Swear on This Life

  “Well, I know you’re so much more than that.” The look on his face was like the look I remembered from when we were young. Few people in my life were as truly open-hearted as Jase. Though he could be cocky and stubborn, he could also be intensely sincere.

  “Those who can’t do . . . you know . . .” I shrugged. “I’m figuring out what to do next. I never really had your writing chops.”

  “I doubt that’s true. You’ve always been so hard on yourself.” He reached across the table and took my hand in his. I instinctively gave in to the moment of intimacy, my urge to run dissolving from moment to moment. “Why did you come here, Em? Why are you so torn?”

  I looked up at him. “I came here because I would do anything you asked me to.” My voice trembled.

  He smiled. “Anything?”

  I nodded.

  “Then break up with him.”

  I withdrew my hand. “You ruined me that night, and you’re ruining me again with this book.”

  “I thought I was saving you.”

  I started to cry.

  “Don’t cry.” He wiped the tears from my face. “You know me, I was trying to be valiant.” He laughed. “Guess my plan didn’t work.”

  But it had. He had slain me with his words. I knew what he was trying to do, but so much time had passed. Wasn’t it too late? Why had he waited so long? I had spent seven years with Trevor, almost the same amount of time Jase and I had been friends growing up. I squared my shoulders, collected myself, and sat up.

  “Are you sleeping with your agent?” I said out of the blue.

  “Are you sleeping with Trevor?”

  “Are you?”

  “No, Emiline, you’ve been the only woman in my life since I was fifteen.” One side of his mouth turned up. The mood felt lighter.

  “Don’t be a smart-ass.”

  “Andrea and I are, hmm, how do you say it?” He looked up and cocked his head like he was thinking. “We’re fucking. Yeah, basically, we’re fucking. Is that okay with you?”

  “Do you love her?”

  “No.”

  “Does she know that?”

  “Yes, she does.”

  “Why are you being so blasé?”

  “I don’t really understand this line of questioning, but if you must know, yes, Andrea and I are colleagues with benefits.”

  “That’s unprofessional.”

  “We’re grown-ups. She was in an eight-year relationship with some dumbass. She’s not looking for a boyfriend.”

  “That’s what you think, but you don’t see how women view you.”

  “How do women view me?” he said, taunting me.

  I took a sip of wine and rolled my eyes. “I met one of your superfans earlier, and she called you gorgeous and smart and so tuned in to women.”

  “What do you think?”

  “What do I think of you? Right now, you’re a bit of an enigma to me, but if I were meeting you for the first time, I would say, arrogant, self-aggrandizing, self-absorbed . . .”

  “Ouch,” he said, although he didn’t look the least bit wounded. “You really think I’m selfish?”

  “I spent years in therapy trying to forget all of the shit we went through. Now you’ve written a book and found success by telling my story to the whole world.” I waved my hand in his direction. “And then you show up looking like this?” I shook my head. “I wish I weren’t so angry with you right now, because I want to hold on to the good memories. Because there were so many good memories.”

  “I want to hold you,” he said quickly. “But I can’t because I’m too late.”

  “You can’t do this to me after all this time. I have a life now.”

  “Don’t be angry with me, Em.” I saw a boyish spark in his eyes as he spoke. “As for the book, read the rest of it if you want. Work it out for yourself—don’t do it for anyone else.” He shook his head then abruptly looked up and called to the server, “Check, please!”

  “Already? That’s it? In the book, you made it seem like this was all my doing. But I didn’t turn us in—you did. You’ve been too late for a long time now, Jase, and you only have yourself to blame.”

  “Everything I wrote in the book was for a reason. I hoped that you would understand it . . . understand why I changed how that day ended. I hoped writing it from her point of view would help you get inside of Emerson’s head and understand her choices, but it seems like you’re still too resentful.”

  “You’re acting as though you wrote it for me,” I said.

  “I did,” he said quietly. “Don’t you remember that Vonnegut quote? You’re the one who said it to me. When I was writing the story about the ant family . . .”

