Aubrey
"Why photography?" Jake asks, looking down his body toward me. A white sheet wraps loosely around his waist allowing my eyes to scan over his inked skin without a barrier. My feet are tucked under a pillow beside his head, his crossed at the ankles skimming the end of the bed. My head rests in my hand, my long hair spilled over my naked shoulder.
"I find faces fascinating. That's how it started anyway. Being able to capture this...moment of feeling. Something so deep, so unfiltered, being captured in an image. A still that can remain forever. Knowing that, that moment in time, that feeling, that...single fleeting second can be kept forever. Reflected on whenever the mood strikes, because, there it is, in print. Captured. For all of time. How amazing is that?" I smile wide, the passion I have for my career evident in my tone.
"Really fucking amazing," Jake smiles back at me, his dimple on show. My eyes drop to the rivet in his cheek for a silent moment.
"That's the way I see music," he pulls my attention back to his face, and I nod in understanding. "For me, a song, a single lyric can portray such a level, a depth, an angle of feeling in the most simplistic nature. They don't have to be long drawn out declarations. Just a line. Just a single hook, a bridge, a chorus. It can make such an impact and stay with you forever, you know?" He finishes shyly, smiling softly. I wink over at him, and his blue eyes close on a drawn-out blink only to open a shade darker, his longing boring into me from his hooded lids.
"Why," he clears his throat, dragging a large hand through his hair, already in disarray. From his constant musings, from my hands; pulling, stroking, twisting. "Why landscapes then? Why products?" He finishes his sentence.
Sighing softly, I shift to move back up the bed. Moving to lay my head on the pillow, I grab his hand, entwining my pale fingers amongst his tanned ones. "Products, marketing... I hate it. Solely income producing reasoning behind that. Landscapes, cityscapes, nature, they're... different. It took me a little while to fall in love with photographing them in the same way I do people. But I enjoy it as much nowadays. I don't know, whether it's a still, undisturbed landscape, or whether people are milling within the frame, I still find the same sense of accomplishment with a solid shot. Again just finding that right moment, that single second where perfection, or sometimes lack thereof just connects with my lens and wow... I love it," I admit, my heart swelling with the love for my job.
"I'm glad," he shares, gliding a thumb along the skin of my palm. "You're talented, Strawb'ries. Epically so. Your photos, your captured moments are phenomenal. I'm blown away every time I see your work," he praises, and his words are genuine, thoughtful, and my throat burns a little at his compliment. David never admires my work, even when I gush over a frame, a certain still he nods in disinterest and replies with some generic, unfeeling flattery that is so... deflating.
"What about you?" I deflect from the awful thoughts in my mind. "Why cars and not music full-time?" I ask, pulling his hand to my mouth, skating my lips across the soft skin.
"I don't know. People ask that so often and I don't really have a solid answer. I love music. Live for playing my guitar, to feel the strings beneath my fingers. I guess I've always wanted to keep it as something I do to relax me, to bring peace into my life. I never wanted it to become a chore, a must, something that had to be forced. I enjoy playing when I want. When the mood hits," he reveals, eyes unfocused. Shaking his head, he brings himself back to the moment, a crooked smile pulling at his lips. "I love the cars too. The mechanics of it all. Working with my hands. I can't really explain it," he shrugs, and I smile at him.
Moving my hand to his chest, I trace the tattoo sitting close to his heart. It’s comic book illustrated. A worn guitar, a human heart breaking through the strings, the pulmonary arteries and veins finished with glowing spark plugs. It's an amazing piece of art. Well crafted, the drawing perfected and the ink adding a beautiful completion to the work. "Toby," Jake explains, and I raise my eyebrows, impressed at Toby's talent. "We worked on it a long time," he acknowledges. "But he smashed it outta the park. I love it. It encompasses everything that's important to me. Mechanics and music make my heart beat," he confesses shyly, dropping his head to avoid my eyes as a small blush colors his cheeks.
"I think it's perfect," I gush, using a finger to lift his chin so he can see the sincerity in my eyes. Dropping a kiss to his chest over the tattoo, our moment is broken by the shrill ring of my cell through the quiet room.
"Ignore it," he advises, moving to touch his lips to mine. I let myself get lost in his languid kiss, the taste of his mouth, the softness of his full lips.
