Chapter 16 Interview Time #2
I think even Vivian knew how cheesy her response was.
She looked too trained, too perfect. It was almost sad, like she didn’t trust herself to just be a person and act sincere.
Jack, though… Jack was a different story.
He grinned uncomfortably, thought the question over, and started to speak, and I could just imagine Joey fainting as he watched him in the wings.
“Honestly,” he said, “my life hasn’t changed much. I’ve still got the same friends, I still live in the same place, I’m still writing scripts like before…really, everything’s the same.”
The presenter smiled, and I breathed a sigh of relief. “How interesting. So what do your friends think about this new aspect of your life? Have they seen your film?”
Everyone tensed up, and Naya and Will looked back and forth at each other. Was it because of me? Because I was the only one who hadn’t seen it?
“Most of them have.” Jack cleared his throat. “They liked it. But that’s all, I don’t have some sort of moving story to tell you about it. The joke people like to make is everyone took it for granted that my first movie would be horror. Nobody expected me to do romance.”
“A tragic romance, you mean,” the interviewer corrected him, looking interested. “That’s something numerous people have remarked on. This sort of dark air that’s always enveloping the characters. Do you have anything to say about that?”
Vivian looked like she was grinding her teeth. Jack turned serious. “Not every love story has a fairytale ending. I’m trying to be a realist here.”
“Are you saying there are no happy love stories?” the presenter asked.
“In real life?” Jack responded. “Not many.”
The interviewer narrowed his eyes. “I wonder if you’re speaking from experience?”
Vivian burst in, and to tell the truth, I was glad she did: “What Ross means is that happy stories are nice, but they’re not the only stories we can tell. Sad stories deserve to be told, too.”
The audience seemed to agree. As for Jack…
I couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He was leaning forward, his chin resting on his fist while his other hand clutched his glass.
Vivian looked over, trying to catch his eye.
She was clearly trying to throw him a lifeline, but it was futile.
The presenter knew this could blow up, and he was perfectly happy to let that happen.
“Interesting,” he said. “Do you agree, Ross? Do you think tragic stories deserve to be told? I’m asking because we all know you’ve been off the scene these past few months, and maybe there’s a story there you’d like to tell us? ”
I was frozen, as were my roommates. I don’t know how Jack managed it, but he didn’t give anything away. Only those who really knew him would have noticed the change in his expression. “There’s nothing to tell there,” he said. “I had a family member who was sick. Someone I had to take care of.”
“Were you aware of this, Vivian?” the presenter asked.
“Of course. Ross and I are close. I was by his side the whole time.”
As the crowd said oooooh and Jack and Vivian relaxed and the conversation turned to other subjects, I realized what those words had concealed: I hadn’t been able to visit Jack in rehab, and Vivian had been going the entire time.
Will, Sue, and Naya all looked like they were deliberately avoiding eye contact with me. Did they know? Had they understood her words the way I had? I couldn’t tell. They all kept eating in silence as Will flicked through the channels.
A few minutes later, Sue walked off to her room.
Naya and Will started smooching, then disappeared as well.
I tried to get a grip on how I felt. It wasn’t as if he’d said he was in love with her.
But he had admitted that when the going got tough, he had wanted her in his life and not me.
And that had a weird sting to it. A kiss, a hookup…
those were things that happened. But trusting someone…
did that mean he didn’t trust me? The thought scared me, because I already had a hidden fear that we would never get back the level of faith in each other we’d had when our relationship began. And now, he had almost confirmed it.
Was I angry with him? Did I have reason to be?
I was asking myself this obsessively when Mike got home.
He was twirling the keys on his finger and they took off flying, striking a glass on the bar.
As he ran over to try and save it, he realized I was there and said, “Did you see that save? Just like a ninja. Admit you were impressed.”
“Very,” I responded. “That’s why I didn’t manage to say anything.”
Mike flopped down next to me, completely oblivious to my mood, threw an arm around me, and pulled me close to him. His raggedy T-shirt was full of holes, and his Bermuda shorts looked like something from a thrift shop. “Good to see you, sister-in-law!”
“What is it?” I asked. “You only ever act this way when you want something.”
