11-03-2015, 11:50 PM
It was years after this that Elijah and Jenn moved to Denver. They’d come together, both packed their bags because he’d said that he needed a change of scenery and there they were- all settled in comfortable to a one bedroom apartment over a floral shop. It had the kind of feeling of a New York styled loft. It felt like the kind of place that you would see in movies about a glamorous city life and the two had embraced it, something new and exciting over the charms that Baton Rouge had offered so many years before.
Even then, though, as the time they spent in the apartment went on, the place started to feel smaller. More cramped. Elijah had people over, spent time filtering in and out while the two of them carried on parallel lives. Not lives that lived together, but ones that came so very close yet they did not touch. When Elijah and Jenn first came to Denver, they had clung to one another. Then, as he was want to do, Elijah found people. Spread out. Clung to the first thing that was new and interesting whether or not it was good for him and left Jenn standing there with an apartment that was empty and half decorated. He left her waiting for someone who would never show up, told her stories that only had half the story in it, insisted he didn’t need his medication. Missed appointments. Woke up places that she still had to go find him and take him home only so he could disappear again.
It was almost a year before he’d come clean, that he had friends who led double lives and that his delusions weren’t delusions but, rather, alternate truths to what they had all deigned to be real. Jenn didn’t much care for his friends, to be honest. She didn’t much care for the lives they led, the risks they took. She didn’t much care about how they treated everything like it was a giant secret, how she was stuck on the outside until she’d found herself pulled it and then, only then, did someone deign to tell her how their little pocket of reality worked. Which was to say- just like hers did. There were monsters in the world, and they preyed upon people. It did not matter if those monsters were gryphons or gang members, at the end of it all there were still loads of innocent people being hurt. She’d told Elijah once that there was suffering in Bangladesh and Bangor, Maine and you couldn’t’ turn a blind eye to all of it but you couldn’t keep yourself open to the entirety of things, either. You had to save part of yourself from the whole of creation. He bit off more than he could chew; she may have been in the middle of it but, for now, things seemed quiet. Things felt normal.
They had different lives now, as people often do, united in proximity and the occasional day where they sat down for dinner and discussed what all had been going on. They had hit the point of an old married couple before they’d even decided they were something resembling a couple. No, Elijah and Jenn had (despite all indications and inquiries to the contrary) held firm that they were just friends. They’d always just been friends. Friends that lived in the same apartment. Friends that moved across the country for one another. Friends who occasionally fucked and went to each other’s family holidays. Just friends, you see, just friends who took the presence of one another for granted.
Jenn was making it as an artist, but not without a price. People were noticing her work; she’d rather be forgotten. Elijah was going on a business trip; he’d be gone for a week tops.
“When you’re in Boston,” Jenn started as she picked at the bowl of noodles she was calling dinner, “I want you to go on a pub crawl.”
“You’re actually indulging my desire to get shitfaced?”
“It’s Boston, they have actual Irish pubs. It’s the closest to a real pub crawl either of us are going to go to without actually making our way to the British Isles.”
“I’d rather get shitfaced with you, thank you. I don’t think I’m gonna have much down time,” he admitted.
“Well, tack it on at the end,” she laughed, “live vicariously for me. I’m a lightweight. You? You would be able to get to at least four establishments before blacking out and that’s what I love about you.”
“You only love me for my wooden leg and abused liver, I feel so special.”
The two of them laughed, and he looked back at her for a second. There was silence before she decided to hop back into conversation. He could have been happy just sitting there, quietly, for hours.
“What’s going to happen while you’re there?”
“It’s just an initiation, nothing big. You know, kinda like when you rushed that sorority and then dropped out after you decided you’d joined a cult,” he told her.
“I still think you joined a cult,” Jenn chided.
“It’s not a real cult. I haven’t had to sacrifice a goat or change my… well, I can’t say that, but I’ll explain later if I can.”
Jenn gave Elijah a flat look.
