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“Why cherry blossoms?” I asked him, and he shrugged.
“It was spring, and they were pretty, and it was something she wanted to practice.”
“I like it. Do you think she’d tattoo me?” I glanced down at my own scarred wrists.
“Not until you’re eighteen. But yeah, I think she would.”
“Something to look forward to,” I said. “Covering the mess.”
He lifted my arm to his lips and kissed the inside of my wrist. “Your mess is part of you.”
“It is, but I don’t want it to be the first thing anyone sees about me.”
“If they do, they’ll know how strong you are—that you got out from under all that pain.”
I didn’t know if I was out from under the pain yet, but the confident way he said it made me feel confident too. And that was close enough for me.
Chapter Six
The Thursday after my birthday, Ade showed up in the afternoon with a surprise: a bag of my clothes and my favorite boots.
“How did you—?”
“I didn’t tell them where you are. I told your mom I had left some of my stuff in your room and could I please have it back.”
“You never leave your stuff in my room.”
“She didn’t know that.” Ade shrugged. “And it’s not like she checked my bag as I left. I’m sorry I couldn’t get more. I shoved everything I could fit in the bag and wore your boots out. Your hair clippers are in there too—you know, cause the ’hawk’s looking a little shaggy. Happy birthday, Jackson.”
I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her tightly. “You’re amazing. I love you.”
She squeezed me back. “I love you too. So, what are we wearing to the show tonight?”
I threw my head back and laughed. “Let’s see, what did you bring me?”
When Nat showed up a half-hour later to find me and Ade taking inventory of my new old wardrobe, she clapped her hands in delight at the boots.
“These are fucking hot, dude. Where’d they come from?”
“Ade tricked my mom into letting her take some of my stuff. She brought all my favorites—and my hair clippers.”
“You look great, Jacks. It must feel good to have some pieces of your old life back.” A flicker of sadness crossed her face, but she got control of it quickly. She turned to Ade. “Miss Adriana, are you coming out with us tonight?”
Ade grinned and blushed. “Try and stop me.”
“Don’t believe I will.” Nat grinned back. “I love to be surrounded by pretty girls.”
I nodded. “It’s true. She works at the fancy lesbian club with me, and she is in her element.”
Nat smacked my arm. “C’mon, let’s go cut your hair.”
A few hours later, the Korean bouncer—Ken, I’d learned—let us into Bridgeview with a friendly nod. We made our way to the green room, which was empty, but Nat stretched out on the couch like she owned the place. Out in the bar, the sounds of people drinking and dancing and shouting to be heard over loud music were already filling the air.
“You guys want to dance?” Nat asked. “I’m just gonna wait for Teri a bit.”
I shook my head. “I’ll dance later. I haven’t seen Ritchie in a few days.”
“Ah, young love,” she teased.
The door opened and Drea, the drummer, entered. “Oh, hey.”
Nat gave a little wave. “How’s it going?”
She shrugged. “Kinda having a rough week, to be honest. My mom’s sick again.”
“I’m sorry.”
She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Thanks. At least we have the music, right?”
Nat nodded. “Right. I know this is a big deal for Teri, these Thursday nights.”
Speak of the devil—no sooner did she say Teri’s name, and the woman herself walked through the door with Ritchie on her heels. Teri reached out and ruffled my mohawk.
“Haircut looks good, kiddo.”
I flushed red. “Thanks.”
Ritchie set his bass down in the corner and grabbed me by the hand. He pulled me out of the green room and into the hallway, where he pressed me up against the wall and kissed me senseless.
I moaned into his mouth, unable to believe this was my life. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him back. His body was hot against mine, and his hips rocked into me in tiny pulses, each one sending a shiver through me. I’d never been wanted the way Ritchie wanted me, and I had to laugh that I had ever thought his care with me meant he didn’t want me.
“What’s so funny?” He pulled back. “I felt you smiling.”
“I can’t believe I thought you didn’t want me.”
