I waited forty five minutes at the damn pharmacy counter, because certain people couldn’t get their stuff together. Apparently my CNA license wasn’t enough proof that I was authorized to pick up Justin’s medication. They had to call up everybody under the sun to verify that I was authorized to do it, and it really pissed me off. I mean, I probably could have picked up the ingredients to make rat poison for anybody else and it wouldn’t have been an issue. But no, because it was for Justin, extra steps had to be taken. After I’d shown them another form of ID and about three major credit cards, they decided to call Lynn for a referral. Then she didn’t pick up. I was getting annoyed and my stomach was growling, but I knew I had to get the prescriptions filled before the pharmacy closed or Justin would have me thrown out of the house. They told me they’d have to call his doctor for an authorization and I just grumbled that it was fine because I needed the medicine as soon as possible.
Forty minutes I stood there while they were on hold with the psychiatric facility. Apparently his shrink was in an important consultation and couldn’t be bothered. I started to get really angry at Justin for being such a mental case in the first place, but the longer I stood there the more my feelings started to change. He really was in a lot of pain…too much pain, and I was acting like I didn’t understand anything about it. I’d left him alone in his house, while he was throwing a tantrum, and I knew that was something I wasn’t supposed to do. Although Lynn didn’t go into great detail with me about Justin’s moods, she still told me about his history. Apparently after his abduction, he was caught cutting himself. That was why he was admitted to a psychiatric facility. I’m sure he’d be really angry if he found out that I knew, but I’d never tell him unless I had to.
I hate to say it, but twenty minutes in I was really starting to worry about him. What if he had hurt himself? He may have been a cold hearted asshole but that didn’t mean I wanted him to get hurt. I wouldn’t wish that on anybody. Suddenly, I didn’t want to get the medication so I could get on with my shopping; I wanted to get it so I could go back to the house and check on Justin. God forbid anything drastic had happened. I’d never be able to forgive myself, and Lynn…I didn’t want to think about what that would have done to her. Finally, after what seemed like years, Justin’s doctor Madison Powers authorized me as his nurse and I was able to get the medication. I would have asked to thank her but I really didn’t think it was appropriate. After all, she was just doing her job.
I think I did the quickest grocery shopping of my life, like I was on Supermarket Sweep or something. I didn’t even care what brands of food I was buying, even though I knew Justin was an anal ass and would probably complain. It didn’t matter. Having him unharmed and complaining was probably better than having him incapacitated someplace. I don’t even know how fast I drove back to the house. I must have been doing at least eighty five down the interstate, and that’s really bad because I’m supposed to be responsible, but I was panicking. My heart was racing the entire time, visions of Justin lying in a pool of blood on the kitchen floor kept flooding my mind. It was really horrible. I think I started to cry…
And then I pulled into the driveway.
I’m standing in the house now, not caring that there is ice cream in the back of my car and its probably going to melt all over the interior. There are more important things to worry about right now. Like…that the house is dark and quiet, and I don’t know where the hell Justin is or if he’s okay. I creep forward slowly, towards the dark hallway that leads into the living room. “Justin,” I whisper. “A-are you okay?”
No answer.
He must be upstairs. At least that’s where I’m hoping he is. I hope he didn’t run off someplace. It would only cause chaos if people spotted him on the street looking like a crazy person. I take the stairs two at a time and run down the hallway, skidding to a stop in front of his bedroom door. I listen but there is no noise. The usual murmur of the television is non existent and I can only think the worst has happened. “Justin!“ I pound on the door. “Justin open up! I’m sorry I left…I shouldn’t have done that!“ I’m mad that I’m almost hysterical right now, but I think I have a pretty good reason to be. I try the knob, and surprisingly the door opens. It’s the first time it hasn’t been locked since I’ve come up to see him, and I’m kind of shocked. I really hope he’s okay…
“Justin--“ I flick on the light and step inside the room, gasping in surprise when I see the damage that‘s been done. The place has been trashed. Naturally, it’s because he was throwing things around, but I didn’t think it was going to be this bad. I think everything that wasn’t bolted to the wall or the floor has been tossed around and broken. His entertainment center, including the flat screen tv, dvd player and stereo system are scattered in broken pieces around the room. Pictures that were hanging on the wall have been seemingly tossed into each other, and the glass shards from the frames lie scattered like grass seed on the carpet. “Oh God.”
I can’t help but feel that the worst has happened to him. I keep staring at the closed bathroom door, picturing that Justin is inside, bleeding to death in the bathtub. I physically shudder. “Oh my god,” I whisper. “This is all my fault.” Jesus, what the fuck was I thinking about, leaving him alone while he was throwing a fit?. Hell, what was I even thinking insulting him when I know that he’s in such a fragile state of mind? Sometimes I can be so damn selfish. God forbid anybody hurts my pride… Shit… I just fucked up everything and I can’t go back and fix it. But, I might still have a chance to make things right. If Justin is hurt, there still might be time to get him help. So, I walk forward towards the bathroom, being careful not to step on any broken glass along the way.
