In This Starless City

The concert that following night went by swimmingly and to celebrate the rest of my birthday, as well as our last day in London, we were to spend the night at my parents’ house.

How they figured out a way to house eight extra bodies in a house that was meant for only them was incredibly impressive. But somehow they manage to pull it off and after the show and the signings and the meet and greets and everything else that came packaged with the performance and the music, we ended up at my parents’ place.

Because Shawn had caught up with me after my birthday party fiasco, my parents were slightly reluctant about allowing Jack to stay under the same roof as me. Honestly, I couldn’t tell if they were more afraid of what Shawn would do to him or of what I would do to hi.

I certainly wanted no part of him near me anytime soon. Or ever…if I could help it. But simultaneously, I didn’t want him to be minced by Shawn.

So, when we got back to the house and we finished talking and laughing and catching up with my parents, they adjourned to their room for the night and I stayed in the armchair in the corner of the cozy living room, quietly sipping on my draft.

The living room was quaint and I enjoyed how close and family-like we all seemed while strewn around the furniture and the carpet. Shawn was standing in the doorway, chuckling every now and then at something someone would say, but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me laugh quietly when his eyes would narrow ever so slightly toward Jack whenever he’d speak.

Shawn walked over to me and sat down on the arm of the chair. “Do you want me to stick around or can you fend for yourself?” he whispers, just loud enough to be heard over the hysterical laughter that had filled the room, but quiet enough to only be heard by me.

“I can fend for myself, but there may be a liability or a body bag involved,” I spoke from the side of my mouth as I traced the rim of my glass with my fingertip distractedly. Thought I wouldn’t admit it then, I had been staring…or glaring, maybe…at Jack for the last few minutes.

Shawn nodded, gave me a hug and a kiss on the temple, and then headed to his home. My stomach flip-flopped at the idea of him not being there to protect me if and when Jack decided to say something to me.

Thankfully he was so enveloped with his cuticles and was still wearing his baseball cap that he didn’t notice how enveloped I was with him much to my discontent.

The hours ticked away, quickly at times, and painfully slow at others. Every once and a while, Jack would look up and catch me looking at him and I’d have to pretend that I was staring at the crackling fire that was behind him or the window that was being pattered with raindrops to my right.

My parents had set up a sleeping situation without much of a hassle. I would be sleeping in the guest bedroom and the guys could sleep wherever they felt comfortable as long as it wasn’t upstairs with me.

The guys continued to drink and talk and joke and laugh and I continued to listen long after my beer was gone. But as the wind died down and the rain started to lighten to a gentle shower, I decided I would rather be outside on the porch where it was quiet and where I could think a little more clearly.

And because that’s where Jack wasn’t, but I tried to convince myself that that wasn’t one of my key reasons.

I got up and walked out without being noticed and without one peep of objection from my company. I got to the porch and sat on the swing, placing my feet on the railing and looking down on the city lights from the small hill that my parents’ house was placed on. The rain was illuminating the lights even more, clearing the smoggy air and leaving it crisp and clean.

I pushed against the railing of the porch, swinging gently forward and back. Summer was coming to an end and I could already feel the coolness of fall approaching. I wrapped my arms around me for a little warmth and I noticed the rain started to come down harder simultaneously.

I could still hear everyone laughing inside ad thunder rumbled along with their cackling. They were getting louder, more and more rambunctious, and I wondered if they’d even noticed that I was gone.

The door opened and closed to my left and I closed my eyes, frustration setting in because I didn’t even have to look over to know whom it was.

I could smell his cologne from where I swung.

“They’re getting pretty loud in there,” Jack said awkwardly, laughing slightly, and I could imagine him ruffling the hair on the back f his neck, scuffling his shoes along the wood of the porch. “Thought I’d get some fresh air.”

“There is a back porch too,” I said monotonously. “It would have been the much more convenient choice when you put into perspective your seat in the living room.”

He took a deep breath, probably debating on how to respond. And I waited for his response because thought I had wanted nothing more than to go the rest of this tour without uttering a word to him, now that he was within my grasp, I wanted to crush him the way he had crushed me.

I glance up at him and he was standing on the other side of the porch, leaning against the side of the house and staring out through the rain. His eyes were dark, but I could see them sparkling through the shadow from under his hat. He had that look on his face—that look that only appeared when he was really thinking about something. And I despised that I didn’t know what was going on inside his head.

And I hated that I cared even more.

He was still thinking quietly and I was beginning to wonder if he was going to say anything at all. I had been looking at him for a few minutes and his gaze hadn’t swayed whatsoever.

Then, he spoke and a despite how quiet and almost imaginary it seemed, I heard every little detail of the two words as they passed his lips.

“I’m sorry.”

I stopped swinging abruptly and turned my head and looked at him full on.

“Really?” I snarl, bringing my feet down to the porch and standing, leaving the swing rocking gently behind and beneath me. “Well, thank goodness you’re sorry, Jack.” I found myself walking toward him, taking each step slowly, cautiously, but not for myself. For him. Because I almost wanted—expected—him to run.