He rocked his hips against me again. “Pretty obvious, is it?”
I laughed and pulled him back into a kiss. Behind him, the door opened, and Nat and Teri came out, Ade and Drea trailing behind them. Ade looked excited, but Drea looked like she was going to throw up.
“Come on, lovers, we’re gonna go watch Teri flirt with the hot bartender.” Nat strode off into the crowd of bodies on the dance floor.
“You want to?” I asked Ritchie, and he shook his head.
“Nah, let’s go make use of that couch for a minute.”
My eyebrows shot upward as I followed him back into the green room. He sat down on the couch and pulled me onto his lap.
“I’ve got twenty minutes before I have to be on stage. I want to hear about your day and maybe touch your skin and think about kissing you.” His fingertips slipped under my shirt and teased at the skin of my back.
“Well, it was my day off. So, I had the apartment all to myself…”
“Jacks,” he groaned. “Don’t make me go on stage with a raging erection.”
I laughed. “I thought you wanted to hear about my day.”
“The parts where you weren’t jerking off, okay?”
I told him about Ade tricking my mom into giving her my stuff, and about how she and Nat helped me cut my hair. It felt incredibly normal to share these things with him like we really were a couple sharing news at the end of the day.
“We feel like a real couple when we talk like this,” I said softly, teasing at the skin along his collarbone.
His fingers stopped caressing my back for a moment, then resumed their circles. “We are, aren’t we? A real couple?”
“We’ve never said we are.”
He nodded. “Then let’s say it now. We’re a real couple—if you want to be. Because I want to be.”
My grin felt like it was going to split my face. “That’s all I want. It’s all I need. You and me.”
Ritchie got very serious then. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone, Jacks.”
“Me neither.” I ran my fingers along the scruff on his jawline, tracing the curve up to his hairline and then I buried my hand in his hair and lowered my lips to his.
The door opened and we jerked apart. His hand on my back held me on his lap, and I looked over my shoulder.
Drea gave us an awkward grimace. “Sorry. I just need to get my head right before we perform and it’s so loud out there.”
“You okay?” Ritchie asked her.
“Not really.”
I slid off his lap. “Do you want to talk about it?” I asked.
“You’re sweet, but—”
I could tell she didn’t want to talk to me, total stranger, but her eyes flickered to Ritchie.
“I’ll leave. You and Ritchie talk. I’m gonna go find Ade.”
Ade was easily found—deep on the dance floor with Nat, dancing chest to chest. She raised her arms over her head and shimmied her body as Nat ground against her. Nat’s arm was around Ade’s waist, and her expression was intent. She leaned in to whisper something in Ade’s ear, and Ade laughed and nodded. I watched them for a moment, Ade flirting with my roommate.
Seeing the two parts of my life sharing space in this way filled me up with a weird combination of nostalgia and anticipation. Everything was changing so fast, and I didn’t know if I would ever be the
same. And even though I didn’t want everything to stay the same—I wanted to hold onto Ade and these last weeks of summer.
The recorded music faded, and then Teri, Ritchie, and Drea walked out on the stage.
“Hi, all. We’re the Glitter Guerrillas,” Teri spoke into the mic, and they began to play.
I joined Nat and Ade on the dance floor, lifted my hands over my head, and gave myself up to the moment and the fleeting joy and bittersweet sadness of life changing.
Teri and Ritchie drove me to New Jersey to say goodbye to Ade at her parents’ house. I held her tightly and made her promise to keep in touch and to call me when she came home for the holidays.
“I can’t believe you’re going all the way to California.”
“It’s across the country, not the moon.” She squeezed my face between her hands. “I feel a lot better knowing you’re with Xavier and Nat. It would be so much harder to leave if you were still stuck with your parents. And you have Ritchie now, and he can take care of you, and so I feel like you’re going to be okay.”
“I’m going to be okay,” I told her. “And you’re going to be amazing.”
She touches the scars on my wrists. “And this?”
