Jacks, Or Better To Open
Lawrence Peters

 



Wish I knew what I was looking for...


All of a sudden, because of a dream, I was thrown back into the past, without any regard for the future.

Where was it coming from? Was it a past regret, a piece of unfinished business? And what did I expect to find in that past? An answer? Time stopping and backing up upon itself, letting me back in one last time to make things right. Or to make a mess of things as I had in the first place. Such decisions remade because of the light of the past and the light of now knowing how things turned out.

I play the same song endlessly, expecting that transport. But all it does is dig me deeper, even tasting those moments again. What an asshole I am. What an asshole I'd been.

I know I shouldn't but I tell it all now. As it happened. But I'll start with the now. Maybe the reason is found in what triggered it all. That song's playing again; I have it set on repeat.


The dream: standing in a club, having a drink and a woman walks up and stands next to me. I look, then look away. She says, "Surely you remember me. It hasn't been all that long."
And I recognize her. My stomach drops. I feel the ring on my finger. "Hello Jacks," I say, "of course I remember you. Who could forget you." "Have I changed that much?" she said and gave me that strong but deep down unsure smile she had. Iron with a crack, invisible to anyone but me, but only because I'd been the first to find it. Or to look for it. "Not a bit, in fact you're even lovelier," I said looked around (guiltily) but saw no one but her; she blurred everyone else in the place. I hesitated but for a moment; she was there. She stepped into my arms. I held her close, pulled back to look at her, hard, and kissed her, despite my life and all I had now. All that mattered was that she was back.
That's all I can remember; that's all I needed and ever want to remember.
And I felt the urge, feel the urge to go back just one more time. To see if it's all still there, if she's still there.

She'd come into my life back then in the same way. My love, my girlfriend of the same time, had been shipped off far away by her father to keep her safe from me, and from the life he thought I was leading her into. So I went, hurt mad bewildered, relieved, a boy inside a man trying again to find the kid in him, having gone through a lot and gotten and given up a lot for that girl, back to my refuge, what I considered to be my club. Everyone saw the space left vacant by her non presence, and asked. So I told them what was up. All I'd gotten was a note and a last minute phone call. Almost an afterthought. Boy was I pissed, hurt, mad. But it was out of my hands, I'd had no choice in the matter. So I was free.

A girl, no, a woman, no still a girl actually, came walking in and stood next to me. Saw her order 4 fingers of Jack in a glass, saw her down it. Smiled at me, a threat, a challenge. So I said one of the stupidest things I ever have said. I didn't care.
"I've never seen a woman drink Jack Daniels like that."
"You just did." She said.
I was so dumbstruck, me, that all I could say was my name.
She said she knew that; knew who I was too. Knew my rep, wasn't scared or wary, but pretty amused. But didn't now about my girlfriend, so I told her the whole thing. I'd planned on drowning myself that night and my friends knew it and were keeping my glass full.
But she got in the way of all that. I found myself being charming without effort, making her laugh, treating her without the usual sly deference I showed women. Treated her like any other friend that night. We danced; I took her on the walk I usually took around the block to clear the smoke from my lungs, the way I always did when I went out. I held her hand and played tourguide. Pulled two beers from my jacket and sat on a stoop and let it all out. This beautiful, formerly unapproachable girl, and here she was with me. I even kissed her. She didn't respond as warmly as I did. She was awkward; I was the expert and on a cold corner showed her how. Again and again. We went back to the club and my friends were shocked. I didn't care or notice.

I got so smashed she took me home and I woke up on her couch. Rested. she'd slept in my arms and it was sweet. A bit shy and stupid. I took her to school that morning. My girl friends were numb. They'd liked my old girl and didn't know this new one except by rep. "Jacqueline the Ice Queen," one called her. I had no clue what they were talking about. I noticed the stares from her crew and mine. Hers were a little too rich for my blood; mine a little too rough for hers. It didn't matter. Until Roger Brown took me aside. "She's nice but you're wasting your time," he said, "I went with her for a while, but she wouldn't even kiss me." Not kiss Roger Brown. Shocking. "Oh I kissed her," I told him and his eyes lit up. "Wow, you're the man," he said, 'first Nicky, who I always wanted to date, and now Jacky. Bet it's time for the Monastery for old Roger." And walked away shaking his head.

We slept together after a late night at the club and I was at my softest, most tenderest. I totally immersed us in the moment and made her moan and cry. We became one in the moment. Later she told me I was the first. I held her closely and held her long. We slept in each other's embrace that night. She brought me back from Nicky; plus she was smart, beautiful and proud, it seemed, to be with me. I felt way over my head.