“Ouch. That hurts. And it’s not true, anyway, or not really. I was just wondering if you might give up the rest of the couch. I’m beat, I’m basically sleepwalking. I mean, you could share it with me if you like, far be it from me to repress a lady’s desires.”
“No thanks,” I said.
But I didn’t make it up before Jack walked in, dragging his feet just as when he’d left.
He didn’t look especially happy to see me.
Mike, rambunctious as usual, told him how he’d seen him on the television and had said to himself, Jeez, that’s my brother.
“I forget sometimes you’re actually famous now. ”
Jack ignored him. I don’t know what expression he had on his face—I was resting my chin on my knees, turned away from him—but when he told me, “Jen, let’s go to the bedroom and talk,” I was sure I could hear the guilt in his voice.
Of course, I wanted to say yes—I wanted to know what was going on—but I also wasn’t in the mood for a serious talk, especially one where I might get hurt. Not that night. So I said, “Why don’t you go ahead? I’m not really tired.”
I didn’t mean that to sound angry, but I was sure it did. Jack groaned and said, “Come on. Please.”
I didn’t like to be ordered around, but I was also embarrassed to be doing this in front of Mike, who stood, to his credit, and said, “Look, guys, it seems like something’s up with you all, so I’m going to beat it and let you talk in peace.”
“Don’t worry about it, Mike, we’re good,” I said, and got up to follow Jack to his room. Mike shrugged, flopped down, and closed his eyes. Once we’d shut the door behind us, I took my time choosing my pajamas and Jack walked around to the front of the bed, crossing his arms.
“Listen, before you scream at me…”
“Jack,” I said, “you should ask yourself if that’s really how you want to start this.
If you truly think it’s a good idea to start this conversation with the suggestion that I’m the one being irrational when I just had to find out on a goddamn TV program that she got to go see you and I didn’t.
Think about how that made me feel. Do you not trust me?
Because otherwise, I really don’t get it. ”
I could feel myself flushing from head to toe.
He didn’t want me to get defensive? Well fine, I’d go on the offense.
Jack tried to tell me I was jumping to conclusions, but I spoke over him, raising my voice: “What was the phrase you used: No more secrets, I promise? What happened to that? And another thing: how would you feel if the tables were turned? You nearly lost your damned mind when Curtis came over here, and I’ve only ever seen him outside of class a handful of times!
How in the hell do you think I feel knowing she was there? ”
“It’s not the same,” he said. And before I could start yelling again, he added, “Vivian knows what it means to go through this. You don’t!”
My heart was pounding, and I was almost scared.
I hadn’t expected things to get so heated so quickly.
Frustrated, Jack ran his hand through his hair.
I had two options: I could get even angrier and start a screaming match, which was tempting, or I could be an adult and try to restore peace, which was boring.
“Maybe that’s true,” I said, drawing a breath, “but does that mean I didn’t have the right to be there and support you?”
“It’s not that easy.”
“What do you mean, it’s not that easy? It’s not that easy to put me on a list, come out and see me, and let me lend you a hand? What the hell do you think it feels like, knowing everyone got to go see you there but me?”
“Jen, dammit, listen to me! Rehab isn’t some cakewalk! It gets ugly in there! I got ugly in there! I said some nasty things to people, things I still regret, and I didn’t want to do that to you. You can’t imagine the person I became. And I didn’t want…”
“Jack, listen to me.” I walked over to him, cradled his face in my hands, and looked at the little green flecks in his chestnut-brown eyes, which were sadder than I’d ever seen them.
“Let’s get one thing straight. I need you to believe—I need you to stop everything right now and believe—that I’m not going to turn around and run off every time you do something wrong.
OK? Because I won’t. Never. I’m with you.
I’m here. And I’m not going to leave. What can I do to get you to understand that? ”
He mumbled, “It’s not you, Jen. It’s just…”
“Whatever.” It was time to put the issue to bed.
“It’s fine. You didn’t tell me. It is what it is.
I hid things from you before, I wish you hadn’t hidden this from me, but I’ll deal with it, it hurts, but we’ll get past it.
She’s your friend, so I’ll try to… I don’t know…
get along with her or whatever. If it will make things easier, I mean. ”
I tried to smile reassuringly, but I couldn’t manage it when I saw his expression, which had changed from nervous to…cautious? Oh no.