  I shook my head no, but I did remember.

  “Something like, ‘Write for just one person’?”

  The waitress brought the bill and Jase handed her a credit card without looking at it.

  “But most of your book wasn’t about us at all. Everything that happens after that night is pure invention.”

  “I didn’t say ‘about,’ I said ‘for,’ but let’s just leave it at that.” He scribbled his signature on the receipt, stood, and reached a hand out to me. “I’ll walk you home.”

  “That’s not necessary.”

  He took my hand and gently pulled me along. “Come on.”

  We walked shoulder to shoulder the two blocks back to my apartment. I knew we were both thinking the same thing: how good and right it felt to be walking beside each other once again.

  “How’s your mom?” I asked.

  “Good. Clean. She lives in Philly. That’s where we moved after I turned Nick in.”

  Nick was Cal Junior in the book. I hadn’t known that Jase had actually gone through with it. That explained the demolished house when I had returned to Ohio.

  “Good for you, Jase. I’m happy to hear that.”

  He followed me all the way up the steps and to the door. I turned around and leaned against it and stared at him for a long time. He didn’t look away. I didn’t know what to do or what to say. I just knew I couldn’t let him go again.

  “Jason?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I haven’t been able to say it yet, but I’m really proud of you. I’m really proud that the stuff that happened to us didn’t hold you back.”

  “I’m proud of you too. I wish that you could see how amazing you are.”

  “You think so?” I said, my face flooding with warmth.

  “Yes, I do.”

  In a way, that was all I could ask for.

  “I’m angry, but I’m trying to get past it, Jase. I want you in my life—I know that now. But I’m still with Trevor.” I looked up at him as he inched closer.

  He was staring down at me, wearing a small, tight smile. There was reverence in his expression and something else: resignation.

  “Friends?” he whispered.

  I nodded. “Will you be in San Diego long?”

  “I’m heading home tomorrow and then leaving for a book tour the following day. Twelve cities.”

  “That’s wonderful for you.”

  “Is it?”

  There was so much simmering between us, but not all of it was being said.

  My voice dropped. “I was thinking about our day in the shed earlier.”

  “What were you doing while you were thinking about it?”

  “Stop,” I said playfully.

  “I’m kidding. Isn’t it weird that we had nothing at the time . . . but somehow it felt like we had everything?”

  “Yes.” He took both my hands in his, leaned in slowly with such grace and kissed my lips softly, sweetly, like he had done the very first time. My eyes were closed. I was trying to hang on to the moment, but his lips were gone too soon.

  Cyndi swung the door open and shoved her hand out past me. “Hello, Jason, we’ve heard so much about you.”

  “Hello. It’s nice to finally meet you. Cyndi, I’m guessing?” he said as he shook her hand.

  “Yes, that
’s me, and that’s my partner, Sharon.” Cyndi was giddy. It was weird. I looked over to Sharon on the couch, who was also smiling wide.

  “I saw you in a lecture once, years ago,” Jase said.

  I jerked my head back to look at him. “Where?”

  Cyndi answered for him. “Oh yes, they used to broadcast some of my early lectures on an educational cable channel.”

  That made sense; Jase was always watching TV or reading.

  “Free college, how great is that?” he said. Cyndi and Sharon giggled. Impossibly, Jase’s earsplitting grin was charming the panties off my gay aunts.

  “Well, ladies, I better get going.”

  “Hold on.” I ran to a kitchen drawer and scribbled my email and phone number on a Post-it. I handed it to him. “Next time you’re in San Diego, give me a call.”

  He took the paper while nodding and slipped it into his pocket. “I will. Have a good night, Em.” He kissed my cheek and was gone. I felt like we were fifteen again as I watched him jog down the stairs.

  I heard Sharon say, “He called her ‘Em.’ How sweet is that?”

  From behind me, Cyndi said, “We’re not saying anything, but I’m pretty sure you know how we feel.”