“Justin.” I knock on the door and wait, but there is no response. I push the door open then, cringing at the thought of what I might see. But as I enter the room, I find that Justin is nowhere to be found. It’s just the empty bathroom, and it’s actually very clean despite the disaster that is Justin’s bedroom. I’m assuming he didn’t bother trashing any other part of the house…it probably wasn’t worth it to him. This could be good. This could mean he calmed down and he’s just…out. Out where? I don’t’ fucking know and I’m worried about where he might have gone. But I guess the fact that he’s missing is better than watching him bleed to death in his bathroom.
Figuring I should continue my search, I turn towards the door, only to run right into Justin as I do so. I scream and jump back, shocked that he‘s snuck up on me like this. “What…”
“Get out.” He grunts.
“Excuse me?,” I say breathlessly. “Do you have any idea how worried I was?”
He pretends not to hear me, and brushes past me. Suddenly, my pride takes over and I don’t want to feel bad for him anymore. I want to be angry at him like I was in the store. I want to tell him exactly how I feel…that he’s an asshole and he needs to grow up. But as I watch him step ever so carefully around the broken glass and over to the window, I can’t help but keep my feelings bottled inside of me. He just stares out the window as if I’m not even in the room, and for the first time, I realize just how tense Justin is. His shoulders are rigid and stiff, as if he’s trying to protect himself from some oncoming force. I’m sure that if I dared to get near him right now, he’d lash out at me, so that’s why I’m keeping my distance. But I’m not too timid to speak up again. “What happened in here?”
“I told you to leave.”
“Well, I don’t care,” I say, my voice rising a little. “I leave to do your shopping and I come back and you’ve wrecked your room. There has to be some sort of reason behind it.”
“You pissed me off,” he whispers. He still doesn’t turn to face me though, and my guess is that he’s crying right now. But of course, he’s too pigheaded to let his emotions show.
“Justin,” I sigh. “You know, you can’t keep doing this. None of your problems are going to be solved by shutting yourself up in your room, and brooding twenty four hours a day. If you’re angry you should talk about your problems instead of destroying everything. Violence isn’t the answer, you know.”
Naturally he doesn’t respond. He doesn’t move an inch from his spot by the window, and I know everything I’ve just said has passed through one of his ears and gone out the other. He doesn’t care…or maybe he does and he just afraid to accept his problems and move on with his life. I don’t really know, and I’m sure he’s not about to break down and confess all of his fears to me. Anybody else would give up, but I guess deep down I really do feel badly for him. I guess deep down…I see who I used to be in him, and I realize how horrible I treated myself. I guess…I don’t want anybody to have to suffer like that as long as they are in my presence. “Well if you’re just going to ignore me, the least you can do is help me clean up this mess,” I mutter. “Everything is broken and there are shards of glass every where…” My voice trails off because I know I’ve reached a touchy subject. I remember that Justin thinks I don’t know anything about his cutting issue, and I’m a little disappointed that I let myself slip like this.
He turns to me now. His face is streaked with tears, and I don’t really know how to react. I really doubt he’s happy about this situation, but I don’t think he can hide his emotions at the moment. It’s a lot to deal with…because I know he realizes that I know something. I’m sure he’s embarrassed, humiliated even, and part of me wants to run away and leave him alone…but I wont.
“Justin…”
“Can you just go away?,” he half sobs. “Just go…”
I cross my arms, and look at the floor. “You know I can’t.”
“She told you about what I used to do to myself?”
“If you‘re talking about the cutting, then yes,” I confess. I’m actually surprised he hasn’t thrown me into the wall yet, but the more I stand here and deal with Justin, the more I’m starting to realize that he’s far, far less scary that I’ve thought him to be all along. I force myself to look up at him again, and I…I see a different version of the man I’ve been living with for the past couple of weeks. Finally, I think I’m seeing him for what he truly is. He‘s terrified and he’s trying as hard as he can to keep himself hidden from the world. The longer I look into his sad blue eyes, the more I can tell how he used to be. How…happy he was. I can see the way his eyes used to light up when he would smile…when somebody he loved would make him happy. I frown. It’s not like he deserves to be this miserable, nobody really does. What he really needs is somebody to believe in him…what he really needs is a friend.
I just don’t know if I can be his friend.
“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head roughly and rubs his face with his hands. “Please don’t call my mom up and tell her about this. I can’t face her about it. She…she’s trusting me not to…to break down…”
“Justin…” I’m shocked when I find myself just inches away from him. I didn’t realized I’d moved across the room. Hell, I don’t think he noticed either. I draw in a breath, and wait a moment to see if I’ve made him uncomfortable. He doesn’t seem to care, so I speak up again. “I’m not going to call her right now. But I need to know if you cut yourself tonight.”
And he gives me the most sincere look I’ve ever seen. “No,” he says, slightly above a whisper. “I couldn’t do it.”
