It's always a horrible feeling to come home and find you're kitchen completely smashed up. Its also a funny feeling, seeing as now I can't eat my crème brulee, because some idiot decided to sell our oven out of spite. So y'all should expect a lot of angst, because I get slightly twitchy went I don't get my weekly fix o'fat.
Sorry for not updating sooner, but well you see, many a time I'm struck by a midnight inspiration. And of course I scribble it down as fast as my delirious mind could handle. But then I kinda hid all my notes. Haha then forgot were I put them. They were in my pillow…
Okay last part. and it's a long bugger.
'I need to see her.'
The feelings that erupt with that one sentence sweep Jade completely off balance. The turmoil of her feelings, the sheer volume of the blood pounding in her ears gives her cold feet and she slams the phone down so hard she hears a sickening sound of plastic on plastic. Cracking. Like her bloody fucking sanity.
It takes her a while to realise that blood is dripping all over the lino floor, and she finds that one of her fingers is blossoming crimson.
Numb, she's completely numb, from head to toe, from heart to brain. Even down to her stupid little crushed pinkie finger.
She caught it in the collision of phone and cradle and the nail's now spilt apart in a gaping crack. She doesn't react, doesn't know how to react.
She's just completely lost, standing there, the 'drip drip' of pooling blood reverberating round her mind with a sickening splatter.
He calls again. And again, and again.
He's relentless, and she hates it but loves it at the same time. He's chasing her again. He's chasing her. And as warped as it is, she loves that she's no longer the one saying please.
Eventually she picks up, though not before teasing out the time.
'I need to see her.' Is all he starts with, no time for jovialities. He's cutting the crap now.
It's been years since she'd heard that voice and already it's too familiar. Already she's filled with that rush of nerves, the chorus of butterflies alight; dancing in her throat. She's engulfed in the taste of cotton candy and sweet lemonade. Hot nights and cool sheets, salt stiffed hair and the unnaturally, garish glow from the Ferris wheel's fluorescents. She can feel the smell of leather and aloe and hot, dry days. She's swallowed by a wave of Beck; for just a second too long she's in that stupid, fucking emotional limbo that seems to now be her default mental status. It takes a repetition of his statement to bring her back.
'Jade' his voice is soft now, pressing and twanging at her heartstrings.
'I heard her name was Angelica'
'Jelly' she corrects with out thinking. She realises that she's left out the sting. She'd never be able to say her baby's name with contempt. Their baby's name.
There's a pause and she thinks for a second that he's hung up, already got all he needs.
'I'd like to meet her'
'Like? Screw you'
'Please Jade, please just don't be diffi-'
'Don't you dare. I can be as fucking difficult as I want.' She revels now in the cutting word, oh this feels good, she wants to dig into him, and she does, loving how the word 'fucking' rolls off her tongue. Oh here's her control.
There's another pause and this time she's sure he's gone. Shit. She's pushed him away yet again.
That word. The word that fells all of the walls of her heart. She glances over to Angelica contently playing with the dog, showering him in glitter and kisses.
'I just. I just can't Beck. Not you. Not now' and with that she hangs up, taking caution this time not to damage any more digits.
'Who was that?' The innocent question floats in through the open door.
Her mouth makes a silent 'o' searching for an answer'
'Just a silly salesman'
'You hear that Oli? Don't talk to silly salesmen. They're eviiilll.' Jade smiles at the pout Angelica pulls for the dog, shaking her head for emphasis on the moral, holding one of the pups paws in a shake.
Jade could have told her quiet bluntly that it was her dad, but she reasoned that 'father' was probably on an emotional par with a salesman.
Jade's finds that her daughter's distaste of phone salesmen doesn't stop her from answering the phone.
She wakes to the sound of her girl's dulcet tones in the next room, murmuring something incomprehensible. She finds her lying in her pink pyjamas cradling the phone to her cheek like something dear.