  I walked aimlessly around the living room with my head down as they watched me process what had just happened.

  “You want to talk, sweetie?” Sharon asked.

  “No, I think I’ll go to bed.” I couldn’t wrap my head around it.

  In my bed, I thought back to that day in the shed, to what had really happened.

  Jase came home from school, tired and weary-eyed but smiling. I was waiting for him all day in the shed, picking at my bowl of Cheerios. When he came in I was sitting at the table, staring out the small window.

  “How was your day, honey?”

  He fell onto the cot like dead weight. “Longest school day ever. I couldn’t wait to get back to you.”

  “How’d you do on the history exam?”

  “Aced it.”

  “Of course you did.”

  He kicked off his shoes. “Come lie down with me.”

  I was wearing a lavender sweater dress that his mom, Lisa, had given to me. As I walked toward him, he removed his T-shirt. I straddled him and then caressed the muscular grooves of his sides.

  He put his hands on my thighs and ran them up, pushing my dress up to my waist in the process. He tugged at the waistband of my flowered panties. “I like these, but I think we should ditch them,” he said.

  We laughed, making the cot shake and squeak. “This is going to take some finesse.”

  He gripped my hip with one hand. “Kiss me,” he said. When I leaned over, his other hand went between my legs, teasing me from the outside of my panties. We kissed and kissed, our tongues twisting, his hand rubbing and pressing against me, making me writhe against him. Our breaths became heavy. I could feel him hard beneath me. Jase was never frantic, always smooth, even at sixteen. I didn’t know it then, how perfectly suited we were for each other, because he was all I knew. But later I would learn that no one could ever come close to replicating how Jase had made me feel.

  He tugged at my sweater. “Take this off.”

  Pulling it over my head, I said, “Don’t laugh.” I wasn’t wearing a bra, so I was on full display to him, sitting atop him in the bright sunlight that was shining through the small window.

  His mouth fell open. He just stared and then his hands moved up to cup my breasts. “Why on earth would I laugh? You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.” He leaned up and kissed my breasts, one and then the other, before moving me onto my side. I wrapped my arms fully around his neck as we lay kissing. His hands were roaming everywhere, and then my panties were off and his fingers were inside of me.

  We explored each other, made out, kissed, touched everything. And then when I felt like I was going to literally catch on fire, I reached down and undid the button of his jeans. “These have to go too. Fair is fair.”

  He stood up, removed a condom from his pocket, and threw it on the cot. “I stole that from my mom’s drawer. Kind of weird, huh?”

  I just laughed. “Gotta do what you gotta do,” I said.

  “Yeah this might be a little awkward.”

  “It won’t be,” I assured him. He removed his jeans and boxers and walked toward me to where I lay on the cot. It was the first time I had seen him like that and he was beautiful. His skin was perfectly smooth and his shoulders broad for a sixteen-year-old. His longish hair was tucked behind his ears and his eyes were searching mine, looking for reassurance. I reached out and touched him.

  He closed his eyes and made a strangled sound. “You might not want to do that.”

  “Did I hurt you?”

  “No. Not hurt at all.”

  He rolled the condom on and kneeled on the bed between my open legs.

  “How’d you learn to do that?” I was afraid of what he was going to say.

  “I saw it on TV.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, cable.” He shrugged.

  Jase sat back on his heels between my legs, waiting for something. “Come back,” I said, but he remained where he was. I didn’t feel remotely exposed to him. He knew me. I just wanted him to touch me.

  “Are you sure you’re ready? It might hurt,” he said.

  I nodded.

  “I love you, Emiline. I loved you before I even knew what it meant.”

  “I love you too, Jase . . . I’ll love you forever.”

  “Swear to me.”

  “I swear I want this.”

  He was staring right into my eyes. “Swear that you love me and trust me,” he said.

  I knew the feeling like my own name. “Jase . . .” I swallowed and then tears filled my eyes. “I swear to god on your life and my own that I love you and trust you.”