It should be enough to convince me, but I know better. It’s a training thing. I know what to look for. People who injure themselves are usually really good at hiding it, unless they want to be caught. While I feel horrible about it, I can’t make myself believe him, and it scares the hell out of me that I know what I have to do next. “Just come into the bathroom. It‘ll be quick,” I promise him. “I just have to make sure that you--”
“Stop it,“ he barks. The fear and anger in his eyes is unmistakable. He quickly steps back into the corner of the room and wraps his arms around himself protectively. “Leave me alone.”
I place my hands on my hips. It sucks, but I know I have to act like the older, more professional person right now. “Your mom didn’t tell you that I’m a certified nurses aid,” I explain. “And I can understand why she didn’t. She didn’t want you to feel like your house had been turned into a medical ward. But now that all this has happened, I…have to tell you why I’m here and what I’m supposed to do. In a situation like this, when a person who has a history of cutting does something like this, I have to check them. It’s not an option. So just suck it up, and lets get it over with.” I don’t wait for him to bark another order for me to leave him alone. Instead, I turn on my heel and walk into his bathroom. I figure he knows that if he doesn’t comply, it will result in me having to cal his mother, and I know that’s the last thing he wants right now.
I flick on the light and open his medicine cabinet, so I can find some kind of stimulant for him. I need him to be calm while I do this, or he’ll get sick. Plus, I think he could use a good nap while I clean up his room. God knows, I don’t have the patience to let him help me with the mess. For awhile it’s quiet. I find the right pills, and fill up a cup with water. I try to occupy my mind with something other than the fact that I’m about to be standing in front of a half naked man for the first time in….oh god…
Now I’m shaking.
“Y--you don’t have to do this,” I hear him say after awhile. “I swear, I didn’t do anything.”
It’s enough to break me out of my fears for the moment, and I slowly look up at him. He’s standing in the door frame that separates the bedroom from the bathroom. His eyes are glossy, like he’s about to burst into tears all over again. I remember what it felt like to be inches from tears every minute of every day. It was like being in a fog all the time. I couldn’t really see or hear anybody, but I knew they were there. I was just so…cloudy and lost. Nothing mattered, and after awhile I almost wanted to feel that way all the time. I was almost afraid to be happy. It was like depression was a permanent part of me. I couldn’t shake it. I needed it to survive. “I don’t have a choice,” I say quietly. “So just…come into the light.”
He seems to debate what to do for a moment. He looks at the floor, he chews his lip, he steps on the bottoms of his sweats so they cover his feet. “No.” He doesn’t look at me.
“Do you want me to check myself?”
He glares at me.
“Because you know that’s what I’ll have to end up doing, Justin.” I unscrew the cap to his pills, take out two and place them on the sink. “And if you resist, I’m going to have to call your mom and your doctor. It‘s really a lot of unnecessary drama, because I‘m sure that you‘re just fine. But I wouldn’t be doing my job if I ignored it, not after seeing the amount of glass that’s all over your floor.”
He clenches his jaw tightly, and for a moment I see that rage reenter his eyes, but it quickly fades away. I think he’s seeing that I have a valid point, and the best thing he can do is give in. “Fine.” He pushes himself away from the door frame and finally steps into the bathroom.
He’s skinny and pale like he has some kind of disease. I nearly gag. It’s all too familiar and I can’t believe it. I try to shrug the feeling away but I just…I can’t. It’s staying with me, but I know I have to be strong…just for a little while. After this is dealt with I can go be a whimpering fool somewhere by myself. But right now, I know my patient needs me so I’ll tuck my emotions deep down inside of m. Unfortunately, that’s exactly what I’ve been taught not to do. “Arms out, palms up,” I direct him.
He rolls his eyes, but he does what I’ve asked him to do. “Be quick and don’t touch me,” he grumbles.
“Right,” I scoff. I give his arms a quick check, and nod in satisfaction. “All right, your arms are good. Pull your shirt half way up your torso.”
I continue to check him, without so much as a grunt from him the entire time his shirt is lifted up. He’s really, really pale. More so than I thought. I cringe and have to hold back the moan that is dying to escape out of my mouth. The first thing he really needs to do is get out in the sun at least once a day, everyday. I’m going to enforce it. I mean, its for his own good. I can’t have Lynn coming out here to visit, with him looking like this. She’ll think he has some kind of strange sunless disease and I know I’ll be the first one to be blamed.
“Are we done?,” he whines, once I’m done checking his back for any sort of imperfections. “I’m tired.”
I shrug, and shake my head. “I need to see your legs.”
Immediately, he goes tense. His eyes widen a little bit, and he sucks in his bottom lip. I guess he didn’t think I’d need to check down there. But that’s silly. Why wouldn’t I? He was in a hospital and I’m sure he’s used to this kind of routine. But then again…he’s really uneasy around strangers, and I guess I can understand why he’s looking at me like he doesn’t have a clue right now. “It’s okay,” I reassure him. “It’ll only take a second.”
Sadly, my words of reassurance only seem to freak him out more. “Don’t tell me what’s okay,” he says, through clenched teeth. “You don’t know what’s fucking okay, and what’s not.”
