Chapter Thirty-Two
Thirty-Two
Lucy
The car ride back to Jaylen’s apartment is so quiet that not even the sound of the radio can drown out the silence. I sit on my words, holding my breath until I’m red in the face and white at the knuckles. I dig through the glove compartment in search of some chewing gum. If I don’t occupy my mouth, I’m afraid of what might come out of it.
Sitting on top of the owner’s manual and a stack of fast casual restaurant napkins is a stick of women’s deodorant. I snatch it up and confront Jaylen on impulse.
“Whose is this?” I ask. The girls in the bathroom were right. He is a player, and I just found incriminating evidence.
“It’s mine. Women’s deodorant works better. You can use it if you want,” he says, only glancing over momentarily to see what I’m holding.
“I’m fine. I put some on before I left my apartment.” I shove the deodorant back in the glove box and drop it for approximately one second before deciding that I’m not ready to let it go. “Let me see your armpit,” I demand.
“What?”
“Let me smell it.” I lean over, lifting Jaylen’s arm and taking a big whiff. “Okay, it’s women’s deodorant.” I settle back into my seat with my arms in a knot across my chest.
“Is everything okay?” Jaylen’s grip on the steering wheel tightens as his body tenses up.
“Are you a player?” I decide that I need to know, no matter how much the answer will hurt me. If he’s incapable of loving anything other than hockey, then what’s the point of telling him that I’m moving to LA? He doesn’t have to wait until after the playoffs to dump me; he can get it over with right here, right now.
“Yes, forward. Center if you want to be specific. Think of me as the distributor…” Jaylen begins to mansplain hockey to me.
By now, I’ve watched enough hockey to not only know what his role is, but to know when he isn’t doing it properly. “That’s not what I mean. Are you incapable of loving anything other than hockey?” I interrupt.
“I love you. You know I love you. Where is this coming from? Did I do something tonight?”
We stop at a red light, giving Jaylen the opportunity to look over at me. I’m straining my face, eyebrows pinched, as I gnaw at the inside of my cheek like chewing gum. His gentle eyes disarm my tough exterior, and I confess what transpired in the bathroom. “No, I overheard some of the girls in the bathroom tonight talking about you.”
“Well, what do they know? They don’t know me. I certainly don’t remember all of their names, I’ll tell you that much.” He chuckles.
“It was Hannah.”
Jaylen’s laughter dries up and his Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps. “I’m not sure why she would say that. Last week I told Wells how excited I was to bring you back to Chicago with me this summer.”
“Let’s drop it.” I feel stupid for getting caught up in my own insecurities. I know I have to tell him about LA, but I don’t know how. With my arms wrapped around my own body in a tight embrace, I watch the city speed by. The silence consumes the conversation for the rest of the drive back to Jaylen’s apartment.
* * *
In Jaylen’s closet, he helps me unzip the back of my dress, and I slip it off my shoulders, sending it to the floor in a pool around my feet. He averts his eyes away from my body like he’s avoiding me as he changes into comfy clothes. I pull on an oversize shirt and help him unclasp the gold chain from around his neck. It’s a tiny moment of intimacy that sends a twist of guilt into my consciousness.
We’re face-to-face, inches from each other, when he grabs onto my waist, stopping me before I can pull away. “Listen to me for a second. Hockey was always the only thing I had room for in my life, but that was before I met you. I didn’t think someone could fit into my life. I never felt like I had the space for it. This whole time I was saving that space for you. I’ve been waiting for you,” he says.
My grip on his chain releases, and the necklace drops to the floor. I stumble back, struggling to breathe like I’ve been punched in the gut. His fierce display of love sends me into a panic.
“I’m moving to LA.” My confession comes out as a whisper. There was probably a better way to tell him the news than blurting it out, but I didn’t trust myself to keep it in any longer. I was bordering on making the move and texting him as I touch down in LAX.
“I don’t understand.” Jaylen looks at me, waiting for answers. I already know mine will disappoint.
“The apprenticeship with Hunter Gunn is in LA.”
His confusion turns into elation, and he reaches out to rub my arm. “You got it? That’s amazing!” His face sours as he realizes what that means for us. “Wait, why didn’t you tell me it was in LA?” He’s hardly mad. He’s acting like I accidentally forgot to grab milk on my way home.
“This job was a long shot for me. When it started to become a possibility, I didn’t know how to bring it up,” I say, turning away.
“You moving to LA isn’t ideal, but you can still come visit me in Chicago this summer. And I’ll go visit you when I can. Between FaceTime and texting, I’m sure we can figure it out. I mean, it’s just an apprenticeship. You’ll move back to Seattle in a year once it’s done.” There is so much enthusiasm in his voice. His confidence is irritating; it’s like he’s used to things working out for him.
He has no idea what I’ve gone through to get this opportunity. If he knew what it meant to me, he would never diminish it like this; he’s acting like I’m going away to summer camp. Like my career is juvenile and temporary.
“Just an apprenticeship?!” I cock my head back, his unsavory comments warranting the crazed look in my eyes. “It’s my career. There’s no moving back once it’s done.”
