Aubrey
I’m not actually certain what my plan was. Coming here. Did I always plan to seek him out? Or was I confident in my ability to hear him sing and leave, without any contact?
I guess I can pretend that my intentions were innocent. That hearing his voice would be enough. That watching him without fear of being seen would be sufficient. But I crave the sound of his voice; spoken solely to me. I want his wide smile; directed to me and only me. I need the dimple; a side effect of that smile that would be entirely mine. I crave it. I want it. I need it.
So, in reality, if I allow complete honesty, at least within myself, I know the truth. I know that my intentions were never to stay in the background. I knew that I would somehow seek him out; whether it be by my approach or positioning myself in a way that he’d know I was there. For him. Only him, because there would be no other reason for me to be sitting in a small coffee shop in Burlington.
Ordering an Americano, my eyes stay mostly fixed on Jake as I absently smile at the young guy behind the counter, paying him for my order. His smile is flirtatious, inviting and I can appreciate his handsomeness. Just not enough to return his flirtation. Once upon a time, I would have returned his attention, shamelessly. I would have smiled, laughed, thrown out inappropriate innuendos, even the occasional wink. Never taking it further than a little harmless back and forth banter, but it no longer feels right. Not when I know how Jake responds to my wink, to my smile, to my overtly sexual insinuations. Not when I can imagine the way his throat tightens in response to my words, as he sucks in air to control his breathing. The way his facial muscles quirk at the side of his lips, offering a hint of a smile in response to my own. The way the divot in his cheek makes itself known when I wink at him. They all seem to belong to him now. Ridiculous as that may sound, considering I’ve given my life to someone else. But all the most important parts of me, the traits that are so frankly me, seem right only aimed at Jake nowadays.
Grabbing my coffee, I move to find a seat off to the side, wanting to hear him for a time before approaching. I get lost in the husk of his voice as I drink my coffee; warmed at the heated liquid running down my throat and by the fire his voice causes under my skin. His genres vary greatly from blues to alternate to indie to commercial covers. All of them beautifully recited, with his deep, scratchy voice adding a dynamic to the music. I could sit here all day. All night and just listen. Just let his voice filter into my ears and through my body. It eases me in the same way it entices me.
“Ever started fallin’ for someone you know you shouldn’t?” His voice projects softly around the room as he fiddles with his guitar, with the microphone. Approving murmurs shuffle through the room and I scan my eyes over the cluster of customers, relaxed and all focused on Jake. “Hmmm,” he laughs quietly. “Me too. Me too.”
I watch his eyes close over as his fingers move along the strings of his instrument, filling the room with a hauntingly quiet melody. His voice wraps warmly around a cooled indie rock version of James Carr’s “The Dark End of the Street,” and I pull in a sharp breath. The lyric, clearly similar for Jake, holding a deeply personal message. I let the words dance within my body, closing my eyes to allow the full impact of the vocalized message delivered by Jake’s bared tone. It’s dark and haunting.
“Thanks, guys. Just gonna take a quick break and I’ll finish one last set for ya,” Jake clears his throat, placing his guitar carefully across his chair as he stands.
As always, people move into his space, praising his talent, wanting to know more about him. He smiles appreciatively at them, thanking them for their compliments, answering questions thrown his way. Finally, coffee in hand, standing off to the side, his eyes scan the space taking in the customers. His icy blue eyes sweep past me, before he stands upright, eyes flicking back to me. Shooting him a wink, his wide smile breaks open, and I want to high-five myself for the dimple I’m blasted with. Excusing himself from his present company, he moves purposefully towards me. Strides long, steps fast.
“Great song you finished on there, J-Babe,” I offer by way of greeting and understanding warms the deep blue of his eyes.
“Strawb’ries,” he smiles, leaning down to touch his lips to my cheek. Pulling back an inch, he takes in the slight blush now heating my face before dragging his thumb along the color, sighing softly as he pulls his touch away.
