Forgive Me (16 page)

The Bacchus Parade is an entirely different animal. People perch on ladders with chairs beneath them. By the time the parade starts I can see nine people deep behind me. A family befriends Jenn and lets us into their party. It is here, amongst our new family, that Jenn broaches the subject of Jason Leer.

“How exactly do you see this ending?” She doesn’t have to elaborate. There’s only one thing I care about ending in the world. Not this parade, not this trip, not my life, but me and Jason Leer.

“I don’t see it ending,” I answer, and see Julia leaning in to hear the conversation.

“What? Do you guys have no hope this is going to work out?” I ask both of them. “I love him,” I say, and the desperation in my voice scares me. It must scare Jenn, too, because she waits several minutes before she says another word.

“I just think you’ve already been through a lot. I will kill him if he hurts you.”

“I think I’m the one hurting him,” I say, unexcited by the giant Baccasaurus in front of us. “I keep telling him he’s all I want, but I do things that completely contradict that statement.” I’m hit in the head with beads and our new family thinks we’re crazy having this quiet conversation in the midst of complete hysteria. The crowd is a steady scream as the largest and most colorful floats I’ve ever seen depict music, TV, fashions, and sports from the last forty years.

“Maybe things would be easier if you both realized it’s possible to want more than one thing,” Julia offers as a glimmer of hope. “That rarely works out, but it’s possible, I guess.” The gilded armor of the knights on horseback is followed by a band with flaming music stands coming down the street, each carrier with a propane tank hooked to his back, and again I marvel that I am not in Salem County anymore. I catch more beads and feign excitement as the Celebrity King of Bacchus, Hulk Hogan, hurls beads at me. The little girl next to us catches a blow-up alligator and absolutely delights in it. She wants a blow-up alligator; I want a rodeo cowboy in Oklahoma. Why’s it so easy for her?

I sleep in Tuesday. It’s Fat Tuesday, but that means little in New Jersey. We left with our tails between our legs, having a BAC of 87.9. Our Tulane housemates seemed happy to reclaim their house. It was a long journey home beginning at the crack of dawn Monday morning. Julia and I arrived in Philly late and I paid for a car to bring us back to Rutgers. I couldn’t do NJ Transit at that point. I let sleep take me.

I stumble downstairs, my eyes only half open, and Violet looks like someone died.

“This just came for you.” She’s holding a business-size envelope in her hand.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. It’s from Oklahoma,” she says with a look of shared sorrow furrowing her brow. I take the envelope from her. It was FedExed overnight. He wanted to make sure it was here as soon as I got home.
Bastard.
I take it upstairs and brace myself for some form of hatred to reach out of it and choke the life out of me. I rip off the string and open it. Inside there is a letter envelope with “Annie” written across the front in the most comforting handwriting I know. I open it and it’s a letter.

Whatever about everything else in this letter. He loves me and he wants to see me. The rest can be fixed, but only if he’ll see me. I do think he needs to cut back on the
Dateline
episodes. I take a tablet out from under my bed and start a letter to him, but I don’t know what to say. I start as usual.

But I still don’t know what to say.

I leave three pages blank and on the bottom of the third page I write:

W
eeks of no letters. No apologies. Just the bitter cold of New Jersey’s winter to not warm me. Jason calls, but he doesn’t want to talk. He’s different and I can’t stand it. My only hope is the cabin on Cedar Creek Lake. We both seem to be clinging to it, as if it will heal us. Fix what’s fractured or end, finally amputate, that which is killing us. He’s been in different towns in Kansas the last three weekends for rodeos, and I’ve been waiting and wasting away. I considered going to a rodeo, even mentioned it to Jason, but he said he’d prefer me to just stay put. His words nearly tore me in half.

Even with all this, I won’t apologize for New Orleans. I keep studying. If my grades drop I’ll have to admit my mother was right and I shouldn’t be with Jason Leer, or that Jason’s right and I’m on a downward spiral. I will prove to both of them that I’m safe, that we can make this work. Even if it kills us.

The plane taxis to the jet way in the Oklahoma City airport and I take a deep breath. It’s finally over. My heart races as I hear the cabin door open and the rows ahead of me begin to file out. I pull my backpack out from under the seat in front of me and walk off the plane to a reunion weeks in the making.

It’s a short walk through the terminal. I take the first escalator to the lower level; Jason is leaning on the wall at the bottom of it. He sees me immediately, but doesn’t smile. I can’t keep one from my face. The sight of him is all I need. That and to touch him. The escalator is filled with passengers from my plane. It’s an eternal ride to reach the bottom and reunite with Jason Leer.

My courage gives out as I reach the bottom and approach him cautiously. He slips my backpack off my shoulders and pulls me toward him, holding me too tightly. He kisses me and I float back to heaven. He’s slow, savoring every millimeter of my mouth, and when he stops he puts his mouth to my ear and breathes, “Oh Annie,” and I cry.

Jason pulls me back and wipes the tears from my face. He lingers over my eyes, reading my thoughts, reclaiming my soul, and finally he grants me a guarded grin that speaks more of his anger than screaming at me would.

