CHAPTER THIRTEEN!
MEDICINE THE 1975
STEAM CURLED TOWARD the ceiling, slipping over the shower curtain. Music danced in the humid air, complimenting the smell of my coconut shampoo. It had been a great day at the sandlot, and it felt wonderful to wash away all of the dirt and sweat.
As I lathered the honey-colored soap into my dripping curls, I sang along to the music. Sweet by Cigarettes After Sex did the title justice; the tune was sweet and timeless, beautiful, in every sense of the word. The song (and the album) was hardly a month old, and I was obsessed—and proud that I had found it so soon.
At this point, baseball and music were the only things that kept me from becoming a nervous wreck. Jordan had not come to the sandlot that day, had hardly spoken a word to me since the previous day at the quarry. Music and baseball kept me occupied, blocked off any thought of the fact that I might have ruined something special.
"It's so sweet," the words poured softly from my lips, "knowing that you love me. Though we don't need to say it to each other, sweet."
Enveloped in the music and the hot spray of water, I did not hear the door open. Did not know that I was not alone until the song ended, and Jordan's voice spoke into the temporary quiet:
"You have a nice taste in music."
Surprisingly, I did not gasp or jump; my skin simply went numb with the shock. After a short moment, I poked my head out of the shower curtain, and was not surprised to find Jordan sitting on the toilet seat.
"Jordan." Surprise tainted the word. "Hey."
The tiniest of smiles rose on his lips. "Hey. I didn't mean to just show up like this, but I wanted to talk to you. I'll wait in your bedroom until you finish your shower, okay?"
For a moment, all I could do was stare at the boy, silent as all of my bones turned to jelly. It was a struggle to remain standing. The serious look in his eyes and the dread gnawing at the pit of my stomach all but verbally confirmed what I knew was coming.
So I stretched my time as much as possible. I knew, though, that I would have to face Jordan sooner or later. Leaving him waiting would not help the matter.
Desperately I hoped that this horrible feeling of mine was simply a worry. That Jordan could live with the fact that I loved someone else—because it was not as if I'd been voicing it or even trying to act on it. That wasn't the sort of person I was.
After ten minutes that felt like ten seconds, I got out of the shower, dressed in a t-shirt and shorts, and breathed deeply, slowly, for a few moments. Eventually, I put on the most natural expression I could manage and went into my bedroom.
Jordan sat at the edge of the bed, facing me; he must have heard the door open, but he did not glance up immediately. He stared down at his hands, fingers playing around with a small, folded paper. White and blue strings of light attached to the walls provided the only source of light, considering it was twilight outside. His hair looked darker than ever, falling into his lashes, shadowing his face.
The most prominent feature was the boy's lips, full and dark; his lower lip seemed to jut out a bit more than normal. When he glanced up at me, I stopped in my place. Jordan's dark eyes were glassy and slightly bloodshot, lashes and waterlines slick with—
"Jordan," I breathed, brows furrowing, the concern a live thing in my voice. "What's wrong?"
The boy held my gaze, lips parted in some tragic way. For a moment, we were both still, staring into each other's eyes, confusion and regret mingling in the atmosphere. Then his head fell, and he captured his lower lip between his teeth.
Whatever I had been feeling washed away, overcome with the concern I felt for Jordan. I had never seen him cry, never. Any possible explanations rushed through my mind in an instant. Had something happened to him? A family member? Was he moving? About to confess something horrible? What?
Softening from the core and all around, I made my way to Jordan. In moments, I found myself sitting beside him, staring at the side of his face, at his soft cheek, wondering what in the world was bothering him. It terrified me, because the first time I had witnessed Benny crying, it had been due to his mother's death.
"Jordan," I whispered, brushing my fingers across his chin. He did not look at me. "Will you look up?"
After receiving no response, I sank to the floor, moving to rest between his legs on my knees. Jordan turned his head slightly, but I could see his face now, could see the streaks of tears on his skin.