“I don’t think I need it anymore. There isn’t so much pain now.”
She wrapped her arms around me. “I’m so glad. Please call me if it gets bad and you need to talk.”
Nodding, my throat thick, I whispered “I love you.”
“I love you too.” She took a step back. “My parents are waiting for me. I have to go.”
“Go live your life, girl.” I grinned through the tears. “Show California how it’s done.”
She laughed, and she left.
I sat in the back seat of Teri’s car with Ritchie. She made the obligatory taxi joke, I laughed my courtesy laugh, and Ritchie traced the hash of scars on my arm.
“You’re quiet,” he said after a while.
“That girl saved my life so many times, just by being there for me.”
“She’s still there for you, only further away.” He leaned in to kiss me, brushing my flopping mohawk out of my eyes. “But if it helps, I’m going to be here for you now.”
I smiled at him. “I know.”
That night we ended up at Drea’s studio in Park Slope, sharing a magnum of something cheap, white, and chilled. I curled into Ritchie’s side on the couch as he toyed with my hair, and I sipped at the wine. I didn’t like it—maybe I wasn’t a wine person. But it made me feel warm and grown up to cuddle with Ritchie and drink wine. Drea was the only Glitter Guerilla old enough to buy it. She and Ritchie were deep in a conversation about a drum solo in a new song she was writing, and I was content to sit there and listen.
“You okay?” Teri nudged me with her motorcycle boot and sat down next to me. I turned my body toward her, and Ritchie’s hand drifted down to my thigh.
I nodded. “I’m good. But everything is changing so fast. Ade gone. Me here.” I held up the plastic cup in my hand. “Drinking.”
“Yeah. I felt that way when we first came to the city. I’d gone from summer vacation to tattooing people for money and playing with the Guerrillas and everything seemed to happen so fast. I wasn’t a kid anymore. But I missed it a little bit too. Not the crazy church stuff and those stupid father-daughter dances, but the not having to worry about money or a job or anything.”
“I don’t miss being a kid. But it’s a little scary, isn’t it? Not knowing what’s expected of you?”
“Nothing is expected of you, Jacks. Except to be happy. You get to choose what expectations you set for yourself along the way.”
“Is that what freedom is? Setting my own expectations?”
Teri shrugged. “I grew up gay in an evangelical family. Freedom for me means kissing any girl I want and not hearing a lecture about the state of my soul. I don’t know what freedom means for you. But I’m looking forward to watching you figure it out.”
I laughed. “You’re not as scary as I thought you were.”
Her jaw dropped, then she laughed too. “Me? Scary?”
“I was very intimidated by you when we first met. The tattoos, the black hair, the goth makeup. You’re a—” I pause, searching for the word. “—a presence.”
“It’s certainly preferable to being an absence.” She tapped my forehead. “Remember that when you get all fucked up in here, okay?”
I glanced at her sharply, but she was simply smiling indulgently at me. I nodded.
“I’ll try.”
Xavier and Natalie accompanied me and Ritchie to the emancipation hearing. When I fussed at them about missing work, Xavier put his hand over mine and shushed me.
“Djimon is more than capable of running the kitchen. We’re here to support you and show the judge that you have a stable home and support network with us—a support network beyond a boyfriend.” He glanced at Ritchie. “No offense.”
“None taken. The more people that are here for Jacks, the better.” Ritchie twitched in his seat and threw an arm around my shoulders. “We aren’t going to let them take him back.”
A warm glow filled my chest at his words. Ritchie knew, as well as anyone, that I had been absolutely dreading this day, facing my parents in front of the judge. Would they call me a liar when I talked about how they isolated me from my friends and wouldn’t let me get a job or a driver’s license? Would they throw the weight of their fortune behind dragging me back to New Jersey? And if they did, if the judge let them, how long would it be before I could get away? My eighteenth birthday was almost a year away. How would I survive in my father’s house another year?
Zoe arrived a few minutes before the hearing time, and she sat down next to me on the opposite side from Ritchie. “How are you feeling?”
