Swear on This Life

  “What if he tells people?”

  “Jackson, you are smarter than this. Junior will never tell because he’ll go to jail. They’re making the drugs, not you. You could put him away yourself, you know.”

  “I don’t know, Em.”

  “If you don’t, I will.”

  He looked panic-stricken. “No! You can’t. They’ll send you away.”

  “Don’t you care what he and his father are doing to this town?”

  “This town?” He squinted at me.

  “To you, to us, Jax. Don’t let our circumstances affect your integrity. Even if you stop selling drugs, Junior will just find someone else to do it. I know who you are. You’re not going to let that happen.”

  He leaned in slowly. I saw a faint smile tugging at his lips. He kissed me and then pulled away and took a deep breath. “I don’t deserve you, Em.”

  I laughed and it lightened the mood a bit. “Well, that’s true, but at least you appreciate that fact. I better get in there and take a shower. Are you gonna be okay?”

  “Yeah. I’ll be here when you get back. Don’t leave any evidence.”

  “I know.”

  Jackson’s house hadn’t changed over the years—same stained couch, dingy carpet, and cigarette stink. In the bathroom, the frosted shower door had a rusted track and mildew caked on the tub lining. I undressed quickly and jumped under the cold water, shivering until it warmed up.

  I cried for Jax. I couldn’t hold on anymore. Face-to-face, I could be strong for him—he needed that—but once I was alone, I cursed the whole goddamn universe. I cursed Leila, the whiskey monster, that asshole Cal Junior, the Kellers and their stupid rules, and I even cursed dead Brian for leaving us. Then, when all I could taste was the salt from my tears, I sank to my knees under the scalding water and cursed my mother.

  Flush it all away. Neeble and the monsters who live here, the stench of death, the drugs, the abuse, the blood and the bodies floating in the river, and all of the unloved children. Just flush it all away, god.

  I cried and cried, and soon the water turned cold again. My arms were wrapped around my legs and my head was resting on my knees when the shower door opened and the water was shut off.

  “Stand up, Em,” came Jackson’s soothing voice.

  He instantly wrapped a towel around me and held me to his big body as my sobs turned into sporadic hiccups. I reached for my clothes and felt a trickle of blood run down my leg. I held the towel to my body, took a step back, and looked down. I had forgotten to ask god to flush away the whole period thing. I looked up at Jackson through my puffy eyes and smiled. “Being a woman sucks.”

  He laughed. “You used to brag about it.”

  “Not anymore,” I said.

  “I’ll give you a minute. Just hurry. My mom will be home in an hour.”

  “Okay.”

  I cleaned up all traces of Emerson in the house and bathroom, and by the time I made it out to the fort, the sun was coming up. Jackson was asleep on the cot. I curled up next to him and he instinctively opened his arms so I could rest my head on his chest.

  That night I slept more soundly than I ever had in my life.

  SOMETIME THE NEXT day, when I woke up, he was gone. My period was over, thank god, and Jax had left me a bowl of dry Cheerios and a note.

  Morning, Em. Sorry for the dry Cheerios. Mother of the Year hasn’t gone to the store in a few weeks. I took her car to school. She’s inside the house with some dude, so keep a low profile. Sorry about last night, too. I shouldn’t have put that on you. Junior is not your problem, he’s mine. I’m done with the drug thing. I should be home by three thirty. I love you.

  I looked at the stack of books on the small table and then beyond it to the black leather-bound journal sitting under a brass candleholder. My hand shook as I reached for it. I picked it up and held it to my chest. My fifteen-year-old brain wanted to open it so badly, but my heart wouldn’t let me disrespect Jackson that way. Holding it to my chest, I stared out of the small shed window to the tree line and thought about our life so far. I tried to predict how the story would end, or even what would happen to us after that day, but I couldn’t figure it out. We were just kids.

  There were footsteps coming toward the shed, and then I heard Jackson whistling. I opened the thin, wooden door. “Welcome home, honey.”

  Jax was wearing a cocky grin. He held up a piece of paper with a big A-plus in red ink. “Boom! Aced my World History test.”