He’s shaking, and…god, I want to comfort him. I can’t though. I can’t because I know he’d never let me, and also because I’m fucking scared of getting too close to him right now. “Maybe not,” I agree. “But it’s my job to try and calm you down.”
“So I’m a whacko.” He lets out a shaky laugh and runs a trembling hand down the back of his neck. “Just say it. Say ‘Justin, you’re a psycho and I need to do my job so I can get the fuck away from you.’”
As far as getting Justin to open up goes, I think this is the closest I’ve gotten so far. He’s basically just confessed the level of his confidence to me, and that in itself is amazing. People like Justin hate to let others see how weak they are, because it makes them feel even weaker in the end. I try not to look shocked, but it’s not an easy task. “I wouldn’t call you a psycho, Justin,” I say calmly.
“Why not?,” he seethes. “You-you had no problem calling me a fag.”
Okay. I was really out of line calling him that. Obviously, the term ‘fag’ has a big impact on his feelings. I’m not going to dwell on it because I’m sure it has something to do with what happened to him, and I really don’t want to think about that kind of thing. It’s not my business, and I’d rather not be up nights thinking that something really terrible happened to him when he was abducted from that shopping center. Anyway, its not logical to think that way. People get kidnapped all the time, all over the world. He’s just got post traumatic stress, that’s all. I know people that go through something that deep react this way most of the time.
When I was in my second year of nursing school, a bunch of us were given an observation assignment in the psychiatric wing of a hospital. We got to see all sorts of cases, stemming from people who were physically abused, to rape victims. I can still remember the look on some of the their faces. They were so empty, so…lost. At the time, I couldn’t imagine what they were really feeling inside. All I knew was that their lives would never be the same, and I was thankful that nothing like that could ever happen to me. Looking at Justin now, I’m reminded of that very same expression. He has that same look in his eyes; afraid of the world, he wants to hide and never come out. He looks like somebody ran off with his soul. I can feel what he’s feeling. I know all too well what’s going through is mind…everyday. Jesus, maybe I’m out of line but, something happened to Justin. Something bad. It may have happened just before he was taken or…
Or maybe they did it to him.
“Melanie, are you hearing me? What the fuck is your problem?”
The fact that he called me by my name, shocks me back into reality. I shrug off my feelings about Justin…about his abduction. About…what may or may not have happened to him. I can’t dwell on that. Its not my business to know. I’m probably wrong anyway. “I hear you.” I look him in the eyes now.
I’m not wrong.
I’m not wrong because he looks just like I did once I was able to look myself in the eye again.
“I’m done with this bullshit. You’re violating my privacy, and I don’t have to deal with it!”
He tries to make a move for the doorway, but I block his path. I know he could easily shove me out of the way, but he doesn’t dare. I think he knows how bad the consequences could be if he laid a hand on me, and how disappointed his mom would be. Even so, I can feel myself start to tremble slightly. “Pants,” I huff. “Just do it, all right? I’m not in the mood to be a snitch today, Justin. And I’m sorry that I called you what I called you earlier. I was stressed.”
He crosses his arms and shakes his head roughly. His face is getting redder by the second, and I’m sure he’s only seconds away from completely breaking down. “You’re not sorry,” he chokes out. “None of you people are ever really sorry.”
“You can believe that if you want,” I tell him firmly, straightening myself a little. “But I know what I say is true.”
He stares at me. His eyes are a steely, intense blue. They’re cold and intimidating, but I can tell that they weren’t always that way. It’s amazing how well I can see through him. It’s scaring me.
“God…” He looks at the ceiling for a few moments, and then he finally starts to tug at the waistband of his sweats.
He’s in tears, but I don’t say anything as he pulls down his pants and rolls up the legs of his boxers. I know this is extremely difficult for him. Then I look…and I see it. There are scars all over his thighs…so many it makes me nauseated. I can’t even imagine how much pain he must have felt, doing that to himself. I lean in for a closer look, but I can already tell that the scars are old. I’m certain he didn’t cut himself tonight, and that he probably hasn’t for some time. I feel like shit, having to break him like this…but its not like it was my choice. “Okay, I’m satisfied,” I say, trying to keep the tremble out of my voice. “You’re free to go now.”
“Right.” He violently yanks his pants back up. “Now that you’re done fucking gawking at me. You get your laugh, Melanie? Gonna go tell the world that I’m a cut up nut case?”
“You know I wouldn’t.”
But he says nothing else to me. He walks briskly past me, and out of the bathroom. I know I still need to clean up the mess in the bedroom, so I have no choice but to follow him. He’s at the window again, just staring. I decide its better to just let him do that, and let him talk to me when he wants to. “I’m just going to get a garbage bag and a broom and things. I’ll clean up the mess and then I’ll leave you to do whatever it is you do.”
He bursts into tears.
I don’t even know what the hell I’m supposed to do right now. Because I…I can barely keep myself stable.
Only he doesn’t know that.