“Hope this is okay. Annabelle texted me and let me know you were doing a small gig close by… couldn't really resist...” I trail off. He smiles in response. A smile that doesn’t quite meet his eyes, a little unsure of his feelings on my appearance. “I can go,” I cough out, suddenly regretting my decision to turn up unannounced.
“No,” he cuts me off immediately. “Really, I’m happy you’re here. That’s what makes me nervous.”
I nod my head, understanding his dilemma. Dropping down next to me, Jake leans back into the couch, foot perched atop of his right knee. We sit in silence for a few minutes, taking in our surroundings. We watch others interact comfortably, without quandary. Eventually I give in to my need to have some sort of physical connection, dropping my head to his shoulder. His body freezes underneath my movement almost immediately and I count his missed breaths as I wait for his reaction. Bracing myself for him to push me away, to put the distance he should morally put between us. But he doesn’t, and it takes five breaths, five painfully solitary breaths before his body relaxes under my touch. Before his face drops to the top of my head and I hear him take a deep intake of the scent of my hair, smelling my skin.
“Is it weird to be envious of people you don’t know?” he asks, dropping an arm along the back of chair, resting just above my shoulders. “I envy most of these guys and girls. Touching freely, laughing, smiling.” His head tips down to allow me access to his eyes, and we share a sad smile.
Shaking my head, I turn back to view the crowd. “No. It’s not weird at all. I’m jealous at the ease at which they can interact. No prying eyes, no judgment, no feelings that an innocent touch could be seen as immoral or unethical.”
“Is it though?” he questions, eyes narrowed. “Innocent? Do you think?”
“No,” I answer immediately, feeling no need to lie. “But anyone external to just you and I, well, they don’t really know that. Do they?”
“I guess not,” he shrugs, moving to take a long sip of his coffee.
“How’d you get this gig?” I move to change the subject, wanting to rid any awkwardness from the small window of time this moment will allow.
“Friend of mine lives around here now. I’ve met a few random people through gigging in different places. Some I click with and we keep in contact, like a guy whose brother owns this place,” he smiles down at me.
“I’d say you’d have a heavy number of friends on Facebook,” I laugh and he returns it quietly.
“I’m not hurting for Facebook friends. And you know what they say, if it’s on Facebook, it’s pretty damn official so that must mean I’ve got more real friends than the actual population of Carnation.”
My laugh is loud and distinct in the small coffee shop, pulling attention from a number of people standing close. Most smile at my obvious display of happiness before turning back to their conversations. Others look over with limited interest, turning back immediately. I love it. The sense of anonymity. Shit, I haven’t been able to feel that way since last time Jake and I found ourselves alone in a random town.
“That’s a good laugh,” Jake admires, watching me intently. I get lost in his face. Memorizing his laugh lines, the color of his eyes, the almost invisible indent of his dimple that is magnified on a smile. The fullness of his red lips, the crease in his bottom lip, giving it an exaggerated swell.
“Gotta do my last set, Strawb’ries.” Jake breaks my study, and I nod, eyes still focused on his lips. “You gonna hang around?”
Giving in to temptation, I lean forward, touching my lips to his in a breeze of a kiss. Just a soft skate of my lips against his before pulling back. “Yeah, if that’s cool.” I finally meet his eyes, darkened with a want I shouldn’t be glad to see. “Think I might take a few snaps if you’re okay with it?” I bend to retrieve my camera from my bag and he smiles at my type of instrument.
Nodding his head, he drops a kiss on my forehead, his lips staying connected to my skin for a beat longer than just friendly. Squeezing my shoulder, he stands quickly, moving to his mic and guitar without a backward glance.
I spend the next forty-five minutes catching Jake lost in his art. Random stills of the veins straining in his neck, his lips agape mid-lyric, eyes closed as he loses himself in the song. But my favorites are the images of his hands, caressing his guitar. Loving his instrument and allowing it to make the most beautiful sounds.
