On The Floor (Second Story) (8 page)

“Your grandma is a teacher?” I ask trying to get him talking about his grandparents again. He had love in his eyes when he talked about them.

“Yep. She has had the same classroom at the same school teaching Kindergarten since, well, forever. It was her first teaching job. She was actually
my
Kindergarten teacher. She is an amazing woman,” he says smiling.

“And your grandpa?” I ask hoping to keep the happiness in his expression.

“He’s a hard ass, but he’s also the most honorable man I will ever know. He was actually the one to teach me how to play guitar.” His smile has gone from forced to full blown since he started talking about his grandparents.

“They sound like wonderful people,” I say smiling at him.

“They are. Now, what about your family?” he asks me.

“I grew up with my parents about an hour north of here. I have an older brother, Chad, and a younger sister, Monica. Chad is in the Navy and is stationed in Coronado. Monica is a freshman in high school. My dad is a carpenter. He makes one of a kind pieces of furniture. Monica still lives with him in the house I grew up in.”

“And your mom?”

I suck in a breath. Mom. It still hurts to think about her. I miss her every day.

I should have known he would ask. Why did I have to bring up family?

“You ok?” He sounds concerned.

I take a deep breath and let it out. This is the part when most guys leave. My situation is better than it was a year ago, but they don’t want to get involved in the mess that is my life. So I do what I always do when I talk (or think) about my mom. I take a deep breath, close my eyes, and picture the beach. One, two, three. I open my eyes and let the breath out. Thinking of the beach always reminds me of the beautiful life my mom led before she died. It keeps the sadness at bay. It helps me numb the pain.

“Rachel? You okay?”

“Um, I’m fine. It’s just… my mom… she passed away from a brain tumor my senior year of high school. I don’t really like to talk about it. We were really close. Our whole family was. I just miss her.”

“So that’s what happened your senior year?” He looks worried.

“Yeah. It was a lot to handle for everyone in my family. She was the glue that held everyone together. After she died, I had to change my college plans. I was supposed to go to Juilliard. I wanted to perform for a living. Be a pianist. I had a scholarship and everything. Life just got in the way and led me down a different road.”

Silence.

I continue. “But I think I ended up where I was supposed to be. I gave piano lessons while I was in high school to help me pay for my car. I absolutely loved it. I took a semester off before I started community college and I spent that time teaching piano. I love performing, but I love teaching more.” I smile.

“Why didn’t you go to Juilliard? You still could have gone to school there, right? Like postpone your admission or something?” he asks.

“I just had… family commitments. There was a lot going on. I’d rather not go into it,” I say, my smile slipping.

“So, next question.” He looks at me with a very serious expression. “Favorite sexual position?” A smile starts to grow on his face and I can tell he is trying to make me laugh and take us out of the more serious conversation.

After all, I think we both came here tonight looking to find each other’s answer to this exact question.

I give him a sad smile. Thinking about all the stuff that happened after Mom died, the stuff that is still going on, has taken the sexy right out of me. “I think I’m just going to head to bed. It’s after two. I’ve got a busy day tomorrow. See you later.” I get off the bed to leave.

He stands up as well and follows me to the door. We face each other, both looking at the floor. He puts both of his hands on my upper arms and slides them down until he is holding my hands.

“Rachel?” I look up and our eyes meet. “This is not how I wanted this night to end,” he says with a smile, even though I can see the disappointment on his face.

“Yeah, me neither,” I respond, trying to smile back.

“I’m sorry about your mom. If you ever want to talk to me about anything, I would love to hear about her. About your family. About anything you want to talk about.” His smile turns sad as I look back down and nod my head.

“Thanks, Jake.”

With that, I walk out the door and over to my room. I open my door and lie down in my bed. I start to think about my mom and all the guilt I have for leaving home to come here and I start to cry. There is so much I don’t like thinking about. If Dad is okay. How Monica is doing now that it is just to two of them.

I don’t end my night with Jake like I wanted.

My night ends with me alone in my bed, full of sadness and guilt.

To escape these feelings, I close my eyes and go to the beach.

