Page 2 of Jackson
2
Summer
Something felt off as I opened my eyes. I was lying, fully clothed, on top of the duvet but there was no warmth. There was no body curled in behind me, no warm breath on my neck, and no strong arms wrapped around me. His absence was immediatelyfelt.
“Jackson,” I called out as I satup.
There was no reply and I stared towards the bathroom, listening for sounds of the shower running. Perhaps he hadn’t heard me. I climbed from the bed and made my way to the living room. The apartment felt empty, and without needing to look any further, I knew he hadleft.
I made my way to the kitchen and set the kettle to boil, placed two teaspoons of tea in a pot, and waited for the water. I hated the silence of my empty apartment. I hated more that Jack was gone. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d left before I’d woken, he would return with pastries and coffee, but that morning my gut was telling me something was wrong. I reached for my phone, still charging on the countertop, and brought up his number. I dialled. The call went straight to voicemail and I left amessage.
“Jack, I’m making tea, can you callme?”
When my tea was brewed, I poured a cupful and sat on the sofa. I hated the apartment; I hated the circumstances that had me sitting on my own. I hated more that I was left to deal with its salealone.
I tried not to think, I wouldn’t look at the mantel above the gas fire that housed photographs and memories. I stared at my phone, waiting for a call or a text message. An hour passed and I began to getanxious.
Jack, can you call me, please? I’m worried aboutyou.
I looked at the text I’d sent waiting for a reply; nothing came. I pulled a comforter from the back of the sofa and wrapped myself up in it. I missed his arms around me; I missed the warmth of his body and the sigh he gave every time he wrapped me in hisarms.
Jackson had been my constant, the friend I was in love with, not that I had ever told him that. For the past six months, he’d comforted me, listened to my anguish and the anger that spewed from me. He’d been here day and night, sleeping next tome.
It had been a shock to realise I loved Jackson, that perhaps I’d always been in love with him. He was the one I confided in, the one I turned toward to solve a dilemma or mediate an argument. He was the one who held my hand when I’d found out about Dane, who had held me to his chest when all I wanted to do was to tear down the apartment, wall bywall.
I’d tried to deny my feelings for him for a long time. I’d reasoned that he was my best friend, it was okay to be a little in love with him. But it was the times when he was gone that I missed him the most, that I wished for him to be with me. I’d spent a while deciding if I had a need for him, or if I was in love with him, and I could come to no other conclusion. He consumed my thoughts, day and night, my body sparked whenever he touched me, and my stomach flipped at the thought of him. But it was too soon after Dane for either ofus.
At some point, I must have dozed off; I woke to the sound of traffic outside my window and the sun high in the sky. I checked my phone, and disappointment flooded me when I saw there was no reply. I called him again, left another message on his voicemail, and sent anothertext.
I was confused. Maybe he’d had enough of my misery. I’d suspected Jackson had his own troubles for as long as I’d know him. Perhaps he couldn’t cope with mine anymore. I remembered the erotic dream I’d had of him the previous evening, and prayed to God I hadn’t called out his name, or spoken in my sleep. I had no idea whether Jackson thought of us as anything more than friends. He was as closed with his emotions as a brick wall, totallyunreadable.
* * *
Ispent that day,and the following, attempting to contact Jack. As the hours went by, my messages and voicemails became more frantic. I cried until eventually, I becameangry.
“You fucking shit, Jackson. You bailed on me, didn’t you? Why? Just tell mewhy?”
That was the last voicemail message I left for him. No matter how angry, I could not dampen down those feelings of want and desire forhim.
It wasn’t the first time he had done a disappearing act. He was known for it, but I thought he’d stick around for just a little longer. I remembered back to a couple of years previous. One minute we’d been at a party, the next he called a month later from Australia. He spent most of his time travelling; I knew that. He never stayed in one place for too long, especially London, but I hoped I would have had longer with him. Six months of seeing him every single day, of sleeping beside him, always fully clothed, made his disappearance all the morehurtful.
The days turned into weeks and I survived, obviously. I placed the apartment up for sale and smiled as I showed prospective buyers around. I smiled as I spent time with friends and family, but it was fake. Inside I was dying, just a little each day. I would stare at a photograph of Jackson each night as I struggled to sleep. I would hear his voice in my head or imagined his heartbeat as I lay my head on the pillow. Finally, hecalled.
It was the middle of the night when my phone lit up on the bedside cabinet. I hadn’t been sleeping, just dozing. I reached over, not expecting any calls, and my heart stilled when I saw his name. I hesitated before answering hiscall.
“Hey,” hesaid.
“What do you want, Jack? It’s late,” I replied, trying to keep the harshness from myvoice.
“I’m sorry, I forgot the timedifference.”
“Time difference? Where the fuck areyou?”
“California.”
“You left without a word, I’ve been trying to contact you, and now you ring me in the middle of the night fromCalifornia!”
“I had to, Summer. If there could have been any other way, believe me, I would have stayed. I’m sorry. I wanted to get in touch so many times, but I had some things to do, for me, before Icould.”
