Jake Undone

  When I opened my eyes suddenly, I was surprised to find him turned in his seat completely toward me. I had assumed he was looking straight ahead with his eyes closed, like I was. Instead, he was just staring at me, and I seemed to have caught him in the act. Was he doing that the entire time our thumbs were making out?

  His breathing was rapid, and he was looking at me like he was struggling to say something, like he definitely wanted to kiss me, like he wanted inside my soul, but something was holding him back.

  He took his hand from mine and used it to push my hair behind my ears, sat up and then said, “You better put on your seatbelt. The light just came on.”

  We said nothing else for the rest of the flight. My heart was pounding, but this time, it wasn’t because of my fear of flying. It was for fear of Jake. Because I had really thought that something was about to happen between us in that moment, yet in typical Jake fashion, he stopped at the tipping point. And those butterflies in my stomach? They were dead from exhaustion.

  ***

  When I returned from the shower to my bedroom that night, in place of a paper bat on my nightstand, was a pair of plastic gold pilot’s wings that I had apparently earned as a brave flier. So, once again, Jake managed to make me feel like a child.

  I was damn proud of myself, though. The feeling was bittersweet because even though our trip rocked, it created more confusion. After today, I was absolutely sure he felt something for me.

  The next day, I’d leave for almost two weeks to go home for Christmas break. What I didn’t know was, once I returned to Brooklyn after the holidays, nothing would ever be the same there again.

  CHAPTER 16

  I was back at my parents’ house all of one day, and I was already itching to see Jake again. It was the weekend, so he would have been in Boston anyway, but it was psychological because I knew I’d be here for several days. It would be the first whole week since I had known him that we would be apart.

  I felt empty and hopeless, and it was my first realization that I was truly becoming addicted to him. It was snowing heavily, and while I should have appreciated the beautiful white landscape outside the window, it just made me feel more trapped here.

  I sat on the red suede couch, mindlessly flicking through cable channels, while really focused on thoughts of Jake’s thumb brushing against mine.

  Then, my mind wandered to that night in his room when he basically kicked me out. I tried really hard in general not to think about that night, those words that came out of his mouth that were so brutally raw. I nearly had an orgasm from just replaying them alone and believed that he meant what he said about the things he wanted to do to me. He was trying hard to stay away. The thought both turned me on immensely and angered me.

  At dinner, my parents grilled me about life in New York. They were pretty conservative, and if they thought I was shacking up with someone I wanted to have sex with, they would flip. So, I chose to continue to keep my feelings for my roommate a secret.

  “So, honey, have you met any nice young men yet in the city?” my mother asked.

  “No one special.”

  Someone amazing.

  “Do you think you need to get out more? Maybe join a college club or something? I bet you would meet a nice guy if you joined some kind of group.”

  Unless he has piercings, a dragon tattoo, wants to make me come until I scream in every way possible and his name is Jake Green…not interested.

  “Yeah, maybe,” I said with absolutely no feeling whatsoever.

  My mother, Sheryl, always tried to offer up advice on ways I could meet men. Unfortunately, her judgment could not be trusted. Aside from the fact that she thought Spencer was the best thing that ever happened to me, she once tried to set me up with a co-worker’s son who, at first, sounded interesting on paper. He supposedly worked in “makeup” and resembled a famous actor. Very “Hollywood,” right?” It turned out to be a different story once I met the guy. He was a funeral embalmer, which although it weirded me out, I could have lived with, had the celebrity he actually resembled not been Pee Wee Herman. So, I kept my mother out of my love life.

  After dinner, I went to my bedroom to daydream in private, while looking out the window at our neighbor’s holiday lights. We had stopped putting lights up after Jimmy died, but our neighbors, the Hardimans, had always put up the same exact decorations every year since I was a kid. Looking out at their front yard was nostalgic because despite everything that we lost when Jimmy died, seeing the same old pair of lit up reindeers and the same inflatable Santa was a glimpse back to the way things were in happier times.

  The next night was Christmas Eve. It used to be a huge deal in my house growing up, with lots of presents under the tree and a huge nativity display outside. After Jimmy died, my mother scaled back significantly. All we had this year was a modest tree and two stockings—Jimmy’s and mine—over the fireplace.

  Our plans were to go to a late afternoon mass at St. Margaret’s Church, followed by a small gathering of my parents’ close friends back at the house.

  It was in the middle of mass that evening, when my solemn Christmas Eve took an interesting turn. My phone had been on vibrate when I felt it buzz against the pew. It was a text from Jake.

  I didn’t want to be rude and read it during the sermon, but I couldn’t help myself.

  So, I’m in the middle of a Christmas get together at my sister’s house, and she has Pandora radio on. That Divinyls song comes on, and now all I can think about is you. Thanks a lot.

  What Divinyls song?

  It was killing me not knowing what he was talking about. I managed to hold off on googling it until we left the church. Once in my father’s car, I searched “Divinyls songs” and found it: I Touch Myself. I knew the song but not who sang it.

