“So it says here that you went to NYU?” She barely glances at me as she reads the information off of my resume. In fact, other than when I first walked into her office, she‘s barely looked at me at all. I’m not surprised though. She’s the head of one of the biggest rock stations in California, and from what I’ve been told she’s not exactly the nicest person in the world. It’s not like I expected her to be any different though. The music industry is a cut throat business, and most of the people in it are stuck up, arrogant idiots who would stab you in the back before thinking twice about it. I‘m used to it though. I can deal. Lord knows after Justin, I can handle pretty much anybody.
“I did,” I clear my throat a little and sit up in my seat. “I majored in communications, and I hoped to get a job at a radio station once I graduated.” I’m uncomfortable. This is the part of the interviews I always dread. The part where they ask why I haven’t had more experience.. Why I never had a full internship my senior year, or hell, why I didn’t graduate properly. I never really know what to say. Most of them have no idea who I am or the tragedy I was involved in, so that leaves me with a choice. Do I tell them the truth? Do I freak them out with my horrible story about how I was kidnapped and traumatized for three days? Or do I just bullshit, make up some phony lie?
This is the fifth interview I’ve had so far this month, and I’m sorry to say that I’ve lied at every single one of them. Not that its helped me any. Nobody wants to hire a communications major without experience. And the one promising interview I did have, fell through when they saw how badly I limped around their office. They actually called me the day after they’d told me I had the job and said that they were “sorry” but I ‘wasn’t cut out for the pace they were looking for’. I was disgusted with myself. I cried. I just wanted to curl into a ball and die because I felt like I was such a failure. Of course Trace was there, and he consoled me even though I barked at him to leave me alone. He said he wanted to help, that he could ‘put a good word in’ for me at a radio station he has connections with. I told him no. I don’t want help. I don’t need Trace and his damn connections. I mean, fuck, this is my life and I need to make it work by myself. I need to find a job on my own. I need to find a place to live on my own. Trace doesn’t get that. He says I still have things I have to ‘settle’ and that I still need ‘a lot of help.’ I’m tired of that. I’m tired of him. It’s like he doesn’t think I can do anything right, or that I can’t help myself. It’s like he looks at me as a fucking child, and I’m not a child. Sure I’ve acted like an asshole now and then, but I haven’t been as bad as some people. God, I just…I can’t take it anymore. And if I didn’t feel so uncomfortable around Siobhan I probably would have called her up weeks ago and asked if I could move back in with her. But ever since that stuff went down with her and Justin at the party, it seems like Siobhan has done everything in her power to distance herself from me.
But of course I can’t blame her.
I really don’t know what else to do though. I used to think of Trace as my best friend, maybe…even more than a friend at times. Family…yes, he was like the older brother I never had. But then things started to get weird. He just…confessed all of this shit to me. Like, that he has feelings for me, and maybe at first I thought I could see him in that kind of a way…but not now. It’s just weird. Trace is just…Trace, and the more I try to see him as something more, like….kissable, the more turned off I become. It’s just not going to happen, and I let him know that whenever I can. I think it does more damage to him than I even know, but hell I can’t help how I feel. And now…weeks later, living with him is starting to become nearly unbearable. He wont fucking leave me alone, and right now I’m starting to need my personal space more and more. I feel myself slipping a lot these days. I have bad day dreams, hallucinations and memories that are too terrible to share with anybody. It angers me a lot, because I just don’t understand why I cant get past what happened. I’m alive, I’m in tact. They didn’t cut off my fingers and toes…I didn’t get shot…I wasn’t…raped. So why is it still such a big deal? Sure they tied me up, but I should have expected they’d do it again after they threw me in the trunk of their car. I guess I’m just weak, I can’t handle it, and I‘ll probably spend the rest of my life figuring out how to get past it. But that doesn’t mean Trace has to be up my ass constantly about the subject. In a way I guess he still feels responsible for what happened, and that’s fine…that’s his issue and I completely understand what he’s going through. But that’s why he has a therapist. That’s supposed to make him sane, not talking to me about it…not reminding me about Justin all the time.
I hate thinking about Justin.