'Yeah, I love butterflies, they're so pretty.' 'No way? A blue one, luuucky.' Angelica giggles at the reply.
'Oh just a doggie. Yeah he's right next to me. His name is Oli. Yep Oliver. No way? That's you're name too?'
Jade feels the panic rising. Shit.
'Honey who's that' she says in a strained voice.
'Daddy?' She can literally feel the butterflies' wings pressing for escape at the back of her throat.
'Yeeep. And we're talking about butterflies' Angelica giggles as she motions wings with her hands, phone included in the gesture until a voice can be heard from it and Angelica quickly replaces it to her ear. It's pretty much incomprehensible to Jade as to how her daughter picked up the idea of a father in a single phone call. She then realises, this is probably not the first one. Damn you Beck Oliver, damn you to hell.
The emotional gravity of the situation doesn't seem to have dawned on Jelly and she continues converse with that previously absent figure.
'Oh mummy's here. Yep if you want to. Heere we go.' She elongates her last words as she lifts up from her previous position on the floor to pass the phone to Jade.
'Who the hell is this?' she knows, but still she asks.
Beck's voice replies, but she doesn't even hear what it is he's saying before she hangs up.
'Fuck' is all she manages. It's the first time she's sworn in front of Jelly and she can see the effect it has on her daughter's brow. She excuses her self from the room with a quiet 'Sorry baby, bad, bad word' and a feeble mock wrist slapping.
After weeks of pushing Jade gives into Beck's requests out of shear exhaustion, and the realisation that she is in fact depriving Jelly. They resolve to meet in the red room of some fancy hotel. They could have met in McDonalds for all she cared, but she realises that Beck wants to put on a show; the illusion of grandeur and pomp. She just nods along, agreeing; submitting herself to a forlorn fate.
The look on Beck's face makes up for it.
She sees his face as he lays eyes on Angelica. His expression is a hybrid mix of sheer horror and a dash of elation.
When his eyes catch the gaze of his daughter's identical pair, he blanches. Jade finds it hard to keep a lid on her misery too, seeing as the boy who successfully broke her heart and screwed her over is standing not two foot away from her. She needs to pinch herself. And she does relishing at the pain of reality.
Their greeting's all wide eyes and unsure footing, gazes that don't quite meet and a stumble of words. Angelica though, is their saviour; playing the bold party; dipping her foot into their uncharted waters first, with a bright 'Soo, you're my daddy?'
Beck is all that she remembers him to be; collected and calm. His worry dries up in an instant to answer Jelly's question, leaving Jade behind in the awkward wasteland of her own jarred mind.
She just follows like a puppet, father and daughter collectively pulling her strings, guiding her to some overly lit table at the centre of the room. Jade West, Beck Oliver and their love child on parade for the entire world to see.
The room is filled with the buzzing noise of polite conversation and the tinkling sound of piano keys. A giant multi-tiered chandelier looms overhead, slightly swaying with the movement of human activity and Jade likens it to a pendulum, dancing with the beat of time. She wishes that it would fall, fall straight on top of her and cut her off from existence, cut her off from this sickeningly sweet reunion that is going oh so very well.
He asks everything about Angelica and she reacts well to the quick fire session of questions, which finally softens to warm conversation. Its like they've never been apart, two kindred spirits, two old souls together at last.
Jade feels slightly alienated in amongst their laughter and occasionally Beck catches her eye and stops. Jade engages lightly in the conversation, but prefers to watch her daughters face as it goes trough the swing of introduction and finally acceptance. She wonders if Jelly's ever prayed to have a dad. She's never written him on her Christmas list, so perhaps at some dark hour or upon a star or an eyelash she's prayed for a father, and is now utterly overjoyed to have Beck, the man she's grown up watching on the silver screen. The man that was distanced by planets, solar systems and so many stars but is now finally in reach.