I shrugged. “Nervous. Terrified, actually.”
“Don’t be.” She smiled and put her hand over mine. “Your petition is in order, and you have a stable home and steady income. Under New Jersey law, you are out of the sphere of influence of your parents, and you are self-sufficient. This should be open-shut.”
“Are you sure?” I asked.
“Absolutely.”
That still didn’t stop me from being twitchy and nervous when a heavy-set man in an expensive suit approached us. I recognized him as my father’s lawyer, having seen him at the house from time to time. I wiped my sweaty palms on the black pants I usually wore only to work.
“Ms. Amin, I’m James Cornell, I represent the Williams family.” He shook her hand, then glanced at me. “Jackson, may I speak to you a moment? With your lawyer of course.”
I looked around at Natalie and Xavier and clutched Ritchie’s hand. “You can say anything you need to in front of them. They’re family.”
Cornell sighed and glanced over his shoulder. Then he said, “Your parents won’t be here today. They aren’t contesting your petition.”
It took a minute for the words to sink in. They didn’t want me back. I should have been thrilled—and on some level I was—but it hurt so much more than I expected. Ritchie’s hand rubbed my back, and I heard someone—Nat?—ask if I was okay.
“They don’t want me back,” I said.
My father’s lawyer had the decency to flinch, which caught my attention more than a shrug would have.
“What did he say?” I demanded.
“Jacks—” Ritchie squeezed my hand. “Does it matter?”
“Son—” Cornell pinched the bridge of his nose.
“I’m not your son. I want to know. What were his exact words?” My voice was shaking, but I didn’t care. I needed to know.
“He said if you want to throw your life away for some trailer trash dick, who was he to stop you.” He glanced at Ritchie. “I’m sorry.”
“I’ve been called worse.” Ritchie snarled back.
My face burned and my hands shook; my breath caught in my throat like an ice cube swallowed whole. I closed my eyes and sucked in a deep breath. “Thank you for telling me.”
/> “That makes this much simpler then, doesn’t it?” Zoe said, standing to face Cornell. “Let’s go over the paperwork before we see the judge to make sure everything is in order.”
She took his arm and steered him away from me and my small group of family.
“Are you okay?” Nat asked again.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I didn’t expect this to be so easy. But I’m fine.”
“It’s okay to feel conflicted,” she said. “I still feel conflicted too.”
Xavier put his arm around Nat and gave her a one-armed hug.
I shook my head, fighting back pain I didn’t want to feel. “I’m not conflicted. I’m fine. Let’s do this.”
The hearing was a blur. The judge asked me a few questions about my current living situation, about my job as a bar back, and about my friendships and relationships. When she asked me about school, I explained that I had graduated high school at fifteen, and had just finished my freshman year at Princeton, but that I didn’t want to go back.
She pursed her lips and looked at me carefully, then made her ruling.
I was officially emancipated.
The drive back to New York was quiet. Ritchie’s knee bounced against mine as he held my hand in the back seat. I wanted to climb into his lap and have him hold all of me, but I straightened my spine and lifted my chin, and told myself to get it together. I had everything I wanted: freedom and Ritchie.
Xavier dropped us off at Teri’s place. She was at the tattoo shop, so Ritchie let us in with his key.
“You want a drink? I think there’s some beer in the fridge.” He drummed his fingers on the counter restlessly as I sat on the couch.
“No, thank you.”
He joined me on the couch. “Do you want to go out? Do something?”
“No, I’d rather hang out here with you.”
“Jacks—you don’t seem okay.”
I felt the prickle of tears in my nose, and I fought them back. “It’s stupid.”
He took my hand again, and he rubbed my back. “Feelings aren’t stupid. You can tell me—I’m not going to judge you.”
“I wanted them to see. To know that I was okay on my own. More for me than for them, because I wanted to prove something. But I also didn’t want them to worry. Or, I wanted them to worry, but I also wanted to reassure them.”