We're Trouble Bound

September

Jaime missed Oliver. She missed him to the point where her chest ached, her head spun and her stomach knotted. She was in physical pain she missed him so much. She spoke to him almost daily and received messages from him even more frequently. But she hadn’t actually been with him in weeks. She was spending the month of September on the US leg of Keep Your Composure’s headlining tour, supporting their new album while Oliver would be criss-crossing the EU, Japan and Australia. Jaime’s band would play a handful of United Kingdom dates at the very beginning of October; this was the only time their two schedules allowed for time. It was the epitome of a long distance relationship. It wasn’t just time zones or oceans to separate them; it was continents. He might as well have been on another planet for how far it seemed.

She had never been in such a situation before, mostly because she had been in very few boyfriend situations at all. Aside from Keith, she’d had less than a handful of actual relationships and they had never lasted any longer than it took for her to go back on tour. She had never felt so attached to someone before.

She had felt some of this during their previous separations. But never quite so bad. She had never been miserable because of it. She had never wanted to drop everything she was doing just so she could be with him. It was a strange urge. Was it the realization of their changed natures that caused her to be so involved? Was her alleged new openness the only change in her that had occurred? Was there really a change in her at all? And what of him? Jaime didn’t know how he would be acting without her there. Would he be the same puppy-like creature? Questions beleaguered her mind incessantly. It’s like with his absence had come a plague in which the only symptom was chaotic cognition. And it was her belief that the only cure would be to see him again.

“Don’t look so miserable, Jaime Renee,” Nadine said cheerfully. She had recently rekindled her old affair with Danny and was in an exceptionally happy mood because of it.

Jaime looked up from her laptop and rolled her eyes. “I don’t know where you’re getting the idea that I’m miserable. That’s the second time you’ve said something like that. Have you considered that I’m just being thoughtful.” She went back to scanning a t-shirt shipping order to make sure it was all correct.

“Thoughtful shmoughtful.” Nadine waved her hand dismissively.

Jaime’s hazel eyes squinted skeptically. “Are you drunk?”

“A little.” She grinned.

“It’s only five o’clock. That’s a bit early for you, hun.”

Nadine laughed suddenly. “I never thought I’d see the day when YOU’D be telling ME when it’s too early to start drinking. What happened to ‘it’s never too early to have fun!” or whatever it was you’d say?”

“I got my priorities sorted. Also, I realized that I’m not invincible.”

Nadine flopped down beside Jaime on the bench. “Oh baby girl, you crack me up.”

“I’m glad.”

“I heard you smoked a blunt with Danny and Troy earlier… Priorities, eh?”

“Yeah and I had two beers at dinner last night too… Moderation is the key.” Jaime didn’t look away from her computer screen.

Nadine shook her head. “Wow, you’re serious.”

“Uh huh.” Jaime bit the corner of her lip before saying “I want Never Again to work, Dine. I HAVE to be serious.”

Never Again was what Jaime had chosen to call the organization that was still in its early stages. The charity, to raise awareness for domestic violence, was consuming her free time. It was a very difficult endeavor, creating a website, having t-shirts printed and planning fundraisers. Her first project, t-shirts, seemed simple enough. In actuality, it was much more complicated. But she was pushing forward with all her effort. Plus all the work she was doing helped to block out her painful craving.

Nadine sighed. “I know that and we’re all very proud of you for it.”

“Thanks… Is there a but to that statement?”

“Well,” Nadine elongated the word. “Maybe you should do something fun today.”

“Fun?”

“You know, fun, like what you were so invested in for like a million years.”

“I have fun… I smoked with the boys, didn’t I?”

“But you never party with us. I know you don’t really drink but you never even hang out. You hide out in your bunk.”

Jaime didn’t want to tell her that she didn’t like being around them when they were drinking because it was hard to say no when they offered her a drink. Part of her missed it terribly. The feeling of letting go. Oblivion. Numbness. She’d self-medicated so long that she was practically going through withdrawals. Now, with her brain firing constant questions at her, she ached for the nothingness of being drunk. If only to shut up her internal queries.

What kept her from drinking was not the threat of a seizure though; they were not the worst thing that could happen. It was Oliver that stopped her. The look on his face when he’d found her curled up by a toilet puking, had been one of pure disappointment. And the memory of that look was the easiest way for her to abstain.

“I don’t mean to do that,” Jaime said, closing her laptop.

“I know.” Nadine nodded.