I can’t help but worry about him sometimes. It makes me sick to my stomach, but I can’t help it. He was a huge part of my life. I loved him like…well, I don’t know really. It wasn’t just your normal run of the mill love. What Justin and I had was special, and I guess the biggest question on my mind is: What would life be like if nothing had ever happened? If we hadn’t been kidnapped…if we’d been able to spend that weekend together in Tennessee at my parents house, what would the outcome have been? I know we would have been stubborn for awhile, but eventually Trace or somebody else would have forced us into a room to talk. And I’m sure we would have fought, then laughed because we were being so stubborn, then cried because we hadn’t talked for so long. Yeah, it would have been good I think. I think we would have reconnected…gotten things back to the way they had been before we slept together. But of course, things didn’t go that way at all.
Things went very, very wrong.
“Miss Donovan,” “Kathy” as I was instructed to call her by her quick talking assistant, sits up in her chair and folds her hands on the top of her desk. “I understand your position. I read the papers, I watch the news. I was well prepared for you to pull some sob story out of your ass about your ‘occurrence’…” She trails off and narrows her eyes at me, and it makes me want to throw up. I almost do. “…but you didn’t,” she continues with a slight smirk. “And that almost makes me want to give you a spot with us.”
I almost gasp at the thought. I think it’s too good to be true. By simply sitting here and staring at the woman like a damn idiot, I impressed her. I guess I tried too hard with the other places. Maybe if I had just sat and stared like a moron all along, I would have had a job by now. “Well, I’d really appreciate….”
“It’s just that we’re a very fast paced office, Kerri,” she continues as if she didn’t even hear me begin to speak. “And I’ve seen you walk around. I just don’t know….”
“It doesn’t slow me down,” I defend immediately. I want to slap myself for being bold enough to cut her off, but I just don’t care. It’s not like it’s a fake leg. Its’ not like I’m in a damn wheelchair. I had to have surgery. I have a limp because of it. The doctors said in time it will be less intense, but until then I just have to go on and live my life as normally as I can. It’s not fair that people frown upon me like I’m some kind of circus freak. I’m a smart young girl with a hell of a lot of potential, and I just can’t fucking believe that people can’t look past one little thing and try to see the good in me. “I just…I was in a car accident and my leg is still recovering from it, that’s all. I can do the work, Kathy. Just give me a chance.”
“But what about events? You’re new, and there’s no way that I’d be giving you a spot on the air so soon. You’d have to help run events with the rest of the staff at concerts, food drives…things like that. You’d have to be on your feet at least nine hours a day, if not more. I like you Kerri. You seem to have a nice personality and a strong will to work hard, and that doesn’t go unnoticed. But why should I give you the job over somebody who could run an errand in five minutes, while it could take you twenty?” She raises an eyebrow and lets out another sigh.
I know I’m done for. There’s no logical reason for her to give me the job really, except out of pity. And I don’t need pity. I shouldn’t have to work five times as hard as all the other gophers on her staff just to prove to her that I’m not a crippled idiot. Clearly, it’s not going to work out. I’m still jobless, still a loser. I’m going to go home tonight and leech off of Trace for my room and board. It sucks, and I’m pathetic, but there’s no way I’m going to sit here and grovel at Kathy’s feet any more today. “I understand, “ I say quietly, as I rise out of the chair. “Thanks for giving me a shot anyway.”
“Just know that it’s nothing personal, Kerri. I’ll definitely keep you in mind, and if your condition improves in a few months, I’d like you to give me a call. I’m always looking for outgoing people such as yourself, to be a part of my team.”
She plasters a ‘thanks for wasting my time’ smile across her face, and just as I’m about to tell her she can cram her outgoing bullshit up her ass, her assistant opens the door and says something about a three thirty appointment. I’m out the door within seconds, not looking back over my shoulder as I exit the office. Not really caring that I was old news even before Kathy’s assistant opened the door to give her that message. It doesn’t matter to her that my life has become a pathetic pile of bullshit, and I knew that before I even entered this building today. Even so, as the elevator doors open, allowing me access to its shiny gold interior, I find that I can’t hold back the tears of defeat that have been fighting to break free from behind my eyelids. I let myself cry, because I’m alone…and because I know I can’t let Trace see me cry when I get back to him. If anything, it will just make him feel like shit, and I’d really prefer it if one of us is in good spirits. It’s really bad to be living in an environment where everybody is completely miserable.