I go downstairs and gather the cleaning supplies as quickly as I can. Yeah, I know it’s not the best idea to leave a crying Justin alone in a room with sharp objects, but at this point…in some kind of sick fucked up way, I think I’ve gained his trust a little tiny bit. I don’t think he’d cut himself right now, even if he wanted to. When I get back to his bedroom, he’s still where I left him, just curled up on the floor now instead of leaning against the wall. His sobs are quiet, but his whole body is shaking like he’s about to explode. “Let me get you those pills, and you can take a nap…”
“I’m not taking those God damned pills!”
I get it, and that’s totally fine. “All right.” So I leave him to his crying, and I go about my cleaning, as if nothing is out of the ordinary. I know its weird…anybody else would have called the armed forces to haul him away by now. Not me though. No, not Melanie the Weirdo. Because Melanie the Weirdo knows exactly what’s going on in that fucked up mind of Justin Timberlake‘s.
And Melanie understands Justin Timberlake now. Probably better than anybody else in the world can.
*************************
“It’s gonna be fine.”
His cheesey smile is in my face and I try to force the same one for him, but I just can’t do it. I’m fucking scared, and I have no shame admitting it. When the alarm went off this morning I told him I wasn’t going, and so he yanked me out of bed. I couldn’t believe he was being so bold with me, but I guess that’s what I need these days: a good kick in the ass to get myself motivated and moving. I didn’t fuss. I figured that if Trace was this motivated to get me out of bed and off to my first day on the job then I should have been thankful and cooperated. It had been so long since I’d seen Trace so full of energy and happiness, that I didn’t want to break him of the mood. It made me feel good too. For a few moments I saw my best friend Trace as I remembered him. I had closed my eyes for a few minutes then…I could almost hear Justin coming down the hall asking what the hell was taking us so long…
Then I snapped out of it.
“Ker.”
“I know,” I give his hand a squeeze and manage a polite smile. “I…” I pause and look down at our hands. He’s laced his fingers through mine now, and I don’t try to pull away. “Thank you.” I look into his eyes and nod sincerely. “I’ve been impossible.”
He smirks a little and shakes his head. “We’ve all been impossible.”
I hug him, and try my best not to start crying. For one my makeup will run down my face, ruining any chance of a good impression, and I guess I don’t want Trace to see me cry this morning either. I’ve been good so far…and if I can make it out of this car and into the building without shedding a tear it will make me feel a hell of a lot better about myself. Maybe, it will even convince Trace that I don’t need to go see that shrink tomorrow afternoon. I mean, I know its not his life or anything, but I told him I’d go since he’d gone so far out of his way to find me work. I understand. He’s really worried about me, and hell I know I’m a mess. It might be good for me…might. I figure since I’ll be working now, it might relieve some of the tension I have about being around people, so going to talk to a shrink won’t be half as bad as I’ve always envisioned it. Deep down I know it’s the right thing to do. I need to get past all of this. It’s just stupid to dwell on it, and I know I don’t want to end up a wreck like Justin. I have a lot of potential to be successful in my life, and I only have one shot at life, so I need to make the best of it.
I really want to stop burdening Trace with my problems too. It’s probably the biggest reason I’m giving in so easily.
“Hey.” He curls his finger under my chin so I’m forced to look at him again. “You’re great. And you’re going to show them you’re great.”
I could be with him and not worry about being by myself for the rest of my life. He’ll always have feelings for me and he’ll always be willing to drop everything for me in a moments notice. To any other girl, it would be the ideal situation, but I can’t allow myself to open up to Trace that way. It’s not that I’m not attracted to him, I am. But it’s just weird, and I’m…it just confuses the hell out of me. I don’t want to fall into that trap again. I don’t want to be with somebody for security. If I do end up with somebody, I want it to be because we both like each other, we’re both attracted to each other, and we genuinely like spending time together. It’s wrong to keep somebody like Trace around as a security blanket, no matter how special he might make me feel at times…no matter how much shit he takes from me. I guess I might be forcing myself not to try things out with him for his sake. I know how crazy I can drive people. I know how much I can change them and make them hurt themselves…
And me.
I went in for my job interview two days ago and spoke with a guy named David Foster. He’s the president of the radio station. He seemed enthusiastic to hire me. Seemed. Too bad I could see right through his act. I’ve gotten really good at that…reading people. Justin taught me how. The entire time we were together he would coach me on how to read people. He would tell me how I would know if I could trust somebody, and how to tell if they were just trying to fuck me over. It’s probably the best thing I got out of him before he went psycho, because now I can tell when I’m being lied to. I can tell when somebody is trying to manipulate me. I didn’t tell Trace what I did at the interview. I knew it would make him angry. But I told that guy David. I told him I knew exactly what he was thinking, and if it was about me getting Justin to do some kind of radio promotion he could forget about it. He seemed sort of put off. I knew he hadn’t been expecting a hopeful intern to be so out of line. He even went so far to tell me that I was ‘parranoid’ and ‘I had a great resume’. He‘d said “I want you to be a part of my team, Kerri.”
He called me Kerri like he’d known me for years.
