Unwritten Rules

  Once we were inside our apartment building, Jonah asked me to come up to his place for a little bit before calling it a night.

  “One coffee and then I’m going home,” I replied as I entered his apartment.

  Jonah nodded, tossing his keys into a blue ceramic bowl, before stalking to the kitchen. I noticed Meow on the fire escape and walked toward the window to open it. However, I got side tracked as I passed the book shelves; he had more than I did and which took some doing. I flicked my fingers across the spines, smiling to myself when I saw a section for graphic novels. I pulled out one I recognized – the very same one I’d bought. I was going to ask him about it, but I never got that far. As I pulled the book from the shelf something fluttered to the floor. I bent to retrieve it.

  It was a photograph.

  It had been creased and was slightly worn at the edges, but the image was very clear. It was a young boy, maybe six years old, playing in an inflatable pool. It was a sweet picture. The more I looked the more I saw that the boy bore a remarkable resemblance to Jonah. I wondered if it was him, though from the way Jonah’s face paled when he saw what I was holding told me it wasn’t.

  “I-it fell out of the book,” I stammered, trying to make it clear that I wasn’t snooping.

  He held out a shaky hand, wanting the picture. I knew I couldn’t hand it back and ignore the pink elephant in the room. It was wrong to continue to blow off all the secrets he was keeping from me. It hurt knowing he didn’t trust me.

  “Who is it?” I whispered, certain he wouldn’t tell me.

  Jonah closed his eyes, stroking the image as if trying to touch the little boy in the photograph. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. When he finally opened his eyes, they were shining with unshed tears. I reached out for him. He moved back, not allowing any comfort. Dread settled low in my stomach, this was going to be bad. It had to be to cause such a reaction from him. Was this what he had been hiding all this time? A child?

  “I... he... he’s my brother.”

  I continued to stare, his revelation shocking me... he’d finally answered a question. He kept stroking the picture but didn’t look down at it. It was as if he physically couldn’t, and any relief I’d felt when he’d admitted the boy was his family dissipated with his next words.

  “The little boy is my brother. His name is Quinn, and that photo was taken the day before I took his future away from him. Still want to know the real me, Elle?”

  I stared at him, my mouth gaping open. “What?”

  “You heard what I said, Elle.” His words were like a whip cracking in a silent room; sharp, leaving me no chance to prepare myself. They rattled around in my head. I desperately tried to comprehend what he meant.

  Jonah was still staring down at the photograph, stroking his thumb across the little boys face. Had he really confessed to killing his brother?

  I stammered, grasping for a coherent thought. All I could hear was buzzing of an intense white noise. My stomach churned. I thought I was about to vomit when spots began to appear before my eyes. I swayed, knowing I was about to pass out.

  “You... you... ” I panted, feeling his hands lock around my biceps.

  “You need to sit down, Red.”

  “Don’t!” I replied, trying to pull away and shaking my head. “Is this what you meant when you said the truth was too much for people? Is this what you meant when you said you were bad? This isn’t bad, Jonah! It’s beyond that!”

  The room tilted on its axis.

  “You’re going to collapse. Just let me help you into a chair. Please?”

  I swallowed, annoyed at myself for feeling guilty.

  His tone was sad, pleading. He was inciting a war between my body and mind. I needed to get away from him. I needed space to think. His eyes were wide, frantically flitting around my face, as I tried to push past him and get to the door.

  “You need to sit down,” he repeated. “I’m not keeping you here. I just don’t want you collapsing in the elevator or the stairway.”

  “Why would that matter to you?” I heaved out aggressively.

  He cringed, reaching out to soothe me again. I shot him a warning look, not wanting him to come near me.

  Everything became blurry as the dots in front of my eyes started to merge. The ringing sound in my ears deafened me, and no amount of concentration helped me regain my focus.

  “Shit!” I heard before I felt myself sag. I was unable to fight it and seconds later blackness consumed me.