When I get out of the elevator, I’m able to calm myself down a little bit before venturing outside. This is San Francisco, so I am happy to say that I don’t have to worry about stupid paparazzi or weird people staring and pointing at me as I walk down the street. Los Angeles may as well be a state of it’s own, because the people there are the only ones that seem to remember who I am and what happened to me. Sometimes the photographers can be bad, getting in my face and asking me questions about Justin. It was easier before my accident, because I could just walk briskly out of their view. But now, with this limp, it’s really hard. On the rare occasions that I do venture out of the house, Trace is always with me, and we go into the city together. There have only been a few light brushes with all of that sine I’ve been here, but it’s not the most pleasant thing in the world. I almost always end up tripping over my own two feet, because the photographers get in my way, and Trace has to hold me up. It’s embarrassing, and then Trace is miserable the rest of the day because he feels that it was his responsibility to keep me away from all of that. I just can’t deal. So that’s why I didn’t apply to any of the radio stations in Los Angeles. It’s just too risky, and if I got caught up in that kind of a situation on my own, I really don’t know what the hell I would do.
About ten minutes later, I finally reach the little Café that I agreed to meet Trace at earlier when he dropped me off. I see him out front sitting at one of the little tables, sipping on a coffee and thumbing through a magazine. I almost don’t want to go over there. I want to take a bus and call his cell phone when I get back to the condo. I could tell him I got lost and found my way back home. He’d never buy it though. He knows I’m way too smart for that, and entirely too terrified to go back home without him. With an annoyed sigh I make my way over to the table and plop down in the seat across from him, not bothering to say so much as a hello.
“Well hey,” he half smirks and closes the magazine. “How’s the newest DJ this side of San Fran?”
I roll my eyes and focus my attention on an empty packet of sugar. “Why don’t you ask her? I’m sure she went in right after Kathy politely rejected me.”
He’s silent, and I know that means he’s disappointed. After I broke down that night in the kitchen, about how I couldn’t handle his feelings for me…about how I was stressed, we decided to talk about moving ahead. I told him that moving on with my life was probably the best thing for me, and all he wanted to know was how we could make it happen. When I conjured up the idea of my trying to find work, Trace was all for it of course. In fact, he’d told me that he’d been thinking the same thing, but hadn’t known how to bring it up to me. At first, he really wanted to just make a couple of phone calls and get me in with a prominent radio station, but I was insistent that I try to do it on my own first. And now, five rejections later, I’m still not ready to give in and let Trace get me hired somewhere. I know its stupid. But it’s the stubborn part of me taking over, and not wanting to show anybody that I’m weak. I really just want to be my own person, and I think Trace knows that. It’s why he’s not pushing the issue, but I’m pretty sure he knows that sooner or later I’m going to give in and take the easy way out. That’s probably childish too but hey…why pass up a good offer if you have no other solution?
“What did she say?,” he whispers. “Your resume was flawless. We went over it and over it.”
I pick up the empty sugar packet and begin to shred it into pieces. It’s making a mess, and usually I’d freak and try to clean it up, but right now I’m too upset to care. “It wasn’t about my resume, Trace. She really liked me. It was just….”
“Damn it!” He pounds his fist on the table top, and it makes me gasp in surprise. “This is bullshit!”
“Trace!” I look around at the other tables that have been occupied by other patrons of the café. Sure enough, they’re all staring, all wondering why the hell Trace is such a maniac. If only they knew, I’m sure they’d have no problem going back to their lattes and cross word puzzles. “We’re in public,” I whisper.
“I don’t fuckin care.” He shakes his head roughly and folds his arms across his chest. “We’re trying to move you ahead and all you keep getting are these lame ass excuses. I’m gonna make a call, Ker. I’m sorry…but if that’s what’s going to get you out of the house and into a good job….”
“How do you think that makes me feel?” I lean forward and stare him in the eye so he’ll know I’m serious. “That I cant’ get a simple job with the degree I earned on my own? That I have to have you make a phone call so somebody can give me a job because they feel sorry for you?”
He sighs. “Come on Ker, it’s a favor. They don’t feel bad…”
“I don’t want to hear a speech,” I interrupt. “I know how these things work. I’m not a naïve little child, like you think I am.”
He looks at me and I can tell he‘s hurt, but I really don’t care. It‘s how I feel, and I‘m not going to lie and cover up my real feelings. That’s how I ended up getting so hurt in the first place.
“What makes you believe that I think you’re a child? Because I care? Because I want to help you get a job quickly, with people who aren’t going to judge you because of something mediocre? Sometimes I just don’t fucking understand you, Kerri. Not at all.” He shakes his head a little and gets up from the chair, throwing a couple of bills down on the table to cover his tab. “Let’s just get the hell out of here before I lost my temper completely.”