The sound of my cell echoes through the room again, and I pull away to pick it up. The disappointment clear in Jake's eyes cuts into me and I duck my head to hide the guilt on my face.
"Hi, Daddy," I whisper into the phone. My dad’s deep voice reaches my ears, and I move into the bathroom, closing the door.
"I can’t really talk now," I mumble, feeling warring emotions of sickness at shutting myself away from Jake and guilt for lying to my dad.
"Are you okay? It’s late, Aubrey, you’re acting strange.” I close my eyes in irritation and pull a steadying breath through my nostrils.
"Just out to coffee with a friend," I lie, leaning against the door frame.
"Oh. No need to whisper then,” Dad chuckles. “Who? Do I know them?" he questions, and my throat closes over in needless panic.
Swallowing deeply, I stumble across a few syllables before coughing to clear my throat, speaking fractionally louder for him. "Ummm... ah, no, no one you know. Just someone I met through work. No one important," I stutter out, my hands shaking slightly. An awkward silence ensues for a drawn-out moment before I mutter my apologies, ending the call.
Dropping my cell heavily on the first available surface, I take a large steadying breath in an attempt to stop trembling.
Shaking my hands, I steel my composure and take a step forward just as I hear the hotel room door slam shut. Shocked, my feet move quickly out of the bathroom searching for Jake. The room is empty and his clothes that had only moments prior decorated the floor, are missing. Grabbing a robe from the bathroom, I yank open the door to see him pulling a shirt over his head, as he hurries away.
“Jake,” I yell to his retreating back. His muscles are bunched, tense as he stalks away. The concrete is cold on my bare feet, causing an ache to stretch up my legs as I move fast to catch him.
Whirling on me, his face is contorted with a mixture of pain, anger, and disappointment. It’s heart-wrenching, and it has my feet ceasing their movement. “No one important, Aubrey? Really? Fucking really?” he finishes on a shout, the veins in his neck protruding with the pressure of strain.
His body begins stalking towards mine, and my feet falter backward, moving back towards the safety of the hotel room. I understand his frustration. His anger. His disappointment. At me. Towards me. In me.
“What did you want me to say, Jake? We’ve been through this. I can’t say you. People would read into it, and I can’t end it. I can’t walk away from David,” I sigh, feeling sick at once again having to reject him. I hate it. I hate myself. But I can’t stop. Jake’s an addiction for me. No matter how hard I try to fight it, the overwhelming need to see him, to talk to him, to be with him courses through my entire body. Every minute of every day. I spend every waking moment trying not to think about him. Trying to strengthen my will power to walk away, to end things. But it overpowers me, consumes me, and I give in.
“No. I didn’t expect that, Aubrey. You’ve made that clear enough. Constantly make it crystal fucking clear that you’ll never choose me. But no one important?” he spits out, moving into my space, towering over me. “Fuck, Aubrey. Way to slice my heart wide open. Imagine if that’s how I referred to you. For just one second, think about me. Not you. Me.” He stabs a long finger into his chest with excessive force and I close my eyes over before meeting the grey of his eyes.
How deeply I wish I could tell him that it is him, that time and time again, given the choice, I would always choose him. But I can’t.
“You could’ve said anything. Joseph wouldn’t have cared. Why discount me so forcefully? Would it’ve been so hard to say a close friend? Thinking on it, why not say me? He wouldn’t think anything of it. I hate all this deceit. All this fucking lying,” he gestures around us. “Don’t you?” he finishes softly.
After a moment of silence from me, he tips his head back to the sky, breathing deeply. Dropping his head back, his stormy eyes search mine for something. Anything. But he mustn’t find it because he laughs sarcastically on a sigh. “Maybe not, eh? Maybe all this deceit means nothing to you. After all, I’m no one important, right? Why let yourself feel anything bad about the situation. You’re getting what you want aren’t you, Aubrey? You get to talk to me when you want. You get my support. You get to fuck me when the mood strikes and I can’t fight the pull any longer. Then after all that, you get some pretend life with that dick you call a boyfriend. You’re getting exactly what you want, while me, the unimportant no one continues to hurt. To fucking bleed at the pain all this fucking causes.”