A big part of me wants to tell Trace all about it right now. I want to just tell him how fucking fake David Foster really is…what his intentions probably are. But I can’t do it. I don’t want to upset Trace, because I know he had to pull a lot of strings to get me this job. I’m tired of fucking up. I’m tired of being a little weak bitch who can’t do or think for herself. If I want to move forward, I’ll have to deal with a bastard like David Foster. That’s just life. It’s not a horror story. Asshole employers don’t only come along when you’ve been terrorized by a psycho. Actually, it’s probably the first normal thing that’s come into my life in a long time. I guess I should be thankful for that. I guess it’s a step in the right direction.
“When you get in there, ask for a girl named Tarin Somerville.” He smiles and shoves a folded piece of paper into my hand.
“Okay.“ I don’t read it. I don’t really care what it says at this point. I put it in my pocket.
“She’ll get you settled in,” he reassures me.
“Okay, Trace.” I turn to get out of the car.
“Hey.”
I sigh and look at him again. “Are you going to let me go in, or are you going to walk me inside like its my first day of kindergarten?”
He laughs. It’s completely genuine. Something I haven’t heard out of him in a long time. He’s…happy. Happy? The thought is unreal to me. “What…”
“Just let me enjoy this.”
I shoot him a confused look. “Enjoy what?”
“Your sarcasm. I’ve missed it.”
I stare at him, completely shocked. I don’t know what’s happening to him. Just a couple of days ago he was stressed out and moody, just like me. Now, you’d never know it. He has some color in his face, and his eyes are bright and happy. I guess he thinks things are going to be okay. I sit back and think. I guess…maybe they are? No…I can’t be so sure yet. I can’t let my guard down. The last time I did that I nearly got myself killed. Bad things happen when you have too much certainty. Very bad things.
“How about we go out tonight,” he suggests, cautiously. “You know, to celebrate and stuff.”
“Oh…I don’t think so, Trace. I’ll probably be tired. You know me.” I laugh nervously and look out the window. “We have food at home. You can cook me dinner.”
“Come on,” he whispers. “This is a new start, Kerrigan.”
I only look at him again because he’s trying so hard right now. “I can’t,” I blurt out, panicked.
“Why? What the hell is stopping you? Don’t let them do this to you, Kerri. They’re gone, they’re dead. You’re not, and neither am I.” He draws in a long breath, and stares me directly in the eyes. “We have to start living again. I…I want you back. I want to have fun with you again, Ker. I miss that girl.”
I pull away from him. “I’m not that girl, Trace. Not anymore---”
“You can be,” he persists.
His face is dangerously close to mine again. I…don’t like it. Fuck. Maybe I do. I’m terrible. I constantly contradict myself. “How? You just expect me to transform into this happy go lucky girl again, Trace. I--I can’t just do that! I’m not you.”
“I know you,“ he tells me. “I know what happened sucked, but I know you Kerri. I know somewhere inside of you, you’re still the same girl I’ve always known. You just have to let yourself go. You have to allow yourself to heal.” He grabs my face in his hands and smooths my cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m not going to let you just sit around and waste away, when there‘s a whole world out there waiting for you.”
I know he cares about me, but I hate it when he tries to pressure me into doing things like this with him. I know he’s bored. I know he wants to go out and have some fun for a fucking change. I’d let him go out too. I really don’t care about sitting home alone anymore. I don’t want to keep anybody from having a good time. But I know Trace wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t be able to go out and have a good time, knowing that I was sitting home by myself. It frustrates me. I feel like he’s always living his life for me, and that’s not his place at all. With a heavy sigh, and a few more moments of hesitation, I finally decide that it might do me some good to go out for a nice dinner. Nothing too extravagant, just a nice simple dinner. I think maybe it would be relaxing…take some stress off of my mind. Having somebody else waiting on me would be a pleasant change. Even Elisha said it would do me some good to get out once in a while. It’s a good idea. It’s good for me.
“Dinner,” I say, hesitantly. “A nice, quiet din---”
“That’s great!,” he exclaims, before I can finish. He plants a long, hard kiss on my cheek and I’m pretty speechless. “You’re gonna have a great time, Kerri. I’ll find a nice place and make a reservation while you’re at work today.”
“Nothing fancy,” I plead with him. “Just a nice quiet place, where we can talk and stuff. No clubs, no loud music or anything.”
“Sure.” But the giddy smile on his face is telling me he hasn’t heard a thing I’ve just said.
“Trace, promise me.” I yank on his hand. “I..I don’t want to be nervous when I go out. You know I hate that.”
“Geez, I promise,” he says, with a roll of his eyes. “Just relax. You know I’m good at organizing things.”
I shake my head, but I can’t help but smile. I just…I can’t be annoyed with him. He’s too special. He does too much, and he goes out of his way for no other reason except that he cares about me. “All right.”
“Have a good day,” he tells me, as I open the door. “If you run into an issue just call me.”