As he finishes, there’s a peacefulness in his demeanor. A sense of calm that music so liberally brings him. In that moment, in that second, I know that after saying goodbye, I’ll leave. I won’t tempt either of us to want more from this evening. It would feel wrong. I would feel that somehow, I’d be betraying Jake. How could I make him feel bad about himself again? That split second at Annabelle and Archer’s wedding when he told me what we did made him feel like he was no longer a good person…. God, that cut me. I hated that in that moment, my indiscretion, because it was one hundred percent mine, not his, made him question his honest nature. Shit, he didn’t even know David and I were still together, yet he took on the dishonesty of my actions like they were his own. As much as I refused to admit it to Jake, I knew I was taking advantage, that I had in some way brought him to a place where he misinterpreted my words. Making him see a scenario that I wanted him to.
I move towards him as he packs away his belongings, taking one last snap of the concentration etched into his features as he takes care of his most prized possession. Looking up when he hears the telltale click of my camera, I raise my eyebrows with a smile and move to tuck the camera into the bag slung over my shoulder.
“Who were you channeling on the James Carr song? Earlier,” I clarify.
“Cat Power covers the song, kind of indie, slash folk rock. I guess maybe her version,” he shrugs offhandedly.
“I’ll have to look it up. I liked it,” I offer, watching him click the lock of his case into place before standing upright.
“Soooo…” he draws out, rocking back on his heels.
“I’m gonna head out, J-Baby. I… thank you. For not being weirded out by my being here,” I smile gratefully.
“Anytime, Strawb’ries. I mean it,” he urges, extending an arm to pull me into an embrace. We hug for a few minutes. Our arms twisted tightly around one another, taking solace in the moment.
I breathe in his scent, the motor oil slightly lost which strangely disappoints me. I move my hands up his back, allowing myself to feel the muscles twitching under my touch. Finally, leaning up on tiptoes I plant a soft kiss on the edge of his strong jaw. “Night, Jake.”
Cupping my jaw, he squeezes lightly, before pulling back. “Night, Aubrey.” We pull from our embrace, hands squeezing for a few extra seconds, prolonging our contact.
Walking from the coffee shop feels right in the same way it feels forced. An act I have to compel my body to follow against my better judgment. Driving home passes in a blur, time spent rehashing the evening. Every shared touch. Every easy laugh. Every smooth smile. Every snippet of conversation, however small. I had more fun than I can recall experiencing in years. Fucking years. How depressing is that? But sitting in a small coffee shop, in a random town, listening to Jake sing, sharing easy conversation, I felt good. I felt at peace. I felt like I could do that forever. Travel around and hear my guy sing, take photos of him in his element and just be. I could find relaxation in living my life that way.
Surprisingly, David isn’t home when I arrive back and unsurprisingly, I’m not the slightest bit annoyed by it. More relieved. More thankful that I can remain alone with my thoughts for a little while longer.
I’d like to imagine that our relationship hasn’t always been this way, so disconnected and miserable. But that would be a lie. I think we fell into something, somewhat resembling a relationship and David’s too stubborn, too oblivious to admit how unhappy he really is. I know, straight up, this relationship was doomed before it even started.
Pulling my cell from my bag, I search my contacts, searching for Jake’s name. I type a text, delete it, then type another, which I delete. My fingers hover over the keyboard on the phone trying to find words but none come freely. In the end, I hit call. It rings once, twice, three times, before his voice reaches my ears.
“Aubrey? You okay? You get home safe?” he worries into the line, and my hand wraps around the base of my neck in affection at his concern.
“I’m fine, Jake. I just, honestly, I don’t know why I called. I…I was going to text you, to thank you for a really fun night, but then I couldn’t find my words, next thing I knew your end of the line was ringing.”
His soft laugh filters from my cell. “Oh, okay. I’m just driving back home now. Only an hour to go, you can keep me company for a bit. If you don’t have anything else to do…” he trails off and I shake my head before I realize he can’t see me.
“Sounds good. Where are you now?” Silence ensues and I pull the device from my ear, checking the connection. “Jake?”
“Yeah. I’m here. Arlington. I’m driving past Arlington,” he grits out around a forced cough, clearing the dryness of his throat.
“Oh,” I respond quietly, swallowing deeply, trying in vain to stop memories from our shared night to torment my mind.
