Thirty One

1:15 PM I have to talk to him later. Beg for forgiveness. I turn back toward Xavier and pull one of the patio chairs out, pushing him down to sit. I look at the bouncer. "Do you have a wet facecloth, maybe some ice?" He nods curtly. "Would you like me to call for medical attention, Miss?" I shake my head quickly. After examining Xavier's face, I'm sure it's more blood than actual injury. "No thank you. I just need to clean him up." The man turns to leave and I continue to wipe the blood that is still fresh with my sleeve to make it easier to get the stuff that is drying in the sun off with the cloth. "You're so stupid," I say to Xavier, teeth clenched. "I hate you right now, Xavier Morgan." "Mouse, I'm sorry," he says. "It was a mistake. I deserved this. But don't ever say you hate me." I want to scream at him, I want to ask him what was the mistake, thinking he's in love with me, kissing me, or smoking me in the side of the head with his fist but I don't do any of those things. Xavier looks entirely like a lost little boy-my own Peter Pan and I can't ignore the pull in my heart to help him. To fix him so I choose my words carefully. "I know you're sorry and no one deserves to be pummeled like that, X but what the hell were you thinking?" Xavier's hand comes up and touches the side of my head he'd hit softly. "I-I-I would never hurt you, not ever on purpose. I hope you know that." The bouncer returns with my requested items. "Thank you," I say, taking them from him. I set the ice on the table for now and turn my attention to cleaning Xavier's face. I bring the cloth up to a slice above his eye and he cringes. "I know you wouldn't hurt me physically, X. But you are hurting me. You're hurting me by trying to make me love you back in the same way you think you love me. I'll always love you, to the moon and back, but I'm in love with Jackson. Madly, crazy, stupid in love with him." I dab at the raw flesh with the washcloth. "I know that's not what you want to hear." He looks down and whispers. "I know I'm hurting you and I'm sorry. I can't help the way I feel Lo, but I could have chosen a better way to go about it. The last thing I wanted to do was hurt you." "I know." I continue my work and in ten minutes, I see his face again rather than a mask of bloody mess. He's going to be bruised no doubt but Jackson's assault has left him with minimal injuries-flesh wounds, and I can't exactly say he doesn't to some extent, deserve to wear them. I grab the ice off of the table and hold it up to his face. Xavier's hand covers mine and he looks at me. "Mouse, I never ever meant for things to get out of hand. I love you and I do want you to be happy. Even if it's not with me. I'm sorry for everything. Everything." I look at him and for the first time in weeks I see Xavier. My oldest, dearest friend, Xavier looking back at me. Not some jealous lunatic or possessive boy, just X. He means it. "I accept your apology. I just need a little time, okay?" He nods. "Fair." He shifts in his seat and digs out his wallet, handing me two twenty dollar bills. "Take a cab. Go to Jackson. And I know it's going to mean absolutely nothing coming from me, but tell him that I'm sorry okay. For everything," he says again. "I will." I stand and look down at him. "Are you going to be okay?" Xavier makes a pssh, noise and shrugs. "Not my first rodeo, Mouse. I'll be fine. Your boyfriend has one hell of a right hook." This makes me smile even though it shouldn't. I drop a kiss on top of Xavier's head. "You'll always be my best friend," I say. "Nothing will ever change that." "I'd rather be your best friend than your worst enemy," Xavier says. "I should have realized that sooner." "Yeah, you should have. We've been through too much to let something like this destroy us." "Glad to hear it," he replies. "Now go, Mouse. Before it's too late." As I walk away, I have no idea exactly how 'too late' I am. It's a good thing Xavier gave me forty dollars because the traffic getting to the beach house is nothing less than asinine. Apparently Murphy's was dead at lunch because the entire population of the town is stuck in their cars. My foot is vibrating, up and down, up and down, up and down. Jackson is pissed that I chose to stay with Xavier after what happened, but I couldn't leave him there, damaged and hurting. I'll have to make Jax understand. And then he can tell me what Zena said, I can clear the air about Xavier, and we can move forward to the future that isn't exactly promised to us. It takes nearly 30 minutes for me to get to the beach house. I practically toss the bills at the cabbie, tell him to keep the three dollars in change and book it up the steep stairs leading to the front door, faster than I have in my life. I settle my hand on the handle and turn the knob but it's locked. Oh God. He must be really pissed with me. I ring the doorbell and wait. Nothing. I bring my hands up to the solid oak and begin rapping on the door. "Jax!" Nothing. I do it again. Nothing. Frantic, I begin to pound at the door with my fist. "Jackson Nathaniel Sunday, open this door right now!" The door swings open. I open my mouth to spew a thousand apologies. To tell him I love him and I don't care if it means I'll love him for a day, a week, a year, ten years, a hundred years, just that I love him. But it snaps shut. A woman