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Chapter Nine



Nick

“You ever been in love?” I asked.

It was a couple days later, after our conversation in Jaymie’s apartment. We were in the kitchen, she was making dinner and I was just haunting her. I’d spent the morning at the doctor’s office, as per Kevin’s request when he left me at the airport, and I wanted nothing more than to be near her, near somebody, anybody. And Jaymie was there to be near to. But I’d been thinking since we’d done all our talking about her and I and the relationship we shared and what it was I wanted and what Jaymie and I could be if we only refocused ourselves. And somewhere in the forty-eight hours that separated then and now, I’d realized that I wanted that potential to become reality.

“What?” Jaymie looked at me from the stove, where she was watching the water boil for some ziti. I leaned against the counter, holding a bottle of beer I’d just pulled from the fridge, the cap still in my hand. I twisted it over my fingers, making it dance over my knuckles.

“Love,” I said, “Have you ever been in love?”

Jaymie laughed and turned back to the stove. “Love is something commercials made up to sell candy on February 14,” she said. “It doesn’t exist the way everyone thinks it does. So probably not.”

I put the cap in the trash and took a sip of my beer. “Yeah, I guess.”

“Have you?” she asked.

I shrugged.

“Love is kind of like this idealized concept, I think,” Jaymie said. “Everyone wants it so bad but nobody gets it, ‘cos it’s nothing like they think and they all expect it to fix everything. Like half the TV shows and movies and books and shit are all about falling in love, right? Well what happens after the fall? What happens when you’re actually in the love?” She shook her head. “Nobody sticks around to find out.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“And it seems pretty shitty. I mean, all the fighting and the responsibility….”

“Maybe it’s not always that. I mean, my parents fought all the time so I dunno. But maybe it’s just a bad example. Maybe love’s not really like that for everyone. I mean, Brian and Leighanne seem okay. I mean, she kinda sucks, and he’s kind of judgey but I don’t think that’s like because they’re married or whatever, I think it’s just natural. I dunno. Maybe love changes people. Maybe it’s not always for the better. But… don’t you think maybe it could be?” I was watching the way her hips moved as she swayed side-to-side in front of the stove.

“I think marriage is just people’s way of defining something that doesn’t need to be defined if it’s real,” Jaymie replied. “It puts too much pressure on it and that’s why it cracks.” She was opening the blue pasta box as she spoke.

I stared at her as she poured the dry noodles into the water and put my beer down. “But don’t you think being close to someone and being cared about by someone is, I dunno, worth it?”

Jaymie shrugged. “Sometimes things are better left unsaid,” she said. “If you stay uncommitted, then you stay unattached, you stay unhurt. There’s less pressure.”

“Some people are worth getting hurt for.”

“Nobody’s worth getting hurt for,” she answered.

“But some people are, though,” I argued. “Like once in awhile there’s a person that is. That’s why people do that weird adrenaline rush thing where they can, like, pick up cars and shit to save people and why there’s people willing to run into burning houses and jump out of airplanes and stuff.” I rubbed my nose.

Jaymie laughed, “Those people are paid to do those things, usually.” She turned on the oven timer, then turned to look at me. “Where is all this coming from anyways?” she raised an eyebrow. Then she gasped. “Did you meet someone?”

I shook my head. “It’s theo-retorical,” I said.

“Theoretical,” Jaymie corrected my pronunciation. She opened the cupboard beside me, nudging me to one side a bit, and rooted around for a can of tomatoes. I picked up my beer and took another sip. “You probably shouldn’t be drinking that,” she said, waving at the beer.

I shrugged.

“You’ve been really talkative lately,” she commented, heading back to the stove where a skillet of browned hamburger awaited.

“I have been?” I asked.

“Yeah. Usually you’re all quiet and the most words I hear from you are, like, something you read about on Cracked.com or let’s have sex or hey how about a blow job. But lately it’s been like have you ever been in love and like, actual, real conversations. What’s going on?” Jaymie opened the can of tomatoes and dumped them in with the beef.

“I dunno,” I replied, “Just been thinkin’, I guess.”

“It’s just weird,” she said.

“Well, I’m pretty weird, what did you expect, exactly?” I smirked.

“I don’t know,” she answered. “But you’re like a whole other person lately.” She stirred the sauce she was making and added various spices and drained the pasta when the timer went off a couple minutes later, while we stood there in silence, her cooking, me sipping beer she didn’t think I should have. After a few more sips, though, I poured it out down the drain. She was right, I probably shouldn’t be drinking it. Especially not with all things considered, the things she still didn’t know. I put the bottle in the trash as Jaymie poured sauce over the pasta she’d already put into bowls. “Dinner’s up,” she said, carrying the two bowls to the table in the dining room.

I licked my lips as she leaned over the table, her tight jeans hugging her body perfectly. I took a deep breath. I’d decided at the doctor’s office that morning to tell her about everything and see where we landed after the conversation. Now I needed to get my nerves built up to actually do it instead of beating around the bushes, asking silly questions that got her suspicions up. But I was scared. Particularly after her pronouncement that nobody was worth getting hurt for.

I think I’d kinda wanted her to say that I was worth getting hurt for.