“Yeah. Oh.” His voice sounds as strained as mine. The need, the desire, affecting the sound of his tone.
Our awkwardness sticks around for another ten to fifteen minutes, stilted conversation and intakes of breath swapped over the line until Jake is long past Arlington. Then and only then does our conversation flow easier. No longer haunted by shared desire and wanted memories. I actually don’t know if I could classify it as being haunted. Is that the right term, when they don’t frighten you? Maybe soothed. Because, as awful as I may sound, I can’t bring myself to be plagued by guilt from it. I can’t bring myself to feel regret. Only appreciation for Jake. If that makes me a monster, a hideous person, so be it.
“I’m interested in how you, Annabelle, and Darci all became friends,” Jake laughs and I smile at his easy tone.
“What’s so hard to believe about that?”
“You’re kidding, right? An extrovert, introvert and the queen of ‘tude start school…sounds like the start of a bad joke.”
I laugh loudly into the line, putting toothpaste on my toothbrush. “I think we complement each other nicely,” I retort, mock offense singing in my voice.
“Never said it doesn’t somehow work. Just wanna know how it actually started?”
“I wish there was a good story. We just randomly sat at the same table in our first year of school and it just kind of…. stuck. We were friends and we’d play but I think Annabelle’s dad dying was a massive moment. We were so young, but I think even so little, Darci and I understood, on some level, the gravity of that happening. Even being so young, we knew that Annabelle needed us more than ever. I felt I basically had two families. One with Mom and Stevie and then another with my dad and this friend of mine had no one. No mom, no dad. I hated that for her. It wasn’t fair. So I felt it was my responsibility to be her family. Not an obligation, but a want to protect the sanctity of what family should be. People that you have, that you can count on, whenever you need. I wanted to be that for Annabelle. So did Darci,” I finish, my toothbrush forgotten on the side of the sink as I lose myself in my words. “Hmmm, I’ve never told anyone that before. I think Annabelle would know, but I’ve never vocalized it.”
Jake’s quiet breathing echoes through the line and I wait patiently for him to say something. “I’m so happy she had you. Has you,” he corrects himself. “God, I was so young, barely a toddler when it all went down. Even though it’s impossible that I could’ve been there for her, I still feel I should have. I feel better knowing that she had that fierce friendship from you.”
I appreciate his words. Like Darci, he’s one of the only people who truly understand the depth of emotion held within my friendship with Annabelle. An understanding only felt because he feels it too, maybe greater than I do.
“From my recollection, even so young, Archer was around then. He was good for Annabelle then too,” I recall.
“Shit. I don’t even remember that. Annabelle mentioned it once or twice and they bring it up every so often. In all honesty though, I don’t think Annabelle really likes thinking too far back. Brings up too many memories of how far Archer fell into himself, how broken he was all those years ago.”
“Not just Annabelle, the guy was intimidating as all shit,” I laugh, drawing memories of his broody glares.
Finally throwing my toothbrush into my mouth, I brush my teeth as I listen to Jake talk. He reminisces about a moody teenage Archer and we laugh at his memories. He shares stories of he and Annabelle tormenting a drunk Archer. Drawing on his passed-out face. Locking him out of the house. Hiding from him, causing volcanic meltdowns when he realized he couldn’t locate Jake. “This one time, he was so mad, he actually stormed over to Gran’s place, banging on her front door, blind drunk at some ungodly hour. There Annabelle and I sat on Ma’s porch, hidden, while Gran tore him a new one. Fuck, I wish we had it on video. Never, and I mean never, in my life have I ever seen Archer so, I don’t know, awkward. Repeating, yes Ma’am, no Ma’am, to everything Gran threw at him. Annabelle and I sat in our hiding spot, giggling uncontrollably until Gran called us out. Eventually we folded out of the dark and I could’ve sworn I saw murder in Archer’s eyes. Gran sent Annabelle straight to bed and told Archer to take me home. Shit, I ran so fucking fast across that lawn, straight up to my room and under my covers. I thought he was gonna kill me,” he laughs, and I return it, so entertained by the image Jake is painting in my mind.
