Part Seven �“ A Nightmare Before Christmas
You know those moments in life where you end up in a place and it’s as if you’ve just woken up in the middle of a dream with no idea where you are or how you got there? This is one of those moments. Somehow I’ve found myself laying on the bed in Justin’s hotel room with his body draped on top of me, in the midst of a heated, topless make out session. It’s sort of like an out of body experience. Like I can see myself doing what I’m doing, but I don’t feel connected to it. I feel kind of weirdly empty inside. The things he’s doing feel objectively good, but I’m not exactly enjoying it. I’m just kind of there, participating almost on autopilot, until the point where we shift positions so I’m straddling him and he reaches up to unhook my bra. Suddenly, something inside me snaps and I grab his hand.
“Wait,” I say, my voice betraying the small amount of panic I’m feeling inside.
“What?” he asks, breathlessly.
Before I have a chance to respond, there is a brief knock on the door and it flies open before either of us have much time to react. All I have time to do is slide off of Justin, so I’m sitting next to him in my bra and jeans as I come face to face with my brother. I reach blindly for the t shirt I was wearing when I got here, but I’m not sure where it is and my hand just falls unceremoniously on Justin’s chest. I watch Abe’s facial expression change from disbelief to anger and realize that Leah is here too, standing next to him with her mouth agape and eyes wider than I’ve ever seen them.
“What the hell is going on here?”
My brother has abandoned all of the calm, collected, reasonable aspects of his reaction last night and is in full on rage mode as he takes strides from the doorway towards the bed. I glance very briefly at Justin, who looks too shocked to respond to Abe’s question. Acting almost on instinct, I spot my t shirt on the bed, and somehow manage to grab it, pull it over my head and jump off the bed as my brother approaches us.
“Abe,” is all I get a chance to say, stepping in between him and Justin. I’m not exactly happy with the situation myself, but my brother has that murderous look in his eyes and the last thing I need right now is a dead Timberlake on my hands on top of everything else.
My brother glares at me so intensely that I move aside almost more quickly than I would have if he’d physically shoved me.
“You. Out,” he says harshly, pointing at me. Then he directs his attention to Justin. “You. We need to talk.”
Normally I would react to this with anger, as I don’t appreciate being told what to do by my brother as if we’re both children and he’s been left in charge while our parents are away. But I still feel stunned more than anything, and I move towards the door without a word, still feeling completely separate from my own body. It’s like I’m being controlled by some outside force, pushing me along and barring me from speaking.
Leah wraps an arm around me as I pass her and helps guide me out the door into the hall. If anyone has to be here right now, I’m honestly glad it’s her. She is the least judgmental person I know.
We get about halfway down the hall before I stop, realizing I’m not wearing any shoes. I kicked them off in the midst of…whatever the hell just happened, and I just walked out without them.
“I forgot my shoes,” I say to Leah, turning half-heartedly back towards the room. She puts her arm around me again and turns me back towards the elevator, continuing down the hall.
“Don’t worry about it, we’ll get them later.”
We’re in the elevator, riding to the floor where both of our rooms are located before she asks, “Are you okay?”
“I don’t know,” I reply honestly.
She nods, and we don’t speak again until we’re safely in my room with the door closed. We both just stand awkwardly just inside the room for a moment, not speaking. I think she’s waiting for me to initiate, not wanting to push me, particularly after the intensity of my brother’s reaction, but I don’t know what to say.
I’ve said it already I know, but I don’t know how I got here. This is not what I planned or what I wanted in any way, shape, or form.
Finally, Leah seems to realize that if she wants to know anything, she’s going to have to ask. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”
I know she’s being kind phrasing it that way. She just walked in on me, maid of honor, topless in bed with the groom. It’s pretty obvious what happened.
“I don’t know,” I choke out. As I do so, the fog seems to lift, and I dissolve into tears, falling into her arms. She wraps both arms around me intently, resting her hand on my head and pulling me into her warmly. “I-I just wanted to talk to him. I just wanted to figure out whether I should tell Bianca whether she’s right to be worried. I don’t know what happened…he just kept kissing me…”
It sounds stupid to me when I hear myself say it. I’m not helpless or weak. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. I don’t know that “he just kept kissing me” is a reasonable excuse.
“Did he…” Leah’s voice trails off, hesitant to ask, “He didn’t force himself on you, did he?”
“No,” I respond immediately, pulling away from her slightly, surprised at the question. “No.” He didn’t. I mean…he wouldn’t exactly take no for an answer, and I didn’t really want it, but…I could have left. I could have pulled away again, and I didn’t. It was my choice too. Right? Yes. I don’t know. I think so.
“No,” I respond to her question one final time, more decisively than the first two attempts. She looks concerned, though. Like the way I’ve responded hasn’t eased her mind.
“Okay,” she says slowly. “Good. Okay.”