  Buzzing. The only thing that registered as the fog began to clear was a soft buzzing. I felt soothing, rhythmic strokes being swept across my thigh. When I attempted to move, Jonah cursed. I was on a couch.

  It wasn’t mine.

  “Stay there. You need to come around properly.

  You really smacked your head.”

  I whimpered, the memory of what had happened slamming into me with force. “Oh God, you said... you killed him! You need to let me out of here. Now.”

  However, the instant I tried to sit up everything spun, eliciting a moan from me.

  “Elle, I didn’t kill anyone,” he replied, pushing me back down. “My brother is very much alive.”

  “But... but you said... ”

  “I know. I worded it wrong. I was trying to frighten you.”

  I blinked, trying to bring his face into focus, but still feeling very disorientated. I brought my legs closer to my chest, pulling them from his comfort. I didn’t want him touching me right now. All I really wanted was to go home, get into bed, and cry; though I doubted he would let me.

  “I’ll explain. I will. First, could you take a drink of water and calm down? You scared me.”

  “Now you know what it feels like,” I muttered.

  He placed a glass against my lips, his hand shaking with nerves. I couldn’t look at him. I felt used and incredibly stupid. I could have Googled Jonah’s real name days ago. I was pretty sure it would have turned up the details I now needed.

  I took a sip, closing my lips as he tried to tip the glass further.

  “You need to drink,” he demanded.

  “I don’t need you to tell me what’s good for me.

  Now let me up. I’m going home.”

  “You can’t go. You have to let me explain.”

  I stood abruptly, wobbling on my weak legs. Jonah reached out to steady me. I moved away, wondering why I was no longer wearing shoes. I began to frantically search the room, feeling Jonah standing behind me. I couldn’t decide if he was trying to keep me here or if he was preparing to catch me should I fall. I was desperately trying to ignore him, forcing myself to think ahead, so I could get out of his apartment.

  “Your shoes are by the couch,” he croaked. “I took them off when you collapsed.”

  I ignored him, moving past him to pick them up and walking gingerly toward the door. The atmosphere was suffocating. I was all but gasping for air. A numbness was setting in. I was no longer able to work through the emotions of the last hour; I was leaving. My hand touched the handle. I heard shuffling seconds before Jonah’s hand covered mine.

  “Please don’t go.”

  I swallowed, continuing to push on the handle. His fingers flexed; his nails biting into my skin a little. “Please, Red. Let me explain.”

  I whirled on him. “What? Let you explain? Jonah, I’ve given you more than enough opportunity. I’ve asked you so many times, but all I ever got back was you asking for my trust! I can’t keep giving. You have to stop expecting me to!”

  He stared down at the floor, cussing and clenching his jaw.

  I took a deep breath and mustered what little strength I had. “Now, I’m going, and I suggest you don’t follow me. Just leave me alone.”

  “But... ”

  I didn’t hear the remainder of his response as I walked out of his door. I concentrated on putting one foot in front of the other, reciting a mantra of walk, walk, walk in my head until I reached my apartment. I thought I would crumble the moment I close
d my door, but instead I went into autopilot. I fed Meow, changed into my pajamas, and even though it was two in the morning, I booted up my computer.

  Sleep would not come to me now even if I wanted it to. My head was spinning, and I needed something to focus on. I wanted to forget the last few hours.

  Meow jumped up onto my lap, padding at my thigh in an effort to get comfortable. When his claws bit into my flesh I yelped and batted him off me. I watched him skulk across the floor, his tail twitching in annoyance. It seemed everyone was irritated by me at the moment, though I wasn’t really sure why.

  I pushed it all to the back of my mind and began working on the codes for a new client website. However, the longer I stared at the screen the more the letters began to jumble. Eventually I was typing nothing but nonsense. At first glance, it looked like nothing more than nonsense, but on closer inspection, it read as a tirade against Jonah. I’d written a page of ramblings, trying to get out everything I hadn’t said to him – everything I should have. I had no idea what had happened with his brother, and his admittance that he had wanted to scare me was too much to bear.