  I wrapped my arms around him. “How’d you get so smart?”

  “History Channel.”

  “That’s right, you had cable,” I whispered near his ear.

  “You make that sound sexy.”

  “It is sexy to a ten-year-old nerd.”

  “We’re not ten anymore.”

  “I can tell,” I said, and then we were kissing. I reached for the bottom of his T-shirt and pulled it over his head.

  He kicked off his shoes while his hands roamed underneath my sweater from my sides to my back. He led me toward the cot, sat down, and then pulled me on top to straddle him. “Take this off,” he said, tugging at my sweater dress. I took it off and his mouth was on me instantly, kissing a trail from my neck to the tops of my breasts. He smoothly unclasped my bra. I dropped my arms and let it fall to the ground.

  “God, Em.” He was kissing me all over. “You’re . . .”

  “What?”

  “You’re so . . . God . . . I want you . . . You’re so beautiful.”

  Lying back, he pulled me on top of him and rolled us over so that we were on our sides. He slipped his hand easily inside of the front of my panties but froze. I was gripping his neck and holding his mouth to mine. He pulled away, breathing hard.

  Our chests were heaving in and out. His eyes were darting everywhere, from my mouth to my eyes. “What is it, Jax?”

  “Is this okay?” He lowered his hand.

  “Yes. Just kiss me.”

  I got lost in all of the feelings, and before long we were completely naked under a thin sheet, Jackson’s fingers were inside of me, and his mouth was on my neck, kissing me senseless.

  Suddenly, his hand was gone, and I whimpered. “No, don’t stop,” I said. He shifted onto his hands and held himself over me. I opened my legs for him and reached down to touch him. “No, don’t, Em.”

  When I pulled away, he thrust his hips once. I felt him hard against my thigh. I reached down again, but he quickly moved away from me and sat back on his knees. “Shit, we can’t do this.”

  “What? Why?”

  “We need protection.” A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face.

  It looked like he was in pain, but I didn’t know if it was mental or physical. “We can do . . . it . . . just once.”

  “No! No, that would be so dumb of us.”

  I had never seen Jackson completely naked like that. He was beautiful, even at sixteen. “We can do other stuff,” I said.

  He swallowed and then nodded before collapsing into my arms.

  It could have been hours or days or years that we spent like that, exploring each other, tangled in each other. He made me a million promises that our first time would be perfect and magical, and we would know exactly what to do because everything felt so right when we were together.

  AFTER SUNDOWN, WE heard Leila yelling for Jax from the house, but we were still tangled up in the sheets, lying in each other’s arms.

  “What should we do?” I asked him.

  Jax froze. “Get dressed.” Her voice got closer and closer to the shed as we scurried around, trying to find our clothes. “Don’t make a sound. I have to go. When she leaves for work, I’ll come back out.”

  I pulled on my pants and shirt. “Okay.”

  Before he left, he reached down and turned off the lamp. “I’m sorry, I have to.”

  “It’s fine; just go. Hurry.”

  I curled up under a musty blanket and closed my eyes. In the distance, I could hear Jackson talking to his mom, but I co
uldn’t tell what they were saying, and then their voices got farther and farther away. The shed felt even darker and lonelier. I tried to sleep, but I had been sleeping for most of the day while Jax was at school, so I didn’t feel tired. You couldn’t have much of a life while you were hiding out in a shed.

  My stomach was rumbling with hunger as I lay there. There was a sliver of moonlight coming through the tree line and streaming through the window. I stared at it and tried to count the dust particles dancing in the moonbeams. I was thinking mindlessly about kissing Jackson when I heard him yelling outside.

  “No!” He was screaming. I could tell that he was running toward the shed. “Em!”

  I stood up and bolted out of the door. Flashlights illuminated him from behind, silhouetting him as he ran toward me.

  My heart was racing. “Run, Em!” he screamed.

  Without another thought, I turned and started running toward the creek. Jackson and I both knew there was nothing for miles. I ran out of fear that we would be torn apart again, of our entire lives changing in the blink of an eye.

