Jake Understood
Page 71
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“Jake, huh…”
Ivy stood up, walked over to the bureau and picked up the very picture I’d been holding earlier. She brought it over to me. “That’s him.”
My poker face was getting harder and harder to maintain. I wasn’t going to pry or force her to label what he was to her in order to satisfy my own morbid curiosity. I knew the truth, and I knew it must have been painful for her to think about losing him. It was probably easier if she didn’t have to refer to him as anything specific anymore. Or maybe she didn’t always realize she’d lost him. It seemed impossible to know what she was really thinking.
She returned the frame to the bureau without saying anything else.
This situation was getting to be too much for me. I knew I really needed to get up and leave but wasn’t exactly sure how to approach it. She seemed to want me there, which was surprising and unsettling.
Ivy got up again, walked over to the television and shut it off. Sitting back down on the bed, she closed her eyes and slowly exhaled. She startled me when she grabbed my wrist for support then said, “Go over there and bring me the guitar.” When I hesitated, she yelled, “Go!”
The room suddenly felt hot. I was starting to perspire. I stood up and walked over to the guitar in the corner. It was a lot heavier than expected. I brought it over to her, and she reluctantly took it.
She rubbed her hand gently along the strings. “I don’t play anymore.”
“Why not? If it makes you happy, you should do—”
“It doesn’t make me happy anymore.” Her tone was frantic. “It just reminds me of a time when I was happy, that I can’t get back. And that makes me sad. That’s why I can’t do it. I don’t want to remember Ivy!”
“I understand. I—”
“But I miss it. I miss playing. I miss the feeling. I feel like I’m slowly dying without it.”
After several minutes of just watching her caress the instrument, a thought popped into my head. It was a longshot, and I didn’t even know if it would make sense to her. “Maybe Ivy doesn’t have to play. Maybe Aria could play for her. It can be separate from Ivy. Aria can start fresh, learn to play again. Do you remember who Aria is?”
It was a risk. Aria, after all, was an illusion. But I wondered if the musical alter ego was something she still kept tucked inside even when she was of clearer mind.
“Aria…” she simply whispered.
“Yes.”
She continued to stare down at the guitar. My face broke out in a sweat because I was starting to feel trapped. I couldn’t leave her in this state. I didn’t know what was going to happen next.
I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath. The sound of a single strum of the guitar forced my eyes open, and my gaze landed on her fingers, which were positioned to start playing. They were shaking.
Placing my hand on her shoulder, I said, “Play something for me. Trembling hands can still play.”
Ivy’s bushy red ringlets fell over her forehead as she looked at me. Her half-covered eyes were still fixed on mine when she began to play a song. After a few seconds, I realized it was Let it Be by the Beatles.
When I started to hum along to the music to show her I recognized the melody, she smiled at me for the first time. That caught me off guard. A teardrop ran down my cheek. If someone had told me that this moment would be one that would make me cry, I wouldn’t have believed it.
Slightly bending her head back, she closed her eyes and continued to play.
It was hypnotic, haunting and beautiful. How fitting that she’d chosen a song about acceptance, leaving problems behind and moving on with life. Just as she had to accept her life as it was, I had to move on from my hang ups about her. Ivy was so much more than I ever imagined, a passionate and talented soul imprisoned by her own mind. And as for Jake, I’d always known I’d married a good man. But this whole experience made me realize I’d married a fucking saint.
You think you know something, but you have no idea.
When the song finished, I stood up, leaving her sitting on the bed.
“That was amazing.”
With the guitar still in hand, she suddenly looked agitated. “Please leave.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
I walked toward the door and took one last look around.
She called out to me, “Wait.”
I turned around.
“Will you come back?” she asked.
If there was one thing I knew with absolute certainty, it was that Ivy would never see me again. We couldn’t be friends or anything else to each other for that matter. But Jake was a part of me. So, in a sense, a part of me would always be with her.
My mouth spread into a sympathetic smile. “It was nice meeting you,” I said, continuing to walk toward the door.
“Hey.”
I did an about face. “Yeah?”
“Anyone ever tell you that you look like those twins from TV?”
“No. I haven’t heard that before,” I lied.
“Well, just so you know, you do.”
I shook my head in amusement. “Thanks.”
As Ivy graced me with a second rare smile, I let that be my last memory of her before closing the door behind me.
Just let it be.
CHAPTER 21
NINA
Leaving a cloud of exhaust in its wake, Jake’s black Cobra Mustang sped past the diner. I’d been staring out the window and heard the engine revving before I even noticed it was him whizzing by. He must have been a wreck, circling around for a parking spot on the snowy downtown streets while he wondered what the hell had happened between me and Ivy.