I find my way to my bed now. I need to sit down. I’m tired. I’m exhausted. I’m not even sure I know what time it is. What time is it? Isn’t there a rehearsal dinner happening at some point? Is there somewhere I’m supposed to be? I don’t know. I feel confused. I wish this feeling would go away.
Leah makes her way over to me and sits down next to me tentatively. “You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. I know it’s been hard for you since we got here, and I know whatever happened in there that got us here is probably hard for you too, but…if you want to talk, you know I’ll listen.”
This is why I love Leah. I grab her hand, tears that had briefly subsided falling freely again. She puts her other arm around me again and I lean my head on her shoulder. And the whole story starts to pour out. I tell her everything I can think of from the very beginning �“ the four years ago beginning, up until what happened today. I know she’s already heard bits of it from Abraham, but something in me needs to put it all out there right now, all at once, the day before Bianca’s wedding, to try to make sense of it all. When I finally finish, it feels like a weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Tears are still falling but slower now, and although I still feel confused, I feel like I’m closer to the answer maybe.
“I don’t know why I gave in,” I say by way of transition to figuring out what I’m going to do now. “I really don’t want anything to do with him in that way. Not anymore. When I was younger, maybe. If he’d chosen me instead of Bianca, I would have been happy. But I don’t feel that way anymore. I love Jake, I want to be with him. I don’t know why I let Justin get in my head.”
Leah shrugs and pats my leg sympathetically. “I think sometimes when people push us and trigger old insecurities, we do things we wouldn’t do otherwise, you know? It’s like you associate Justin not wanting you with this time in your life where you were struggling with what it meant to be wanted at all. And for him to keep trying with you now, after all this time, I dunno…sometimes something just snaps.”
“Yeah.” I think she’s right, and she’s managed to say it better than I can right now. But I’m not sure what to do with that information right now. The only thing I can think about now is Bianca and Jake. And I promptly start crying again. “Jake’s going to be so angry. He’s going to hate me, what if he can’t forgive me? And Bianca…she’ll never talk to me again.”
“Well,” Leah sighs, “I don’t know Bianca that well, but if she’s any kind of a friend, she’ll listen to your side of things and realize that you were doing your best and nobody’s perfect. It’s not really your fault that her fiancée can’t get his shit together. And Jake…he adores you. I can’t know for sure, but I’d be pretty surprised if he doesn’t forgive you.”
As if on cue, the door opens and in walks my boyfriend, finally back from Boston at the worst possible moment.
“Hey, babe!” he exclaims, sounding pleasantly surprised at the fact that I’m here and not out doing maid of honor duties somewhere. As soon as he registers my tear-stained face and Leah’s arm around my shoulder, however, his smile fades. “What’s going on?”
“Um…” is all I can manage to say as I wipe the remaining tears from my eyes.
“We’re just having a rough morning,” Leah answers for me with a small smile.
She turns to me, trying to ask me with her eyes what I want her to do. I take a deep breath and just nod, hoping she’ll understand what I mean, and of course she does. She squeezes my shoulder before standing up and heading towards the door.
“I’m gonna go check on the guys. I’ll see you two later.” She smiles briefly at Jake, then leaves, shutting the door behind her. Jake watches her go and then turns back towards me, not looking any less confused. In a few short strides, he makes it to the bed and sits down next to me, grabbing my hand and holding it in both of his.
“What’s up, Taylor?” he asks.
I immediately start crying again, dreading what his reaction will be when I tell him. I know I have to tell him, but while I appreciate Leah’s faith in his love for me, I’m not totally convinced he’ll be able to forgive me. I open my mouth to speak, but nothing comes out besides some weird strangled sound.
“Dude, you’re scaring me. Can you please just tell me what happened? Did someone get hurt or something?”
Not yet, but they’re about to.
“I…” I start, then trail off not sure how to finish. “I…Justin…”
As soon as I say the name, the expression on Jake’s face changes from concern to something akin to the look Abe had on his face when he walked into Justin’s hotel room not too long ago. He drops my hand in what I assume is shock and I can feel the muscles in his body tense.
“What did that motherfucker do now?” he growls. “I swear to God, Taylor, I will kill him if he doesn’t get his shit together and back the fuck off.”
“Ok, I mean, I’m not sure murder is the answer here,” I begin.
“What the fuck happened? Do not tell me he tried to kiss you again.”
I don’t say anything, just frowning in response and he is so overcome with his feelings that he stands up, throwing his hands into the air and pacing back and forth in front of the bed.
“What the fuck? Can he not take a hint? Jesus Christ, I knew he would try something like this, Taylor. I knew it. I hope you punched him. Did you punch him?”
I shake my head silently and he continues on his tirade.
“Goddammit. I’ll punch him, then. Where is he? I mean, someone needs to punch him. Dude needs to get punched.”
