Present - Jack
1262 Words
PRESENT
Jack
Jack headed back upstairs. Looking at the watch on his wrist he realized how late it was. Amber was always a good distraction, and as much as she hated him, she could never seem to tell him no. He knew it was an unhealthy relationship, and like all of his addictions, he couldn’t seem to kick this one.
When life became too much, Jack wanted to escape to something familiar, and that familiarity was probably still lying n***d in the bed where he left her, thoroughly satisfied. He shook his head, and willed himself to just get his s**t, and leave.
Walking down the hallway to the master bedroom Jack passed his daughter Hayley’s room. Her door was shut, and he didn’t even know if she was inside. She was twenty, had her own life but he still remembered her riding her bike down this very hallway, Amber trailing after yelling to stop for fear she’d ruin the marble. Jack had been waiting at the end, having just gotten back from tour, and Hayley’s little fingers would grab hold of his shirt sleeves as she launched herself off the bike, to hug him. There was no better feeling than those little fingers wrapped around his. Her smile was like the sun kissing the ocean after a long draining day.
Memories were like ghosts to him. They haunted his once peaceful dreams, crept into his mind during the day when he least expected it. He wanted nothing more than to numb the pain but he’d made a promise that he would not break. He lived inside of that promise as if he were a prisoner. Just as the memory entered his head, it was gone like a whisper. Hayley was not a little girl anymore. He barely knew her. The thought made him deeply sad, and he just wanted to collect the rest of his clothes and get out.
The bed was empty when Jack entered the room. He could only smell the faint impression of Amber’s perfume. The bedroom was decorated in soft feminine colors and fabrics. On one wall were professionally hung pictures of Amber from her modeling days. She always looked her best with barely anything on, he smiled to himself. Whenever he thought of Amber, silk and skin came to mind. So much so, that he had written a song about it, long ago.
Grabbing his shirt from the back of the vanity chair, he sniffed it, and then absently slipped it over his head. After looking in corners, under chairs, and lifting a few of Amber’s discarded garments off the floor, he finally found his shoes. The faint sound of water running came from the ensuite. Wanting to avoid an argument with Amber, he decided to tell her he was leaving instead of slipping out like he usually did.
“Amber!” He called. “I’m leaving.” She was probably whispering ‘good’ under her breath right now, he thought.
Their relationship was a toxic cycle but his whole life was one big toxic cycle with a few gold records thrown in. Knowing Amber hated him made it easier to leave afterward. That’s what he was good at anyway, leaving, whether it was to the studio, to go on tour, or to someone else’s bed. He may be a recovering addict but he was not a recovering asshole. If anything, he was working on perfecting asshole.
When he didn’t get a response, Jack walked into the bathroom. Amber was in the large jacuzzi tub situated in the middle of the room. “Nothing I haven’t seen before,” he made a joke waiting for Amber to throw a fit that he’d walked in on her but she seemed to be giving him the silent treatment.
He turned to the sink and splashed water on his face and made an indignant noise deep in his throat. The bathroom was probably bigger than his whole house in Venice.
Water dripped from his chin as he stared at himself in the mirror. s**t, he was an aging musician. His hair was a little long, curling up around his ears from the steam in the bathroom. His eyes refocused on the bathtub behind him. Amber’s arm hung over the edge, and the blood drained from his face. His knees went weak as he noticed how eerily quiet, and still, she was. An instinct within him registered that something was wrong. Panic raced through his veins as he ran to Amber’s side, calling for Paul over his shoulder. His lungs ached from the exertion, not realizing the house was so big there was no way Paul could hear him.
He pushed Amber’s hair from her face, trying to wake her but she stayed limp in the water. How long had she been in here? Jack thought and pulled her body out of the tub, and onto the floor next to him. He didn’t know what to do but managed to grab a towel from the rack, and wrapped it around her. Stupidly all he could think was how pissed she would be if he let anyone see her n***d. He kept calling her name as if he expected her to open her eyes, and tell him to shut the f**k up. Was he supposed to give her CPR? Vague memories of something similar happening to him crossed his mind but he didn’t know how to replicate it. He was always the recipient, not the one giving the medical attention.
Where was Paul? Jack looked around wildly, conscious of every second going by as if it were in slow motion. Reaching for the intercom on the bathroom wall, he called to the garage. After what felt like an eternity, Paul finally came rushing into the bathroom. Like an expert, assessing the situation, he snatched a pill bottle that Jack had overlooked. He read the label and put the bottle in his pocket.
“The paramedics will want to know what she took,” Paul explained, giving Jack a look that steadied him. Things were under control, Paul’s eyes conveyed, reassuring Jack.
Reluctant to let go of Amber, Jack thought that if he did, he’d never touch her again. When the paramedics arrived they began to hook up tubes, pulling out equipment he couldn’t name, and injecting her with something he was familiar with. They hurled questions at him that he couldn’t answer, and just as quickly as they arrived, they left, taking Amber in a stretcher, leaving Jack alone in the bathroom.
Jack propped himself up against the wall, taking a moment to collect himself. With the ability to refocus his eyes now that the adrenaline had left him, he was able to see the magazine page laying on the floor near the tub. The same picture he’d pulled from his back pocket earlier. How it got in the bathroom, he didn’t know. Grabbing the piece of paper, he carefully folded it, and gently placed it back in his pocket. With his heart still pounding steadily against his chest, he realized he needed to get his s**t together.
Paul came into the bathroom and gave Jack a worried look. “The sedan is not operational. I’ll see if I can find the keys to Amber’s car.”
Jack nodded, and Paul left the room. He didn’t know if he was supposed to go to the hospital or if Amber would even want him there. Someone needed to call Hayley, and he fumbled for his phone.
THREE The World Would Miss Me
- Writer