  The only sounds were of our feet crunching against twigs and leaves and our heaving breaths. When the light faded behind us, we slowed.

  “I have to stop, Jax.” I turned to face him. There was just enough moonlight to see him bent over, bracing his knees.

  He was breathing hard and his voice was strained. “Fuck! Fuck! That fucking bitch!”

  “What happened?”

  “She reported me.”

  “What do you mean? She’s the last person who wants to see you in trouble,” I said.

  He was trying to catch his breath. “Not my mom. Your social worker came here looking for you this morning. My mom didn’t tell her anything at first because she didn’t know. Then Junior came to the house wondering why I hadn’t shown up in the morning. He was pissed, and when my mom started defending me, he told her that I had taken his truck to get you.”

  My heart was pounding. Shit, shit, shit. “So how the hell does Paula know I’m here?”

  Jax straightened and looked away. “She called Paula because she said she didn’t want you dragging me down and getting me into trouble.”

  I winced. It was painful to hear Jackson say those words because part of me knew it was true. I was confused, but I knew this much: I was standing on a precipice. I could jump off with Jax, but was it fair to take him down when he had so much going for him?

  “Paula reported the whole thing to the police?” I asked.

  He nodded.

  “Those were police officers chasing us?”

  “Yes,” he said.

  I nodded and walked toward him. “We have to go back.” I was surprised to hear that my voice was strong. Resolute.

  “No, Em. I can’t live without you. We can’t go back.”

  “Jackson, I want to be with you so badly, but we can’t stay this way. I want to see the world with you, but how can we? Like this? Running? Or trapped in Neeble? If we stay here, we’ll just be digging this hole deeper and deeper. We deserve better.”

  “But it won’t get better. I’ll still be stuck here on this road with Leila. Can’t we leave together? I know we can do it, Em . . . You and me . . . we can do anything. We just have to get out of here.”

  The flashlights were coming toward us again, and we could hear a man calling our names in the distance. “I’m sorry,” I said, leaning up to peck him on the lips. But it wasn’t true. I wasn’t sorry. I knew what I had to do. “We’re here!” I yelled as I stepped away from Jax. “We’re right here!”

  “No,” he whispered. “Please, Em, don’t do this to me.”

  He tried to run, but I held him as hard as I could. “Please let me go,” he cried. “Why are you doing this to me?”

  “Because it’s what’s best for us,” I told him, but I knew he wouldn’t understand.

  “You’re killing me, Em. Please let me go.”

  He finally escaped my grip but was standing face-to-face with two police officers, one holding a nightstick in the air. “Don’t move, son. Turn around slowly and put your arms behind your back.”

  “You’re handcuffing me?”

  “You’re under arrest for kidnapping and fleeing law enforcement.”

  The second officer grabbed me and pulled my arm in the other direction. I looked at Jackson and saw the desperation in his eyes.

  “I love you,” I called out as the second officer led me away, but Jax didn’t respond. I was overwhelmed with guilt and sadness, but I couldn’t continue dragging him down. Because I did love him. I loved him too much to ruin his life.

  When we got to the house, I saw that Paula was waiting for me, and that my things had already been removed from the shed and piled up in the backseat of her car. I could hardly look at Paula, but when I finally did, I didn’t see anger and judgment in her face. Instead, I saw sympathy.

  I couldn’t breathe, let alone speak, but on the way to the airport, Paula said one thing that stayed with me. “You did the right thing. For him, and for yourself.”

  I stared out the window and wondered if he would ever forgive me . . . if he would ever understand.

  9. This Is Us

  Throwing the book down on the floor of the living room, I let out a frustrated, painful sigh.

  Cara was watching me from the other couch, her eyes as wide as sand dollars. “What? What is it?”

  “It’s not true. That’s not how it happened.” I stood up and paced, frantically twirling my hair into a tight knot.

  Cara remained silent, watching me as I tried to untangle the mess in my head. Jase had written my life story from my perspective, and up until now, it had been mostly accurate, with a little bit of fictional flair. But he had taken some serious liberties with this last chapter.