I can’t help a little laugh. This is one of the many things I love about Jake. When he has feelings about things, he really has them. He certainly doesn’t hold back, you know exactly what he thinks. Sometimes I wish I was more like that.
Jake suddenly seems to realize that I’m being awfully quiet and he stops pacing so he can look at me directly.
“Tell me what happened.”
I take a deep breath and start from the beginning, hoping I can get through this by telling him as little as possible. “Last night. After the bachelor party, I found him drunk in the hallway and I was trying to help him get into his room, and he kissed me.”
“And what did you do?”
I’m actually a little concerned by how measured he’s being now. It’s far less Jake than the pacing and ranting. It worries me. And I just now realized how like my brother he is in this respect.
“What do you mean what did I do? I pushed him away.” I try to sound indignant that he would even ask me that question, but given recent events, I know that I have no right to.
“Ok. Good.” He hesitates. I can tell that he wants to ask me if there’s anything else, but he either doesn’t want to piss me off or is scared to know the answer. But given that he just walked in on me crying with Leah trying to comfort me, I know he realizes there must be more. And I know I owe it to him after all these years to be honest and tell him without him having to drag it out of me. But God…I really, really don’t want to. It could ruin everything. And for what?
I let the silence hang in the air while I gather up the courage to continue.
“And, uh…I went to go see him this morning,” I finally say.
“Yeah?”
“Because Bianca asked me if I think she should marry him and if he really loves her. And I wanted to find out the answer, because you know…usually you don’t try to kiss the maid of honor right before your wedding if you’re like…in a healthy, stable, happy relationship, right?”
Jake smiles a little. “Right.”
“And, um…he told me that he worries that he made the wrong decision. That maybe he should have picked me.”
He clenches his jaw and opens his mouth to say something, but I know I’ll never get through it if I stop now, so I cut him off.
“No, let me finish. I told him that if he feels that way, he needs to tell Bianca and stop the wedding or I will. And that I love you and I have no interest in him at all.”
“Damn straight,” Jake mutters under his breath, and I just keep going as quickly as I can, hoping it will soften the blow when I finally get there.
“And then he kissed me again, and I was so shocked, I yelled at him, and I tried to leave and then he grabbed my hand and pulled me back and kissed me again and then we kind of made out a little.”
It all comes out in one long rush of breath and I heave a big sigh at the end of it, bracing myself for the reaction. I can’t quite read the expression on his face. He seems surprised. I can’t really blame him. The whole story does kind of have a twist ending. But I can’t tell if he’s angry, or sad, or full of a desire to dump me. Or all of the above.
“You did what?” he finally says.
“Please don’t make me repeat that,” I beg, standing up so we’re on the same level.
“You made out a little?”
“Yeah.”
“Like…intentionally?”
“I guess…yeah. I mean…yeah. I guess. I don’t know if that’s the word I’d use.”
Jake just nods slowly, the wheels in his head visibly turning. I shift from one foot to another anxiously.
“What’s a little?”
“Huh?”
“Define ‘we made out a little’?”
I groan, not wanting to get into the details. “You know…kissing, some touching over the clothes. Nothing below the belt. Making out a little.”
“Vertical or horizontal?”
“First vertical, then horizontal.” It makes me nervous that he has so many questions about the details of the making out. I feel the need to explain myself so he can understand that it wasn’t as bad as it sounds. Or at least I don’t want it to be as bad as it sounds. Fucking Justin. Fucking up everything.
“I don’t want him, Jake. I really don’t. I don’t know what happened, I guess I just lost my will to fight, you know? He just kept coming at me and at some point I didn’t know what to do but give in. But I love you. I love you so much, I don’t want to be with him, I’m so sorry. I’m so, so sorry.”
I step closer to him, grabbing his hand in two of mine just like he did when he first sat down next to me. His body still feels tense, and the expression on his face still doesn’t betray what’s going on in his head. I start silently praying for him to just yell and get mad at me so we can argue and I can grovel and he can forgive me and we can move on. The quiet, almost numb, response is scaring the shit out of me.
When he speaks, though, he doesn’t even acknowledge anything I’ve just said about my love for him or my apology. He just asks, “Are you going to tell Bianca?”
I squirm uncomfortably. “I don’t know.”
He pulls his hand away from me. Now he’s angry. “You don’t know? You don’t know if you’re going to tell your supposed friend that you made out with her fiancée the day before she’s supposed to marry the asshole? You don’t know if she has the right to that information?”
“No, Jacob, I don’t! You always make it sound so easy, but it’s not that easy, okay? You remember what happened the last time. And this time it will be so much worse, I’m not sure it’s worth it!”
I start to cry again and Jake looks almost angrier at my tears. He just shakes his head and walks towards the door without a word.
“Where are you going?”
“I don’t know. I need to think.”
And with that, the door slams, and he’s gone.
Incomplete
Fionnuala is the author of 6 other stories.
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