“That’s the whole secret society thing, you have to keep secrets,” he told her. It just made her look grow flatter. He shrugged, “why don’t you come with me to Boston?”
“Why?”
“Because you would like Boston a lot more than I would and it’s going to be awkward and I’d rather spend time with someone who doesn’t suck than go for what is the equivalent of a business trip.”
“’Most important thing you’re going to do this year’ and you’re saying it’s boring?” she asked.
“Most important things are boring. C’mon, you were in cotillion for Christ’s sake, that was, by far, the most boring thing I’ve ever seen.”
It made Jenn laugh, that little bit of throwback made her face light up and he could just bathe in that moment. Elijah looked at Jenn, and there are moments that it doesn’t dawn on him how he’s taken her for granted. It is in those few moments, though, that he can see that she’s some treasure. Rarer still that he can see that she’s all potential and it’s wasted on the fact that she’s been following him around for gods-know-how-long.
“The art scene in Boston might not be bad, maybe we could meet some people?” he asks, almost hopeful.
“I kinda… I don’t know,” she says, looks down and draws a shaky breath.
“C’mon, it’s… you get to live your life. It isn’t defined by the fact that-”
“That’s really easy for you to say because you’re going to fucking Boston in the next couple of days and you’re leaving me here and nobody’s going to notice and-”
There’s an awkward silence, Jenn looked away and slowly gathered up the things that she had on the table. Her eyes flickered to a painting on the wall. She clenched her jaw as her eyes started to feel warm, her heart started to beat a little harder and there it was. The apartment, at that juncture, felt small. Felt stifling. It was just the two of them and it didn’t matter if it was two of them or twenty of them or if Elijah never showed up to the apartment again the place felt lonely. The place felt too small and too large all at once and Denver felt like a fucking fish bowl as far as she was concerned.
Elijah reached toward to place himself into Jenn’s space.
“Nobody’s going to notice what?” he asked, looked for her eyes and she wouldn’t look at him.
“Nobody’s going to notice when I’m gone and all this blows over.”
“Don’t say that,” he quickly replied, “you’re important, you’re a fucking muse, you’re-”
“Everybody says that, Elijah,” she told him, “everybody says that you’re an individual and you’re important but that art student that went missing? Those two high school girls? They were important, too. They were someone’s everything and what are they now?”
He didn’t have an answer for that, only looked at his roommate, his best friend, the lover neither of them admit to having, and doesn’t have an answer.
“Horrible things happen every day,” Jenn said, “and let’s be really honest here, Elijah. The only reason that people care- that your friends care- that anybody cares about what happens to me is because people care about you. I’m not the main character in this story, and when I die it’ll be your tragedy. And after awhile? Nobody is going to give a shit. I’m just going to be another missing person so… so it doesn’t matter if I go with you to Boston, or if I stay here, or… or if I just leave… it doesn’t matter.”
She pushed back, looking down at the ground and pulling her arms low across her chest. Her breathing was shallow and labored and Elijah, dumb and young and invested, stepped in to wrap his arms around her. It was too much, she’d decided. This was all too much and like a wall of sand, the surf started to seep in and all Jenna Laurent could do was cry. Cry because it felt pointless. Cry because her life was on hold, cry because she’d given up so many things and changed so many things for that man and all Elijah could do was hold her and it wasn’t enough. She wanted to resent him; she wanted to resent what her life looked like now that he’d let her in on some great cosmic secret and she had only done what he’d asked of her. She’d only trusted him when he said that whatever terrible things had happened before were over and taken care of.
But, Jenn didn’t resent him. She didn’t hate him, she didn’t feel anything except that wedge that had been growing since they’d moved here- that they were going two different places and she worried, briefly, if he’d be able to stand without her. If he wouldn’t drift out too far and be lost to whatever whims and fantasies were alive in this city.
“If you died,” he told her, “the world would end.”
She let out a bitter chuff, “you’re being dramatic.”
