Fly Me Away

We pulled over at an average looking Restaurant on the way back to town. It had a rather silly name—Mary’s Prairies—but it smelled wonderful as I slipped out of the Bentley and into the cold air. Jackson placed a jacket, which had been sitting in his car, on my shoulders.

“Thanks,” I muttered. He waved me off and held the front door open.

Inside, Mary’s Prairies looked just like your typical Restaurant, nothing special. There were quite a few people eating though, enough to make it difficult to hear what people were saying. We made our way over to a booth in the corner that was currently unoccupied and sat down.

“Would you like something to drink?” Jackson asked.

“Water would be good.”

He walked up to the counter and I didn’t miss the all the glances he got from other people in the Restaurant. I laughed quietly to myself; Jackson was some kind of attention magnet, but not on purpose. He was constantly demanding my attention and I didn’t think he realized at all.

“Hey girl.”

I looked over at the booth across from us. There were three men there in their in their late 20’s eating burgers, one of which seemed to be speaking to me. I gave them a disgusted look and they laughed before making quiet jokes between each other that I couldn’t hear.

Jackson returned and placed a tall glass of water in front of me. He was looking over at the group of men, a doubtful expression clear on his face. I guzzled back the glass of water, obviously much thirstier than I thought.

When I finished it and put it back on the table, I noticed a heated staring competition going on between Jackson and the three men. He looked angry.

“Jackson?”

He ignored me.

“Don’t worry about them.”

He kept his eyes plastered in their direction, “I don’t like them.”

I shrugged, “you don’t need to.”

He broke it off and glanced back at me, seemingly a bit embarrassed. He shook his head and took a sip out of his own glass of water.

“Sorry,” he muttered.

“Don’t apologize. They are pretty dodgy looking, but I could probably beat them up if I wanted to.”

I grinned at him. An old, thin woman with a red apron ambled over to us with a note pad in hand, “how can I help you kids?”

Jackson looked to me expectantly and I felt a little spasm of panic; I hadn’t even looked at the menu. I glanced up at the black board above the counter and checked my pockets for money at the same time. My face turned red when I put the contents into the middle of the table.

“What can I get for three dollars?” I asked, making an effort not to look at Jackson to see what he thought of my money situation.

She raised her eyebrows and checked the menu over her shoulder.

Jackson pushed my three dollars back towards me, “It’s my shout, pick whatever you want.”

“No I couldn’t. I’ve got this, I’m not that hungry.”

What a big fat lie that was.

“It’s alright Maggie—”

“—No, no, I’m sure there’s something I can get...let’s see here...”

“Not this again.” he slapped a hand onto his forehead.

I sighed. Well, I guess it wouldn’t have been too hard to let him pay. He did have that big expensive car and I was really hungry...

“Can I have hot cakes please?”

The old woman’s eyes flickered from me to my money

“That’s more than three dollars love,” she warned.

“He’s paying,” I sighed, pointing unnecessarily at Jackson. He smiled triumphantly.

The old woman laughed, “anything for you sir?”

“I’ll have the same.”

She nodded and trotted back to her counter. I looked over at Jackson and he was staring out the window, content now that I let him pay. Guys could be so weird sometimes.

“I only let you pay because you have that big flash car,” I insisted.

He laughed, “that’s reason enough for me.”

“So...” I took the salt shaker and sprinkled a dab onto my index finger, “how come you have such a nice car anyway?”

“It used to be my fathers.”

Oh right, rich parents. That made sense. A rock-star and a super model.

“And he gave it to you? Wow that’s really nice.”

“No, he passed away.”

Whoa.

I nearly slapped my hand across my mouth, “...I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t worry, it was a long time ago.” he looked distracted, like his mind was somewhere completely different.

“My Dad died too,” I added, not looking up from the salt, “before I was born though so I don’t remember him.”

“Something we have in common.”

I regretted saying anything—of course. We both fell silent for a moment.

“Maggie...you should tell me what’s happened with your friends, I’m an exceptionally good listener.”