As they motion to part ways, Beck stooping down to Angelica's level to say goodbye Jelly, 'it was a pleasure meeting you' Jade feels like wrenching her away and running for the hills. Of course after all these years, he's the one with the ability to swoop down from the sky and make everything suddenly all right and happy clappy. Why can't she have that?
As they leave she looks over her shoulder to see him still watching them from the bar. She's sure the wistful gaze is directed at Angelica, but a small part of her wishes it was at her.
His gaze is redirected to the flash of long hair and suddenly he's entangled in the arms of Tori mother fucking Vega.
Jade leaves with the taste of disappointment and coffee and doesn't look back as she leaves.
She resents it, but these meetings become more and more regular (they finally do get to go to McDonalds)
He hasn't won her forgiveness yet, but each and every time they meet, she feels herself forgetting, just for small slips of time. Small, smiling slips of time.
But every time they're together (for Jelly's sake she says) she feels herself falling again. Descending into that emotional limbo. Slipping deeper and deeper back into his charm. Sure, she'll pretend not to and will treat him with the same hostility that she reserves for the general public. But inside she cracking; every time he nudges her and smiles or calls her pretty, little parts of her resolve break away. She'll still punch him in the arm, but its always hurting her more than its hurting him. She a masochist and hates her self for it, but still loves the feel of their skin contacting.
Secretly she finds herself wishing upon stars, and chicken bones and eyelashes, because she finds, to her fucking horror that; she, Jade West is falling in love with Beck Oliver. Again.
And all she wishes for is a way to pause time.
She finds that Diazepam does the trick.
Because loving again Beck Oliver hurts. It fucking stings.
The little white pills sing to her now, her heart entitles it as a calling; her brain tells her it's an addiction. The rush of chemicals floods her body into a high of colour, sloshing round her brain; filling her eyes and ears with a rainbow of hues. The storm of her mind hits the rays of sun that trickle out of the Diazepam and they refract together to make something lovely. Lovely; but fleeting. When the illuminations dim she's left with the hallow hurt again, that's when she needs her next fix.
The high she gets makes smiling a lot easier, and she finds, each time she submerges her self into one; they become a little less fake.
She finds herself digging her nails hard into her palm every time they're together, every time she catches herself smiling and him smiling too. Every time Beck edges his way into her heart, she melts into chemicals.
The little beads of blood grin in the crescent shaped groves on her palm and she thinks they're mocking her. But they are aren't they? Everyone else is allowed to be happy, just not her of course.
She hates it that he can just appear on scene and suddenly they're playing happy families. She doesn't even know if he's sincere. Sure he's proved that to Angelica with his complete and utter adoration, but to Jade he just acts with hesitation and formalities.
She doesn't bother answering any of his calls, because the only time she can tolerate him is in the presence of her daughter.
She finds with the painkillers, that every time she smiles. Every time the nails dig involuntarily, the pain isn't present.
And by some miracle her life begins to sort of work.
She's months into her addiction and somehow the sleeping body of Beck enters the corner of her eye. Somehow he slipped past in the haze of her confusion and has taken up residence on the sofa. Somehow all she can feel is contempt (she's almost proud of Vega for throwing him out) the emotion unfurling up inside her like an ugly haze of smoke.
Everything becomes a blur. The only things in focus in the swirling masses of her mind are Angelica's face and the screen of her phone, displaying '6 missed calls'.
Jade never stumbles, never lets on. She's an award-winning actress for Christ's sake; of course she could pull off sanity, like fucking a professional.
Everything melts into the next, faces meld together in her newfound warped reality. It could be called an adverse effect of the painkillers. But Jade just calls it her sanctuary.
Jelly says one night that she 'would like to have pineapple pizza very, very much.' She had Jade at please, but the cherries on top make a nice addition.
Jade volunteers to go, but you can have it delivered. I need the air.
She gets in the car, the kiss Angelica had given her, still tingling on her cheek, acts as her anchor. She pops a few serenading pills and twists the key in the ignition, comforted at the purr of the heated engine.
