Forgive Me (26 page)

“One day at a time, Charlotte. Read the posting.” I nod and walk out of Bruce’s office.

Jason still won’t take my calls. I hold my breath every day for the arrival of a nasty gram, but none comes. Could he possibly be so pissed he won’t even yell at me anymore? Is it normal to fight like this? I consider Violet and Blake. They fight all the time. Maybe it’s age appropriate.

I pack a small overnight bag, happy to have switched to warm weather clothes, and haul it to New York with me on the train. Julia and I score a seat and she hands me condo listings to review. None of the details, pictures, or prices move me. They are the most depressing things I’ve ever read.

“I don’t think I can talk about this right now. I have to get things settled down in Oklahoma first,” I say, not wanting to hear Julia’s thoughts on Jason.

“You know.” I brace myself because I am going to hear them anyway. “Sometimes I think Jason is over the top, but I would have been pissed, too, if I were him.” Somehow her taking his side is twice as annoying as usual.

“Thanks,” I say, and we both laugh at my predicament.

By the time I get to the airport, I’m already exhausted and my feet hurt from my heels. The wrap dress I chose hangs off me as if I slept in it, and my face feels like I’ve slathered New York on it. After security I go to the bathroom and change into jeans and flip flops and wash my face. Work attire will only serve to piss him off further. I text him:

To which he doesn’t respond.
This is fun.
I hope they didn’t leave for Guymon a day early. By the time they call me to board my flight I’m starting to lose my nerve. Maybe a few more weeks apart would be better.

The landing is rocky to say the least. There’s turbulence the entire way in and the tiny man next to me is praying with his eyes closed. I’m certain I’m not dying in an airplane. Car probably, but definitely not an airplane, so I just watch the poor little man as he grabs the cross around his neck. Hopefully he’s including all of us in his conversation. He’s sweating and bright purple when the plane hits the runway hard. We’re all flung forward as the brakes are applied. The lights flicker and several overhead compartments open on impact, littering the aisles with bags of different shapes and sizes. None of this affects me. I watch the spitting rain and the lightning in the distance as I walk through the terminal and hope my storm is here.

I exit the secured area and see Jason leaning on a pillar. The little man gets down on all fours and kisses the ground near my feet. His family runs to him, hugging him as I watch them like a bad movie. Jason walks over and takes my bag off my shoulder.

“Rough flight?” he asks, and I shrug.
Not because of the weather.
I can’t tell what Jason’s thinking. Partially because he hasn’t made eye contact with me since I first walked in. I guess it’d be too much to ask to settle this whole thing quickly, here in the Tulsa airport, and just enjoy our weekend together. Jason takes off toward the exit, leaving me to follow, and I realize it’s way too much to ask.

He climbs into the truck and I watch from the curb. When I don’t climb in too, he sits in the driver’s seat, waiting, not saying a word, and not turning around. I feel like a child and even though I acted like one last weekend, I don’t like being treated like one by him. Anger is growing inside me and I take a deep breath, trying to remember that useless saying about cooler heads. I open the door to the truck but don’t get in. He turns toward me, his eyes dark and angry even as he smiles.

“Don’t you have anything you want to say to me?” I ask, unable to hide the edge in my tone. This amuses him.

“I have lots of things I want to say to you, Annie, but I realize you won’t listen so I’m done saying them.” I look around and realize I’m not getting anywhere in the airport parking lot. I climb into the truck and we ride to Stillwater in complete silence.

Jason opens the door to his house at 11:15, 12:15 my time. I’ve gone from New Jersey to New York to Oklahoma and worked a full day in between. The sight of my pillow draws me to it until I notice the picture of New York is missing. In its place is a hole in the wall. I look at Jason and see his right hand is bruised and cut.
Poor wall.

“I have some things I need to talk to you about,” I start, even though what I want to do is throw a screaming fit like a child. How ironic.

“Something other than what you told me on the phone last weekend?” he asks, letting the disdain fall off his tongue.

“I don’t remember what I said last weekend,” I admit, and he snorts a little as he shakes his head in disgust.

“I’m thinking about buying a condo in New York City with Julia.”