My stomach twisted into knots.

“They’re just having a little tiff I think. I guess I didn’t really mean you were my only friend...That made me sound like a bit of a loser. I think I meant to say you’re.... kinda my favorite at the moment.”

“Your favorite? Already?”

I shrugged; my face was burning, despite the cold. I hoped he didn’t think I was being creepy.

“I must be more interesting than I thought. You’ve only met me a few times, and I always force you to be in those ridiculous paintings.”

“You’ve never forced me....and I like your paintings,” I murmured.

“You like them...?” his head perked up, “would it be rude of me to ask why? You don’t seem like you’re particularly interested in fine art.”

“Honestly, I’m not, but your pictures always make me look so....nice. Pretty and elegant and...Just...nicer that I actually am.”

“Maggie,” he gave me a meaningful look, “I only paint exactly what I see in front of me.”

I felt my cell phone vibrate in the pocket of my shorts, but ignored it.

“But what about the kinda abstract one you did?” I asked.

The painting of me looking away was what immediately sprang into mind. I felt like I needed to defend myself from his compliments.

He let out a short sharp laugh, “I don’t know whether you noticed, but that painting didn’t look anything like you.”

Oh. He was right...

Oh no, he bummed me out. This was where my inexperience with guys became my downfall. I didn’t know how to recover and be witty and intriguing...though I did consider Jackson to be the easiest guy to talk to ever, which was strange because of how intimidating he was.

“Well, I’m alright with being your favorite friend anyway,” he said casually.

And as soon as the words left his mouth, I suddenly felt like I had a personality again.

“Just okay? You should be honored!”

He cracked a smiled, “ah, you’re absolutely right, my apologies. I am extremely grateful, what an honor this is! I have no words your majesty.”

“That’s more like it,” I said, smiling victoriously.

“And, just for good measure, you are my favorite friend as well.”

He smiled brilliantly and I melted—we were good friends now. That was so not like me! I didn’t even talk to strangers better yet befriend them and do them favors and eat hot cakes with them.

I could hardly call him a stranger anymore. He was sweet and caring and had flawless manners, not to mention he was very easy on the eyes, but I didn’t want to scare him off. I was happy with friends—no—I was thrilled with friends. That was something I was in desperate need off.

“So we should do something like this again. You can paint me if you want? You bring the flash car and I’ll bring the model,” I laughed.

His face dropped slightly. If I was any less perceptive I would have missed it.

“...I don’t know,” he said unsurely.

I felt my phone vibrate again, but was too stunned by what he’d just said to check it.

“Huh? But you just said—”

“I’m very busy in the next few weeks.”.

The feeling of rejection made it difficult for me to swallow and I opted to remain very quiet. He couldn’t have meant what he said about my being friends with him. God I was such a stupid little girl, thinking I could persuade this university student to replace my friends. It was funny how he could crush all my hopes in two sentences. Kind of pathetic too.

I hated the silence that ensued; he started keeping watch over the three men again while I played with the salt and pepper shakers childishly.

When the hot cakes finally arrived, I practically inhaled them. I barely even noticed when Jackson finished one of his, then offered me the rest, which I greedily accepted.

After I’d cleaned out both sets of hot cakes, I checked the clock on the wall and just about died.

8.45 pm. The shop’s closed almost three hours ago—mom was going to murder me.

I remembered my phone and decided to should check it.


3 missed calls
2 new messages

Wow I had barely noticed any of them. The first 2 calls were from my Mom and the last one was from Kelly. Uh oh.

I opened the first message, which was from Kelly:


Maggie where r u ur
Mom said u said u wer
with me bt ur not.
Txt bak.

I thought it was appropriate to read the second message before I texted back, as it was also from Kelly:


U wont ansa ur fone.
Ur mom keeps bugin me
I hope u havnt run away
txt me bak plz!

I turned off my phone and shoved it in my pocket. That could be my excuse—It was turned off the whole time. I still needed to think of some way to explain this to my Mom...