Ivy stood up, walked over to the bureau and picked up the very picture I’d been holding earlier. She brought it over to me. “That’s him.”
My poker face was getting harder and harder to maintain. I wasn’t going to pry or force her to label what he was to her in order to satisfy my own morbid curiosity. I knew the truth, and I knew it must have been painful for her to think about losing him. It was probably easier if she didn’t have to refer to him as anything specific anymore. Or maybe she didn’t always realize she’d lost him. It seemed impossible to know what she was really thinking.
She returned the frame to the bureau without saying anything else.
This situation was getting to be too much for me. I knew I really needed to get up and leave but wasn’t exactly sure how to approach it. She seemed to want me there, which was surprising and unsettling.
Ivy got up again, walked over to the television and shut it off. Sitting back down on the bed, she closed her eyes and slowly exhaled. She startled me when she grabbed my wrist for support then said, “Go over there and bring me the guitar.” When I hesitated, she yelled, “Go!”
The room suddenly felt hot. I was starting to perspire. I stood up and walked over to the guitar in the corner. It was a lot heavier than expected. I brought it over to her, and she reluctantly took it.
She rubbed her hand gently along the strings. “I don’t play anymore.”
“Why not? If it makes you happy, you should do—”
“It doesn’t make me happy anymore.” Her tone was frantic. “It just reminds me of a time when I was happy, that I can’t get back. And that makes me sad. That’s why I can’t do it. I don’t want to remember Ivy!”
“I understand. I—”
“But I miss it. I miss playing. I miss the feeling. I feel like I’m slowly dying without it.”
After several minutes of just watching her caress the instrument, a thought popped into my head. It was a longshot, and I didn’t even know if it would make sense to her. “Maybe Ivy doesn’t have to play. Maybe Aria could play for her. It can be separate from Ivy. Aria can start fresh, learn to play again. Do you remember who Aria is?”
It was a risk. Aria, after all, was an illusion. But I wondered if the musical alter ego was something she still kept tucked inside even when she was of clearer mind.
“Aria…” she simply whispered.
“Yes.”
She continued to stare down at the guitar. My face broke out in a sweat because I was starting to feel trapped. I couldn’t leave her in this state. I didn’t know what was going to happen next.
I closed my eyes and let out a deep breath. The sound of a single strum of the guitar forced my eyes open, and my gaze landed on her fingers, which were positioned to start playing. They were shaking.
Placing my hand on her shoulder, I said, “Play something for me. Trembling hands can still play.”
Ivy’s bushy red ringlets fell over her forehead as she looked at me. Her half-covered eyes were still fixed on mine when she began to play a song. After a few seconds, I realized it was Let it Be by the Beatles.
When I started to hum along to the music to show her I recognized the melody, she smiled at me for the first time. That caught me off guard. A teardrop ran down my cheek. If someone had told me that this moment would be one that would make me cry, I wouldn’t have believed it.
Slightly bending her head back, she closed her eyes and continued to play.
It was hypnotic, haunting and beautiful. How fitting that she’d chosen a song about acceptance, leaving problems behind and moving on with life. Just as she had to accept her life as it was, I had to move on from my hang ups about her. Ivy was so much more than I ever imagined, a passionate and talented soul imprisoned by her own mind. And as for Jake, I’d always known I’d married a good man. But this whole experience made me realize I’d married a fucking saint.
You think you know something, but you have no idea.
When the song finished, I stood up, leaving her sitting on the bed.
“That was amazing.”
With the guitar still in hand, she suddenly looked agitated. “Please leave.”
I nodded. “Okay.”
I walked toward the door and took one last look around.
She called out to me, “Wait.”
I turned around.
“Will you come back?” she asked.
If there was one thing I knew with absolute certainty, it was that Ivy would never see me again. We couldn’t be friends or anything else to each other for that matter. But Jake was a part of me. So, in a sense, a part of me would always be with her.
My mouth spread into a sympathetic smile. “It was nice meeting you,” I said, continuing to walk toward the door.
“Hey.”
I did an about face. “Yeah?”
“Anyone ever tell you that you look like those twins from TV?”
“No. I haven’t heard that before,” I lied.
“Well, just so you know, you do.”
I shook my head in amusement. “Thanks.”
As Ivy graced me with a second rare smile, I let that be my last memory of her before closing the door behind me.
Just let it be.
CHAPTER 21
NINA
Leaving a cloud of exhaust in its wake, Jake’s black Cobra Mustang sped past the diner. I’d been staring out the window and heard the engine revving before I even noticed it was him whizzing by. He must have been a wreck, circling around for a parking spot on the snowy downtown streets while he wondered what the hell had happened between me and Ivy.