  I felt used; I refused to stick around to make matters worse.

  I snarled, twisting my chair to the second monitor, and opened a new window. I typed Benjamin Samuels into the box and hovered over the enter key. I’d stopped myself from doing this before, because I’d wanted Jonah to tell me. Even after tonight he was reluctant, leading me to believe that if I wanted to know about his past, I would have to find out for myself. My fingers touched the key but still didn’t press it. I had to be ready for whatever I found. It wasn’t going to be pleasant.

  I hit enter.

  I scanned the list of entries that appeared, only then grasping the enormity of the mission ahead of me. I grabbed a legal pad off my desk, and picked up a pen, ready to list everything I knew about Jonah. I managed all of three things: the state he was from, his name, and his brother’s name. Quinn Samuels. Other than that, I knew very little about the man I’d fallen for.

  I replayed conversations with him in my head, trying to find clues. He had told me so little about himself that I drew a blank. I would’ve thought I’d been played had he not made an effort to spend time with me after we were intimate. Jonah didn’t even speak to anyone else, so other than his band mates, I had no one to ask. I doubted that they would tell me anything; they didn’t know me well enough.

  I pushed my hands through my hair, pulling a bit until I felt the twinge of pain. I was second guessing myself, feeling guilty for invading his privacy, even though he didn’t ever have to know. Would I want him checking up on me like this if the tables were turned?

  I whimpered, hunching over the desk and resting my forehead on the glass. The coolness soothed me. A sigh slipped from my lips as I tried to relax. When the table began trembling, I realized I was still shaky and lethargic after fainting. I knew I needed to eat something, but with the nausea welling up in my stomach, food was the last thing I could face. I was certain to spend the remainder of the night vomiting if I did eat.

  There had been a distinct lack of noises coming from Jonah’s apartment. I’d expected some sort of outburst from him, proof that I meant something to him. It sounded cruel, but his pain would confirm his commitment to me. To us. But no sound came from upstairs. ’Tears stung my eyes; my conscience confirming that I didn’t really want him hurting, no matter what it cost me. I had no choice but to admit defeat when my chair almost rolled out from under me as lethargy slowly consumed my body. However, I didn’t want to go to bed before I’d tried to find out something about Jonah’s brother. Yawning, as I entered his name into the search engine, I braced myself, wary as to what I might find.

  When the list appeared, I skimmed over it, still not sure that his brother’s name was Quinn Samuels. After a few minutes and a couple of pages, nothing stood out, so I admitted defeat and powered down. I shuffled around my apartment, turning off lights and locking up. It was dead silent, making the tiny knock on my front door sound more like a thunder clap. I stared at the door, my heart racing.

  There was only one person that this could be. Did I want to see him feeling this raw?

  “Elle, it’s me. Please just open the door. I’ll be two minutes, tops.”

  My resolve crumbled as I exhaled and opened the door. Jonah fidgeted, swaying from one foot to the other.

  He looked exhausted; his hair was a mess, utterly disheveled from where he’d been running his fingers through it. His eyes were shinning and rimmed red, making me wonder if he had been crying. I stared at him; I wouldn’t be the first one to speak.

  “I brought you this,” he rasped, passing me an envelope.

  I frowned. “What is it?”

  He shoved his fingers roughly into his hair, kicking at the floor. “It’s answers, Red. Everything you’ll ever need.”

  “In this little envelope?” I replied tartly, lifting it between us.

  A low rumble of annoyance filled the air. I stepped back.

  “Look, I know I’ve fucked up with you, just please read the letter. Maybe then you’ll understand my need for secrets.”

  “I don’t think there’s ever-”

  “Just read the letter. You know where I am if you want to talk afterward.”