The city's pretty at night, but the smog and light pollution mask out the stars with a smudged hand. Ever so often though, cracks in the clouds let through a few tiny stars, twinkling, as they're light's refracted by rain and particulates.
Its like her brain has a camera's shutter on it. The streetlights are like lurid squiggly worms, their glow dragging across her vision, and she uncharacteristically giggles at the sight of her burnt retains as she feels the high rising up inside her. The green worms turn red but she keeps on driving. Shit they're angry at me.
The worms and the world spin around and around and around her, suddenly exploding in a crescendo of twisting metal and breaking bones. With that Jade's world turns black with a final, sickening crack.
She doesn't cry, she doesn't scream. There was no bloody time for that. Her collapsed lung fills with blood, reducing her cry to a gurgle. Seven broken ribs, like splintered fingers, cradle her internal bleeding as it pools inside her crushed cavities.
The overhead mirror smacks into her skull, splintering her mind into unconsciousness. The glass from the windshield splatters her face with tiny screaming cuts (like a thousand bloody kisses.)
When the ambulance finds her car, twisted round another, her limp body compressed, the blood has congealed in her hair, plastering it to her dislocated shoulders, and dyeing is a bloody hue.
For the second time that night she leaves the world, this time as a bloody smear. She slips away as the red and blue lights caress her broken face, and she's cut out from the crumpled car.
She feels the pound of the defibrillation pads against her chest, but decides its just best to ignore them.
Ugly strips of fluorescent float into her vision, and though everything begins as swimming blurs, a sickening lurch causes the shapes to begin to sharpen. Beck's face swarms into view, in and out as he paces the room.
'What the fuck were you thinking' He said fuck.
The word sticks in her head, ugly and harsh. He said fuck. The revelation is actually shocking. He never says fuck.
She realises she can't speak; she has some bloody tube down her throat, choking her reply.
Some faceless nurse smiles as she removes it, calling her sweetie as she pushes more sedatives into her IV.
Jelly. Diazepam. Shit cross her mind in a burning comet streak and every thing fades away.
It's when the lights are low and she can hear the slow drag of the road quietly in the background that she whispers across to Beck.
'Nothing, that its, I just wasn't thinking of anything.'
'You could have died' 'Died. How could you be so sel-' He's suddenly gesticulating widely, his hands entangling themselves in his hair and he looks like he's near to ripping it all out.
'Me? Selfish?' She feels the heat not only rising in her hoarse words but also her face, her eyes prickle with stubborn tears. She wants to scream so fucking badly.
But instead of screaming her words pick up pace and dribble out of her mouth, and all she can think 'oh screw it.'
It just pours out of her. Everything that's been building up for the past seven years burst off her lips. The frustration of raising their child, their child alone. How she wants to punch him so he can feel what its like to have his heart ripped out. For missing Jelly's first steps, first words, first smiles. The harrowing feeling of sleeping alone; unloved, discarded and used.
How she still has a taste of him in her mouth, and she didn't know whether to spit it out or savour it. How whenever she would shout or scream she still expects him to be there, to silence her with a kiss. And how empty her lips feel when he doesn't.
How she has to sugar coat everything now, because she's a bitch, and Hollywood doesn't like bitches, but he did.
How she wants him to be there. To really be there, not just for Jelly, but also for her. Like they used to be, in his old RV, curled around each other, promises and dreamed realities whispered in hushed tones.
And somehow from some sickening monstrosity, she is still fucking in lo-
The nurse enters on the pretence that her morphine has to be upped and Jade can't, isn't allowed to finish
He sits down and for once he's the one that looks deflated, at last.
Victorious is her final thought before the sedative claims her.
She dreams about him.
And when she surfaces in the dim lights, he's still there, the crease in his brow as present as he is.
He promised that he wouldn't leave her side, and he doesn't. He curls his fingers into hers, and they lie there in the darkness, each awake and aware.
'I want to get better at this.'