For once, Jaime wasn’t sure that Nadine did get it. Normally, Jaime trusted Nadine to understand her. She was usually the only one. Now, she couldn’t be sure. There were moments when Nadine could make sense of even the craziest things Jaime did. But how could Nadine make sense of Jaime when Jaime couldn’t even make sense of Jaime?

--

Oliver was sitting in the car park of a venue. It was getting late; they had been partying for hours before this moment. The bus was nearby but Oli was feeling too wasted and too lonely to get up and go back to it.

Without Jaime, negativity was creeping upon Oliver. It couldn’t be helped. The distance was wretched. He didn’t have any chance to be reassured by her presence, which had always helped him. So he thought too much about too many things.

In the time he and Jaime had not been speaking, Oli had done his best to fight for oblivion. Taking his drinking to record lows. In the final month of Warped Tour, he’d ended the binge to make sure Jaime permanently ended hers. And when September had brought their separation, he wasn’t sure he wanted to go back to a wild life. But it was just habit. Though he didn’t feel the same attachment to it he once had. Most likely due to the fact he had something to which he was more tightly bound. Jaime. It was hard to want to do much of anything when he really just wanted to be around Jaime.

In one regard, it was hard being away from her, especially when they’d finally defined their relationship. He’d like to spend every moment with her, naturally. But in a second way, being separated wasn’t a problem. Because he had so much faith in them. Separation caused him nearly no doubts. Jaime had never been interested in tour hook ups the way many people were. There was no worry about that in his mind. He trusted her unequivocally.

His only hitch was a concern that he could not trust himself. He had an extensive, almost endless, history of on-the-road transgressions, including incidents of infidelity. They had made him rather infamous. When they’d been only friends, Jaime’d thought it was rather hilarious. What did she think now? Did it make her jealous to think of? He sort of wished it did. In the past, she’d shown very little sign of jealousy and next to no drive to battle for her territory. That was almost deflating to him. She should be aggressively fighting for him.

And despite their clear definition, something still bothered him about the Jaime situation. The issue of her love. It could not be proven. She had done nothing to show it especially. Though he had not said the words since May, he was sure he’d proven himself. This was a very unsettling consideration. It made him feel as though all of the trouble was going to waste.

At any rate, he had no intention of cheating on her. He’d made it several weeks without any serious temptations. For the most part, he’d stayed away from fans, especially of the female variety. He didn’t want to risk another meltdown with Jaime. It would be so easy to fall into his old habits, too easy. And even the best intentions could be foiled by the wrong situations.

He hated this attitude he was acquiring. Jaime was everything to him. Distance seemed to delude the good thoughts and intensify the bad. The force of it all had been giving him a headache. The drinking had helped with that, as it always did. The pressure of his confusion was replaced by an uneasy stomach and eyes that were starting to blur when he looked at things. He could deal with drunkenness much better than he could deal with distance.

“Hi,” a soft voice said.

Oliver blearily looked up. The girl was pretty. But in his mind, that was all that really registered. He couldn’t really make out any details. She was probably a brunette, but in the dim light she was maybe a red head; he couldn’t tell. “’Lo,” he lifted his hand weakly and let it fall limply onto his lap.

“You are Oli, yes?” Her accent was thick but Oliver had momentarily forgotten what country they were in.

“Aye, ‘m Oli. Oli fuckin’ Sykes,” he slurred.

“I can sit here?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded.

The girl sat next to him. Even with her that close, he couldn’t make out much of her face. His eyes were not working probably or he just wasn’t trying hard enough. He could see that she wore dramatic make up, possibly red lipstick. He was fairly confident though that she was attractive.

“Did yeh like the gig?” He asked.

She nodded. “Very good. You very sexy on stage.” She was leaning closer to him. “I’m sorry, my English is… bad.”

“’S o’reight.” Oliver shrugged.

She didn’t have to speak English well for her intentions to be clear. He had been in this same situation hundreds of times. Hundreds of different girls in hundreds of places. And none of them mattered save for one. How could he be forgetting that one for even an instant? The most important one. And that one was not the pretty foreign girl inching towards him. He closed his eyes and could see Jaime’s face. He could see the insight but somehow childlike hazel eyes and perfect pink lips.

The thought of Jaime’s lips coincided with the foreign girl’s lips making contact with the side of his neck. Oliver let out a surprised laugh. A stranger kissing him was not the surprise. The surprise was that he let it happen and then let it continue for several moments. It took him too long to realize what was happening and even longer to realize that it was a bad thing despite the fact that it felt alright.

“Eh… stop.” He pushed the girl away.

She looked at him even more surprised than he was. She’d no doubt heard of his reputation for this kind of thing. “What?”