"Hey." I cupped his face between my hands, forced him to meet my eyes. Jordan sighed, brought a hand to his face to scrub away the wetness of his cheek, and shook his head. "Please, Jordan. Tell me what's wrong."
The boy released another sigh, rested both hands on my shoulders, and pushed me back, gently. I got the message and stood to my feet, unsure of what to do. Jordan kept his head low, but moved out to wrap his hands around the backs of my knees. Slowly, he pulled me toward him, and my heart started pounding. If he was trying to—
"Kayla," muttered Jordan. "My Kayla."
In a pathetic attempt to clear a bit of the tension, a slight smile rose to my lips, and I said, "O Captain, my Captain." Immediately I regretted the words, considering the poem was written for a dead man.
Jordan's hands slid upward, and eventually came to rest over the swells of my hips. Then he leaned forward, pressed his forehead to my chest, and slid his arms around my waist. In response, I wrapped mine loosely around his neck.
For a while, there was silence. Finally, I asked, in a whisper, "What's this about?"
Jordan sighed, lifted his head, and looked me in the eyes. "This isn't getting any easier, so I might as well get it out of the way."
That horrible sense of dread slowly trickled back into my system. Trying not to choke on my own saliva, I asked, "What?"
"Come here." Jordan beckoned me with his index finger, and when I lowered myself, he caught my jaw in his gentle fingers. His other hand fell from my waist, rose to curl behind my neck, gentle as a feather.
The soft tension made my stomach crawl. The way Jordan examined every inch of my face, ran his thumb over my skin, filled my stomach with something like butterflies, for lack of a better explanation. His eyes eventually rested upon my lips, and he pulled me closer, stretched his head forward, until his lips pressed softly against mine.
My eyes fluttered shut, and the way he kissed me, the way his hands cupped my face, weakened my legs. Moments later, I could feel myself lowering. One of Jordan's hands fell away, only so that his arm could secure my waist, hold me in place.
The kiss did not progress, and lasted for only a few lingering seconds. Much too soon, Jordan's lips parted from mine. I realized then that this was another form of distraction. Only when the kiss ceased and the feeling it carried faded, and my eyes slowly opened, did my capacity for worry return. Jordan's eyelashes still clung together with tears.
Before I could demand that he explain what was wrong, Jordan said, "I just had to do that, one last time."
Something ripped out of me, leaving me dizzy and slightly nauseated and highly confused. "What do you mean, one last time?"
Jordan pursed his lips together, searched my face again but never met my eyes, and muttered, "This will never be easy. Not even close."
"What will never be easy?" The panic was beginning to set in. "Jordan, if you don't tell me what's going on, I'm going to have to beat it out of you."
His lips, shiny and plump, pulled into the ghost of a smile. He ran his thumb along my cheek once more, and there was something incredibly final about the feeling. Jordan then placed his hands on my shoulders, once again, only to push me back and away from him, gently.
"I'm just going to say it." Jordan ran his fingers through his hair, head dropping again.
"Jordan, if you cheated on me, I'm going to have to kick your ass. You know that, right?"
Jordan shook his head, but did not show any sign of amusement. "I would never do that. Not to you. I'm just..." He sighed again, sharply, and met my eyes squarely. "We shouldn't be together, Makayla. We need to break up."
The words smashed into me, sent my heart spiraling down, down, down, stabbed my skin numb. I'd expected something like this, of course, but it still did major damage.
When I did not speak, Jordan looked down at the ground, folding his hands together. He shook his head, shrugged weakly. "I figure now's the best time. I mean, we've only been together a couple of weeks, so it..." He swallowed before he could continue. "It shouldn't be this hard. But we have to."
Jordan went silent, and I managed to choke out a feeble, "Why?" It was then that I realized I was on the verge of tears. Something ached deeply in my chest.
He shrugged again, met my eyes. "Because I...I care about you. Too much. It all leads back to one thing, Makayla. I see you, all the time. When you're with me, you're comfortable, but...you don't look at me the way you look at Benny."
There it is.