One.

Two.

Three.

***

Thursday has been dragging on. I can’t seem to catch a break.

I woke up late and spilled my coffee on my pants as I was rushing out of the door to class. I forgot I had a quiz in my history class and I didn’t have anything to contribute to a graded discussion in ethics. Then some guy on a bike ran over my foot.

Now it’s lunchtime and I realize I forgot my wallet so I can’t even buy anything at the commons.

Jenna offered to buy me something, but with the way my day is going I’d probably get food poisoning. I know my day could be a hell of a lot worse and I shouldn’t let the little things get me down, but sometimes a lot of little things all going wrong totally sucks. I decide to skip my math class and head back to the dorms. I just want to curl up in my bed with a good book to read a book of my choosing, not something required for classes. I need some me time.

As soon as I get to my floor, I head to the  bathroom before going to my room. Jake is standing outside of the entrance to the bathroom just staring at the door. He has on basketball shorts, running shoes, and no shirt. His body is glistening and sweat is beading on his back. There is a towel thrown over his right shoulder covering part of the tattoo there, but he has his left hand in his sweat dampened hair and I can see the writing on his ribcage. I notice the quote written there is in another language. Then I look at his face. Shit. He looks worried and terrified.

What did I just walk into? I should have known with the day I am having.

“What happened?” I ask him, my voice loud and full of worry. I start imagining all of the scenes that could be waiting for me in the bathroom. What is he doing just standing there? Is someone hurt?

“Someone is in there crying,” he says still staring at the door.

“Are they hurt?” I’m starting to get scared.

“No. Sounds more like sad crying.”

“What happened?” I ask, my voice still full of concern.

“I have no idea! I just walked into the bathroom to take a shower after my run and I heard this wailing type crying thing. She has quieted down a lot, but she still sounds like she’s crying, right?” He looks so worried. I listen closely and I can hear quiet crying in the silence.

“What did she say when you asked her what was wrong?”

“I didn’t even say anything to her. I just stood there for a minute and then turned around and walked out. I was standing here for like five minutes when you came up. I had no idea what to do. I didn’t want her to be embarrassed that somebody heard her.”

“Okay, well, I’m going to go ask her what’s wrong. Wait out here and don’t let anyone else in the bathroom. Do you at least know who is in there?” I can’t believe this day.

“Um. No idea. Sorry.” I can tell he is embarrassed by the way he handled this situation and he is very thankful that I happened to show up.

I walk into the bathroom and the sobs have quieted to sniffles. I walk up to the stall door and start knocking lightly. I hear some movement and a big breath. “It’s occupied,” responds a quiet voice. She has a southern accent and I realize it’s Heather, one of the drama majors.

“Heather? It’s Rachel. Is everything alright?”

A sob followed by more sniffles. “Um, I don’t know!” she wails followed by more crying.

“I’m going to be in my room. Whenever you are ready, come and talk to me.”

“Okay. I’ll be there in a few minutes,” she says quietly.

I walk out of the bathroom and see Jake at the door. I look at him and the concern is written all over his face. We start walking toward our rooms. “She’ll be out in a few minutes. Just hang out in your room until you see her come into my room, then you can go shower. I want her to have a few minutes alone to get herself together.”

“Do you know what happened?”

“No idea. But she’s coming to talk to me. Wish me luck. I’ve dealt with everything from somebody waxing half an eyebrow off, to a girl’s thirty year-old ex-boyfriend stalker. Life of an RA.”

“What?!” He looks legitimately surprised with the stuff I've dealt with.

I laugh. “Don’t look so worried. It’s not so bad most of the time. Mostly break-ups. See you later!” I smile at him as he walks into his room.

Heather ends up coming to my room with a pregnancy test she was too scared to take. I open the box and shove it to the back of my top desk drawer. (I don’t want anyone seeing that in the garbage can.) I hand her the test and she slips it in her jacket sleeve. We walk back to the bathroom and I stand outside while she takes the test. We head back to my room and wait a few minutes for the results.