He picks up a plate and throws it at the wall behind me. Cold runs through me and settles in my chest.

“You flew all the way to Oklahoma to tell me you’re not coming back here? You should have just texted.”

“Let me finish,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. Crying is not going to get me out of this one. Jason pauses and stares at me with hatred in his black eyes. “I’m still coming to Oklahoma. This is where I want to be. The condo would be an investment, not a place for me to live.” Jason finally raises his eyes from the floor.

“What else you got to get off your chest?” he asks, still hating me.

“I’m going to apply for a full-time position at Robertson Reports.” Jason walks over to the table and sits in a chair. With his elbows on his knees he lowers his head into his hands and stays there. “I’m going to work there, hoping if I do a good enough job they’ll let me do it from here.” Thunder booms outside the window followed by its wicked sister, lightning. “I need some more time, though.”

At this he raises his head. His tortured eyes confirm I am breaking his heart. This is everything he has worried about, coming true. To Jason, I’m choosing New York over him. He lowers his face to his hands again without a word.

“I’m still coming,” I say, and move to him. I kneel down below him and pull his hands down, but he still hangs his head. “Jason,” I beg, and he looks at me.

“It doesn’t sound like you’re coming, Annie. Why can’t you just tell me you’re not coming? How long are you planning on stringing me along while your friends make up clever songs?” He stands, ready to fight now, and his anger sears me.

“You need some more time?” he mocks me, nodding his head as he picks up steam. “How long should I wait, Annie? Six months? You need six months? How about a year?” He throws the chair against the wall and it crumbles from the impact.

“I need until August. Maybe before, but I can be here by September,” I say, kidding myself that he’s actually listening to me.

“Annie, you are the strongest person I have ever met.” It’s a small glimmer of regard. “So why don’t you fucking speak your mind? Tell me you’re not coming so I can stop thinking we’re going to be together.” I hear the words. They slip past my ears and into my brain, but I can’t properly process them. Is he talking about us not being together ever? Anywhere?

I will never drink again.

I could use a shot right now.

The fragments of the plate, and the chair, litter the floor and I know they’re in better shape than Jason and me.
We’re not going to be together.
I start to cry and walk out of the house. From one storm to the next, the rain pelts me and I cry until the sobs come from deep within me and my stomach churns up my lunch. I walk to the other side of his truck and lean on the bed. My eyes travel down it to the spot where he held me in the rain the day of my parents’ funeral and I hide my face in my hands. I collapse with each mangled sob and finally crouch down next to the wheel and cry.

Why is this so hard? Why can’t I just move here and take a tutoring job? I have enough money to buy a condo in New York, but I’m determined to have a job? What the hell is wrong with me?

The rain is pooling, soaking my feet and my jeans. My shirt sticks to me and I’m cold. I cover my head with my arms, and lie on the ground as the lightning cracks above and the thunder bursts into my head. But still the crying doesn’t stop.

Jason and I are not going to be together.

He lifts me up into his arms as the wind blows the new leaves off the tree next to us. I grip his neck as if I’m falling from a cliff and sob onto his shoulder, my body convulsing as it comes to terms with his thoughts. Jason’s house is now dark, the power gone with the last bolt of lightning. He stands me up on the floor and undresses me as a whimper escapes my lips. He carries me naked to his bed and lays me down and covers me. He goes to the bathroom and gets something out of the cabinet and hands it to me with a glass of water.

“Take this, Annie.” He places a pill in my mouth and I down it without question. He leans away, starting to get up, and I grab his arm.

“Don’t leave me.” I plead for more than the right now. Jason leans back and pulls me to his chest. The touch of his coarse hand rubbing my arm and the feel of his lips on my hair are the last things I remember of my first night back in Stillwater.

I wake up and look at my watch. I’ve been asleep over eleven hours.
What did he give me?
Light fills the room, the storm having moved east, and I wonder where my other storm is. I roll over and listen to the shower running. I step out of the bed and into the bathroom. It’s filled with steam, the heat from the shower covering the room in a mist. I pull back the curtain and see Jason leaning on the wall, the shower head pointed at his back. He looks at me without a hint of strength left in him. He’s broken.

