Jade
~*~
I could hear the Beatles playing softly on the little jukebox contraption on the other side of the pub. The lights were dim and every now and then, a soft jingle of the bell announced the comings and going of other customers, trying to make their way in the cold evening. I spun around on the barstool, using the countertop to push myself. I pivoted around and around to break up the monotony that was settling in. As the bell rung again, my eyes traveled to the doorway to be disappointed yet again; he still wasn’t here.
With a sigh, I turned to face the woman behind the barkeep.
“Would you like another one love?”
I chewed the inside of my lip for a second, glanced at the entrance again, and let my shoulders drop. “Yes please.”
She refilled my glass with the dark soda I had been drinking since I had first sat down, replacing my square napkin, and placed another little bowl of lemon wedges in front of me. I responded with my automatic “thank you.” My smile was beginning to feel more robotic than genuine.
I propped my elbow and rested my head upon the palm of my hand. I opened my worn paperback to the spot I had left off at, sliding the bookmark from where it laid. I absentmindedly rubbed the tarnishing stenciled metal marker as I tried to re-emerge myself into the black sea of words. Complicated love triangles and broken lives danced across the pages—but I didn’t really need to read the story. I had read the famous Emily Brontë novel more times than I could remember and even though the characters piss me off more than I could possibly relay, there is just something about kindred souls that I cannot get enough of. Aside from the drama, I would love to have a “whatever souls are made of, mine and his are the same” kind of relationship. My dad needed me though, so for now I would not really get to experience love of any degree, except for in the few novels I carried around with me.
As I turned the page, I squeezed some lemon into my soda. I chewed what was left of the wedge, while a stool a few feet down scraped back. The sound of wood scraping against polished wood broke my slow-moving thoughts. Glancing up, I saw a tall, lean figure sit down and signal the bartender over. He glanced over, and I felt heat rise to my cheeks; I immediately turned back to my book and pretended to be engrossed in the tiny lettering.
I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned to look. Behind me stood a stout pompous man who looked as if a small pub in the backstreets of London was for those that could not afford his time. What could this man possibly have to do with me? Did he think he actually needed money for a pint, mug of steaming black coffee, or a glass of syrupy carbonated acid such as I was drinking? Did he want a plate of fish’n’chips? I was guessing not.
“’Scuze me, are you Ms. Jameson?”
I felt my right ‘brow arch at the inquisition, how did this man know my last name?
“Yes.”
Shifting his feet, he seemed to be waiting for a larger response. I continued to look at him, because he must want something, but I felt no inclination to create a deep conversation with someone who obviously looked down on me. This is what I got for being a “bloody” American girl of simple status sitting in a pub in Britain. I wasn’t ignorant. I would be silent and patient, until the Brit got on with his purpose.
He shuffled his feet and finally spoke: “Ms. Jameson, I am afraid I have some grievous news that I must discuss with you about…. Is there perhaps a more secluded place we could speak?”
I shook my head. I was not going to bring this man up to the small room my father had rented for us while he was doing business here in the city. Thinking of the room made me think of him and the worry I felt since I had not heard from him since the early lunch we had had. Dad had gotten a phone call, telling him that he had to go to meet with some advisers earlier than planned and so we had had lunch down in the pub with his briefcase already brought down from upstairs. I could not think about any complications he could have had at the meeting that would detain him so long, because this was a routine trip and a relatively simple matter that could be nipped in the bud after a few weeks. Knots tied in my stomach as it often did when I began to fret. I gestured to the end of the counter, and bringing my things to the new position asked him to begin and stop stalling.
Blake
~*~
I walked into the old pub that I had been coming to since I had become the age to earn some hard money to help my mum and me scrape by; it had been a couple of days since I had come in, but I thought I would see Annie and see if anything was new. Striding over to the counter from which behind she stood cleaning glasses, I pulled back a stool barely noticing the scraping of the legs on the floor. I took a look around as the Beatles song that was playing played its last chords; my gaze landed on a girl sitting near the center of the counter, a glass of pop and a little bowl of what looked like lemon resting in front of her.
The girl had been hunched over what appeared to be a book, but now she was looking over in my direction; when I met her eyes, blood rose to her cheeks coloring her porcelain face. She ducked her head and returned to her book.
