Ainsley
Sloane leans over and sighs dramatically for the fifth time. “How…long…is…this…process?”
Without looking her direction, I justify, “It’s film editing, Sloane. It can be a bit tedious.”
“Or a lot tedious,” she whines.
“I told you to bring something to do.”
“I figured you were going to just let me watch T.V. or something.”
Typing on my lap top keyboard, I say, “Which you are more than welcome to do in the other room until I’m finished.”
“Why not in here again?”
Finally, I look up at her. “Because I don’t want anything to alter my vision of this project.”
“Which is almost finished, right? I totally wanna see my acting debut with the reshoots we did.”
My attention falls back to the screen but my actions don’t start again.
Last weekend, Scott and Sloane agreed to re-film the earlier footage we shot. After the way Nate ended things with me, I spent the rest of the week crying and watching Casablanca on an endless cycle. Around midnight on Friday I was struck with an idea I felt would be a better tribute. I wanted to film the scene in the staff parking lot at Ollander and rewrite the dialog to better fit our tragedy. Lucky for me neither of my friends were quite ready to deny me the first requested interaction since the split. Scott though still clueless it was my substitute teacher I broke up with, knew my heart was broken and did his best be supportive. He even helped keep Josh from bothering me about the whole thing. He also had to prevent me from strangling him in the middle of the entire senior class who gathered around to watch me yell at him for stealing my phone. I got a good slap in too. Even that hasn’t stopped him from sending me countless apologetic texts and professing that I should be with him instead of anyone else. That he’s pretty sure now I’m free too. Like he did me some sort of favor instead of ruining my life.
The thought of my break up with Nate shifts my eyes momentarily closed to swallow the lump in my throat.
It’s been two and half weeks. It’s been the longest two and half weeks of my entire life and somehow every day seems longer than the last. Not seeing his face the first couple of days in Film Appreciation was fine. I was partially pissed at the accusations he threw at me, at the fact he never gave me a chance to defend or explain my side of the situation, and his cruel words. When Monday morning rolled around, it took everything I had in me not to sob the entire class period with our new substitute, Helen. She couldn’t care about film if she tried. She was doing this as a favor to someone, she bluntly informed us her first day. Then she continued class like she was reading off a script. Her words, her opinions, her choice of adjectives, were all Nate’s. I could hear him in her speech. The pain from that made me damn near inconsolable. To my surprise the rumors circulating about his disappearance have absolutely nothing to do with me. Some claimed he left for a better job. Others claimed he left because he was getting married to an undergrad and they needed to plan the wedding. Obviously, that one hurt more than the others, but I did my best to pretend I didn’t care, even when Bethany made sure to poke at the subject like she knew she was spitting in an open wound. He may have callously left me, but he managed to leave a bubble of protection around me in the process. Left me secure with my scholarship, safe from those rumors, and lastly without giving anyone ammunition to humiliate me for something else. Most of the gossip about me has completely shifted to Josh’s pathetic chasing and how kick ass I am for rejecting his constant whining. While he may have ruined Nate’s ability to teach at Ollander or possibly anywhere else, I’m ruining his confidence and his ability to get laid while he’s hoping I cave to his ways.
“Wanna talk about him?” Sloane offers quietly. When I turn my head her direction, she states, “You haven’t really…talked about him since you broke up.”
I casually counter. “What’s there to talk about? He accused me of being a cheating bitch and ruining his life. It’s pretty cut and dry.”
She shakes her head slowly. “How could he ever think that shit? It’s like uh…Hello? Have you fucking met, Ainsley? She wouldn’t fuck Josh with a ten-foot pole.”
My head tilts to the side. “Don’t you mean I wouldn’t let him fuck me with a ten-foot pole?”
Sloane shakes her head again. “No. I meant it my way.”
The two of us exchange a giggle.
I haven’t sought my revenge yet. The classic movie lover in me feels pig’s blood at the prom would be sufficient, but I know that’s unrealistic. Besides if I’m going that route, I’d rather have the telekinetic powers to do something like flip his Mustang over with my mind and watch him cry over the only thing he seems to give a fuck about besides dating me.
She slips her arm around my shoulder and pulls me closer. “Don’t worry, Ainsley. Nate will come to his senses, realize what a giant dickhead he was being, and then beg mercilessly at your feet like they do in movies.”
A small sigh escapes. “But this isn’t a movie, Sloane. It’s real life. And sadly….most of the time that shit doesn’t happen.”
There’s a small pause before she says something unexpected, “It’ll happen to you. It’ll happen to you because out of all the people I’ve ever met in my entire life, it deserves to happen to you. And as much as I’m probably the worst Catholic alive, I still have my faith. And my faith believes that shit things happen to shit people and great things Ainsley Jacobson, happen to great people like you….”
