Jukebox Lovers

It's five in the morning and I'm still staring at the phone, wondering if I should call Jacqui back. I'd memorized the number from the caller ID by now, since I've looked at it repetitively. I realized it was far too early in the morning to call someone, especially Jacqui since I had an idea of what his father's reaction may be to a call at such a time. I cringed at the thought.

I asked my mother numerous times if Jacqui had said anything about what he wanted. She simply told me time and time again that he had not stated what he had wanted. I would nod and go to my room only to stare at the black and purple duct-tape covered corded phone on my desk, tapping my fingers, wondering whether or not to call him back, eventually going back to my mother asking again, "You're sure he didn't mention what he wanted?"

My eyes hurt something terrible from focusing so much, and I realized I had to start getting ready for our first day back to school in only four hours. I set my alarm clock and lay my head on my pillow in attempt to get some rest before school.

I awoke to my beeping alarm clock, groaning and rolling over to hit the "off" button. I stumbled to the bathroom and turned on the shower, letting it heat up while I cleaned off excess makeup from the day before. Walking back into my room, I grabbed the outfit I chose to wear for the day and lay it on my bed before making my way back to the bathroom.

I lathered my shampoo in my hair and soap on my body, dropping the squeegee and letting the water cascade down my body. I did not want to leave the safe warmth of the spray, because I knew the moment I got out it would be back to being in the cold, figuratively and literally.

"Adrian, you only have twenty minutes!" my mother called to me from outside the bathroom. I sighed and got out of the shower, drying off my body and squeezing my way into the outfit I chose.

Finding Annemarie before school proved more difficult than usual. I looked everywhere for my bleach blonde friend, unable to find her. I sighed and slunk inside of the school, hoping to go unnoticed amongst the crowd.

"A-Adrian?" I heard a familiar voice.

I turned to come face-to-face with Jacqui Larson, "Oh, hello."

"I-I called you yesterday but you w-weren't home yet. I d-don't know who else t-to t-talk to."

"That's fine. What's on your mind?" I asked, sitting at one of the tables in the cafeteria. He sat next to me and looked down.

"Adrian, p-please be honest. Y-you won't make me upset o-or anything. I-I just w-want to know what you saw between m-me and my d-dad."

I looked at the ground, "Oh."

"Please, tell me. I need to know what you know," he said urgently.

"Well...I saw him...yell at you...and then slam you into the wall..." I couldn't piece together the whole story. It was incredibly hard to repeat what I had seen out loud.

"So you know," he whispered.

I nodded slowly.

His eyes fell to the floor as he whimpered, "He's my dad, though. He loves me even if he does that stuff. He still loves me."

I shook my head, "You think that's love, Jacqui? Love hurts, but not like that."

"He loves me. He's my dad. He loves me."

"You don't know what love is," I took one of his hands and he looked up at me, eyes watering, "but you'll learn someday. I promise."

"I'm not an easy person to love, Adrian," Jacqui said, pulling his hand away and scooting away a little.

"Hey fags! Get the fuck out of here!" some jock bellowed. I sighed as tears fell from Jacqui's eyes. I pulled him up by the hand and walked him to one of the old empty classrooms. He sat down in one of the old, orange chairs and I sat in another one, smiling sadly at him.

He didn't say anything, but he looked around the room in thought.

"What's wrong?" I asked, taking his hand again.

"Just thinking."

"About what?"

"Oh, it's nothing."

I nodded, "If you ever need to talk about anything, obviously you have my number. And I'm pretty much always in school."

"Okay," he whimpered.

It was silent for awhile, but some sort of common sense told me not to break it or Jacqui would be upset.

But I didn't need to break it. He did.

"It's just so stupid why he does it, you know?"

"I don't understand," I said, honestly.

A blush came to his cheeks, "Well, uh. Annemarie told me you were gay so you probably understand."

"You're gay?" I asked.

"Bisexual. But. My dad h-he--" The stammering returned to his voice and he started to sob, clinging onto me. I wrapped my arms around him as his tears stained my shirt. The five minute bell went off and I helped him to the bathroom to clean off his face so nobody knew he was crying. I walked him to class and sat down next to him, still amazed I had never seen him before.

The lesson with Mrs. Duvall was torturous. It was our French class, and since it was the first day, we only learned easy things, which was family members. Everytime the word "pere", meaning father, was said, I could see Jacqui's eyes widen and tear up a little. Every once in awhile I would seize his hand under the table to keep him from crying.

The P.A. system beeped.

"Mrs. Duvall?"

"Oui?"

"Do you have a Jacqui Larson in class?"

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."

"Can you send him to the office? His father is here to pick him up."

"Will do! Go ahead, dear."

I saw the his eyes widen.

My poor broken angel.