“You think this doesn’t hurt me too?” I whisper through my pain. “You think every time I have to tell you I can’t walk away, I don’t feel my heart splitting in two? That the agony clouding your eyes doesn’t burn my fucking soul, Jake?” I ask incredulously, hurt that he could think me so heartless. So unfeeling. “Because it does. Like you couldn’t imagine, and I try, Jake,” I cry, tears now spilling from my eyes. “Every day, I try my hardest to distance myself. To not call you. To not reach out. To not respond if you initiate contact. I try so fucking hard.” I hold onto my neck, massaging the lump forming in my throat, constricting my ability to breathe. “But I’m not strong enough. I am so weak, surely you see that? Every time I panic that our phone call, our text messages, our touching, might be the last time and it makes me want to die. I feel like curling into a ball to hold back some of the pain, and I can’t stand it. The hurt. The fucking agony living inside, so I reach out again. I call you. I text you. I come to see you. I beg you to fuck me. To touch me. To make love to me. Because the pain of living without you is so fucking hard to stomach and I know one day it will be the last. That you’ll find someone else or I’ll cause too much damage, and somehow you’ll be the one to find the strength to walk away, and I’ll accept it. I’ll want to die. I’ll want to beg you to come back to me. But I won’t because I understand that as much as I hurt right now, it’s nothing compared to how you feel.”
Jake has moved away from me, his body slumped against the metal rail of the landing as he listens to my words. “I don’t get it, Aubrey. Please, explain it to me because you say all this…” he pauses, looking dumbfounded at my words. Confused at the complete contradiction to the words that spill from my mouth and my actions. “But then you choose this path you stay on. You continue to choose this life, Aubrey. Why not fix it?”
Dropping my eyes, I let the tears in my eyes fall to my feet. Splashing on the bare skin of my toes. Wrapping my arms around my body, I support my weight, hoping the pressure will bring me some sense of comfort. It’s hopeless, with Jake standing only a few steps away from me I feel as though an entire world separates us. The divide is broad, continuing to expand with every uncomfortable minute that passes.
“Jake,” I breathe, angling my face towards the sky to allow the last remaining tears to skirt down my skin on towards the back of my neck. Dropping back to look at him, he watches me expectantly, hopefully, and I loathe the suffering I drive between the two of us. I contemplate lying and dismissing his need for reason, but I want to give him his version of understanding. Even just a little, so I give him what I can, my half-truth.
“My family is important to me. My mom, Steve, and my dad. I know rumors circle town about what when down between the three of them and how scandalous the situation was,” I laugh, but it’s humorless, sarcastic and biting. “I hate that people thought they could discuss us like we’re not part of the community. Like we’re gossip, and it’s not our lives, our feelings, our hearts breaking that they’re discussing. In all honesty, Jake, even I don’t really know how everything went down. All I know is that my dad is one of the best people I know,” I smile in affection at the thought of my dad, and Jake mimics the movement, his red lips pulling up slightly at the side.
“He loves my mom, J-Baby. Even after all these years and the fact that she found greater happiness with someone else must be painful. He stayed single. Alone, while Mom, Steve and I played happy family. Sure, I saw him regularly and spoke to him often, I just…I don’t know,” I shrug, moving to lean my back against the cold wall. “I feel like we abandoned him. I hold this…” I push against my heart, trying to alleviate the shame my words bring on. “Resentment. Blame on them for hurting my dad, and I hate myself for that because, God, they’re such good people.” I watch as Jake nods his head in agreement at my words before continuing. “My dad is a kind and reliable man, Jake, how could Mom not give him that chance to make her happy?” I implore.
“How can you just assume that she didn’t give him the chance, Aubrey? Maybe they just weren’t meant to be,” he argues quietly, his dark eyebrows narrowed heavily over his stormy eyes.
I shrug weakly. “Maybe.”
I wait a beat, a single moment trying to find my next words. “I’m so much like my mom. Loud. Crass. Creative. Strong-willed. I hold little of who my dad is inside. He’s so sensible. Prudent and sound. Nothing like me. I chose a career in the arts. I let words fly from my mouth without filtering them. I accepted Steve into my life, into my heart as another Dad without question. I…I…Every decision…” I blow out a deep breath, struggling to find traction in my argument.
“You think every decision you’ve made has disappointed him, hurt him even,” Jake guesses and I nod softly, dropping my head.
“But how can I hold resentment against Mom and Steve for betraying Dad if I do the same thing? How can I think that Dad could have made my mom happy when I don’t try and let David do the same for me?” I ask, the lie lacerating my throat as Jake shakes his head in annoyance.