“You’re so thin,” he says as he runs his hands over my protruding collar bone.

“It’s been a long few weeks,” I say, never taking my eyes off his face. He closes his eyes, hiding from me, and I want to scream at him, but there will be plenty of time for screaming. Jason picks up my backpack and throws it over his shoulder as he takes my hand and leads me to his truck. I climb in the passenger side as he throws my bag at my feet from the driver’s side. He starts the truck and follows signs for I-240 East.

By the time we see the sign for I-35 South to Dallas, I am staring out the window and silently crying. For weeks I have been waiting to see him, having no idea it could somehow make this worse. The realization that something has ruptured between us, combined with the insistence that I did nothing wrong, consumes me. How can we be here, and how will we ever get back?

“Come here,” he says, and pulls me toward him. I pull my arm back and shake my head no. “Annie, come here,” he says again, pulling at the core of me. I unbuckle my seatbelt and move to the middle seat. He puts his arm around me and I disintegrate in his arms. “Why are you crying?”

God I wish I didn’t know, but it’s painfully clear.

“Because for the first time since you drove me to Stoners Lane, I’m not sure we’re going to make it,” I say, and stop crying; the death in my words too horrendous for tears.

We drive the next four hours in silence. He doesn’t kiss my head, my hand is not between his legs, and we don’t speak. It’s the first time we have ever spent our first four hours together with our clothes on. It’s a hideous turning point and I want to erase it from my existence.

I tell Jason the directions to the house and he follows them silently. We enter the wooded lane just before five and drive until we see a cottage with a wraparound porch lit by hanging white lights. It’s still a couple hours until sunset, but the lights glow in the dim woods. Jason pulls the truck up next to the house and I get out first. I step onto the porch and through the front door of the enchanted cottage.

Soft music fills the house. It swirls around us as I step into the middle of the room. It has the opposite effect of welcoming me, it ignites the anger.
Why did you ever have me in the first place if you couldn’t handle a relationship?
I know this isn’t fair, but I blame him anyway. Fuck him.

I turn toward the door and he is standing there, barely inside the house, staring at me. I search his eyes, trying to understand what he’s thinking, trying to decipher my own thoughts. What will become of us?

“Annie, I need to talk to you.” Talk, talk, talk. I’m already tired of talking. I approach him and he moves back a step, his hands raised, denying me.

I advance and run my hands down the front of him, holding his now hard dick in my hand as I raise my eyes to him. “I need this,” I say, and lean into him, my body hijacking the conversation. I don’t care what he needs. Obviously. That’s why we’re in this position. I kiss him and he pushes me away with a hand on each shoulder.

“Jason, I need you.” I push his hands down and pull my dress over my head, my bare breasts exposed. I climb up him and force my mouth on his but his response is guarded. I grab his hair and pull, and I kiss his neck. My lips attack his chin, and behind his ear. I return to his lips, where I impose myself upon him again. My skin is burning and I’m trapped between screaming out from need and trying to breathe. Jason takes my face in his hands and kisses me furiously. He throws me against the wall and is in front of me before I bounce off of it. His eyes are blazing as he roughly holds my chin and rips my panties off and spreads my legs with his knee. He’s so fast. I can’t breathe.

I reach up and grab his hand, afraid he might break my jaw. I push it away and punch him in the face, unsure of anything but the throbbing between my legs. I’ve never hit anyone before. I’ve never felt like this before. This is desperation.

Jason licks his now bleeding lip and pushes me back to the wall. He holds me against it by my neck and I search for his eyes, but he’s too busy to see me. His rough hand covers the front of my throat as I watch him unbutton his pants with the other. I reach for him and an evil smile covers his face. He takes both my hands in his, my wrists crushing in his grasp as he holds them high over my head, and lifts my knee. I’m hanging from the wall, his grasp the nail suspending me, and I watch, not helpless at all. Jason pauses for one second then plunges into me. My chest caves in as I writhe, my body swallowing him.

“Is this what you want, Annie?” His words are filled with hatred and I don’t care. I thrust forward, begging him for more and he pounds into me again. I utter some sound and face him, his level eyes not faltering.

“Again,” I command, and he releases my wrists as he comes into me again. He lifts me up and holds me against the wall and I dig my nails into his back, wanting to rip the flesh from his bones. Jason never loses eye contact as he fucks me until I come, and come again.

My hip hurts, my back hurts, and I can’t breathe, but he still enters me with hatred.

“Come,” I say. He pauses and looks me in the eyes.

“Beg me, Annie. Beg me to come in you.” I am lost, my body melting in his arms. He hits the wall behind my head with his open palm and it reminds me of who I am and where I want to be. I stare back at Jason with a renewed need.

My voice level and my eyes fixed, I beg, “Please come in me, Jason,” and he surrenders to me.

I lower my leg and wrap my arms around Jason’s neck. He buries his face in my neck and I can feel him. I can finally feel him. Weeks of needing him will be commemorated in bruises already beginning to form. Jason leans back and I take my thumb to his bleeding lip and hold it there.