  Of course. Very funny, Jake.

  I happened to notice another song by The Divinyls on the list. It was the perfect title of a song that would describe how he made me feel. So, I texted him back:

  That’s funny, because there is a Divinyls song that reminds me of you too. It’s called Pleasure and Pain.

  I was expecting him to respond in typical Jake fashion with a wise comeback.

  Jake: ;-) So, what are you doing tonight?

  Nina: Christmas is kind of sad at my house. We just went to church. Now, going home for some dinner. What about you?

  Jake: Playing dolls with my nieces. Don’t tell anyone.

  Nina: LOL. You never cease to amaze me.

  About three minutes later…

  Jake: When are you coming back to the city?

  Nina: Not for almost two weeks.

  Jake: Damn.

  Nina: Are you gonna miss me that much?

  Jake: Actually, yeah. I miss you already, to be honest. A lot.

  Oh.

  Nina: I miss you too.

  Jake: Merry Christmas.

  Nina: Merry Christmas.

  After dinner, my parents stayed in the dining room eating roasted chestnuts with a few friends while I excused myself back to my room yet again. I lay back on my canopy bed (don’t laugh) and closed my eyes, looking up at the glow-in-the-dark stars (don’t laugh) that I had stuck on the ceiling years ago.

  All I could focus on was Jake saying that he missed me. And you know what? It was a hell of a lot better than focusing on how much I missed my brother. In fact, these past few months living in Brooklyn have been the first time since Jimmy died that I have felt alive again.

  He brought me back to life.

  He brought me back to life, and he could very well be the death of me all over again.

  It would be worth the risk.

  But he’s holding all the cards.

  An hour later, it was about ten o’clock when my phone vibrated.

  Did you see the moon tonight?

  I smiled and immediately walked over to my window. The moon was not quite full but almost, and it was amazingly bright. Along with the snow on the ground and the holiday lights shining from across
the street, the combination was astonishingly beautiful. It absolutely warmed my heart to think about Jake looking up at that same moon, thinking of his Dad tonight.

  Nina: I would have never thought to look out at the moon on Christmas Eve, but I am glad I did. You always have a way of opening up my eyes to things.

  Jake: There is nothing more I’d rather look at right now, actually.

  Nina: The moon is beautiful.

  Jake: I was talking about your eyes.

  On reflex, I touched my hand to my heart, as if to stop it from leaping out of my chest. He had the ability to completely shake me to the core and transform my body to mush with a simple sentence. I needed to respond but couldn’t form a coherent word. He texted again before I could try.

  Jake: They’re the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. I get lost in them sometimes. They comfort me in a way that nothing else can.

  My hand was shaking as I wrote.

  Nina: I love your eyes, too.

  Jake: I know I’ve been confusing you. I am sorry. We need to talk when you come home.

  My heart was palpitating because it didn’t know how to react to “we need to talk.”

  Nina: I think we need to talk, too.

  I waited for a response, but apparently that was the end of the exchange. I fell asleep confused, not sure whether to be heartbroken or happy that he wanted to talk about us.

  My phone was still in my hand when I woke up the next morning, Christmas day. I looked down and realized he had, in fact, texted me one more time, hours later in the middle of the night.

  Jake: I’ve got it…Angel. That’s my answer to your question from the plane. What Nina reminds me of.

  I didn’t know what exactly had gotten into him, but I was sort of liking it. As I got out of bed, though, giddiness transformed into a lingering fear that had begun to gnaw at me.

  Throughout the course of that day, his admission that we needed to talk when I got back, had started to consume me.

  I had no appetite during our Christmas ham dinner because my body had basically shut down from worrying.

  When my parents and I sat down later to watch, Elf, my mind was not focused on the movie, and I wasn’t finding parts funny that used to make me laugh out loud. The different theories about what he wanted to say to me were flooding my brain.

  Then, I came to an unhealthy realization. I seriously didn’t think I could live without Jake and felt like my entire world would crumble without him in it. Even though I wanted to take the next step with him so badly, at the same time, I knew if things stayed the same, I would never have to worry about losing him. There was something to be said for keeping things just as they were.

  The fact that he hadn’t texted me again that Christmas Sunday put me further on edge.

  ***

  The following Tuesday Jake was back in New York when he texted me for the first time since Christmas Eve.

  Jake: The house is fucking boring without you. Even sniffing your underwear hasn’t put me out of my funk. If I sniff this one five times, will you magically reappear?

  Nina: LOL. Get out of my lingerie drawer!

  Jake: 36C? I knew it.

  Nina: Now, I know you’re lying because you’re off by a cup size.

  Jake: 36D? Really? Damn.

  Nina: 34D but yes.

  Jake: That was a clever way to get your bra size, though, wasn’t it?

  Nina: What are you really doing?

  Jake: Just sitting around, actually. Tarah and Ryan are going downstairs to Eleni’s for dinner. I might go with them because I have nothing better to do without you here to bug.