He holds out his hand to me, but I don’t take it, I just look the other way as if he’s not even there. I don’t’ like his attitude right now. I just got rejected at a job interview and all he can do is yell at me. Yes, I said he thinks I’m a child, and it’s the truth. I’m not going to tell him I was wrong just so he’ll calm down. I’m done with that. It’s all I did with Justin and it got me no where. “You can go, I’ll just get a cab or something,” I mutter.
“Now you’re just being stupid.”
I look up at him and send him an icy glare. “And you’re being an asshole.”
He drops the hand he was holding out for me at his side and chuckles a little. “You know what? You want to be this way and be all miss high and mighty? That’s fine. You do that, and I’ll see you around.”
Then he walks away.
I don’t react at first, because I’m positive that in a matter of seconds he’ll turn around and tell me he’s sorry…that he was just upset. I wait…and wait… And then a few minutes turns into twenty. He’s not coming back for me, and all I can do is sit here in complete shock. He left me here. He actually left me stranded in San Francisco, knowing that any number of things could happen to me, and he just didn’t care. He didn’t fucking care. It makes me so angry that I can’t even cry. I’d throw something, but that wouldn’t solve anything. I just…I don’t even know what to do. I can’t think straight.
He left me here.
I go into the café and proceed to puke my brains out in the bathroom. The very thought of being all alone in an unfamiliar section of California scares the living crap out of me. Somebody could see me, see how weak I am and snatch me off the street. Only this time, there would be no ransom. This time, I’d just be gutted like some sort of animal. I have to cover my mouth to hold back my pathetic cries. I close my eyes, and force myself to calm down. Calm down Kerri, there’s a way back. There’s a way home. Right. There’s a way home. I have money. I have a credit card that my parents reactivated for me. I can take a cab…I can…
“Kerri, are you in there?”
Trace’s voice is followed by a soft rapping at the door, and I don’t even know how to respond to him. I’m so infuriated with him right now, I don’t even want to set eyes on him. I back into the wall and sink down to the floor, hoping he’ll give up if I don’t answer him.
“Ker…” The door opens and the top of his head creeps out from behind the door. “Look, I’m sorry.”
I hug my knees to my chest and lay my head on the tops of them. “Just go away.”
He sighs heavily and comes into the bathroom with me, closing and locking the door behind him. “I was angry.”
I don’t answer him. I’m tired of this. All I ever do is fight with him, and I can’t remember a time before this that I had these kind of problems with Trace. He was always my go-to for everything. Any question or problem I had could be solved by him. And I loved him for that. But now, I don’t love him at all. All I want to do is get far, far away from him, but the ironic part about that is, he’s the only one who’s willing to help me move on with my life. Of course my parents are willing to support me, but they really want me back in Tennessee, and I know there isn’t anything for me there. If I want to do anything, I have to start out here in Los Angeles. There’s no other choice. I pick my head up and look at him. “You were going to leave me here,” I whisper.
“Come on.” He sits down beside me and puts an arm around my shoulders. “You really believed that?”
“You walked away,” I point out.
“Yeah and I got halfway to the car,” he confesses solemnly. “Then I realized what I was fucking doing, and I knew how stupid I was being. I…I shouldn’t have done that. I know I probably scared the shit out of you. But damn Ker, I’m trying to help you and you just shoot me down every time.”
I shrug a little. “You try too hard sometimes.”
“It’s only because I care.”
I lean into him because I just…I need it right now. I need a friend right now, and even though Trace has been getting on my last nerve these days, he’s still the only one who seems to give a shit. “I don’t know what else do to,” I say, sobbing a little. “It’s like a dead end every time, Trace. Every time.”
“I know.” He gives my shoulder a little rub. “I know it’s hard. That’s why I’m asking you to please just let me help you. I swear, the people I know…they’re good people. They’ll treat you fair, and give you an awesome opportunity. And if you don’t like it, you don’t have to stay. We’ll try something else.”
I search his eyes for something that tells me he’s just trying to reassure me, that he doesn’t really know what he’s doing. But I can’t see anything. All I can see is that he genuinely cares, and he’d probably sit on the phone for hours with whoever it is, listing the reasons why I deserve a spot at their radio station if he had to. I realize…he’d do anything for me, and he always will, regardless of how I feel about him, or how I treat him. That’s just how Trace is, and right now…it kills me to think that Justin lost such an important person in his life. Because I know that Justin really needs Trace right now, and I feel almost selfish for having him all to myself. But then again, Justin did horrible things. Unforgivable things. And maybe he just deserves to be miserable because of what he did.
