Chapter 14 Here Comes the Sun
Here Comes the Sun
Jude didn’t stay long. I may be groggy when I wake up, but I’m not a sound sleeper. I get stuck between dreaming and awake, but I still hear everything.
He put his plate in the dishwasher. The couch sank, and I felt him next to me for a minute. I heard a muffled swear, then I think he stroked my hair and kissed my head. Then the room felt empty, and I knew he was gone.
I wake up to “Here Comes the Sun” blaring at an obnoxious volume from my phone on the coffee table at who-knows-what time from the alarm I did not set for myself. I reach to turn it off and roll myself to the floor with all the grace of a drunk baby giraffe.
Is the table farther from the couch than it was last night? I squint, looking up from the floor. This feels intentional. Point goes to Jude Daniel. “We don’t keep score” my butt.
I’m awake now. It’s utterly disrespectful how smart he is.
I crawl a couple of feet to my phone. Message previews run down the screen, causing my heart rate to tick up as I tap wildly to turn off the music in an uncaffeinated blur.
I didn’t check on anyone last night. What if someone needed me and I was curled up asleep?
Especially in the incriminating position I found myself in.
Jude Daniel (Take a Sad Song and Make it Sexy) Crawford: Working daytime office hours for a while, so I may not see you much. Text if you need me. I saw that message when I set your alarm. Not ok. One of us will handle it. I took the last pie. Love ya Punk.
What message? From Nathan? What does handle it mean?
And which one of us is he speaking of? Me or him or one of the guys?
Because that’s a hard no. Nathan would lose his mind.
He’s jealous of any person I have contact with, male or female, past or present.
Yes, I have roller skated all over the boundary lines lately, because I’m tired of trying to do everything on my own, but if he meant one of them would talk to Nathan, that won’t solve anything. It’ll only make him more hostile.
I need to see what he said. I start scrolling back through the last few messages. They’re not bad compared to some things he’s said before. Just accusing me of being unsupportive and a spoiled brat who doesn’t understand adult responsibilities. He had one of his “some people” rants.
“Some people have to work and don’t have time to hang out in coffee shops or pretend to be in a band.
Some people’s lives aren’t perfect. Some people have bills to pay and families to take care of, so you better grow up and get some priorities …
” Blah, blah, blah. It was sprinkled with more colorful adjectives, but that was the gist of it.
He makes me feel bad about any good thing in my life, and the weight I feel every time we speak has become unbearable. I don’t know how to get out. I’ve told so many people that I believe in forgiveness and not holding someone’s past against them, but the present is a bigger problem than the past.
I feel physically sick at the thought of going back on a commitment, but staying trapped under Nathan’s rules for the rest of my life …
I can’t live like this. I don’t know what I’m trying to accomplish here anymore.
Sam said if the jacket doesn’t fit, take it off.
I wish it were that easy. This jacket is lined with metal spikes and broken glass.
The other messages are from my mom asking if I am coming home this weekend and Annie from last night saying she helped the guys unload and was already in bed, but she locked the door since she didn’t know how late I’d be with my hot rock star.
Nice, Annie. Thanks. As if she wasn’t with the other two herself.
There’s a zero percent chance that he didn’t read that.
I don’t care. She’s the one who said it.
If there was any question, yesterday confirmed that Jude is, without a doubt, objectively hot. I wouldn’t deny it. Admitting it is far less suspicious than protesting.
Whew, yesterday. Goodness.
There are a few memes from my Kentucky and Texas friends and one from my cousin, so I send out a few GIFs and we chat back and forth for a minute. I have good people.
I text Mom quickly and tell her that I’ll probably come home for the weekend. I need a pause from my life here, though I didn’t tell her that part. I shoot DC—Jude a GIF of a sleepy drooling girl. I’ll get back to him later. I’m still processing, but I don’t know what I’m processing.
It’s already ten, and I have class and work for the next few days to end the summer session, then two weeks off until fall semester begins.
Dread descends over me, thinking about Pop’s.
It’s what I know best, and the most flexible hours for school, but I’m tired of food service.
I have no desire to be in the spotlight on a stage like Sam, but they’ve gradually pulled me into their world and made me feel like I belong.
Not just because they’ve coaxed me to sing in front of people; because they treat me like what I contribute means something.
Maybe it’s going to my head, because now I want that feeling in other parts of my life too.
Which brings up my other source of dread: Nathan. I don’t think there’s anything left to salvage.
Our relationship’s like a toxic work environment.
You know, the kind where you’re expected to put in way more hours than you were scheduled, the pay sucks, there are no benefits, and everything that goes wrong is your fault.
My actual job and what’s left of my relationship make me feel the same way.
It’s time to find a grown-up job. Maybe something related to psych or counseling or education.
But what? I have no idea. But I know I need a grown-up job so I’m not so dependent on other people.
That can be next week’s mission. I should brush up my resume, check the Social Sciences department for job postings, and dress better.
Or different? I don’t know, but I need to look qualified to work somewhere with lower odds of an altercation over soda refills. That needs to be a priority.
I shower quickly, then pull on dark jeans and a flowy white top with lace sleeves.
Not exactly office attire, but it’s not black, and it’s not a band T-shirt, so it’s a good start.
I may or may not have had a fight with my hairdryer before I realized it was unplugged, so I gave up and stuffed my hair in a bun with some wild pieces falling here and there.
I’ve got simple hoop earrings that match each other for once, and of course the bracelets I never take off.
My makeup is light and quick, and I’m ready to go in an hour.
When I come out of my end of the house, Annie’s in the kitchen making coffee.
I set my laptop on the counter to check emails and get a Diet Mountain Dew for now and a metal tumbler of ice water for later.
I splash in some cranberry juice and get a cookie.
We sit together on the barstools for a few minutes in sleepy silence.