  And that I’ll love you forever.

  That was bigger than any promise I had ever made, but I knew it was true, even at fifteen.

  “Don’t cry, please.” He thumbed the tears away, smiled, and kissed the tip of my nose. “You’re absolutely positive you want it to be me?”

  I sniffled and laughed at the same time. “Jason Dean Colbertson, that is a stupid question. Have you ever done this before?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure you want it to be me?”

  “You’re right, that was a dumb question.”

  He leaned over and kissed me and then a moment later he was inside of me and we were moving together. Neither one of us really knew what to do, but we were patient, and after a little while, we figured it out and it didn’t hurt anymore.

  Afterward, Jase went back into his house and got more condoms. We spent the rest of the afternoon having fun, awkward, love-filled, responsible teenage sex.

  We were in tune with each other so much that I didn’t even realize it. I fully expected every sexual experience after that to be just as comfortable, sensual, and sweet, but nothing ever measured up. I remember after I left Ohio, my girlfriends would say sex gets better and how the first time is always terrible, but mine wasn’t because Jase and I had spent years and years getting to know each other first.

  In bed, in my apartment, I stared up at the ceiling, lit ominously by a streetlight streaming through my curtains. I wished that I had asked him what his life was like when we were apart. And I wondered if he was in some hotel room nearby with Andrea.

  11. Head in the Game

  When I woke up the next morning, the sun was blasting me in the face. My eyes were caked shut and swollen from crying. I could hear Cyndi, Sharon, and Cara busying themselves in the kitchen. I slithered out of bed and snuck into the bathroom, undetected. Staring into the mirror, I wondered why I was avoiding the book. Maybe I was afraid once I finished it there would be nothing left of Jase and me.

  I walked out into the kitchen and was greeted by a smiling Trevor, a derisive Cyndi, and Cara, who was trying to melt into the wall.

  “Where’s Sharon?”
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  “She went to the store. You had no food here,” Cyndi said.

  “Oh.” I leaned up and kissed Trevor. “Morning. What are you doing here?”

  “I thought maybe we could take Cyndi and Sharon kayaking in the caves,” Trevor said.

  “Okay.” I looked away from Trevor toward Cara and mouthed, Did you call him?

  She shook her head no.

  Sharon came through the door with a bag of groceries. “What’s up, kids?”

  “We’re going kayaking!” I announced.

  Cyndi and Sharon’s eyes darted between Trevor and me. “Am I missing something?” Trevor said.

  “No,” I said. “Let’s get ready.”

  Cyndi followed me into the bedroom. “Are you gonna tell him?”

  “There’s nothing to tell. You’ve never been pushy with me, so please don’t start now.” She left the room without saying another word. Cyndi and Sharon always preached honesty in relationships, but she couldn’t expect me to blurt out in front of everyone that I had met with Jase the night before and that we had agreed to be friends. It seemed insignificant in that moment when I saw that Trevor was there, making an effort.

  An hour later, we walked down to the beach and rented kayaks. The guy working the rental stand explained to us that we needed to paddle hard past the ocean break and then we could cruise south toward the caves where the water was calm. Trevor had done it before, but the rest of us were rookies.

  Cyndi and Sharon were fit and strong and always up for adventure, so I knew they could do it. They made it look easy, paddling over the first swell and then turning their kayak to wait for us. I sat in the front of our kayak while Trevor sat in the back.

  Just before we were about to make our attempt past the break, Trevor called out, “Remember, I can’t paddle, so you’re gonna have to work harder.”

  I turned around and glared at him. “What?”

  He was holding the oar across his lap. “My arm. I’m still rehabbing it. I’m not supposed to do stuff like this.”

  “Then why the hell did you even grab an oar?”

  He gestured to the oncoming waves. “Turn around, pay attention.”

  It was clear and warm that day, but it was winter, so the water was too cold for swimming. The idea was to stay as dry as possible. I realized quickly that I would need to paddle much harder.