  The fact that he’d be going downstairs tonight irked me and made me want to jump on the next bus back. If Desiree were working, she would use the opportunity of Jake being a third wheel without my being there, to sink her nasty paws into him.

  Nina: That’s nice. Have fun.

  Jake: What day do you get back again?

  Nina: Sometime during the weekend of January 8th.

  Jake: Shit. I won’t be home. I’ll see you that Monday, the 9th, then?

  Nina: Yeah.

  Jake: Let’s plan to go out that night.

  Nina: Okay. Have fun at dinner.

  Jake: Where is this lingerie drawer, btw?

  Nina: (Rolls Eyes)

  Jake: ;-)

  ***

  At the end of the two weeks, I ended up arriving back in Brooklyn on a Saturday afternoon. A part of me was hoping that by some miracle, Jake would have skipped Boston just this once, but he was gone.

  Tarah and Ryan were nowhere to be found either, so I decided to go out for a jog, since the weather was actually mild for January. Running would be a good way to expend some of the nervous energy that had built up over the past couple of weeks.

  After changing into spandex and a hooded sweatshirt, I grabbed my iPod and a bottle of water from the fridge and flew out the door. On my way down the stairs, I could hear groaning coming from Mrs. Ballsworthy’s apartment which prompted me to stop in the stairwell outside of her door and listen in.

  Strange.

  Usually, the only sounds coming from that place were an expletive or a game show blaring on the television.

  The noises continued, and I stood paralyzed, unsure of what to make of it. Suddenly, came the words, “Help! Help me!”

  Oh God!

  What was I supposed to do? I was terrified of that woman. She scared the bejesus out of me.

  Putting aside my terror, I turned the knob, surprised to find that the door was open. I nervously trotted on my tippy toes to the back of the apartment and followed the sound that was coming from one of the bedrooms.

  She was on the floor, clutching her chest and turned to me. “Help me, Nina. Help…me.”

  “Mrs. Ballsworthy?!” I rushed over to her, and she grabbed by hand squeezing it. I dialed 911. “Yes, I need an ambulance right away to 1185 Lincoln. I think my neighbor might be having a heart attack. Mrs. Ballsworthy, what are you feeling? Can you talk?”

  She could barely get out the words. “Chest…tight…pain…arm.”

  I responded to the directions of the dispatcher. “Okay…okay. Yes, of course, I’ll stay with her. Yes…she’s lying down. Do you have any aspirin?”

  She pointed to bathroom across the hall.

  I ran and grabbed a bottle of Bayer that was in the cabinet, rushing back to her and placing one in her mouth in a panic. I opened my water bottle and helped her drink some down.

  “Don’t leave me, Nina.”

  “I won’t. I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere,” I said holding her hand for about five minutes until the sound of sirens in the distance got closer.

  As my father always used to say, “We make plans, and God laughs.” I was heading out for a jog and somehow ended up in the back of an ambulance with a woman whose only words to me prior to today had been, “Go fuck yourself.”

  The woman next to me was no longer that miserable person I thought I knew; she was just…scared. Somehow, the man upstairs chose me to hold her hand through it, and I was damn well going to do my job.

  “Mrs. Ballsworthy, do you have any family I can call?”

  She was still having trouble speaking but managed to say, “My…daughter.”

  “Can you tell me her number?”

  She slowly threw out the digits in between breaths, and I dialed as she spoke.

  A woman picked up. “Hi, my name is Nina Kennedy. Is this Mrs. Ballsworthy’s daughter?

  “Yes,” the woman answered.

  “I’m her neighbor. Your mother may be having a heart attack. She is okay right now, but we are in the ambulance headed to the Brooklyn Hospital Center.”

  The woman said she’d be following us there right away and hung up.

  When we got the hospital, they rushed her into the back and asked me to stay in the waiting area. I discovered her name was Laurice.

  A beautiful woman with caramel colored skin and long thinly woven braids rushed into
the waiting area, and I stood up. “Are you Laurice’s daughter?”

  “Yes. Where is my mother?”

  “They just took her in and wouldn’t let me go back. They told me to have you wait here and that a doctor would be out with an update.”

  She covered her mouth in shock, pacing the floor. “Is she going to be okay?”

  “I think so. She was coherent and breathing.”

  “How did you find her?”

  “I live upstairs. I was going out for a jog and heard her yelling for help.”

  “Oh my God,” she said then surprised me when she pulled me in for a hug. “You may have saved her life.”

  “Anyone would have done the same thing.”

  “Thank you for being so diligent.” She held out her hand. “I’m Daria.”

  “Nina. Nice to meet you.”

  Several minutes later, a nurse had come out to tell us that Mrs. Ballsworthy was stable but going into the operating room. I insisted on staying with Daria until her mother was out of surgery. I knew I wouldn’t have wanted to be alone in this situation.

  A doctor came out about an hour and a half later, and we both stood up. “Hi, I’m Dr. Tuscano. Who’s the daughter?