Yesterday was forever long and today may not be much better.
“You look very demure today. Are you hiding your secret rock-star identity?” Annie animates like I wiggled the mouse on a sleeping laptop, but I’m barely coherent.
“Thanks? I’m psyching myself up to find a better job.”
“Really? Like what?”
“Not sure. Something social science-y?”
“You know what you’d be good at? Advising students. Have you thought about that?”
“I haven’t gotten that far yet, but it’s not the worst idea. I might have to finish my bachelor’s first, because I can’t survive on student worker pay.”
“PIVOT!” I jump at Annie’s abrupt subject change. “Y’all were so good last night. Someone had a very happy birthday. Wanna tell me anything?” She smiles as she adds flavored creamer to her coffee and scrolls through her phone.
“Umm, I don’t think so?” My eyes wander to the partial wall next to the laundry room door. Snap out of it! “I found out Jude—I mean, DC’s aunt is a private music teacher, and she taught all of them since they were kids. I knew they went way back, but I didn’t know exactly how.”
She follows my gaze and glances behind her, probably thinking I saw a bug or something.
“What is it?” she asks.
“Huh? Nothing.”
“Mm-kay. I knew they grew up together but not all the details. Wait, did you say Jude? Is that a new nickname?” Her eyes perk up with interest.
I raise my brows, making the I have info face. “Nope.”
“What?” Her curiosity wakes me up a bit.
“DC’s uncles fixed my car for free. And then his Aunt Judy showed me her music room, and we sang.
It was so fun.” I flush for a minute remembering the shirtless portion of the day, but I’m not about to bring that up.
“Anyway …” I switch from my soda to the water to wash down that thought.
“Jude’s his actual first name. He said kids called him Judy in school, so he switched to his middle name, but his family still calls him Jude or JD. Can you believe that?”
She sits back onto the stool and stares at me. “You met extended family?”
I chew my thumbnail and nod.
“That’s your favorite song of all time and your ringtone for him in your phone, isn’t it?”
I just shrug. It freaks me out too.
“You’re sure no one ever mentioned it? Maybe you forgot? How could you not know? You’re together ALL THE TIME.”
“Did you know?” I shoot back. We’re not together all the time.
“No! I’m still stuck on the fact that you assigned him a ringtone like it’s 2006. Who does that?” She laughs with a wide-eyed expression. “Does he know about your …”
“No! And you’re not telling him. But that song’s always been my favorite, and something about him … it just fits.” I shrug. “You know I give everyone a theme song. I’m ‘Lucy in the Sky,’ and you’re ‘Smooth Criminal.’ It doesn’t mean anything.”
Doesn’t everyone do this? No?
“What about Sam? ‘Carry On Wayward Son,’ right?” She laughs, knowing our love for the show Supernatural.
“That was my brother’s first, but yeah, it makes me think of Sam too. ‘Brother’ by Need to Breathe is probably my Sammy song.”
My brother, Jamie, is only twelve, but he makes me feel like the “get his butt out of trouble” sister version of Dean. And as for Sam? Under all the silliness, he’s as much my brother as Jamie.
“What about Jace? What’s his song?” she asks, trying not to sound too interested.
“From your perspective or mine?” I tilt my head to stare at her much like our subject does to me.
“Is there a difference?” she asks.
“Uh, yeahhh.” I raise my brows until my meaning hits and her face flashes with annoyance. She throws a balled-up paper towel at me and rolls her eyes.
She decides she needs to hurry and get to work, but I laugh and call out my answers even though she’s pretending to ignore me.
“From your perspective, ‘She Will Be Loved,’ obviously, but from mine, ‘Real World’ by Matchbox Twenty. Or ‘Welcome to the Jungle.’ He’s so moody, he gets one for each personality!” I yell after her as she climbs the stairs.
“Okay! Gotta run!” she yells back, all the way done with this conversation once it involved her and Jace in the same sentence. I still don’t know what’s up with them. It’s subtle, but it’s not nothing.
I shove my laptop into my backpack and shuffle back to my room to get my phone from the charger. I pull on my sandals and head out into the sweltering heat.
My phone pings as I get in the car, and I breathe a grateful sigh of relief when it starts right up and the air begins to cool. I take a minute to respond to messages that have come in over the last hour before I leave.
Mom: OK, let me know.
Me: I will. Love you!
(Regarding the weekend visit.)
Nathan: Going to bed. Call me at 3.
(I’ll clear my calendar. Stress level up two notches now.)
Jamie: It wasn’t my fault.
(Nice of him to respond to a message from a week ago.)
Derf: He’s an idiot. Joey thinks so too.
(High school bestie in Kentucky. Real name Alex. Referring to something Nathan posted online. She’s not a fan.)
Jazz: Your dead to me.
Me: **y-o-u-’-r-e
(Musician friend in Texas. Real name Josiah. He might’ve received a glitter bomb in a birthday card.)
Joey: You doing ok? Just checking in.
Me: I’m good J! Miss you. Say hi to the fam for me.
(Another Kentucky musician friend. Alex embellishes info about Nathan, so now he’s worried. Unsuccessfully tried to make me sing or play guitar in front of people but bailed me out of trouble a few times when I was a teenager. Creeped my dad out with his biker-ish appearance. Win-win.)
Jude Daniel (Take a Sad Song and Make it Sexy) Crawford: Car start ok? Wake Jace up if you have any problems.
Me: Car started great. Thank you again. But I wouldn’t wake Jace if I were DYING.
Annie: I looked up that Real World song. Dang. That was accurate. Thought you might enjoy these.
Before I can open whatever Annie sent me, I get another ping.
Moose: Here help
(Sam can’t text. Big thumbs and no patience.)
Me: Coming. Help with what? Are you ok?
Moose: Good park south.