I step in and let the scorching water touch my legs.

“This is not over,” I say. My eyes insist he believe me. I lean into him and hold his face in my hands. The kiwi smell of his shampoo surrounds me and I’m intoxicated with Jason Leer. “Far from it,” I say, and he kisses me. He’s hesitant and cautious, and then his eyes turn and he’s no longer careful. He is desperate and ravenous and holds my face in his giant hand as he swallows me whole. His hands run down my body and over each breast, and between my legs. It’s the first time, and the last time, he’s ever touched me and I let my head fall back as his tongue and mouth are on the side of my stomach, and my hip, and the rest of me.

Jason stands back up and kisses me again and I might cry out from needing him, today and forever. He raises my knee to my arm and rams himself into me. He pulls out taking my concept of reality with him, and I lower my eyes to watch as he comes in me again. When I look up he is watching me, watching. I wrap my hands around the back of his neck and beg him with my eyes to continue. I look down, my leg hooked on his elbow. Jason bores of this position and hooks both his arms under my legs, supporting my bottom with his hands. He forces me to the back of the shower and hangs me up on his arms. I’m suspended as he continues his rhythm. I lose myself and grab the shower above me, my hands barely able to hold on and when I look down again I come, grabbing a hold of him and saying his name as he finishes.

I am hanging off of him, my arms and legs wrapped around him, and I cannot loosen my grip. Neither of us is going anywhere. I don’t know how or when this is going to work, but I’m determined to make it. I haven’t been this sure about something ever, and even if he has his doubts I’ll carry us both through it.

Jason puts me down and I hold his face in my hands.

“I love you,” I say, but it never seems like enough.

“I know.” His eyes lighten and they almost match the steam around us. Jason steps out of the shower and leaves me alone.

When I’m done, I throw one of his shirts on, button it to the top, and come outside to find him reading something on his phone. Please God do not let it be messages from me last weekend. I straddle him and he puts the phone down. His hands rest on my thighs and it’s impossible not to smile at him. He’s so beautiful; his black hair and gray eyes, the constant mystery of a black and white photograph. He raises his hand to my face and I take it and examine the scratches from the wall again. I kiss it and rest his palm on the side of my face.

“I can’t keep doing this, Annie.”

“I know that.” I didn’t fully understand it until last night, but I get it now. He’s at the end of his rope with this arrangement.

“It’s not even about me anymore. I can’t keep doing this to you. I’m ripping you in half. It’s not fair to you.” I raise my hand to protest and tell him for the hundredth time this is what I want, but he stops me. “You’re a different person up North.”

It’s time to lay it all on the table.

“Jason, I love it there. I love New Jersey more than any place on Earth. I love the fields and the woods and the ocean and the sand. I love that it’s a short trip to D.C., Baltimore, Philly, and New York. I love that the people are loud and funny, and irreverent. And yes, it’s different than it is here, but I’m not the first person to consider living someplace different because someone they love is there.” He looks completely unmoved by my statements.

“I think you’re having such a hard time accepting this because if the situation were reversed, if it was me asking, you wouldn’t be able to move there.” I say it, and Jason lowers his eyes. “Look at me.” I kiss him and slide closer still to his body. I want him to feel me when I say what’s next. “Last summer I had a difficult education in what the rodeo means to you. I know exactly who you are and what you need, and I’m okay with where I stand in that order.” He shakes his head, denying it.

“If I can accept it, you’re going to need to. It’s in your blood. I’m good at statistics. I like the study. It’s not the same. And I love New York, but I’ll love it when I visit, maybe even more so than spending every day there. And I’ll love watching you bulldog because I’m in your blood now, too.” Jason runs his hands up and down my thighs as he sighs deeply.

“Don’t not fight for me to come here because you know I’d never win if we switched sides, because I’m not some naïve little girl who doesn’t understand her place in the world. I’m a rock head from New Jersey fighting for her spot.” Jason’s face shows no signs of relief. He either doesn’t believe me or there is something else weighing on his mind. He kisses me gently on the lips.