  Everything I do, I want to share with him.  In order to fill the gaps created in my psyche by Jack’s absence, I choose to party harder.  And when I want to quiet the intuition telling me that I should slow down before my life takes a very sharp turn, I simply drink more.

Jack’s usual ragtag crew of Hal, Marshall, and George are here.  At first, I hung out with them, I suppose in hopes that some of Jack’s essence will be exuded by them, but it only served to make things worse.  I’ve chosen to distance myself from them, and I don’t think George is a big fan of that.  He seems to be present at all times and creep into the background everywhere I am.

It’s our last full day here, and I have been partying with Lexie and some local friends we made at a sponsored party.  In an effort to keep from seeming stalkerish and not text Jack every second, I keep dancing and downing booze so that my brain remains swimmingly occupied.  One thing leads to another, and tequila shots followed by a squirt of lime juice are soon sliding down my throat.

You know how everyone has a “never again” story or lesson they learned about particular alcohol or combination?  At some point in their lives, they’ve discovered that too much of a particular drink mixed with a wild night is in fact the devil incarnate.  For me, that drink is tequila.  I had long ago sworn off tequila.  Shots of tequila, to be exact.  Tequila shots seem to be my only kryptonite.  They make me lose all inhibitions.  They make me vomit.  Worst of all, with enough of them, they make me black out.  Its distinct flavor lingers in my mouth long after I’ve ingested it.  Just thinking about tequila usually makes me queasy.

Somehow, I allow myself to forget my promise of never, ever again torturing my body with the devil’s elixir, and before I know it, I am up on a stage with the band, dancing around.  Even worse, there is a production company there handing out free shirts in exchange for a signature on a video release.

Many moments of not being shy with my body, coupled with the encouragement of a large crowd and some cameramen, lead to a split-second decision that, unbeknownst to me, will lead me down a shame spiral that will haunt me for years.

***

I awake in my hotel room and the room is spinning.  It spins when I open my eyes.  It spins with my eyes closed.  It doesn’t matter what I do, it just keeps spinning.

              I don’t remember having that many drinks, but I also don’t really remember how I got back here.  I call over to Lexie, but she is not around.  I assume that she must have gone home with someone, which isn’t unusual.  I gather myself together enough to slide off of the bed and drag my weakened body to the bathroom, keeping my eyes closed.  When I head back into the bedroom, looking through the narrow view my barely open eyes afford me, I spot George sitting in an armchair by the bed.

              “What are you doing here?” my voice rumbles out from my lungs.

              “You needed some assistance getting back here, so I helped you get into bed and came back to check on you this morning.”

              “Uggghhh,” I groan.  I slide my lazy legs across the floor and fall onto the bed.  “What time is it?”

              “Just after eleven,” George answers me with a smile.

             
Tequila truly is the devil.  

             
“How did you get in here?”

              “You gave me your key.”

“Oh.  Well, thank you for making sure I got back safely, but you don’t have to stay here with me.  I’m fine.  I guess I just had too much to drink,” I tell him, lying on the bed, unmoving.

“No, I’ll stay.  I’m curious what it is that makes Jack so hot over you.”

                     I don’t even turn my head to look at him.  “I have no idea what you’re talking about, George.”

                     “I should change that and say that I’m not curious about what’s underneath that swimsuit of yours- I’ve seen it and I get why Jack enjoys fucking you so much -but, I’m more interested in getting my own private show.”

              “What?”  I sit up as quickly as I can will my body and attempt to focus on George.  His leer is unnerving, and I feel very uncomfortable.  “George, I think it’s time for you to leave.”

              “You’re telling me that you have no problem flashing cameramen who sell videos of college girls to horny men all over the world, but you refuse to extend the same courtesy to me?”

              “Seriously,” I state, which comes out in a combination of hisses and spit.  “I think you should leave.”

              “Oh, I don’t think so.  I see the way you look at me.  I see you tempting me with your short skirts and skimpy swimsuits.  If you weren’t trying to get me to notice, why would you do it?”

              I feel so weak that I can’t even keep my head up, so I slide back onto the bed, keeping a healthy distance between George and myself.  

             
I wonder where my phone is.  Or my purse.  Or anything.  

             
George looks over to me and I shudder internally. “Anyway, I promised Jack I would make sure you got back to your place unharmed.”  

“You what?  What does Jack have to do with anything?  He’s not even here.”

“I know he’s not here.  I included him by sending some pictures I took of you in action last night.  You really seemed to be accustomed to getting naked in front of cameras, so what was one more camera taking pictures?”

The worst of all thoughts flood my brain.  
What has he done?  What did I do?
 

Answering my internal thoughts, George says, “Don’t worry, I didn’t fuck you.”

“Why would you do that to me, George?  What have I ever done to you?  And what makes you think that Jack would even care?”