The last thing I want to do my first day on the job, is go crying to Trace if somebody pisses me off. The thought never even crossed my mind, up until now. Suddenly, I want to slap that stupid goofy smile off of his face. I can’t believe he would even insinuate that I would want to call him, like he was my father or something. “I’m not completely helpless you know,” I say quietly. “I was actually going to try and make it through the day on my own.”
“Could you stop being so damn defensive.” He slouches down in his seat and shakes his head. “I was just trying to help.”
“You want to know how you can help me, Trace.” I close the door and lean down to poke my head through the open window.
“Of course.”
“Find something to do today, that has nothing to do with me.”
His brow furrows, and he looks at me, bewildered. “Huh?”
“I’ll make a deal with you,” I offer. “I’ll go to dinner with you tonight, if you show me proof that you took a step to better your own life in some way while I was at work. Otherwise, I’ll just stay home and you can go to dinner by yourself.“
“That’s not even right,” he mutters. “That’s not fair.”
“Why?,” I scoff. “You’re always pushing me to be better, and you just put your life on hold. That’s not fair to you Trace. It’s not fair to me either. If you want me to better myself, you have to work on yourself too. Otherwise there’s no point in any of this.”
I think what I’ve just proposed has shocked him. I know Trace tends to forget about himself most of the time, that he has needs of his own. That he’s hurting inside just as much as me. I think what I’ve just said is fair. If anything, my idea can only help him, and that’s a good thing. It’s a step in the right direction. And for once since this whole thing began, it was actually my idea. I’m kind of proud of myself. I’m even smiling. Damn…I feel…I feel good.
And Trace is smiling now.
“I love you, Kerri,” he says.
“Yeah I know,” I chuckle. “Now get the hell out of here.”
“Five o’clock?” He starts up the car and starts to pull away from the curb. “I’ll be out here waiting for you.”
I nod. “Bye.”
“You’re gonna be great!,” he calls out to me, and honks as he drives away.
I stare after him, until the blue BMW has disappeared over the horizon. “I hope so,” I whisper. “I really do.” I turn around and face the building. This is it. From this point on I’ll be heading to this same spot every morning, until something better comes along of course. There are two young girls standing outside the doorway, smoking cigarettes. They whisper to each other as I walk past them. I don’t try to make friends. I can already sense the politics in this place are ass backwards, but I’ll deal. I can deal with anything. I know I can.
Justin taught me that too.
Ten minutes later the elevator dings and the polished silver doors open . I step out into a simple looking hallway. A big sign straight ahead reads: KISS FM: LA’s #1 Hit Music Station!. I used to foam at the mouth at the thought of working at a place like this. Now I have the opportunity of a lifetime and I think I’d rather be back at the condo hiding in my dark bedroom. At least there, nobody would pester me about my past…who I know…
I turn the corner just like I did the other day when I was here. I pass the picture frame lined walls. I didn’t bother to look at the pictures when I came to the interview, I think I was too jittery. But now I can’t help but steal a glance. I see dozens of celebrities posed with the big radio personalities that work here. The Backstreet Boys, Gwen Stefani, Britney Spears, DMX, P. Diddy…
And of course, the very last picture at the end of the corridor has to be Justin.
Or is it?
This Justin is completely different from the one that beat me to a pulp more than three months ago. He’s happy. He’s smiling his cocky smile, his arm around a pretty young woman with reddish brown hair and hazel eyes. He thinks he’s on top of the world. Hell, he is. And oh, this Justin has forgotten all about Kerri Donovan. He’s too concerned about his big solo debut to think about how lonely she is without him. It’s okay though. She wont speak to him ever again. Well, until she’s forced to fly home with him. Then, when things are supposed to get better, they’ll only get worse. I feel like ripping the fucking thing off the wall and hurling it across the room. I hate him.
He’s still smiling at me.
“Are you lost or something?”
I jump and whirl around when I hear the voice behind me. I come face to face with a girl who can’t possibly be much older than myself, but by the cocky expression on her face I can already tell that she thinks she’s better than everybody who works here. She’s about an inch taller than I am, her curly black hair reaches just down past her shoulders, and her piercing green eyes send me an icy glare through her thin glasses. “No,” I mutter. “I’m just coming into work.”
“You’re an intern,” she tells me, sort of disgusted.
I shrug. “For now.”
“Interns were supposed to start an hour ago.” She narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t tell me its your first day,” she mutters. “You should know better.”
I really hope she knows who she’s dealing with… Wait? What am I thinking? I can’t be like this. As far as she’s concerned, I have no connections. I got here on pure luck. That’s what I plan on telling anybody who doesn’t know my situation with Trace anyway. “Probably. But I was running late.”
She narrows her eyes at me, and sends me a cold little smile. “I know who you are,” she whispers. “And you better not think you’re going to get by with your little connections. When the schedule says be here at eight, you better be here at eight. Otherwise, oh…I don’t know. I’ll get your ass tossed out.” With a little giggle, she continues on down the hallway.