who looks to be in her thirties stands there. Her hair is a mess, held back by a sleep mask. She's in a long, white nightgown and she appears shocked to see me standing there. "Who are you?" I ask. "I beg your pardon?" I look behind her. "Where is Jackson?" She blinks. "Who?" My heart drops into the very pit of my stomach. "Jackson," I repeat. She yawns, bringing her hand to her chest. "I'm sorry darling, I think you have the wrong house." "What? No." "There's no Jackson here." Her words rattle around in my brain, never settling in one spot. "What do you mean?" "There's no Jackson here," she repeats. I feel the blood leaving my brain, the air leaving my lungs and, my eyes struggle to focus. My heart has been ripped from my chest and torn through my ribcage. Her face falls. "Are you alright? You look very pale dear." "I need to find Jackson," I manage. "He lives here." "Darling, I can assure you nobody by that name lives here. My husband and I have owned this house for the past six years." I hunch over. I'm going to vomit. Right here at the front door of the beach house where there lays a welcome mat that wasn't there before. "I-I-I, I'm sure you're wrong." I stammer. I sway. The strange nightgown clad woman reaches out and grips my bicep. "I think you should come in and sit down for a minute. This heat is a killer." The floor gives from under my feet, my world turns shades of grey before quickly turning black. I don't know how long I'm passed out for. But when I wake, there is an ice cold cloth on my head and I'm being raised onto a stretcher. I bolt upright but the dizzy returns ten fold and I fall back, head to the pathetic foam pillow. "Whoa," a male's voice says. "Easy there, girl." I'm not a dog. "I need to find Jackson," I say. My voice is hoarse, parched. The man comes into my vision. He's wearing a paramedic's uniform. The beach house woman must have called 9-1-1. "You need to go to the hospital and get rehydrated," the paramedic says. "Jackson," I say. "He lives here." The woman who is now dressed is looming behind the paramedic shaking her head. "Girl has been going on and on about some person named Jackson since she got here." "Please," I say, "You don't understand. He lives here. Where is he?" The paramedic shoots the woman a knowing look. A real nutcase, his eyes say, this one is two screws short. "I'm not crazy," I say matter-of-factly. "Ask. Check. Jackson. Nathaniel. Sunday. That's his name. He lives here." The woman lets out an exasperated sigh. "Sweetie. There is no one here named Jackson." "That's not possible!" I scream. "He wouldn't leave me!" She shakes her head again and begins to scroll through her phone. I reach my hand out to touch the paramedic. "Please," I beg, "You have to listen to me. I'm not crazy. His name is Jackson but I call him Jax. He wouldn't leave me! He'd never leave me!" "Easy there," he says again. "Calm down. We're going to get you to the hospital, get some fluids into you and you'll be feeling right as rain in no time." No. I won't. I won't ever feel right as rain again. "No," I say, "you don't understand! I'll get sick. Really sick. I need him." "Maybe the hospital can call him for you." Call him! Yes! I reach into my pocket and grab my cell phone, holding it up in the air so I can see the keypad. My hands are shaking so hard it's difficult to dial, but I manage Jackson's number. It doesn't even ring before a mechanical voice says 'you have reached a number that is not in service.' I drop my phone as if it's seared my skin. It falls to the floor. The paramedic picks it up and puts it in his pocket. "I'll hold onto that for you until we get there." "Please," I implore again. "You don't understand." He ignores me. "Everything is going to be just fine," he says. "Just fine." No. No. No. "You don't understand!" Fear grips its icy fingers along my throat, squeezing, constricting. I can't fucking breathe. I start to inhale and exhale in fast, painfully sharp spasms. "Please!" I manage. The breathing only gets worse and the paramedic slips an oxygen mask over my face. "Take it easy. You're going to get sick." "I am sick!" I say through the mask. "Please, help me find him." Fuck this. I'm not waiting for him. I rip the mask off and sit again, this time with success. "Lay down young lady," he says sternly. There's an IV in my arm and I begin to rip at it the tape, trying to remove it. "Miss," he says now. He sounds like my dad used to when he was beyond annoyed. "Lay back down now." "I can't," I say manically peeling at the tape. "I have to find him." I manage to get one strip of tape off and begin to work on the next. "You have to go to the hospital right now," he says. "You're extremely dehydrated." "I HAVE TO FIND JACKSON!" I scream it. Louder and more forceful than I've ever been. It gives me a sudden surge of energy that I need. It's spreads through me and I continue at the tape to get the IV out from beneath my flesh. "Lay. Down." I can't. I won't. I need to find him. Before I can make any more progress with the tape, the paramedic injects something into my arm. The skin underneath the needle bubbles and burns and suddenly my energy is zapped. My body is warm, then fuzzy and my legs are made of lead. My eyes are heavy and as they start to close, my brain screams in anguished protest. I have to find him. I can't be invisible again.