I returned to face my friend as she opened a bottle of beer and passed it over to me. The first time I met Annie, the pub had just started trying to get going, and I was going from door to door to see if anyone would give a nine year old a small job. The pub was the last place I stopped when I had nearly given up, but I needed a job to help my mum, and Annie took pity on me. Annie knew she couldn’t pay me much, but everyday when I would finish school, I would come and she would lay out a small snack for me and I would help with the inventory and clean. A smile spread across my face as I pictured the beginning and looked down at my beer as a passed it between my hands, back and forth; I had lost Annie a lot of beer my first year because I was so scrawny, I had trouble moving the large boxes. I don’t work for her anymore, but over the years she had become a second mother to me, and I pitch in when I stop by.
Annie was distracted by what was unfolding at the other end of the counter, and I could tell that she was worried, although I didn’t know why. She leaned forward against the counter, as her brows furrowed in concentration. I slid out the rag she held in her hand, walked around to stand next to her, grabbed a few mugs, and began dusting off the bottles she had brought in from the back.
“Thanks love.”
“Don’t mention it; what has you worried Annie?”
I followed the slight jerk of her head as she motioned over to where the girl had moved, and nodded my head.
“Who is she?”
“Daughter of an international business man from America; ‘er dad went out earlier today for an emergency meeting and should ‘ave been back a couple ‘ours ago. Nice girl she is, quiet and keeps to herself, but real nice. I’d ‘ave to say she is actually one of the more interesting Americans that’s stayed ‘ere, and I’m actually liking ‘er more than some of my normal folk.”
“So what’s worrying you…? Can you pass the sponge and I’ll wash some of these mugs for you. Thank you.”
“She’s been watching that door like a ‘awk the past two ‘ours and her frown grows with each person that walks through. Now there’s a man from the law offices uptown that wanted to talk to her, and I ‘ave a gut feeling ‘e brings trouble with ‘im.”
“Did he talk to you?”
“Asked me if she was ‘ere.”
“Tell you what he wanted?”
“No…I asked ‘im to, but ‘e just said ‘e needed to speak with ‘er and was ‘ere on important matters. Ha, as if something that ‘e didn’t deem important would bring ‘im out this way. I ‘ate blokes like ‘im…always acting like those of us that didn’t go to an university to get a job behind a desk to do bloody paperwork ‘nd work ‘ard instead of growing round is beneath ‘em.”
I nodded with understanding as I went back to drying the mugs I’d just washed. Glancing over to the girl and the man, I noticed that her face had drained of any trace of color that had been there before, and it was as if her emotion was gone. Something twinged or leapt in my heart for this stranger; like Annie, I wished I knew what was going on.
Jade
~*~
I tried walking up the flight of stairs to the room we had here, but when I was out of sight, I let out the breath I had been holding, and sank down on the steps. I curled my fingers around the ends of my long sleeves on my sweatshirt so that my hands were in fists keeping my long nails from digging into my palms. I drew myself to my knees and hugged them close, laying my head across my arms. What had happened was finally hitting and I couldn’t believe it, didn’t want to believe it.
Sometimes life hits you hard with what you don’t expect; I always tried to find out as much information as possible so that I wouldn’t be surprised…I hate surprises. Now here I was, the air felt close, and I was alone. I had been taking care of him for six years since my mother’s death, because he never knew what to do with himself; what was I to do myself now, with no one left in my life? Neither of my parents had relatives left, because they were only children and my grandparents had died in their sleep when I was two. No family. No real home. No place to go. Alone.
I raised my head and brought my clenched hands up in front of me, resting them against my forehead, and tried to breathe. It felt like my breath kept hitting a wall or was being sucked away from me in some sort of vacuum; my chest felt like it was constricting as a ball formed in my throat. Using my wrist, I wiped away the dampness on my face. I needed air. I needed to get fresh air. Without paying attention to the rest of the people sitting in the pub, I slowly maneuvered my way to the door to the alley.
The chill of the night hit me when I stepped out with one thought in my head:
Daddy’s dead.
Blake
~*~
I held the cigarette between my lips and created a dome with my right hand as I lit it. Spark, spark, spark and flame meeting with the paper-rolled tobacco. I inhaled deeply and then exhaled, holding it with my left middle and index fingers as my right dropped to my side. It was getting late, but I still didn’t leave; I felt like I had to stay here.
The door opened next to me, as someone silently walked out. It was hard to make out who it was, but I watched from the corner of my eye as she leaned against the wall on the other side of the door, her right foot pressed against it and her head in her hands. Her fingers were in her hair, pulling on the long strands. I couldn’t see her face, just her short silhouette in the shadows of the alley. I straightened up and walked over to her.
