Page 81 of Palm South University: Season 3
WHEN I GET A TEXTfrom Skyler saying she’s staying at Clinton’s for the night, I breathe a sigh of relief, typing out a text to her that Jarrett and I are finally going to video chat in less than an hour. She wishes me luck and then I plug my phone into the charger, letting it get juiced as I do my makeup in the bathroom.
The last time we were supposed to video chat, I had been so excited.
Now, all I am is sick.
I ended up texting Jarrett the day after Thanksgiving, apologizing for everything and telling him I would give him his space, and to just call me when he was caught up on the project and a little less stressed out. I told him we could see each other over Christmas break, and that I understood, and that we would be okay. I thought it was the right thing to do — the mature thing to do — but when all he wrote back was a simplethanks, I wondered if it was already too late, if he would ever forgive me.
Ever since he went back to New York after coming to visit, everything with us has been so rocky. Between the communication breakdown and the long distance, my heart is raw and aching. He can’t hold me to make me feel better, and I can’t kiss him with my apologies. We can’t just jump in his truck and drive to the beach, splitting a joint and having sex until the sun rises. Everything about our relationship is different, and I’m not sure who we are in this new space.
As shitty as it is, Greg has been a huge help keeping my mind off Jarrett the last couple of weeks. He’s listened to me talk about Jarrett, offering advice when he had it and just a shoulder to lean on when he had nothing to say. He’s funny, and kind, and I appreciate his company. And maybe a small part of me realizes that I just enjoy the fact that a man cares about me, and is attracted to me, and is giving me attention.
Something else inside me, something deep in the trenches of thoughts I like to leaveunthought, tells me this phone call is either going to make or break me and Jarrett. And as much as I have a whole string of apologies ready to go, I also have questions, and concerns, and thingsIwant to talk about. I understand his side of things, how he needs me to be able to trust him and understand how demanding his job is, but relationships are about compromise — and I need love and support, too.
I feel so unlike myself, so vulnerable and defeated. The girls have started to notice, too — wondering where my spunk has gone, and I know I won’t get back to myself until I face whatever is about to happen with Jarrett.
When my makeup is flawless and my hair is straightened, I slip on a pair of sleep shorts and a tank top, propping my laptop up on my desk to wait for his call. And when his picture and name fill the screen at exactly ten o’clock, I take a deep breath and answer.
The screen is fuzzy at first, and when it clears, Jarrett is sitting at his small kitchen table, giving me a view of practically his entire studio apartment. The city lights burn through the window behind him, mixing with the low light of his apartment to cast him in a soft glow. Finally seeing his face, his lips, his eyes — it hurts as much as it heals.
“Hi,” I breathe, a weary smile finding my lips.
“Hi.”
I watch him for a moment, wishing so badly he was here. I just want to touch him, to hold him, to have him hold me. “I wish I could jump through this screen right now.”
His eyes are sad, defeated, and he only nods in response.
It’s strange, how someone you love can seem so foreign in moments like these, moments when everything hangs in the balance.
Steeling myself, I sit up a little straighter and start my long list of apologies. “Listen, I am so sorry I went off on you for missing our date. That was an immature reaction and a little dramatic and I wish I could take it back. I know you had a long day and I know you can’t help what projects you get put on or whom with. I want to be more supportive, but… I need you to understand my side of things, too. I need—”
“It’s over.”
I pause, mouth still hanging open, the words I’d planned to say next frozen in my throat. I close my mouth, open it again, nose flaring and eyes watering as I try to convince myself I didn’t just hear the man I love tell me he doesn’t want to be with me anymore.
“Wh-what?”
“It’s over, Jess. We, this,” he motions to the screen and back to himself. “I can’t… I won’t do this anymore.”
Shock rips through me, my head shaking of its own accord. I knew this phone call wouldn’t be pretty, I knew he was upset, I knew there were things to be said and to be decided but still, even if I pretended to prepare for the worst, I didn’t actually think it would happen.
How can Jarrett break up with me? After all we’ve been through, after all he’s said, after all we’ve promised?
“Jarrett, we can work through this. I said I’m sorry, I… I’ll try harder. I’ll do better. It’s just a silly fight, it isn’t—”
“I saw the picture.” His eyes bore holes through mine from thousands of miles away, the heart he always keeps sheltered now bloody and marred on his sleeve for me to see. “I don’t play these games. I put up with you parading other guys in front of me last year, trying to make me jealous, playing me like I’m just another guy to you but I thought we were past that.”
Panic rises in my throat like bile. “He’s just a friend, Jarrett. I met him that night, we just talked. I swear, that’s all.”
“But you went into that bar on a mission, didn’t you? A mission to find a poor sap to twirl around your finger and make me jealous. You thought it’d make me call you. You thought it’d make me, what? Worship you?”
I shake my head frantically, tears rushing my eyes and billowing down my cheeks before I can stop them. “I didn’t… Yes, I wanted your attention, but I didn’t do anything with him. I promise. And he posted the picture, not me.”
“But he tagged you,” Jarrett points out. “Which I’m sure you asked him to do.”
“Please,” I beg, reaching out to touch the screen. “Just let me come see you. Let’s talk about this in person. You don’t mean this, you don’t—”
“YOU HAD ME, JESS!” he yells, his face twisting as I choke on a sob. “You had me, and now you don’t. It shouldn’t be like this, I shouldn’t have to choose between you and my career, or worry about how you’ll react to meworkingwith another female. It’s just like the surf lessons last year. Nothing I say to you and nothing I do will ever convince you that I am yours, and I have continually paid the price. Do you know how sick I’ve been, wondering what you did with that guy to get back at me?”