'Better at what?' He props his head up drowsily and his face the same one she'd wake up to all those years ago. The face that'd kiss away the sleep and she'd call a pansy.
She'd love it if they could just fuck there and then in the bed. They could forgive each other silently between the rough sheets and together they could wallow in her pathetic words, melting into one.
She could comb her fingers through his hair and he could whisper again in her ear how much he missed her, again and again.
She'd love to but someone had catheterized her, and stitches covered her body threatening to bleed out. It would be awkward, messy and emotionally rash; the story of her life.
By the time she's thought all this, Beck has already risen from the chair and is poised at the door.
'You want a coffee?' It's a statement, not a question. He's gone again, slipping out the door silently like smoke and she's left, deflated and alone between those rough sheets. All she has to hold onto is her throbbing IV and the stinging wounds of her face and heart.
She spends an extra week in the hospital detoxing, flushing the Diazepam from her bones in the cold sweat of a chemical coma. They then sentence her to an intensive course of therapy and she weakly complies; no corner cutting for little Jade West and her broken face.
As soon as she's discharged from rehab she runs. Like all those years ago, she flees her home again, this time Jelly in hand and not in utro. Though not before one, final crashing rendition.
She smashes up the contents of her house; the trail of destruction missing only the few hastily packed boxes by the door.
Jelly joins her in the creation of chaos and they make it a game. Who can best screw their worldly possessions?
They make a mural on the wall, finger painting their names at the bottom corner and filling the other three walls with pictures of mommy and Jelly and daddy (who accidentally gets a dripping purple mess across his face.) Oli joins in too, his paws collecting up the multicoloured paints and running them through the house.
Together they rip up all the pillows with scissors then hands then teeth, and pour the feather across the floor, a wave of soft, slowly falling, only to be chucked back up into the air with their twirling motions.
Everything is displaced. All their material shit is strewn across the floor and they together laugh at the petty commercialism they've bought into (well Jade laughs at it, Jelly laughs because her beds now upside down.) They scream and jump around
They finish in the kitchen, as the large glass panes lets through the last dregs of summer sunlight. Food is scattered everywhere. Cupcakes are mashed upon the floor and the fluids of a melon are dashed across a wall like a vicious crime of passion.
They lie there in the fading remnants of the bruise-deepened sky, exhaustion tightening its hold up on them. Together they heap up all their blankets and intact pillows and fall into comfort with a 'humpf''.
When Jelly asks where they'll go next, her eyelids fluttering with sleep and the edge of a yawn in her voice Jade answers 'Forwards' because that's all she can think of.
The next morning they leave the mess that Jade made of their lives behind and run.
Run, far, far away.
He finds her.
He finds her in Seattle of all the places in the world.
He finds her in the deflating light, through the streaks of gold and red as the warm, late summer rain settles in.
He stands there soaked to the bone and she stands in the door, his dry comfort.
'Do you love me again?' She asks through salty tears. She doesn't know where the they'd come from, (oh but she knew they'd been there for a very, very long time; the tracks tattooed into her cheeks.) Too long.
'Who said I stopped?' he whispers against her cheek as he kisses the tears away. Kiss they all away.
She has to pinch her self to check that he actually just said that. He catches the movement and laughing, kisses her harder, clutching her like she might suddenly dissolve.
She wants to blame every inch of him, but ends up melting, pouring her arms around him and sinking in. For now it's enough. For now and forever she'll cling onto him with every fibre of her being.
Jade West makes a wish upon the star standing in front of her. Wishing with all her might that she'll get her happy ending.
But she knows it'll come with time.
Hopefully that was satisfactory? I hope so. I really do owe it all of you for you're lovely words of encouragement, oh how they are cherished.
So even if you hated it, or adored it or weren't really that touched by it, leave a review or pm me. Constructive criticism is like a kiss to me.
I'm thinking of writing a set of alphabetical one-shots next, so if y'all have any ideas for the letter H onwards that would be trés lovely.