“You’re turning me into an animal,” I say without a hint of humor.

“You’re turning me into an asshole.”

“I’d rather be an animal,” I decide.

“Me too. That’s what I need to talk to you about.”

The night passes without us talking. We’re too exhausted from the ride. Rides. I dread what he wants to say to me, but it’s obvious he’s not letting it go. He always sleeps flat on his back, but tonight he turns it to me and I take it, because I’ll take any piece of him I can get at this point. I kiss him between the shoulder blades and run my hand down his arm and he stays still. I want to fight with him, but instead I close my eyes and let sleep have me.

“Annie, I need to talk.”

“What’s wrong?” I ask, surveying the strange room.
Texas, we’re in Texas and Jason is next to me.
I close my eyes and fall back to sleep.

“I need to talk,” he says again.

“Right now?” I ask, opening my eyes again.

“No, a month ago,” Jason says, and I hear the need in his voice. Did he sleep at all? I roll over and face him in bed. He’s so beautiful. I let my eyes cover every inch of his face. When they start to linger down his body, Jason interrupts. “Do you remember last summer when you asked me if I was falling in love with you?” I remember how confused I was that whole time. Jason seemed so sure of what we were doing. I was just along for the ride.

“I meant everything I said.” He looks at me waiting for a response, but not asking a question. “It’s not a life without you. I’m dead inside. When my mom died I learned the difference between the dead and the dead among the living, and I’ll take the former.” I kiss his forehead. “But Annie, you’re making this impossible.”

“How?” I ask, feeling unfairly judged.

“I know you love Rutgers, and the city, and all the rest of it, and I’ve come to terms with the fact you’re not coming to Oklahoma, but I can’t live this way. I am in complete misery.” Jason’s words tear through me.
Are you leaving me?

“I worry about you every minute you’re away. The only thing that fixes it is having you with me. This past month has been horrible, but still not as bad as the night you were in New Orleans. The hours dragged by as I imagined every possible thing that could happen to you.” The cab ride out of the French quarter flashes in my mind and I fear what Jason would say if he knew we stayed with strangers.

“It’s escalating.” At this I have to use every eye muscle not to let them roll back in my head. I’m surprised he hasn’t scheduled some type of intervention. Oh, that’s right. No one would come but him.

“Did you ever consider if I wasn’t a risk taker we wouldn’t be together?” My mother’s plea to find a safe guy runs through my head and I want to scream at him what I’m actually defying, because it’s not him. He thinks he’s such an obvious choice? Well, my mother didn’t think so.

It’s not fair to put my mother’s dying words on Jason.
Is it fair to put them on me?

“I can’t spend the rest of my life worrying about you.” At this I give in to the anger brewing and sit up to properly unleash on this self-righteous cowboy.

“Do you think you’re the only one who worries?” I hurl at him. “You wrestle five-hundred-pound animals, for God’s sake. Oh wait, after you dive from a horse going thirty miles per hour. Ten rodeos during school plus practice every day. I sit in class and
wait
for Harlan to call me and tell me you’re hurt. And those are the good days. The real torture is having to attend. I use every element of my body to will you to survive. Every run is an hour long. I can’t breathe, I can’t watch. I can’t look away.” I have worked myself into a frenzy, having finally confessed my thoughts on the rodeo.

“Why haven’t you asked me to stop?”

I want to say
because I love you too much to ask you to give it up
, but I know that’s not the truth and it’s too late to start lying to each other now.

I lower my eyes and say, “I’m afraid you’ll say no.” With that the tears come and I hate myself for crying. How pathetic. He should run.

Jason sits up and grabs my face with an urgency that halts my tears. “Don’t look away from me,” he says, and kisses me hard on the lips, forcing strength back into me. “Don’t ever look away. You never have a thing to be ashamed of with me.” I climb on top of him, my lips taking from him everything I need.
I’m not ashamed
, I think as I climb on top of him.
But I should be.

Jason is domesticated and gentle as he makes love to me and a peace fills the cottage as he fills my soul.

“I would give it up.”

Would?

“I’m not asking you to,” I say, wondering if I ever will. “You shouldn’t have to give up something you love as much as bulldogging for someone else. Especially not someone that loves you the way I do.” I run my hands through Jason’s hair and he lowers his eyes. If they were mine, he would force them back up, but I leave him alone with his shame. I happen to disagree. There are things you can’t say to me.

“I know it’s hard.”

“Do you?” I hurl. “Do you have any idea?”

“You’ve got to trust that I’m gonna be all right,” he says, and kisses my lips gently. “When I finish a run I’ll tip my hat to you and you’ll know I’m thanking you for trusting me, for believing it’s going to be all right.” Jason has broken my fears down into sign language. He thinks he can cure me with a tip of his hat. He has no idea what he’s dealing with.

“Let’s get some breakfast,” I say, and Jason rubs his thighs.

“You need some. You’re so skinny your hip bones bruised me. It’s like fucking a skeleton,” he says, and I laugh. “Have some ice cream, will ya?”