“I know my price,” Elijah whispered, “I want you to be happy, and I want you to be safe. Just… if you do anything… please wait until I come home.”
“I can wait,” she told him.
She lied. Jenna Laurent would not be waiting for him when he came back from Boston.
Even then, though, as the time they spent in the apartment went on, the place started to feel smaller. More cramped. Elijah had people over, spent time filtering in and out while the two of them carried on parallel lives. Not lives that lived together, but ones that came so very close yet they did not touch. When Elijah and Jenn first came to Denver, they had clung to one another. Then, as he was want to do, Elijah found people. Spread out. Clung to the first thing that was new and interesting whether or not it was good for him and left Jenn standing there with an apartment that was empty and half decorated. He left her waiting for someone who would never show up, told her stories that only had half the story in it, insisted he didn’t need his medication. Missed appointments. Woke up places that she still had to go find him and take him home only so he could disappear again.
It was almost a year before he’d come clean, that he had friends who led double lives and that his delusions weren’t delusions but, rather, alternate truths to what they had all deigned to be real. Jenn didn’t much care for his friends, to be honest. She didn’t much care for the lives they led, the risks they took. She didn’t much care about how they treated everything like it was a giant secret, how she was stuck on the outside until she’d found herself pulled it and then, only then, did someone deign to tell her how their little pocket of reality worked. Which was to say- just like hers did. There were monsters in the world, and they preyed upon people. It did not matter if those monsters were gryphons or gang members, at the end of it all there were still loads of innocent people being hurt. She’d told Elijah once that there was suffering in Bangladesh and Bangor, Maine and you couldn’t’ turn a blind eye to all of it but you couldn’t keep yourself open to the entirety of things, either. You had to save part of yourself from the whole of creation. He bit off more than he could chew; she may have been in the middle of it but, for now, things seemed quiet. Things felt normal.
They had different lives now, as people often do, united in proximity and the occasional day where they sat down for dinner and discussed what all had been going on. They had hit the point of an old married couple before they’d even decided they were something resembling a couple. No, Elijah and Jenn had (despite all indications and inquiries to the contrary) held firm that they were just friends. They’d always just been friends. Friends that lived in the same apartment. Friends that moved across the country for one another. Friends who occasionally fucked and went to each other’s family holidays. Just friends, you see, just friends who took the presence of one another for granted.
Jenn was making it as an artist, but not without a price. People were noticing her work; she’d rather be forgotten. Elijah was going on a business trip; he’d be gone for a week tops.
“When you’re in Boston,” Jenn started as she picked at the bowl of noodles she was calling dinner, “I want you to go on a pub crawl.”
“You’re actually indulging my desire to get shitfaced?”
“It’s Boston, they have actual Irish pubs. It’s the closest to a real pub crawl either of us are going to go to without actually making our way to the British Isles.”
“I’d rather get shitfaced with you, thank you. I don’t think I’m gonna have much down time,” he admitted.
“Well, tack it on at the end,” she laughed, “live vicariously for me. I’m a lightweight. You? You would be able to get to at least four establishments before blacking out and that’s what I love about you.”
“You only love me for my wooden leg and abused liver, I feel so special.”
The two of them laughed, and he looked back at her for a second. There was silence before she decided to hop back into conversation. He could have been happy just sitting there, quietly, for hours.
“What’s going to happen while you’re there?”
“It’s just an initiation, nothing big. You know, kinda like when you rushed that sorority and then dropped out after you decided you’d joined a cult,” he told her.
“I still think you joined a cult,” Jenn chided.
“It’s not a real cult. I haven’t had to sacrifice a goat or change my… well, I can’t say that, but I’ll explain later if I can.”
Jenn gave Elijah a flat look.
“That’s the whole secret society thing, you have to keep secrets,” he told her. It just made her look grow flatter. He shrugged, “why don’t you come with me to Boston?”
“Why?”
