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JPOV
“No, you’re not,” are the first words out of Chuck’s mouth.
I gape, dumbfounded as he dismisses the admission I’ve struggled with, agonized over for years. Three little words that he thinks will negate who I am.
The family ignores him.
“How long have you known, dear?” My mother’s voice is careful, and I can hear the hurt she’s trying to hide – hurt that I have kept something so important from her.
“My whole life,” I answer quietly.
My father clears his throat. When I look over, he nods at me.
“What’s wrong?” Emily’s confusion is plain. “He’s still Jazz.”
My fingers fly over the keys as I grin, typing out my response to the question in the darkness of my dorm room. The dim light of the monitor casts my roommate’s face in shadow.
He doesn’t know about me. No one does… no one except Paul, on the other side of the country. Paul, who has become my refuge and my solace, my source of acceptance and love during our late-night chats.
I take a deep breath, trying to still my racing heart as I stare at the screen.
PatsFan214: Can I come see you next month?
I tremble.I hang my shirts in the closet, smiling at the room he’s left me. The shelf overhead is piled high with sweaters he bought for me because he knew I wouldn’t have any, moving to Boston from Texas.
When I walk back into the bedroom, he is there, sitting on the edge of his king sized bed – our bed. My cheeks heat at the memory of the times we’ve been together. I still can’t believe he’s real and I'm here.
He opens his arms to me, and I cross the room, kicking my boots under the bed, where they’ll stay.
Four months. Seventeen weeks that I’ve been here, cooking him breakfast and serving him dinner. He works long hours while I only have classes to attend, so I’ve taken on the brunt of housework.
I’m happy to do it.
He makes my heart flutter and my life brighten when he’s looking at me.
But so often lately, he’s not. He looks right past me, his eyes sliding over me like I’m not even as interesting as the furniture. I don’t know what to do.
I can’t lose him.
So I put on a smile and ask if he wants coffee.
The quilt is pulled up around my chin, held as tightly as my eyes are clenched shut. I will not cry. Not anymore.
Not again.
The hush of the living room of this foreign apartment is deafening. I met Eric only today, and I barely know Mike, swallowing my pride to call him as I needed somewhere to go – anywhere.
I ache. I long for something I know, for the familiar comfort of my own pillow.
The refuge of his strong arms.
But he cast me away like I was so much trash, just another broken couch on the sidewalk.
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Happy Birthday, Beth!
Much love,
SorceressCirce
Posts
What a depressing look into Jasper's past. Aside from his folks having no major objections to his lifestyle choice, this post kind of made me sad. Despite the unhappy outnumbering the blissful times, it was well-written and concise (which I love since it leaves so much to the imagination). Great job.
ReplyDeleteI know...I told naelany I wrote a horribly depressing birthday gift :P I'm glad you enjoyed it anyway, bb :)
ReplyDeleteExplains some about the rejection Jasper felt from Paul. To think he moved across country to be with and live with him. Such a short time in the relationship for Paul's feelings to change. Luckily Eric and Mike were there for support. Not sure why I'm not getting alerts for updates??
ReplyDeletedoes begin to explain a bit about poor Jasper's reactions to things, huh ;-)
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ReplyDeleteThanks for the glimpse into Jasper's past. I want to punch Paul in the junk and hold Jasper for the remainder of the evening. I can haz him?? Just for 1 night? Pretty please?
ReplyDeleteOh my goodness. Poor sweet Jasper. No wonder he is so lost in his fear of the good becoming the bad. He thought Paul was his refuge, accepting of who he was, and ready to give him all his love. He moved across the country to a strange city only to have it blow up, and be alone and afraid. Poor sweet Jasper...*sigh*
ReplyDeletexoxo, Jezzy
The progression from Out to Harbor is so heartbreaking. Jasper is so much better off with Edward.
ReplyDelete