I can’t do anything else but stare after her. I have no idea who she is or why she seems to hate me so much. All I know is that I’m not going to get along with her at all. I start to wonder how many people in this place are like her. How many people know about Trace, Justin, and I? How many people have already judged me before even getting to know me? Christ, even that S.O.B David probably has some stupid ass opinion about me. Not that I care what he thinks, but still. Damn, maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe I should have just gone with my gut and kept looking…but no. No then I’d just be angry, and Trace would be angry. Right. This was the right choice, and I’m just going to have to tough it out and show people that I’m not some money grubbing little hussy like all these fucking tabloids have made me out to be.
I refuse to let that bitch get me down on my first day. With my head held high I turn the corner and come to a large area with several desks at each angle of the room The largest being in the center. It looks like the station’s call center, and I’m sure this is where I’ll be spending most of my time. I glance around, and my gaze finally lands on a young woman seated behind the main console area. She has short reddish brown hair, and when she finally looks up at me I immediately recognize her from the picture I saw of Justin. Oh no…not another one.
“Hi, there.” She doesn’t smile. I can tell just by looking at her how business oriented she is. She’s not here to deal with all the bullshit like the other bimbos that work here. She’s here to work, to get ahead…to make a career out of this. Maybe she’s just the person I need to be hanging around. I guess I just have to hope she’s not going to be judgemental and give me a chance.
“Hi. I’m looking for um…Tarin Somerville,” I say nervously. “Do you know when she’ll be in or…”
She stares at me for a few moments. Then she puts her hands behind her head and leans back in her computer chair. “Kerri right?”
“Yes,” I say uneasily.
“I’m Tarin.” She still doesn’t smile. “Trace praised you to the moon and back. You must be some kind of god send.”
I don’t really know what to make of this girl. She seems nice enough I guess, but on the other hand it seems she doesn’t like that Trace got me a job here. He didn’t tell me anything about her except that he knew her from the radio station and she was going to get me set up. I wish he told me more about how well he knew her, but I guess all that doesn’t matter right now. Right now, I just have to focus on proving myself. “I wouldn’t say that,” I shrug. “We’re just…close.”
She nods and leans forward, putting the chair upright again. “Well, just don’t use your connections to try and fit in around here. People don’t like it, and the ones that pretend they do are just trying to get something out of you.” She focuses on her computer screen and clicks the mouse around a few times, before something starts to print. “You have to fill out a few things, and then I’ll show you around the office. You’ll have a set schedule. It’s Monday through Saturday eight to five, and you might have to work an event or two some Sundays depending on what we have going on. The pay is about seven dollars an hour, but Trace said money wasn’t really an issue…” She frowns. “Anyway, here you go.”
She holds out the papers and I take them from her. “I just want you to know I’m not here to show off or anything,” I say quietly. “I’m just trying to move forward with my life.”
She shrugs. “Prove it.”
I can tell already, moving forward with my life isn’t going to be as stress free as I thought. I’d call Trace, as he instructed me, but that would only kill both of our spirits. But…I don’t think Tarin dislikes me. I think she’s just being cautious. I’m sure she knows all about me, and she probably doesn’t know what to think. That picture in the lobby of her and Justin made it more than obvious that they were acquaintances once upon a time. I can understand why she would feel weird around me. At least she gave me fair warning about what I should look out for. In a way I guess I should be thankful, and use her advice to my advantage.
There’s really not much else I can do.
I sit down and reach into my pocket for the pen I shoved there before I left the house this morning. Not only do I pull it out, but the piece of paper Trace crammed into my hand falls out onto the floor as I do so. I roll my eyes and bend down to pick it up, only to realize that it’s been addressed to Tarin. Actually it says ‘Give me to Tarin’. I probably should just give it to her, but…I can’t help but wonder it says. After all, this is Trace and his business might as well be mine too. I glance up at Tarin, thinking for whatever reason that she’ll yell at me if she catches me reading it. But she’s focused on the computer screen in front of her, oblivious to the fact that I’m even here. I carefully unfold the paper, and allow my eyes to scan the hastily scribbled words.
Thanks for this. She’s a great girl, she just needs some direction and I know you have it in you to show her the way.
It’s not that I don’t miss you, I do. The other day I wasn’t myself. Let’s do something on the weekend.. I think I’m up for it. Call me, you have the number.
Trace
Apparently, Trace and Tarin are more than just acquaintances as well. I shouldn’t be mad that he never mentioned her to me. There’s no reason for me to be. We’re just friends, after all. But even so…I can’t help but feel that he’s bored with me or something. Oh god..I’m such an insecure idiot. Just give her the note Kerri…
And I do.
“Trace wanted me to give this to you.” I hand her the piece of paper that I so carefully refolded, to avoid any suspicion.
“Oh…” The smallest fragment of a smile creeps up on her face, but quickly vanishes the moment she senses that I’ve noticed. “Thanks.”
“Sure.”
I go back to my chair and pretend to look over my documents again. I steal a glance at her as she reviews the note I’ve just handed her. This time there’s no question. She’s smiling like a fucking idiot.
It shouldn’t matter.
But it does.
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Story Tags: justinandtrace