“Charlotte, I—…” He tried to talk himself out of the corner that I was already backing him into. Both figuratively and literally.

“Because I truly thought you were proud of what you did. I mean, you played your part so fucking well. That night at the pool in New York, the van before the show the day before we left for London,” I paused and my eyes narrowed in correspondence with the pang of icy agony that sparked in my chest. “Our date before my birthday,” he looked up at me and gulped when his gaze met mine. “I actually thought that I meant something to you.”

“You do mean something to m-…” he tried to explain, but I cut him off with an abrupt step forward, causing his teeth to snap shut and him to flinch and take a step backward. His back was to the house completely now.

“I mean about as much to you as that whore from the high school back in New York,” I cut him off viciously. “I couldn’t hold a candle to that girl that had been cheating on you for however long you were together,” I knew he wanted to be angry about that remark, but now that the tables were turned, he knew that he had no right to be. “But I know for a fact that I pale in comparison to the girl you met at my birthday party last night. You told me once that you didn’t let just anyone wear your hats, but you didn’t seem to hesitate in letting down your tight rules when she came around.”

He was only looking at me, waiting for a pause in my rant so he could get in a good word. But I wasn’t letting him. He opened his mouth to object, but I cut him off once again.

“You know, Jack,” my voice gentled and his eyes softened. He was anticipating me to fold; to give up this fight and go straight to making up. “I told you that you deserved a girl that would be there for you before you even ask; a girl that will not be put off by your double entendres and sexual innuendos; a girl that understands you and loves you for who you are and doesn’t care about who you’re not; a girl that needs you more than you need her and that knows it,” I could see his lips twitch. He wanted to smile because he wanted to think that he had won. “But…” his fighting smile vanished at the syllable. “I’m not that girl…” I trailed off. “…Because you evidently expect to have a girl to tug around by the heart strings, but a girl who doesn’t dare do the same.”

“Charlotte,” Jack’s confident façade was a pile of rubble.

“I’m just sorry I let this go on for as long as it did,” I put my hand on the railing and scuffed my shoe against the boards. “It was unfair of me.”

“No, you don’t…” I knew that he wanted to fix everything. “I mean, it wasn’t you, it was…” he didn’t know how to fix it, what to say, or what he wanted to say. He was only stuttering now, looking at me and then to his shoes and back again in pained confusion.

I didn’t want to stand there and watch him trip over his tongue and choke on his dignity. So, I decided to make the final blow then and there. “Goodnight, Jack.” I said finitely and then I walked inside, closing the door behind me.

In order to get upstairs, I had to walk past the living room, and aside from the odd fact that it was dead silent in there now, I could feel six pairs of eyes burning into my back when I turned to go upstairs.

I turned and faced everyone and they were all looking rather sobered up as they looked at me.

“Fuck, Char,” was all Alex said, shaking his head slightly.

“I know,” I replied shortly and I went upstairs and to my room, shutting and locking the door behind me.

I got into my suitcase and pulled out my sweatpants and a t-shirt, changing quickly and then climbing into the bed. The sheets were clean and crisp and so soft that I thought momentarily I was laying down in a cloud. But while all of that seemed great for about a millisecond, once I was lying still, I realized that the bedding didn’t comfort the huge void that was suddenly torn through my chest.

I sighed and then jolted at the sound of my phone ringing. I turned and grabbed it off of the bedside table and looked at it. I had received a picture message.

I opened it and was thoroughly perplexed when I saw a picture of me, gawking at the camera. I saw cars parked in the background and then, with a pang, I realized who it was from, when and where it was taken, and why Jack had just sent it to me.

I scrolled down from the picture to see a message. I sighed as I began to read:

Charlotte, if apologizing until my throat is raw doesn’t win back your trust, I don’t know what will, but I’ll apologize until my throat bleeds at any rate. So I’ll start now. I’m so sorry for what I did to you. But I would rather explain in person what exactly happened, if you would let me. And I know you would go the rest of your life without speaking one word to me and be perfectly fine in the end, but I want you to know that I’m not about to give up on you. I can’t stop, won’t stop loving you. And I’ll wait for you no matter how long it takes. You’ll get the last word, I promise. Sleep well, Miss Melancholy. I’ll see you in the morning.

By the end of the message, my eyes were misting and the emptiness inside of me throbbed and ached. I wanted so badly to text him back and tell him everything was okay.

But everything wasn’t okay.

Then, I saw a postscript at the bottom of the message.

P.S. – Don’t fret over what Alex said before you went upstairs. None of them will remember a thing come tomorrow morning. And now that you’re twenty-one, you’ll learn to understand that too.

I smiled and the hole inside me widened and then simmered a little.

I closed my phone and held it to my chest, the smile on my lips fading as fatigue closed it’s grasp on me. The smile on my face melted downward and my stone cold heart warmed slightly, but the hole around it was cooling it just as quickly.

But then I was asleep and dreams of Jack Barakat were flooding my brain and when I was woken up the next morning by my mom coming into my room, yelling that we were going to miss our flight because of me, I knew that staying angry at Jack Barakat would be harder than I anticipated and more than I would bargain for.