Since that’s what I was essentially going to be asking her to do and all.

“Do you want anything to drink?” I asked her.

“Just water,” she answered.

I grabbed two bottles of water and sat down in the chair opposite of where she was settling herself in, putting a napkin on her lap as she sat indian-style on the dining room chair. I slid a water across the table to her and she unscrewed the cap and downed about half the bottle in one go. I picked up my fork.

It was now or never.




Jaymie

“I went to the doctor this morning,” Nick said as he spun his fork in his hand. He’d been doing that a lot lately - spinning things in his hands. The bottle cap earlier, coins, pens, anything he could get his hands on, really, was subject to being spun between his knuckles. Like a nervous tic of some sort. He’d been acting so weird, wanting to talk all the time, that I’d started watching him kind of close, and so far that was the only finding I’d had.

“Yeah?” I took a bite of my pasta.

Nick nodded, stared at me for a couple moments, then suddenly plowed into the pasta. It was like he had been about to say more and changed his mind.

“So how’d it go?” I asked.

I take it back: The tic wasn’t the only thing I’d noticed. He also had been baiting me into conversation for the last couple days. Like he couldn’t just walk in the room and start a conversation - oh no, that would be way too easy. Instead, he had to start a conversation and kind of leave it on a cliffhanger and wait for me to ask for the next nibble of information. Like this. He couldn’t just say I went to the doctor and this is what happened. Instead, he had to start it, appear distracted, and wait for me to press it. I wasn’t sure what this new habit was all about. There was a time when Nick just said things if he wanted them said, and he’d get annoyed if I asked for more information than what he initially gave. But he’d seemed upset and tried various times to get me to ask over the last couple days if I didn’t on the first bite. So pair that with the tic and you’ve got full blown suspicious activity.

“Went okay,” he replied. He chewed, waiting, staring at me, challenging me to ask.

I chewed, too, staring at him, challenging him to just tell me more without me asking.

“Yep…” he said, nodding, “Got all examined and stuff. Checked out.” He spun the fork between bites.

“That’s good,” I said, “It’s always good to be healthy.”

“Or some resemblance to it anyway,” Nick laughed and pushed the pasta around on his plate.

“So you did well then, good,” I said.

He nodded, “Well he was a cardiologist. I’ve told the fellas about a thousand-hundred times that I’m okay there.”

I nodded, “Good. So did you call Kevin then? Are you going back on tour?”

Nick shrugged. “I texted Kev about it.”

“Good.”

“Yup.”

We ate in silence for a few moments. Nick mostly pushed the food around on his plate and spun the fork. “So,” I said when the silence was oppressing, having stretched far too long, “What are you nervous about?”

Nick looked up at me. He licked his lips, his eyes almost panicked. He put the fork down and pushed his chair back a little. I thought he was going to get up and leave, like maybe that had been one question too many and he was upset or something, but instead he said, “I want what AJ has.”

“What? Too many tattoos?”

“No,” Nick answered.

“A receding hairline?”

“Shut up, no,” Nick replied.

“Okay, so what then? Tell me.”

Nick took a deep breath. “Like… Rochelle. Like Ava. Like… y’know… love.”

I stared at him. I wasn’t sure he was joking or not. He looked like he might be serious, but Nick sometimes could keep a straight face. I laughed lightly to see what his response would be. But he didn’t crack a smile or laugh, too, or anything. He was serious. “You want to get married?” I asked, confused.

Nick nodded.

Now I laughed. “To who?” I asked.

Nick tilted his head, “To someone… like… you know… someone cool. Someone who I can talk to. Someone the sex is great with.” He bit his lower lip.

“So you don’t have anyone in particular in mind, you’re just like I wanna get married?” I asked, confused.

Nick shrugged.

I stared at him. I really wanted him to be joking. Then I had a thought. “Jesus, Nick, what kind of fucking drugs are you on?” I asked. I eyed him.

“I’m not on drugs,” he said. “Well, Excederin, but that doesn’t count.”

“Okay then what alien race are you and why have you abducted Nick Carter and when can we expect him back?” I challenged, jokingly.

“I just wanna be happy!” he said defensively. “Is it so bad that I wanna be happy and cared about by someone?” he demanded.

I shook my head, “Not bad, no, just so impossibly unlike you, and very sudden,” I answered.

“Well maybe that’s how people change sometimes, they change suddenly. Maybe that’s what happens when you ain’t paying any attention!” he said, standing up for real this time.

I stared up at him, “Jesus, Nick, why are you mad?”

“Because!” he said, “Because I bared my soul and you asked if I’m on drugs.”

“Because you’ve said a hundred-thousand times that you aren’t interested in getting married or any of that serious shit,” I answered, standing up, too. “And suddenly you’re like I wanna get married and you don’t even have a girlfriend right now. You sound like a thirty-five year old woman who just realized her biological clock is ticking.”

“Clocks are always ticking!” he said, anger lacing his voice, “They always tick, all the time!” and he turned and left the room.

I stood there a few minutes, squinting at the seat he’d been occupying, completely mindfucked. “Ugh,” I groaned and I sat back down and finished eating.