“Because you would like Boston a lot more than I would and it’s going to be awkward and I’d rather spend time with someone who doesn’t suck than go for what is the equivalent of a business trip.”
“’Most important thing you’re going to do this year’ and you’re saying it’s boring?” she asked.
“Most important things are boring. C’mon, you were in cotillion for Christ’s sake, that was, by far, the most boring thing I’ve ever seen.”
It made Jenn laugh, that little bit of throwback made her face light up and he could just bathe in that moment. Elijah looked at Jenn, and there are moments that it doesn’t dawn on him how he’s taken her for granted. It is in those few moments, though, that he can see that she’s some treasure. Rarer still that he can see that she’s all potential and it’s wasted on the fact that she’s been following him around for gods-know-how-long.
“The art scene in Boston might not be bad, maybe we could meet some people?” he asks, almost hopeful.
“I kinda… I don’t know,” she says, looks down and draws a shaky breath.
“C’mon, it’s… you get to live your life. It isn’t defined by the fact that-”
“That’s really easy for you to say because you’re going to fucking Boston in the next couple of days and you’re leaving me here and nobody’s going to notice and-”
There’s an awkward silence, Jenn looked away and slowly gathered up the things that she had on the table. Her eyes flickered to a painting on the wall. She clenched her jaw as her eyes started to feel warm, her heart started to beat a little harder and there it was. The apartment, at that juncture, felt small. Felt stifling. It was just the two of them and it didn’t matter if it was two of them or twenty of them or if Elijah never showed up to the apartment again the place felt lonely. The place felt too small and too large all at once and Denver felt like a fucking fish bowl as far as she was concerned.
Elijah reached toward to place himself into Jenn’s space.
“Nobody’s going to notice what?” he asked, looked for her eyes and she wouldn’t look at him.
“Nobody’s going to notice when I’m gone and all this blows over.”
“Don’t say that,” he quickly replied, “you’re important, you’re a fucking muse, you’re-”
“Everybody says that, Elijah,” she told him, “everybody says that you’re an individual and you’re important but that art student that went missing? Those two high school girls? They were important, too. They were someone’s everything and what are they now?”
He didn’t have an answer for that, only looked at his roommate, his best friend, the lover neither of them admit to having, and doesn’t have an answer.
“Horrible things happen every day,” Jenn said, “and let’s be really honest here, Elijah. The only reason that people care- that your friends care- that anybody cares about what happens to me is because people care about you. I’m not the main character in this story, and when I die it’ll be your tragedy. And after awhile? Nobody is going to give a shit. I’m just going to be another missing person so… so it doesn’t matter if I go with you to Boston, or if I stay here, or… or if I just leave… it doesn’t matter.”
She pushed back, looking down at the ground and pulling her arms low across her chest. Her breathing was shallow and labored and Elijah, dumb and young and invested, stepped in to wrap his arms around her. It was too much, she’d decided. This was all too much and like a wall of sand, the surf started to seep in and all Jenna Laurent could do was cry. Cry because it felt pointless. Cry because her life was on hold, cry because she’d given up so many things and changed so many things for that man and all Elijah could do was hold her and it wasn’t enough. She wanted to resent him; she wanted to resent what her life looked like now that he’d let her in on some great cosmic secret and she had only done what he’d asked of her. She’d only trusted him when he said that whatever terrible things had happened before were over and taken care of.
But, Jenn didn’t resent him. She didn’t hate him, she didn’t feel anything except that wedge that had been growing since they’d moved here- that they were going two different places and she worried, briefly, if he’d be able to stand without her. If he wouldn’t drift out too far and be lost to whatever whims and fantasies were alive in this city.
“If you died,” he told her, “the world would end.”
She let out a bitter chuff, “you’re being dramatic.”
“I know my price,” Elijah whispered, “I want you to be happy, and I want you to be safe. Just… if you do anything… please wait until I come home.”
“I can wait,” she told him.
She lied. Jenna Laurent would not be waiting for him when he came back from Boston.