“I think I better get home soon,” I suggested, the urgency hidden from my voice.

Jackson nodded dutifully, rising up from his seat and offering me a hand, “you’re right, I’ve kept you too long I think.”

I liked the way he said he’d kept me. It made me want to giggle girlishly and tell my friends, even though I knew there was no hidden meaning in it. He was just being polite.

I sighed and took his hand, hugging his jacket closer around my shoulders. He gave me his key’s and sent me out to sit in his car with the heater on while he paid for the meal—there was a surprising wait.

I was only about 10 meters away from the Bentley when I heard a few quiet chuckles from behind me disrupt the air of the otherwise silent car park.

“Hey babe, this your boyfriends car?” A tall dark haired guy strutted up to me. Another guy stood slightly behind him and stared at me, and the last guy was behind him checking out Jackson’s car.

I cringed and put on my angriest face. I didn’t want his car to get stolen.

“Go away,” I spat, trying to walk around them and get back to Jackson.

I gasped loudly as one of them grabbed my shoulder “Come on babe—”

Jackson was at my side in a flash. He shoved the dark haired guy back with one hand, and the guy stumbled back a good few meters. My breathing became constricted as I started to feel scared and worried—I didn’t want anyone getting hurt. What if these creeps had a gun or something like that? It happened in movies...

I looked up at Jackson. The only way to explain how he looked was both angelic and demonic; his fists were clenched and there was a hard, blank expression on his face. He had almost taken on the attributes of a statue, but his eyes blazed with a fury that could never be carved.

The same man stepped forward and held his hands up, “hey sorry bro, we thought she was single so—”

“—No you didn’t,” Jackson snapped. His stance became protective as he stood between me and the three men. I just hovered there feeling dumbstruck – I had never been in an even remotely threatening situation before and I wasn’t sure whether to stand by Jackson or run inside to get help.

The guy looked peeved that he was interrupted and he stepped forward more, “Hey pretty boy, we don’t want no trouble here—”

“—then leave.” Jackson’s voice was calmer this time, but his body begged to differ.

“And what if we don’t wanna, huh punk?!” The man roared.

“Then you’re just asking for trouble,” Jackson growled, not fazed by the man’s intimidating tone, “so we’ll go. Come on Maggie.”

He turned calmly and without looking at me, hooked his arm around my waist. He led me back in the direction of the Restaurant.

“Hey!” one of them hollered, “what if we don’t want you too?!”

The men broke into a chorus of sleazy laughter and one of them moved to grab hold of my wrist, but never got the chance. Jackson had snatched him by the scruff of the neck and thrown him against a parked car. The sound was atrocious—I swore I heard some kind of snap, but it was immediately forgotten to the sound of the man screaming and crying out. After a good 20 second’s of staring, I still couldn’t believe my eyes. The other two, the wing men, stood there just as cluelissly as me.

Jackson pulled me closer to him, but spoke to them, “get him to a hospital.”

The two men rushed over to their fallen comrade. Jackson wasted no time in taking me back over to his car and helping me in. I was still in a pretty intense state of shock and only vaguely aware of what was going on. Once in, I stared at him while he buckled my seat-belt for me and I didn’t like what I saw. He looked hurt, like someone had just stabbed him in the chest. He sat his hands on the steering wheel and closed his eyes.

“Jackson,” I said, my voice coming out weak and quiet. The second he looked over at me his expression worsened.

“Maggie I’m so sorry, please tell me you’re okay,” he pleaded.

“I’m okay,” I assured him, “thanks to you.”

He didn’t like that. He shook his head and closed his eyes again, then started up the car and clenched the steering wheel.

“Jackson what’s wrong?”

He just shook his head.

“No,” I insisted, “something’s wrong. I’m fine, but you just hurled a guy a into a car.”

“That should never have happened.”

“God knows what would have happened if you didn’t do anything. Sometimes you can’t help these things.” My soft voice was such a contrast to his. I barely resisted the sudden urge to reach out and touch him.