Switching off the lights in the house, I walk towards my bedroom, crawling under the covers and pulling them tight. “Did he follow you?”
“What? No. I don’t know if he was too drunk to manage the stairs or if he just didn’t care enough to give a shit. Whatever the reason, I was grateful.”
“How old were you?” I ask, wanting to keep him talking.
“Shit. I’m not sure. Annabelle must have been fifteen, maybe sixteen. So take a few years off for me,” he pauses for a breath. “Josh died shortly after and that took him away from us.”
Swallowing at the emotion in Jake’s voice, I pull my covers up to under my neck. “It also brought him back. In a way.”
“Yeah,” Jake agrees quietly. “I guess. I’m home now, Aubrey. I should probably go. Thanks for keeping me company.”
I smile widely into my cell. “Anytime, J-Baby. I mean it,” I repeat his earlier words and hear his snort of laughter.
“Night, Strawb’ries.”
I close my eyes at the endearment, breathing deeply. “Night, J-Babe.”
It’s not the only time I visit Jake at a gig. We convince ourselves that we’re doing nothing wrong because Jake doesn’t technically invite me, he mentions he’ll be close by to Annabelle and unbeknownst to her, she filters the information to me in conversation. I should feel guilty for using her friendship with Jake to allow me closer access to him. Should anyway. There are times when I choose to remain invisible, concealing myself in the background. These are the moments when I know I’d push it further if I got too close. I see the disappointment in his eyes when he thinks I’m not there. The fact that the look of dejection on his face can affect me so heavily, eases my guilt, knowing that avoiding contact at that point was the right thing to do. All I do is cause him pain and I wish more than anything he knew I wasn’t worth it, all the heartache he puts himself through.
Mostly I seek him out though. I listen to him sing. Sometimes I take my camera and take shot after shot of him doing what he loves. I fill up the memory on my phone too. It’s dangerous, having so many photos of him, so easily accessible to David. Maybe if I think hard enough on it, I want him to find them. I want him to end it. Put me out of my misery, because then, I wouldn’t have been the one walk away. Figuratively anyway.
We laugh, we talk, we share about our lives; past and present. We connect. Which, if you ask most people, is more dangerous than it just being sex. The emotional attachment is the concerning one, and that’s the part I crave most. The connection I don’t hold in my current relationship and the one I long for. I ache for the support, the guidance, the ability to talk about my life and have someone interested. Someone invested in what I have to say. Someone who actually cares about me, about my life.
We discover we have more in common than just an intense physical attraction. Our music tastes overlap, his more diverse. We both agree that Annabelle’s obsession with commercial countdowns is painful. I’m surprised to find, like me, watching movies is a hit and miss for Jake. Similarly, our preference being towards TV shows. Both concurring the ability to really know a character in a TV series is far more fulfilling than within a two-hour timeslot of a film. He reads, typically only biographies of people he finds interesting or would have had an impactful or fulfilling story. He couldn’t give me too much more information on that, explaining that there was no real rhyme or reason for his choices. He shared that he doesn’t remember his dad. That sometimes he wishes he did, even just a snippet. He confides that he’s almost sought him out numerous times, but always backtracked, coming to the conclusion that if he did so wrong by Janie, he actually didn’t want to know the guy, even though he was definitely curious.
Our conversations are always fulfilling; whether they be surface information or deeper. I prefer the more meaningful ones, really getting to know him as a person. Being given an insight into this person I seem unable to step away from. I enjoy that maybe more than anyone else, I know things about him that he keeps most private. That above everyone else in his life, Jake chooses to share certain things with me. Only me. That he trusts me enough for that. These moments make me question the doubt that weighs heavily within my body. It fires hope that I shouldn’t really afford myself. It’s dangerous and in the end, I know, this attraction Jake seems to hold for me, will waste away and I’ll be left with less than I had before. Because when Jake eventually tires of the conditional love I can offer him, not only will I be alone again, I’ll be nursing a broken heart.