Her heartfelt speech lifts my eyes to hers. In all the years we’ve been friends, I don’t think I’ve ever heard Sloane speak so sweetly. Hell, I didn’t even know she knew how. The fact she just made the effort for me makes the pain of the situation almost bearable.
She gets the devious smile I’m more than acquainted with. “Well, and me. That’s why I’m gonna marry Zac Efron when I’m twenty-five. He’s God’s gift to me for not burning down the entire school during our time at Ollander.”
Another fit of laughs fills my room but is quickly killed by the knocking on my bedroom door.
My mother doesn’t wait for a response before entering.
Our eyes connect and the entire demeanor in the room shifts. The air becomes so thick I can hardly take a breath.
We haven’t seen each other since that night we caught her with Nate’s father. She’s gone out of her way to avoid being home when I am, which was impressive last week when I called in sick to work claiming I had some sort of stomach flu, so I could stay home and cry.
“Hey, Ms. Jacobson,” Sloane cautiously states.
“Sloane,” she greets, folding her arms across her tank top covered chest.
“I was um…just heading home,” my best friend lies and scoots her body past mine.
She’s never liked my mother, but who could blame her. She doesn’t even know half the shit she’s done to me, including how many marriages she’s helped destroy. Possibly now including my ex boyfriend’s parents.
Sloane grabs her purse from my dresser and gives me one final look. “Send me a copy when you finally finish?”
I nod, which she takes as her cue exit.
Once we hear the front door close, I adjust my laptop in my lap, and snap, “What the hell do you want?”
Her eyebrows lift in offense. “Is that anyway to talk to your mother?”
Coldly, I counter, “You haven’t been anything remotely close to my mother in five fucking years.”
“Excuse me?”
“Before Dad died, we weren’t exactly close, but I at least knew you cared about me because I was your child. But after Dad died… you stopped being my parent and started being a weird roommate who didn’t know if she wanted to be my sister or my shopping pal.”
“I…I was distraught-”
“And so was I,” I bite. “But because you….because you cared more about living some lifestyle you suddenly found yourself entitled to when you got a job working for The Dollhouse, I wasn’t allowed to be sad. I wasn’t allowed to need you. The only thing I was allowed to do was all the things a normal mother should do. Cook. Clean. Make sure I got to school on time. Make sure the bills were mailed and eventually paid. You stole the small amount of innocence I had left just like you stole the glimpse of a loving future I had.”
She twitches her lips to get a word in but I continue.
“You think everything you’ve ‘done’ for me is preventing me from turning into you. Well newsflash mom, it’s done more damage than protection. I go to a school where you’ve blown the Dean, the Headmaster, and some of my classmate’s fathers. I am ridiculed for it. Snubbed. Judged. I come home to a house I have to clean, wash, and buy food for or starve. And as if that isn’t enough…because of your job, the one thing you say you can’t live without, which should actually be me, I lost the only man I’ll probably ever love.”
Of course it wasn’t her who stole my phone and then fed Headmaster Wright insinuations that Nate was a predator who was secretly trying to rape me. Clearing those allegations up went swift and fierce and has him reconsidering the clause he put in the handbook that he was hoping would help protect students, not ruin lives… And while it was Josh who robbed Nate directly from me, had she not been at that hotel that night, had that small fraction in time never happened, I wouldn’t have been so distracted the next day. I would’ve known where my phone was. Nate wouldn’t have been compelled to stop and comfort me. Our lives would still be together rather than tattered.
“You have made my life so…fucking…miserable,” I declare bravely. “And it stops now.”
“Ainsley-”
“No. Here’s what’s going to happen. Because my boyfriend dumped me, I have nowhere to move to the day I graduate, so I will stay here until my dorm is ready in the fall. I’ll pay for enough food for me to eat. My fraction of the phone bill. And just enough for the utilities I need. If you even consider trying to kick me out, I’ll call the landlord to come up to ‘fix’ something and leave your stash out for him to find getting us both kicked out.”
“You wouldn’t,” she growls, body tempting to move closer.
“Try me.”
Nervousness coats her face and she steps back.
“You wanted me to be independent, so that’s exactly what I’m going to be. When I leave for Ashwin, I’m not looking back. And if for some reason you decide to give up the drugs, give up selling yourself, and wanna be my mom again, the mom closer to the one I had for the first twelve years of my life, then you feel free to reach out. Other than that…I’ve got two dead parents.”
The gasp out of her is unmistakable.
“Now get out.”
In a silent acceptance, she nods, spins on her heels and leaves, slamming the door shut behind her.
I release the breath I was holding and let the tears finally fill my eyes as I stare at the screen waiting for my attention.
My life may not be perfect and I know I have myself to blame for some of it. I also know the only way to change the circumstances I live in is to stop allowing bullshit to happen. To stand up for myself. Nate brought me a sense of security I desperately wanted, but he also gave me the courage to take responsibility for my own life that I desperately needed. Even if it means moving on without the people I love.