We stayed together for a while, after school let out that year. I even moved in with her. I won't tell now how that came about but it still makes me smile to think about it. It wasn't all fun and games; sometime it was hard. We were both growing up. We broke up. She burned the little wooden toys she bought me in a shop, she was so mad, then when we got back together gleefully told me she did. But I won her back and it was even better. My mom was pissed and when I finally came home asked, "You're just back to do laundry, eh?" "Yes," was my answer.
"You should call Nicky."
"Why?" "Because she's back. Because she needs to speak to you."

I didn't want to, I was still a bit hurt, but I called.
She was pregnant.

We met in Washington Square Park. It was a beautiful summer's day. She was beautiful. She was getting big; the time had come to come out with it all. She had heard I was with Jacks, she'd told me disdainfully what she thought of her. Repeated what her girlfriends had said. She wanted to know what was my decision. "I'm having this baby with or without you. Decide whether you want to be a part of its life."
I couldn't answer. I was 17; I had no clue, no one to ask, no one to tell, no one to help me make the biggest decision in my life.
I told Jacks, though. I think she knew what it would be. She was brave enough, smart enough, to talk me through, to help me weigh all the factors, even the ones painful to her.

My dad left me and my sister when we were very young; I had no dad growing up. I could never be like him. My decision was made for me. I was, as they say, a stand-up guy.

I can barely remember what Jacks said to me when I told her. I think she pleaded with me. All I can remember are tears and indecision, regrets and heartbreak, of feeling cornered, tired and way too old. I knew losing Jacks was a huge mistake. In the park, I'd even had the balls to say to Nicks "Can't I have her and still be with you?" It made her angry; I'd made her cry. She told me it wasn't her fault she'd gone and that she loved me always. I couldn't fight that; we'd been through a lot together and we had history. It wasn't even the first time she was pregnant.

My son was born in November of that year. He's a great kid, a good man now, older now than I was then. I last saw Nicks after she'd married another guy, a good man, and we arranged to see each other. I was going to live in London; didn't know if I was coming back. It was a teary thing, high above Manhattan, away and apart from anyone. We could even see the top of the school where we'd met from there. We talked about our own hopes, our own dreams, our hopes and dreams for our son and our new separate lives. Funny, but I liked her husband; he was a good man. I told her I'd be there for her if she ever needed me; she said the same. I was happy my son would have the one thing I always wanted in life. A mother, a real father, a close family, security, tons of love. She wanted me to find what I was searching for, wherever that took me.

She rolled her car a while later, her husband waking up in the hospital, asking if she were all right. He'd just gotten a few scratched and bruises. She died instantly.

Jacks, I saw her off and on a few years later; never enough time to do anything more than kiss hello and hug and smile. I was first with my first wife, then my second. Never free to talk about where we were going, how we'd been, who we were now. But we felt the tug, the resonance of what we'd had.

So it begins again with a dream, a song on endless repeat and a desire to know once again. A want to believe in the future, in magic, in regret and in these words I had to put down. I didn't even know who I was to become then but this is it: this is my realm, this is what I do. This is what I have become. But where did she go, is she happy, did she find her other, did she find love again? I wish she did. And I wish she didn't. Part of me wishes she was waiting again for me. To remake those old decisions. To make the right ones this time.

The song is "Under the Milky Way" by the Church. I don't even know if we ever heard it together. But it doesn't matter.

My astrologer, a dear kind and prescient woman, told me once a long time ago that I'd meet an old love when I was in my 40s and sparks would fly again.
I'm 39 now. And I still wish I knew what I was looking for; everytime I think I seemed to have found it I've had it slip away. Dreams are dreams; sometimes they are just dreams. And sometimes, just sometimes, they're not.


Under the Milky Way by The Church
Lyrics by Steve Kilbey
1988

Under the Milky Way

Sometimes when this place gets kind of empty,
Sound of their breath fades with the light.
I think about the loveless fascination,
Under the Milky Way tonight.

Lower the curtain down in Memphis,
Lower the curtain down all right.
I got no time for private consultation,
Under the Milky Way tonight.

Wish I knew what you were looking for.
Might have known what you would find.
Wish I knew what you were looking for.
Might have known what you would find.

And it's something quite peculiar,
Something that's shimmering and white.
Leads you here despite your destination,
Under the Milky Way tonight

Wish I knew what you were looking for.
Might have known what you would find.
Wish I knew what you were looking for.
Might have known what you would find.
Under the Milky Way tonight.

 

 

Copyright © 2001 Lawrence Peters
Published on the World Wide Web by "www.storymania.com"