“I could have prevented all of this if I was just...” he growled, “doing what I was supposed to be doing.”

I pondered that for a moment, but couldn’t make any sense of it. Doing what he was supposed to be doing... and what was that? The only way it all could have been prevented was if today didn’t happen. Was he not supposed to be out with me like this?

We were quiet for a long time as he left me to my contemplating, but the silence was broken by five heartbreaking words that left his mouth like daggers.

“I can’t see you again.”

My mouth dropped open.

“What?” My voice was an octave higher than usual.

“...I shouldn’t...”

I felt the lump in my throat again and I swallowed painfully. My eyes began to water up.

No! Nothing was going my way. I thought everything bad that could have happened to me in the last week had already happened and that Jackson was my flicker of hope. Even my Mom was going to be mad at me when I got home. Now what did I have? A tiny hypo dog?

That was when I lost it.

“...why?! Some guys were just about to kidnap me, I have no friends, nobody to talk to, I’ve been crying in the girls bathroom for a week, my Mom is going to kill me when I get home and now the only good part of my day wants nothing to do with me? What the hell do I keep doing wrong?!?” I cried, pulling my knees up so I had something to hide my face with. I saw tears spilling down onto my legs and I wiped them hastily away with my sleeve.

I felt a hand on my shoulder.

“Trust me Maggie, it’s better this way—”

“—What’s better? My life? Oh, right, that’s so true. Thanks a lot,” I mumbled though the material of his jacket.

His hand moved and started stroking my hair. I was positive I would have enjoyed it had I not been in such a state.

He spoke just above a whisper, “please don’t cry—”

“—No, you know what?” I shook his hand off, “Shut up. I don’t care. Take me home.”

I lifted my head up and roughly wiped my face with his sleeve. I chose to stare out the window stubbornly.

He did as I asked and shut up. I couldn’t bear to look at him after my little rant.

-----

As we passed through town, I noticed that my rage had fizzled away into just plain sadness. The tears didn’t stop, but the sniffling eventually did.

“456 South Diane Street in Feverton,” I muttered, once we exited town. Originally, I was going to get him to drop me a street away from my house so my Mom wouldn’t see, but I didn’t see the point anymore. I didn’t care what Mom thought.

He silently drove me there and parked in front of my house. I took off his jacket and immediately started shivering.

“You keep it,” he said, pushing it back towards me.

“I don’t want it.”

I threw it in the back seat and wrenched the passenger door open. His hand shot out and grabbed my arm. I stopped and stared at it, before looking back in at him.

Jackson looked much worse then I’d imagined. Just as sad as me—but he had no reason. He was the one who didn’t want to see me. He should have been happy.

“What is it?” I hissed, “I’m giving you what you want. You don’t have to see me ever again after this.”

“That is not what I want,” he said sternly, gently pulling on my arm. I flopped back onto the seat and shut the door again.

I ran both my hands through my hair, “ugh, I don’t understand you at all.”

“I don’t understand me either. I’m sorry Maggie, I’ve made such a big mess of things and I haven’t dealt with this properly at all. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do so I’m running away.”

“Running away from what?”

“ ....you’re better off without me.”

I just sighed. I had lost all hope that he was going to take back what he said and pick me up again tomorrow, so it wasn’t much of a surprise.

“Bye then,” I deadpanned.

I opened the door again and tried to escape, but he hadn’t let go of my arm.

“Trust me,” he urged, “you’ll be okay. Everything will get better. I’ll still be around.”

Then my arm slipped out of his grasp. I barely heard what he said. I couldn’t understand him anymore, so I just gave up. I was so exhausted; I didn’t have the energy to think.

I took one last fleeting look, and I gave him a chance to say something else, but he just smiled weakly, “Goodbye.”

I slammed the door and walked through the freezing wind and up to my doorway. I reached in my pocket and pulled out the house key, and three dollars. I stared at it for a long time. I couldn’t believe my life changed so much in just once day.

I dropped the money and let myself in.