"Do you see?" Emotion filled his voice now, and he choked it back with an effort. "You love him, and you couldn't even deny it yesterday, because even you know how true that is. This isn't about jealousy. I want the best for you, and...I could never be that for you.
"Before," Jordan sighed, head dropping again, "I was horrible to everyone. I was doomed from the beginning, from the moment I started thinking softly of you. Everything else...I never really felt for it, you know? Baseball, my teammates. You were always the one who made me feel alive. It's only logical that my karma is you. That I should fall in love with a girl who could never love me back."
My mouth had dropped a long time ago, but it fell even lower now. Quickly I snapped my lips together, scrambling for something to say, for some excuse, some reason for him to stay.
Jordan glanced up, and then his eyes fell shut in a guilty manner. "Oh, please don't. Please don't cry."
"I told you that I could get over him," I gasped, fearful that he would not hear me, that he would leave before I got the chance to say anything, though he still sat on my bed. "Don't do this."
Jordan stood up, moved forward, and wiped away the two hot tears that had slipped down my cheeks. He shook his head. There was something tragic, something horribly gut-wrenching about the look in his eyes. He looked sadder than I felt.
"I have to," he whispered. "If I stay, I'll only get myself hurt. I fell in too deep a long time ago. I don't know what it is about you, darling, but it's going to kill me if I don't back away now. I'm sorry."
Jordan's hand fell away from my face, and he backed towards the door. I wanted to reach out for him, grab him, pull him forward and kiss him like there was no tomorrow. Anything to make him stay. Although we had only been together for a couple of weeks, Jordan had become my best friend. If I lost him romantically, nothing would ever be able to go back to the way it had been. That almost hurt the most.
The dull relief, however, won first place in the category for pain. His words were true. I could not deny that I loved Benny. At least there would be less guilt now. Still, that didn't make things feel any better.
Jordan reached the door, and I felt utterly empty inside, voiceless and practically paralyzed. He closed one hand around the doorknob, sent one last look back at me, dark eyes wide and sad.
His voice cracked when he said, "You have a beautiful voice."
And then he was gone.
It took my buzzing mind a moment to realize that he must have heard me singing in the shower. That was still something I was insecure about, but it did not even touch me now. There were far greater tragedies.
All of a sudden, my phone, still in the bathroom, began to ring. I considered ignoring it, but the wild, desperate, illogical hope that it would be Jordan pushed me into the bathroom.
Unfortunately, it was not Jordan at all, but Leah. I had never been able to ignore her, so I answered, but did not speak. Jordan had taken my energy with him, had drained me so that I felt as though I were asleep and floating on a dark cloud. Even the bright lights seemed darker now.
"Hello?" Leah's voice rose in confusion, hesitation. "You there?"
"I'm here," I managed to whisper.
Without even seeing her, I could tell that Leah was frowning. "Makayla? Are you okay?"
I tried to say, "Fine," but Leah's concern only broke me down completely. Before I knew it, I was crying—loudly. I knew how pathetic I must have sounded, but I couldn't stop.
Leah sounded panicked now, voice high-pitched as she repeatedly asked what was wrong. And I tried to tell her, tried to spit the words out, but a strong heaving in my chest prevented speech. Eventually, I dropped the phone on the sink counter and slid to the floor, burying my face in my hands.
Faintly I could hear Kenny's voice shouting, but I could not move. All of the emotion, all of the heartbreak, all of the guilt that had built up to this point poured from my throat like vomit—leaving no room for air. No matter how deeply I gasped, the air never quite seemed to reach my lungs; some invisible force wrapped around my chest, squeezed like a vise, cutting off my airway.
I'd forgotten about the phone call. Forgotten about the shower and the music and baseball. For no real reason, I'd been feeling on the edge of darkness, of depression; it hit me sometimes with no rhyme or reason, but that never seemed to dim the feeling of irreparable emptiness.
Time had no meaning, but eventually the door to my bedroom swung open. I did not glance up, did not have the energy to move my head. Soon, my brother had sunk to the ground in front of me, taking my face between his hands. His back rested against the bathtub as he forced my head up.