I really don’t know.
“I guess I should trust you and try,” I finally say. “That’s the only way I’m going to get ahead. I mean, I don’t want to . I really want to be my own person…”
He cuts me off by cupping my face in his hand and looking deep into my eyes. I’m uncomfortable. I don’t want him touching me like this, but I feel bad telling him to stop. “Ker, you have to take small steps to get where you want to be. You can’t just be fine and well overnight okay? I wish you would realize that. I wish you would realize that you’re not as stable as you think you are.”
I sigh and pull away from him. He’s annoying me right now. He’s making me feel helpless…like I’m not capable of handling myself, and that it’s going to take me years to become somewhat normal again. “Maybe if you’d just believe in me, I’d be better than I am right now.”
“Maybe if you’d stop being so stubborn and get some professional help, I’d be able to believe in you a little more.” He looks at the floor. “I still don’t understand why you wont. It’s not like anybody is going to think you’re weak or stupid. You’d be able to accept what happened…understand it, not just live in fear of it all the time.”
“I’m not interested,” I mutter, and push myself up from the floor. “I’ve told you that. Why can’t you just drop it?”
“Because Kerri.”
“Don’t give me that,” I mutter. “Don’t act like I can read your thoughts, because I fucking can’t.”
He looks up at me then, his eyes full of sadness and worry. And I know that he’s scared for me. Why? I don’t know. I didn’t think I was doing too bad mentally, at least not out in the open. But again, Trace is too smart for my fake fronts. He knows I’m still battling everything, keeping it all inside. He knows its killing me more and more everyday. Maybe he’s right. Maybe I don’t really understand the magnitude of everything that happened. It all hit me so fast and hard, the only thing I’ve been able to do is try and hide from it, and be afraid of it constantly. But talking to a shrink…I don’t think I could do that. I mean, I couldn’t get comfortable being around Madison once in awhile, and I didn’t even tell her all that much. It’s not that I’m afraid of talking about the kidnapping. I’ve talked about it with plenty of people. I guess its just that every time I talk about it, all of the horrible memories come rushing back to me. I remember what happened to Justin…that it was because of me, and I can’t deal with it. I can’t deal with the fact that he did that…to keep me alive.
I shudder.
“Come on.” He gets up from the floor and approaches me, placing his hands on my shoulders. “You try to act like you’re doing okay, but I know you’re not. I see it on your face every day. I know you don’t sleep a lot, and I know that you cry all the time. But I can’t do much else to help you, because I don’t know how to, Kerri. And you take all the attention I give you as ‘smothering’, I guess. Yeah, I know I said some stupid shit, and I know I have feelings for you that I shouldn’t. I can’t help that, but…at least take my advice. Get some help for yourself, before it’s too late.”
He gives me a light hug and tells me he’s going to head outside, and that I should meet him out there when I’m ready to. When I’m alone, I force myself to turn and look in the mirror. I want to see if he’s right. I want to see how bad I really look. I’m shocked at what I see. I don’t remember the last time I took a real good look at myself. Usually I’m too distracted in the morning to pay too much attention to what I look like. But…I can see it now. I look like hell. My complexion is pale, and tired. My eyes are sunken in, and the dark circles have taken form again. Its no wonder I can’t find work. The people at the radio stations probably took one look at me and saw I was a disaster waiting to happen. I’m disappointed in myself. I thought I was smarter than this. I thought I’d be able to catch myself slipping…but I didn’t. I’ve just been deteriorating slowly, ever since the accident. I realize that I do need help, more help than I thought, and that really scares me. I don’t know who I can trust. Who isn’t going to analyze me like some sort of mental patient. I don’t know what the hell to do, and now more than ever I wish I could call up Justin and ask him for his advice. I know he’d have the answer, despite the fact that he’s a fucking mess.
But I can’t call him.
And for the first time since my little nightmare began, I realize that the only way I can ever truly over come it, is to battle it head on whether I want to or not.
I just hope I can.
Author's Chapter Notes:
once again, the chapter was too long and I had to double post. Sorry guys.
Story Tags: justinandtrace