It comes back negative and she is so relieved she jumps up and hugs me. We talk and I find out that she was having unprotected sex. “Remember this feeling, Heather. Get on the pill or something and use a condom every time. You don’t want to feel like this again, right?”

“No. Fucking. Way.” She shakes her head. “My mom won’t let me get birth control because she thinks it will make me have sex and she doesn’t want me having sex. Her plan isn’t working and my boyfriend ran out of condoms.”

“You’re eighteen, Heather. Go to Planned Parenthood and get on the pill yourself and carry your own condoms.” I smile at her. “And just in case you find yourself in a situation where you are out of condoms again, there are other things to do with your boyfriend other than have sex.”

“Rachel! I don’t need sex tips!” she yells embarrassed.

“Oh my god! No! I meant that you could go to the movies or the batting cages!” I am mortified.

We both start laughing.

“Thanks, Rachel!” she says as she walks out of my room.

I sit back on my bed and hear a knock at the door.

“Come in!”

It’s Jake. “Hey, I just saw Heather leave. She looked happy. Everything okay?”

“Yep. We worked it out.” I smile reassuringly.

“What was that all about?” he asks, sitting on my desk.

“RA/Resident confidentiality,” I say crossing my arms and smiling at him.

“Whatever!” he jokes. “But seriously, does that happen often?”

“Um, like a few times a month,” I say shrugging my shoulders. “Most of the girls just come right to me, but every once in a while I find them crying somewhere.”

“How am I supposed to deal with that kind of thing? If you wouldn’t have shown up, I probably would have just stood there like an idiot.” He looks seriously worried that he will end up in this situation again.

“You can always call me. Or ask them what is wrong. Even if they don’t want to talk to you showing concern will help build the relationship.”

“I’ll try that. But you said I can call you, right?”

“Yes,” I say laughing. “That’s what I’m here for!” I smile.

“My partner in crime?”

“Oh shut up!” We start laughing.

Chapter 6

It’s Friday night and I decide to stay in tonight to work on a huge project due in my Musical Education class. I’m even planning to stay in tomorrow night. Jenna begged and pleaded with me to go out with her tonight. It will be her first night out after Jeff and she’s looking for a girl’s night. You’d think I was her only friend.

She eventually decided to go dancing at Fairy Tale with Jimmy and Dan. She definitely won’t be having a girl’s night, but at least she’ll be surrounded by men who want to share her make-up and not her bed.

It’s ten o’clock and I’m finally finished with my presentation board and halfway through my paper. And then I hear music coming from across the hall. Déjà vu. I get out of my chair and walk across the hall. This time I knock on Jake’s door instead of standing and listening like a crazy stalker.

“Come in!”

I push the door open and smile at him. “Is this the same song you were working on last week?”

He looks up at me after making a pencil mark on some sheet music. “Nah, working on something new.” He smiles up at me and runs his hand through his hair. He is in the same place he was in last week as he sits on his bed, but this time he’s shirtless and wearing jeans. “What are you up to tonight?”

“Just working on a project for one of my classes. You?”

“Writing this song,” he points to the sheet music. “And some reading for history. Pretty exciting stuff we got going on, huh?” He chuckles as he looks over at me.

“Yeah, I guess,” I say laughing. “So does your band perform all original stuff?” I've been curious what type of music his band performs since the first night I heard him playing.

“We do mostly covers. I just started writing my own music, so I’ll usually play a little during a break. We’re still putting together a few original songs, but we’re just all so busy it takes a while.”

“Cool. What type of music do you guys play?”

“All different types of rock. We even play a couple of metal songs. We change the arrangements some, but we play them,” he says smiling. “You should come see us some time. We’ve got something in a couple weeks. I’ll get the info from Toby and give it to you.”

“Sure sounds good!” I smile at his enthusiasm. I can’t wait to see him on stage.

“Cool! Do you have any plans for tomorrow night? Another date?” he asks fishing.

“Nope. Nothing exciting. I’ll just be here again doing homework. My classes are crazy this semester. It should be a really exciting Saturday night!” I say sarcastically. “Do you have anything as exciting planned?”