“Sorry, love… I can’t be doin’ this.”

“I… do not understand,” the girl said as she leaned in once more; this time brushing her lips over his.

His reaction time was still painfully slow, but if he were thinking straight, sober, there would be no hesitation. In his mind, he knew he did not want to be kissing this girl. There was only one girl in the world he wanted. But it was hard convincing his body of that.

He pressed her away once more and attempted to stand. It was a labored endeavor, difficult because his limbs were uncoordinated. He stumbled, scrapping his palms on the pavement but finally managing to stand and step forward. The girl was talking but he couldn’t hear it over the sound of his head yelling obscenities at him. He tripped over his feet multiple times as he attempted to make his way to the bus. It took an eternity to get there and he didn’t even think about the girl he’d left on the pavement. He clawed for the door, running into it and knocking his head off of it when it finally opened.

“O’reight, mate?” Sheep took his arm and began helping him up the stairs.

“IneedtacallJaime,” his hurried words ran together.

“Wha’ was tha’?” Sheep laughed and turned to Kean, who was looking on with great amusement. “’E’s havin’ a good night.”

“I gotta call Jaime,” Oli repeated clearer.

“No, man,” Kean slapped his back. “Yeh gotta sleep… Yer hands are bleedin’, Ol.”

“I fell. Let go o’ me.” He tried to pull his arm away from Sheep. But this just caused him to run into Kean. Matt caught his other arm, helping him stand. “I need my mobile. Oh fuck, is it in my pocket? What if I left it out there wiff tha’ bird…”

“Bird?” Matt asked.

“There were a bird an’ she were kissin’ me an’ I tried to go but I fell and then I think I left my mobile an’ I need to call Jaime—“

“Jaime doesn’ want yer plastered arse callin’ ‘er,” Matt told him.

“Course she does!” Oliver yelled. “I gotta tell her ‘bout the lass out there!”

“Would yeh stop fuckin’ shoutin’,” Sheep hissed, trying to drag him towards the bunks.

“I’ll fuckin’ shout ef I wanna fuckin’ shout!”

“Go to bed, yeh fuckin’ sod,” Kean said, shaking his head.

“Would both o’ yeh jus’ piss off?”

Kean and Sheep shrugged and dropped Oli’s arms. Oliver immediately lost his balance and toppled onto the ground. “Leave ‘im there,” Sheep instructed. “Crazy fuckin’ bastard.”

--

“Hey sugar, what’s up?” Jaime greeted as she answered the phone, standing outside of a venue, clipboard in hand. Nadine was beside her, sitting in a folding chair with a large cardboard box full of t-shirts. Jaime’s mood at not improved too terribly; she still felt somewhat low. Though hearing his voice might help.

“Nuffin,” Oliver responded. “I—“

“Is it as cold over there as it is here?" Keep Your Composure would be heading to the UK in just a couple weeks. "It’s fucking freezing for September. And if I have to pack a goddamn parka to hop the pond, I’m going to flip. Why did the Cali dates already pass? I miss LA… sunny days, man.”

“I doubt it’ll be too cold,” he said. “But I wouldn’ count on sun.” And he wasn’t guaranteeing that she’d want to be on the same continent as him after he told her he’d been too wasted to say no to some slut.

“Well then I’ll leave the sunscreen at home,” she stated just as a group of guys passed by Jaime to wait in line. “Hold on a second.”

“O’reight…”

Jaime pulled the phone away from her ear and yelled “Buy a t-shirt, pass the line. One for fifteen, two for twenty-five!” Then she put the phone back against her ear. “Okay, sorry.”

“Wha’s tha’ yeh shouted?”

“Oh, I’ve worked out a deal with the venue so that anyone who buys a Never Again t-shirt before the show gets into the doors first. It’s really cool. I’m mega pumped. It’s totally working.”

“Tha’s really great.”

“Oh man, I know. I’ve called the next few venues too.”

“I’m glad it’s workin’ out.”

Jaime paused. Something was not right. “Okay, Oliver Scott, what’s wrong? You’re being awful short.”

“Perceptive as ever,” he mumbled.

“I try.” Jaime waited for an explanation to come but all she could hear was his unsteady breathing. “Baby?”

“Jaime, I’ve fucked up.” There was vulnerability in his voice, sadness. Jaime could tell he was absolutely serious. But that didn’t stop her from making a joke.

“Isn’t that usually what I say?” She laughed but it had a nervous twinge. Oliver heard it. He was more attuned to her subtleties now, wanting to hear anything that might give away her thoughts.