A tattoo apprenticeship can last anywhere from a year to three years. By then I’ll have established a clientele, a reputation at the shop, and a life in LA.
I leave him standing alone in the closet with the dumbfounded look painted on his face as I stumble back into his room hoping to hide under the heavy duvet. I’d much rather be crushed by a million duck feathers than continue this suffocating conversation.
“Hold up. Since when are you moving away and never coming back? Don’t you think this is the type of thing we should discuss together?” He follows me into the bedroom.
“Apprenticeships are hard to get. I always knew there was a possibility that I would have to move away for my career. This is why I didn’t want to get into anything serious. You’re the one who kept pressuring me to be your good-luck charm.” Heat rises to the tips of my ears.
“Oh, so it’s my fault. I tricked you into falling in love with me.”
“That’s not what I mean,” I say under my breath. I slump down on his bed, my head hitting the pillow just in time to close my eyes and release the built-up tears. They stream down my cheeks onto the silk pillowcases I gifted Jaylen for Valentine’s Day because they’re softer for his curly hair.
“Lucy, I don’t love the fact that you kept this from me, but I also would never want to be the reason you turn down an opportunity like this. We can make it work. Go for the apprenticeship and then we can talk about what our future together looks like after that. Even if you’re in LA, we should at least try to make our relationship work.” I feel his weight hit the end of the bed as he plops down near my feet.
“Athletes are good at motivational pep talks, and apparently even better at having a fun offseason.” I turn on my side away from him. I pull the heavy covers over my head. He can’t talk me out of this; I won’t let him.
“Is this about what Hannah said?” Jaylen asks, tugging on the bedding. “Will you talk to me?” His voice shakes.
“I’m going to sleep.” My voice is muffled as I hide my face.
“You don’t get to be mad at me right now. If anyone gets to be mad, it should be me. Not only did you not tell me about moving to LA permanently, but now you won’t even talk about a long-distance relationship. Why can’t you accept that you’ve changed my life and I want you in it forever?” he says, his voice pleading. It’s a heartbreaking Hail Mary.
I snap out of my failed attempt at an early bedtime. I throw the blanket off my body and hop out with a newfound jolt of energy. I barge into the bathroom, angered by the guilt he’s feeding me. I’m already too full of it myself. Jaylen’s quick to get to his feet, following me into the bathroom.
“I’m not your manic pixie dream girl! I have my own life to live. I can’t hang around, following you and your career. Especially when you don’t even know where you’re going to end up playing next season. This is my dream and I need to chase it,” I say leaning over the sink, splashing water on my face.
“What the hell is a manic pixie dream girl? We don’t all have a liberal arts community college degree with a minor in women’s studies.”
I face him with water dripping from my chin. “It was queer theory! You’re trying to make me feel bad about taking this job. You’re an asshole,” I say, toweling off.
“And you’re a coward.”
We may know how to love each other, but that means we know how to hurt each other too. The words escape our mouths before we have time to process the inevitable: we are having our first fight as a couple. Even though I know it’s happening, I can’t stop myself from engaging. I can’t walk away. I can’t back down.
“You think because you stood up to my dad that suddenly you know what’s best for me?” I look up at him through a raging glare, meeting him in the door frame. Resentment bubbles in my stomach. The cracks in my tough exterior threaten to give under the threat of vulnerability.
“No, of course not. I thought we were a team and now you’re bailing on us.” His voice breaks getting the words out.
My bottom lip quivers. I’m seven years old at the top of the Seattle Great Wheel and I can’t breathe. When did I become unreliable and unreasonable like my dad?
“I should leave. I have to leave.” My voice trembles. I know how ridiculous I sound. I’m standing here in nothing but his oversize T-shirt and my underwear. My toothbrush is lying on his bathroom counter, my half-finished book is propped open on his nightstand table saving my page, the yogurt I like is stocked in his fridge, and my Pepto-Bismol is stored in the cabinet above the sink. I can stomp out of his apartment as dramatically as I want, but I will remain.
“Don’t.” Jaylen reaches for my arm, but I recoil from his touch.
“I need some time to think about what I want to do.” I fidget with the hem of my shirt. I hold my stare up toward the ceiling to prevent more tears from falling down my face.
“Sure. I’ll make us some popcorn and I’ll dissolve your mela-tonin in the hot tea how you like it. After a good night’s sleep we can come back to this tomorrow morning and figure it all out.” Jaylen heads into the kitchen and rummages through a cabinet for tea bags.
I follow him, stopping in the doorway. “No, Jay. I need some space to myself to think about this. And you’re not an asshole. You’re a great guy—to a fault even. I think I’m the asshole,” I say, fighting back tears. With a deep breath, I gather myself enough to grab my dress and slip on some pants.
“Lucy,” he calls for me.
I hug my crumpled-up dress like a child clinging to their beloved stuffed animal, desperate to be soothed.
“I love you, but you’re being cowardly. You can’t keep doing this sometimes-y bullshit with me. I’m willing to be there for you, no matter the distance. If you walk out on us right now, then I know you wouldn’t do the same for me.” Jaylen is emotionless. I’ve never seen him so despondent.
I don’t say anything; there’s nothing left to say. Instead, I do the only thing I know.
I leave.