Luke's dark hair, freshly cut, feathered to one side. His sparkling eyes were full of live concern. "Kayla, what's wrong with you?"
"He doesn't..." I fought past the trembling of my voice as best I could, "want me. Anymore."
At this point, I didn't know whether I was referring to Jordan or Benny. Maybe it was both. Luke did not ask. His features softened, lips pursed, and he moved forward to take me into his arms. Luke pulled me toward him, into his chest, and hugged me tightly.
Luke, at least, provided a sense of home. Spending all of his time working and being with Liz, the two of us did not have much quality time. But he could have disappeared off the face of the earth for years upon years, returned out of nowhere, and I still would have felt instantly at home with him. He was forever.
Comfort did not always need to be at the hand of a romantic other or even a friend. Sometimes the strongest effects could only be achieved in a big brother's arms. Luke held me, and the crying slowly subsided, leaving me utterly exhausted from the day in its entirety.
Luke held me, and I fell asleep.
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LATE into the night, I awoke, lying in bed, tucked and warm beneath the covers. Except for the strings of Christmas lights, my room was dark.
My eyes were heavy and swollen from all of the crying. The moment the night's events flooded back to me, that eternal loneliness crept upon me once more. Trying to ignore it for as long as possible, I turned onto my side, ready to close my eyes—but then I saw the note.
A small piece of paper, probably torn from a mini-notebook, rested upon my nightstand. It had been folded before, but now it lay open, the creases raising the edges upward. The curiosity was too much, and as I reached for it, I was subconsciously expecting to find some sort of death threat. I hadn't heard of Austin, the fire-starter and Leah's brother, being released from jail, but it was possible, right?
Once I caught the handwriting, however, I discarded the idea. My name—Makayla—swooped across the top line, half-cursive, half-print. I squinted at the words in the blue and white light.
You've been my heart for a long time. Longer than you can imagine. I don't know how you did it—made me fall in love with you so quickly and so deeply. I don't know, but I'm glad that I got to call you mine, even if only for a little while. I want to say this to you in person, but I'm scared. I probably won't even leave this note, so I'll go ahead and say that I love you, and I'll always love you, and I don't deserve you. Your happiness means more to me than my own. I know that Benny will make you happier. He loves you too. I can see it when he looks at you. Be happy.
With Love,
Jordan Phillips
I ached for him. Not only because he left me, but because I knew that, if he felt so strongly for me, then I had broken his heart, even if unintentionally. After reading the words carefully over five times, I refolded the letter, dropped it back onto the nightstand, and slipped to the floor.
My phone was full of texts from the others. They had gone to Hollywood, just to drive around. Leah and Kenny had called to invite me. Luke had explained to them, after reading the letter and having his thoughts confirmed, that Jordan had ended things with me, that I was going through a tough time and needed to be left alone for the night.
Rather than checking those texts, I stumbled to Luke's room, exhausted. For once, Elizabeth was not in bed with him, which was just as fortunate as it was surprising. It would have been awkward squeezing into bed with them both.
A fan blew a light, cool breeze onto the bed, soothing my hot skin as I crawled onto my usual side of the bed. Getting there consisted of folding Luke's arm over his chest. Even still, the moment I jerked some of the cover from beneath the boy, Luke's arm flopped back out, landing on top of my chest. I felt too drained to mind.
Before I could fully drift to sleep, Luke seemed to partially wake himself. He moved his arm upward, so that it rested above my head, and threaded his fingers through my wild curls until, once again, I fell asleep.
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i haven't shown enough luke in this book, and i really love him a lot, so yeah...this was necessary. also, i found a guy who i think would make the perfect luke, so i'm changing his face-claim from francisco lachowksi to *drumroll* nathan briggs. i feel like he fits the face of luke better than francisco, and so here are a few pictures !!
i'm going to change francisco to nate in the cast list, but it kind of makes me sad, lmao. plus, a lot of people freak out over the photo of francisco in atm. 😂
stay gold
x kayla
02.01.18