“You all right?”
No answer.
“Miss…?”
“Jameson.”
“Miss Jameson, are you alright?”
She lifted her head and let her arms drift rigidly to her sides; in the dark, her eyes seemed almost like glassy onyx looking back at me from a fair face. I cocked my head at her slightly, as she bit her lip and stopped breathing. Tears trickled down her cheeks and I reached forward to brush them away from her pale pretty face with my thumb, as I stepped closer to her. She didn’t move, just watched me silently.
“Miss?”
“I’ll live. I always live.”
It was odd what she said, but I could not stop looking into her face and wanting to see what was behind it, what was inside.
Jade
~*~
I watched him as he watched me. I watched his slow movements. I looked up into his face. Saw the most beautiful hazel eyes I had ever seen. Hazel eyes that held me spellbound. I didn’t understand.
“Who are you?”
“Blake.”
I took slow breaths; his name was Blake, okay. I matched the name with the face, and for the first time since that afternoon, a tiny smile twitched at the corner of my mouth.
“So…Miss Jameson is it?”
“Yeah…,” I was having a little trouble trying to concentrate. I moved to stand on both my feet, “Jade…Jade Jameson.”
“Jade?”
“Yeah…Jade.”
He flicked away what was left of the cigarette that had been dangling from his hand, blowing out the last bit of smoke.
“So, you staying here or going back in?”
I glanced at the door, sighed, and swung myself toward the door. As I rested my hand on the handle, I turned to him, “coming?”
For a minute we just stood there looking at each other wondering what the other would do, before I opened the door and went back into the pub without waiting to see if he followed or not.
I sat back down at the counter where I had left my book and brought up one leg curling it beneath the other one as I sat half Indian-style on the stool with my elbows propped up on the polished wood, and started to bite my nails. I ordered a glass of water and sat there running my fingers along the rim of the glass as I mulled over what had happened tonight over in my mind.
“’Scuze me, are you Ms. Jameson?”
“Yes.”
“Ms. Jameson, I am afraid I have some grievous news that I must discuss with you about…. Is there perhaps a more secluded place we could speak?”
I had moved my belongings to the end of the counter because it was further away from others, but still within sight of the door to the pub and where I was in reach of help if I needed any; I didn’t trust the strange man.
“Ms. Jameson, I hate that I have to be the bearer of bad news…but this concerns your father….”
“What about my dad?”
“I’m afraid he was in a hurry to get to his meeting with the company he worked for….”
“Can you please just tell me what it is about my dad? Or are you going to keep fumbling about until he comes back?”
“He isn’t coming back I’m afraid, Ms. Jameson.”
“What do you mean he isn’t coming back, Sir?”
“It was rush hour traffic…he was hit by a cab by accident when he was trying to get his briefcase that he had dropped while trying to get to the office.”
“Is he alright?” Oh my God, my dad was probably in a hospital all by himself wondering where in the hell I was, and here I was reading a book and watching a door.
“No, he isn’t.”
“What do you mean, ‘he isn’t’?”
“Your father hit his head on the pavement rather hard, causing a break in the skull…and then was run over by the vehicle that was behind the cab before anyone realized what had happened…. Your father is dead Ms. Jameson. You have my apologies and deep regret.”
Dead?
The lawyer talked with me some more about what had happened to my father and his state of affairs. When he left, I felt stillness in my bones and didn’t think I would be able to move, but I had managed to go half way up the stairs to our rented room…and then I had gone outside. I had gone outside and met Blake. My eyes slid to where he stood by the bar talking on the corded phone and his shoulder against the shelves of liquor and glasses. He laughed. The laughter broke up the thoughts that kept playing in my head.
He’s dead. I’m still alive. I’m the only one left. He’s dead. I’m still alive. I’m the only one left. He’s dead. I’m still alive. I’m the only one left. And then laughter.
I turned my eyes down and looked into my water, and wished that the heat would disappear from cheeks as a tiny smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. This was a strange night and I was torn between grief and attraction. I felt guilty; I shouldn’t be attracted to this Blake guy when I was still trying to wrap my head around my dad’s death. My dad had been the closest person in my life since I was twelve, it was wrong to not have all of my focus on him, but I couldn’t help it.
I peeked up again to realize that he was staring directly at me, the telephone still to his ear. He smiled at me a crooked grin, and I felt calm. Maybe I could get through this, if I just took a step back and took each moment one minute at a time. I took a sip of my drink and returned his smile with one of my own.