  I tried to call him back, but Jonah was already walking over to the stairwell. I watched him leave, sadness settling in my heart. The envelope appeared insignificant enough, yet I got the distinct impression it would be the most important thing I would ever read. It felt like a lead weight in my hands as I carried it into the living room and placed it in my lap. As I stared at the curl of the black handwriting, I knew I didn’t want to read it.

  I needed him to tell me.

  It was important that he trust me enough to verbalize it, regardless of how much pain it could cause him. I was resolved that the secrecy end now.

  I didn’t bother to check the time or put any shoes on. I stalked from my apartment, letter in hand, and rode the elevator up to his floor. I banged on his front door, impatient for him to answer. When he did my temper couldn’t be contained.

  “A letter? Do you think you can placate me with this?”

  He groaned, rubbing at his bare chest, never quite meeting my gaze. “It’s not meant to placate you. It’s everything you wanted to know. I wrote it all down,” he replied sadly.

  “I don’t want to read about it, Jonah. I could do that on the internet, right?”

  He nodded, though he didn’t speak.

  “You told me what your real name was. I saw the medication, but I didn’t check up on any of that because I want you to tell me!”

  He cleared his throat, opening the door wider, before whispering, “You’d better come in then... ”

  I sensed him behind me as I walked to the couch and sat down on the edge. Jonah’s bare feet slapped against the wood floor, each movement echoing around the room. He slumped down next to me; his thigh almost touching mine. He exhaled, pushing his fingers harshly into his hair. I tried not to be affected by his naked, inked torso.

  “I hoped you would read the letter. I don’t know if I can actually lay myself bare to you,” his tone was laced with hurt.

  “Tell me,” I pleaded.

  “I don’t even know where to start.”

  “Where does your letter start?”

  He winced and began picking at the skin around his fingernails. A sense of foreboding surrounded us. For the first time I questioned whether I really wanted to be Pandora, because once the box was opened and the truth was set free there would be no containing it. This was my last chance.

  “It started with my name,” he uttered, and swallowing thickly before continuing. “I was born Benjamin Samuels, and I was a monster, Elle. At sixteen, I was a ball of burning rage. I felt sorry for anyone that got in my way. My parents tried so hard, but I didn’t give a shit; I was the only person that mattered.”

  “Aren’t most kids like that?” I placed my hand on his thigh, feeling the
tremble of his muscle underneath.

  “Not like me. I was evil.”

  The words left his lips with a nasty sneer. It was clear he was disgusted with himself.

  “I don’t think-” I started, trying to ease his guilt.

  He interrupted, “Tell me, were you like that? Did you cause Mommy and Daddy to cry at night?”

  “Don’t do that! Don’t put up that damn wall! I hate it when you start being obnoxious and aggressive just because I get too close. It makes me question why I’m even bothering.”

  “Why are you?”

  I took a moment to calm down, knowing that no matter what I said, he wouldn’t believe me. I had no idea how to get through to him.

  “Oh, Jonah. I just want to be your friend. I know we jumped in feet first, but the rules are unwritten. We need to start over, take this slow. Friends first.”

  He shook his head, a small groan slipping from his lips. “I’m scared this will always be between us,” he whispered, breaking my heart.

  Any anger at his reticence disappeared. He was struggling with this, because he wanted there to be an us.

  “I can’t soothe you until I know what it is that I’m battling against. I see the pain you’re in. I want to help, but your words constantly warn me against it. Let me make up my own mind.”

  His eyes darkened in acceptance. I braced myself, knowing he was needing to release the truth between us.

  “I stole, I fought, I disrespected. I know you say a lot of teenagers are like that, but I was way worse. I began to hate everyone, but I focused my hate on the guy my Mom had married. I never knew my father, and I actually liked Tom when he first got with my Mom. He officially adopted me, and I took his surname. I suppose,” he paused. “the hate needed a focus, and he was it.”

  “Is Tom, Quinn’s father?” I questioned, wanting to keep him engaged.

  He looked off into the distance. I could see he was slipping into the past, recalling the hurt. I wanted to stop it.