  Because Jase was the one who’d actually turned us in.

  I turned on my heel to face Cara, wild with anger. “Do you think all this critical attention is deserved? I mean, this isn’t some great literary novel. It’s just a straightforward book about two kids. It doesn’t make sense that it would be a bestseller.”

  Cara shrugged, her eyes sympathetic. “Is this what’s really bothering you, Emi?”

  I stared at her. I was angry and jealous of his success, but underlying all of that was a deep and endless hurt, which felt fresher than ever now that I was reading Jase’s book. But I couldn’t focus on that now. I couldn’t wrap my heart and mind around why he turned us in all those years ago. So I focused on the jealousy, like a bitter writing instructor who couldn’t write herself out of a cardboard box.

  “Cyndi and Sharon are coming over, and I just want to forget all about this, okay? I don’t want to think about him or that book ever again.”

  “I think you’re being irrational, Emi,” Cara said in a soothing voice.

  “No, I’m not.” I walked toward her, braced her shoulders, and tried my best to compose myself. “I spent years in therapy trying to work through, or at least forget, everything that happened. I just can’t read it anymore. Please understand.”

  “There’re, like, ten more chapters, Em. I think you should give it a chance. I think it’ll be healing for you.”

  “She’s Em, Cara. I’m Emi. We’re not the same person. I appreciate you trying so hard, but no, I’m not going to give it a chance. He did his thing, and now I’m doing mine. End of the real story, as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Okay,” she said unconvincingly. I gave her a hug. “You should still go to the book event. He deserves readers who love and support him. He’s a fucking bestselling published author, after all. But please don’t mention me to him.”

  She nodded. “I would never.”

  I went back to my room and crawled under the sheets.

  SOMETIME IN THE early afternoon, I woke to a pounding headache and mild nausea. I looked at the clock. It was three. My apartment was eerily quiet, and I remembered that Cara was at the bookstore, waiting in line to see Jase so she could congratulate him on basically tell
ing the entire world the horrors of our childhood and then making me look like the bad guy.

  I moped around for twenty minutes until I couldn’t take it anymore; I had to text her.

  Me: R U there?

  Cara: Yes, there’s a line around the building

  Me: Ur kidding me?

  Cara: Lots of giddy women

  Me: That fucker.

  Cara: glad 2 c ur mood has changed

  Me: Where is it?

  Cara: Ur coming?

  Me: Don’t know yet. Where?

  Cara: Mysterious Galaxy Bookstore

  Me: K

  Cara: I’ll save you a spot

  Me: No, get ur book signed

  I stared into my closet for what felt like hours. Finally, I said fuck it and went with jeans, a high-necked sweater, and tennis shoes. I put the most minimal amount of makeup on, just a touch of lip gloss and mascara, and then flat-ironed my hair. I still felt like I was trying too hard, so I slicked my hair back into a ponytail, grabbed my keys, and ran out the door.

  Right after grad school, Cyndi and Sharon had bought me an old Honda. Even though they had plenty of money for something nicer, they refused to let me drive around in a rich-kid car, especially since they never made me get a job while I was in school. I felt like I had paid my dues, but I appreciated their efforts and didn’t really care about cars anyway.

  I sped down the freeway with shaking hands. My mind was spinning. What would I say to him? How would he look?

  When I pulled into the parking lot, my mouth fell onto the floor of my Honda. Cara wasn’t exaggerating. The line was literally wrapped around the building, and it was mostly women.

  I joined the end of the line, and within minutes a woman came over and told me I had just made it. I was the last person that Mr. Colby would have time for before the store closed. I texted Cara.

  Me: Where are u?

  Cara: Inside. U here? U wanna come inside? I can say I was saving ur spot?

  Me: No. Can you see him?

  Cara: Yes.

  Me: And?

  Cara: He’s gorgeous, Emi. Nice suit.

  Me: He’s wearing a suit?

  Cara: Wearing it well, my friend. He looks like a model. He has perfect hair and he’s charming the panties off these women. Can I please flirt with him?