“I’m terrible, I am,” he said.

“What’s wrong? What happened?” Jaime was walking away from the venue then. Not wanting to sound so serious in front of Nadine.

“I were pissed last night…” He prefaced.

“Alright,” she hesitantly uttered.

“There was this bird…”

An anxious hum escaped her lips. “A bird? Well, this sounds bad.”

He quickly added “I didn’ sleep with ‘er though!”

“Oh good,” she slightly sardonically said.

“Not even close ta any of tha’.”

“But?”

“But I kissed her,” he admitted.

“You were drunk and kissed someone,” she repeated the story back to him.

“Uh, yeah. It was more her kissin’ me though.”

“Well, I guess it could be worse.” Nonchalance rolled from her words, as if it were not particularly a big deal. To her, it wasn’t. Not really. She just wanted one clarification.

Oliver wasn’t sure why he was surprised by her indifference. Nothing about her should surprise him. “Listen, I’m sorry, Jai. I know better. I’ve fucked up big time. I’ve been good, yeh know? Stayin’ away from all them lasses wiff their tits all out and tryin’—Fuck, I’m sorry. ‘M such—“

“Shh,” Jaime quieted his rambling. “Just let me think for a second, okay?” She rubbed her forehead and on the other end, Oliver was doing the same. “Hmm. You told me. I appreciate that.”

“I can’t lie ta yeh. I jus’ can’t.”

“That’s… good.”

“Yeh know that yeh mean more to me than some random slut.”

“I do know that.”

“An’ yeh know I’d never do tha’ ef I were sober. An’ I pushed her away o’most right—“

“Oliver. Shut up. Please. I’m thinking. Just for a minute.” She knew what she wanted to ask. She’d wanted to ask it for quite some time. It just so happened that this was her opportune time. “Do you love me?”

There was a long pause of Oliver’s part before he very quietly said “What?”

“I asked if you loved me. You said it once and I want to know if you meant it then and if you mean it now.”

“I… uh, why?”

“Why what?”

“Why do yeh want ta know?”

“Because if you love me then it doesn’t matter, right? Some girl is just some girl.”
After all this time, Jaime’s flawed logic made sense to him. There was some rhythm and reason to it, somewhere, somehow. Maybe he’d just grown accustomed to it, learned to understand it. But that didn’t mean he liked it.

He didn’t want it to happen this way. Not over the phone and not because his hand was forced. But didn’t he always give her what she wanted, no matter the detriment to his well-being? And wouldn’t it be good to hear her reciprocation?

“Jai, love, sayin’ it now would fuck up my grand plan ta fly yeh to Paris an’ take yeh—“ He tried to make a joke.

“Oliver. I only want to know you mean it. Like when I wanted a reason. Remember that? I just have to know to be sure.”

He was silent, contemplative. He would not deny her. And he would make up for saying it over the phone, maybe actually take her to Paris. Or Prague, he remembered that she’d particularly liked Prague when they’d played there. He’d do something.

Besides, saying it wouldn’t be a lie. That was certain. It was the truest thing he’d ever encountered. The one thing that would be foolish to deny. It was as real to him as his own skin, covering him completely. It was as reflexive as breathing, no thought, just occurrence. So he said it.

“I love you.”

There was a very piercing quiet and then a sigh. Jaime’s relief. Oliver was pained by anticipation that had been building for sixteen months. No, he thought, longer than that. He had never known relief from this anticipation. Would it be trite for him to think that he’d been waiting all his life?

Then Jaime spoke. “Okay, cool,” she said swiftly. “Then it doesn’t matter. A drunken kiss is nothing.”

Oliver couldn’t even respond to the last part because he was still stuck on the first. The part where she said ‘okay, cool’ after he’d told her he loved her.

How many times could one girl cut your fucking guts out before you stopped handing her the knife?

Every terrible cliché felt by a million sad songwriters was starting to make sense to him. He really was a sap. He’d chew off his own hands if she asked him to and she’d say ‘okay, cool’. He would give up everything for a girl who responded to love with ‘okay, cool’.

And the worst part was that she didn’t even seem to know what she’d done. Or it was absolute apathy. Like with the girl in the parking lot. Jaime didn’t really care. No matter what requirement she’d made him fulfill for forgiveness. He saw it now. Where he felt love, she felt indifference.

“Oliver? I’m not mad, okay? Say something…”

“I have to go,” he stiffly stated.

“What?”

“I’m off.”

“But—“

“Bye, Jaime.” He hung up.

To the dead other end, she breathed “Oliver?”