“David and Joseph may have similar traits in the way they approach their careers. They both may be a little stale but shit, Aubrey, that’s where the similarities end. Surely you can see that?” Jake urges, and I watch him blankly. “Joseph would never have treated your mom like shit. Would never have spoken down to her. Ignored her.”
“Maybe it’s my fault though. Maybe if I tried harder…”
“Holy shit, Aubrey. Listen to yourself,” Jake stresses, his body bending as he works to emphasize his point.
“He introduced us,” I blurt, louder than intended. “My dad,” I speak softer, swallowing deeply. “He got me a gig photographing a fundraiser his company was involved in and of course David was there. He had joined the firm a few months prior and Dad was certain we’d hit it off.”
Jake’s eyes widen slightly. “I didn’t know that.”
I nod. “I found his awkwardness almost endearing that night, and he was taken a little off guard by my forwardness. It was sweet. I could see why my dad brought us together.”
I wait for Jake to say something, anything to dispute me but he remains silent, listening carefully. “I enjoyed his company enough but knew it wouldn’t go anywhere. He was quick though, found my dad and babbled on about how well we hit it off.”
Sighing loudly, I shake my head. “Dad was thrilled. ‘I’m so pleased, sweetheart. David is a good man, a very hard worker. I’m glad I did right, I was worried about interfering with your love life, but I’m overjoyed you hit it off.’” I mimic my dad’s words and expect some form of understanding to cross Jake’s features, but his face shows only bored indifference. “Our relationship has done good things for both their careers. Solidified their positions on the Board,” I shrug, giving him a glimpse of the truth, hating the amount of lies our connection seems built on. He doesn’t react to the statement, but of course he wouldn’t understand. No one would.
“You don’t have to understand this, Jake,” I condemn. “You just need to accept it.” The fight has left my voice. My ability to maintain my sliver of composure slowly wavering under his judgment.
“I will never accept that, Aubrey. Never,” he seethes, turning to give me his back as he bends over the rail on a deep growl.
“That’s not my problem,” I bite, angered at his lack of empathy. “No one has to accept it. No one has to understand it. It makes sense to me, and that’s all that matters. My life is my fucking life, and my decisions are valid to me. They’re important to me.”
“You’re right. It ain’t your problem, because, really, who am I to you, Aubrey?” He shrugs his wide shoulders, pausing only briefly before turning his back on me to walk away.
"Jake," I move to follow his departure.
Glancing back over his shoulder, his face is turned up in a scowl. “No one important, right?” he throws at me, not waiting for an answer before he turns back and disappears into the dark.
"Jake," I cry, pleading for him to stop but his long legs keep moving further away from me. I jog to catch up, but his stride doesn't break, and I can't catch him. Watching as he reaches his car, he wrenches open his door with excessive force, glaring at me once more before folding inside.
"JAKE," I yell, not caring that anyone can hear me. I move to run down the stairs towards him but stop halfway down as his car flies into reverse and he pulls from the parking lot and into the darkened street.
Dropping onto the hard and bitter cold of the concrete step, I let my head fall into my hands, trying to understand what the fuck just happened. I was expecting this at some point. The end. For everything to finally fall to shit and in all honesty I thought I'd be better prepared. Tonight was good. We were in an okay place, so I wasn't ready for that. I wasn't ready to say goodbye. That wasn't how it was supposed to happen. It's selfish to think like that but…"FUCK," I yell into the cold, dark air.
Using the base of my palms, I push pressure onto my eyes. Sagging against the metal rail at my side, I bang my head along the hard bar over and over again. I sit long enough for my ass to grow numb, for my skin to start aching with the cold and for the moon to begin to recede. Only then, finally, on shaky legs, can I muster the energy to pull myself up. I want to drop back down immediately, but I force my legs to move. I force my muscles to lift my legs and climb the stairs, moving back towards the room Jake and I had left. Inside, I take in the tangled sheets and walk slowly towards where Jake had laid. Pulling the sheet to my face, I can smell him, and I close my eyes as I inhale deeply. Fisting the material in my hand, I will myself to drop it back to the bed and step back. I can't do this. I can't let myself crumble. It's an impossible task, trying to stop the need to drop into a ball and stay there forever. But somehow, I manage it. I shut myself down enough to collect my few belongings and leave the room, unable to stomach a single second longer in the space.