“You know very well why he would care.  All he does is pine over you.  He doesn’t date anyone else.  It’s like the hope that maybe one day your worlds will collide again is holding him hostage.  I did what any good friend would do; I let him know he’s been duped.”

“I haven’t deceived him in any way.”

George ignores me and continues, “I will say, he’s crushed, but gave me permission to hook up with you.  I believe his words were, ‘You can have her if you want her.  I’m done.’”

I want to punch him.  I want to punch him harder than I’ve ever punched anyone before.  A million times.  But I can’t.  

“Oh God,” escapes from my lips.

“That’s more like it.  Maybe next time I can make you say that.”

What have I done?
 Oh my god!  He sent pictures to Jack!  As I begin to panic, I regain some control over my body.

I sit up and cry, “You motherfucker!  Get the fuck out!”

“I told him from the beginning that you’re a whore who would just take advantage of him and want him for his money.  He wouldn’t listen.  Now, I have proof.”  George stands, stalking toward the door.

I look up to study George’s measured expression.  Our gazes meet, and he’s clearly angry with me, but I am angrier- so much so that I don’t know what to say.  Thoughts rapidly and haphazardly move throughout my brain.                     

“Fuck off,” I spit icily as George slams the doors that lead out onto the beach.

                     Quickly, I search for my phone and text Lexie.

Where are you?  I need to get out of here!

My phone rings back.

Be there in 10

I sit on the bed nervously clawing at the comforter as I wait for Lexie to return.  Fortunately, it’s time to catch our plane and return to real life.  I pack up my things and see Lexie has already packed hers.  The concierge has a taxi waiting for us to take us to the airport.  

              After we go through customs and security, we find our seats and settle in for a long flight and equally as long and more intense chat.

“Hey Lex, can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Of course, baby bee, come give me a buzz.”

Sitting in the seat next to Lexie, eyes cast down and unsure what I’m going to say next, I fret over the consequences of my misdeeds.  My dear friend Lexie is just as wild and free spirited as me.  We’ve pretty much been attached at the hip ever since I met her during cheer camp the summer before our freshman year at Kentucky.  She’s one of the few people who both gets me and can keep up with my shenanigans.

“Let me guess…  This has something to do with Jack?”

“That obvious?”

“Yes.  Your emotions are heightened when you’re around him.  You’re mostly happy, but this is the saddest I’ve ever seen you.  What else would affect you that much?”

“I- Hmm…”  I shut my mouth quickly, open it again to speak, then close it.

Peering into Lexie’s understanding eyes, I want to argue with her and tell her she’s wrong and that I’m just bummed about going back home, but she’ll know better.  “Why do you always start talking to me like you’re my therapist when we talk about Jack?”

“Because I pretty much am your therapist when it comes to Jack.”

“You haven’t finished your Master’s degree, Lex.  You’re not even close to being a real shrink yet.”

“Maybe so, but I know you, and I know you’re in denial.”

I look down to my lap and begin playing with the fabric of my dress.  “I think my poopsicle has changed to a shitsicle.”

Lexie’s hand reaches to mine from the seat next to me, and they connect, instantly soothing me, reassuring me that she won’t judge.

“Where do I begin?  George took pictures of me last night, and Jack’s upset because my cha-cha bingos are soon to be displayed in a very public way.  Of course, I don’t care...they’re just boobies, and he says he doesn’t care so much about that, but I promised him before that I wouldn’t do anything like that unless I was certain that I was okay with the potential long-term consequences.  He laments the fact that we aren’t any more than just a casual hookup, but we can’t be more than that, because look at the dumb things I do.”  I’m talking very quickly without pausing for breaths.

“Are you just a casual hook up?  Because you surely get all kinds of bent out of shape for someone who is just casually hooking up with a random dude.  And the way you look at each other…  You two are like an old, married couple.”

“We are not.”

“Hold the phone!  You didn’t notice that loads of usuals and locals were asking about the two of you?  Everyone, and I mean
everyone
, looks at the two of you in wonder.  They’re in awe of how closely connected you are.  They tell me what a beautiful couple you are and how refreshing it is to see two people in love like the both of you are.”

We’re not actually on a phone call as she is sitting right next to me, but since she just told me to hold a phone, I’m going to use her turn of phrase and turn it against her.

“Whoa.  This call needs to move to call waiting because real life is beeping in to tell me you’re insane.  No one said anything about love.”

“Take that call.  I’ll hold.  I bet ‘real life’ is beeping in to beat you over the head until you see things for what they really are.”

“It’s not love, Lex; it’s friendship.  Plus, Jack is like a delicate baby bird.  I can’t bring him into my tangled world of drunken binges, taking major exams while hung over, my inability to settle down, nor my crazy impulsiveness.  He’s someone who has it all together, obviously.  He’s successful, articulate, worldly, and responsible.  He’s not looking for someone like me.  He doesn’t realize that with me, the party doesn’t stop after I go back home.”