Who You Say I Am (A Jai Courtney Fanfic)

Chapter 39-Jai

Jai

I open Megan's door for her and then place the bags in the boot before I get in and turn the ignition. I check the map on my phone again and notice I can get on the freeway over here. This may actually make it quicker to get to our destination. I back out of the car park and we're on our way.
"Those girls..." Megan starts. "... the first group. They were following us from the lobby to your room."
"I know," I tell her.
"Does that happen often?" she asks.
"More than I'd like," I admit.
There's silence between us for a moment.
"Those kind I try to get through quickly," I explain. "They're not interested in actually meeting me. They treat me more like an idol than a person."
She nods frowning.
"I wonder what kind I am," she says under her breath.
"You are new to me. I've never met anyone like you before because there is only one of you," I tell her.
I see her laugh disbelievingly and smile at me.
I decide to change the subject and move on from that kind of talk—the fans. I ask what sort of art she studied in school as we drive down the freeway. She tells me she studied all types: drawing, sculpting, photography, digital art, art history, and mixed media.
"What was your favorite?" I ask.
"Photography," she tells me easily.
"Yet, we're in this picturesque place and I haven't seen you take a single picture?" I laugh questioningly.
"I didn't bring my cameras," she replies easily.
"What about your phone?" I ask.
"That camera is terrible," she chuckles. "I could take a bad picture with it."
"Ah, I see. So a picture isn't for a memory, it's for quality," I nod. "What kind of pictures do you like to take?"
"I've done senior portraits for some people and a couple weddings. I did their engagement pictures, too," she shrugs. "I prefer landscapes and art photography."
"How much do you charge?" I inquire.
"Nothing," she says.
"Did they like them?" I ask bewildered.
"They loved them," she replies easily.
"Why do you do all of this for free?" I inquire.
"I don't know... to help people out, I guess. It's not something I want to do as a career," she explains.
"No going into business for yourself then?" I ask.
She nods.
"So, the newsagency job... what exactly were you supposed to do there?" I question testing to see if she's ready to talk about all of that.
She sighs and starts explaining, "Well, I met Spencer my first week of college. I still didn't know what I wanted to do but he was in both my introduction to Japanese language class and then he was in my Saturday drawing class. He approached me there. I packed a lunch since it was an all day class and they gave us a break in the middle. I sat upstairs in the building. There were a couple tables and some vending machines. He bought some food there—a sandwich or something—and sat right beside me. I glanced at him as I was eating my lunch and reading a book. He said hi and just started a conversation with me. I couldn't tell you what we talked about. He was friendly and nice so we just talked for the remainder of lunch. He moved over to sit beside me for the rest of the class. Then the same in Japanese."
"He complimented me on my skills in both classes as the year progressed and we started doing things together like going to the recreation center at school between classes and meeting up around town. He invited me to go to a concert with him then a few other places. We hung out over the summer and then I guess we just started dating. I didn't even think anything of our relationship besides friendship until he kissed me. So, I guess we became an item," she says with a shrug.
"We still had classes together the next year—both in Japanese and art related. He finished the year out and was graduating. He was in business school and just took a few electives to fill the gap. He said he was inheriting his father's company and that he'd give me a job if I took some journalism classes and got an art degree. I told him I'd think about it but just kept taking the classes I enjoyed. I suppose he assumed that's what I wanted to do. My third year in college he proposed out of the blue. It wasn't romantic or anything. He just set the box in front of me and asked me if I'd consider it. I told him I didn't know what to say so he insisted that I try the ring on. I did so and he asked if I'd keep it on and think about it. So I did. He planned the date for after my graduation. But then I got sick and it was postponed. Then after the next graduation. Things were going fine and I liked him. We were together for all of that time."
She stops speaking and leaves it at that.
"Do you love him?" I ask.
She sighs shakily. "I don't know. I thought I did. I thought he loved me. I guess not," she says sadly and I realize... she doesn't know how she still feels or even how she ever felt for that matter. She's not good at making decisions.
I reach over and rub her back. "You don't have to talk about him anymore," I say softly.
"Well... the job I was offered was for a position writing for part of the paper. I would take pictures for it and handle some of the online things like digital designs and webpages..." she elaborates trailing off.
"So... a real job, consistent with pay," I nod. It does sound decent. "Are there not many positions in your hometown for that type of career?" I question since I know she probably wants to be near her family.
"I could move to Chicago or New York," she shrugs. "But I don't think I'm much of a big city girl. I'm kind of regretting not switching schools and getting a degree in something else," she says softly.
"What else were you considering?" I ask.
"Another college nearby offered fashion design. I kind of wish I would've done that," she says.
"You could still go back to school if you want," I suggest.
"Yeah," she replies. "But I'm horrible at making decisions. Every time I make a choice, I always regret it."
"Like what?" I ask.
"I didn't make a choice about college. I just stayed close to home. I didn't say yes to Spencer I just stayed with him. My non-choices were choices and now I'm regretting all of them," she elaborates.
"If you could go back and redo everything or even now, if you could pick any career, what would you choose?" I ask curiously.
"The same thing I always wanted to do," she says certain of herself for the first time.
"What's that?" I ask completely intrigued.
"I want to be a housewife," she says simply. "My parents insisted that I go to college."
"You want to be a housewife?" I ask shocked. I don't think I've ever met a sheila nowadays that wants that. Even my mum worked.
"Is that so terrible?" she questions softly.
"I didn't say that," I backtrack. "I just have never heard that before. I think my granny stayed home."
"Mine, too," she replies and leaves it like that.
There's silence between us for a moment.
"What exactly does a housewife do since I've never really been around any that I can recall?" I ask.
"Cooking, cleaning, managing the household, gardening, raising the children, homeschooling," she shrugs. "My brother has chickens. I kind of want to raise some."
"You want to be a farmer?" I ask disbelievingly.
"More like a homestead," she says.
"What do you know about all of that?" I ask.
"Everything," she says. "What do you think I read all the time?"
"I thought you read like dystopian and fantasy books," I say.
"Sometimes," she says. "I read all sorts of books. Oddly my favorite series is a survival show."
"What? I thought you said you didn't watch pay tv," I reply.
"Um," she smiles. "I'll watch series's. I just don't like a lot of newer stuff. The commercials are terrible and pushy. I don't like interruptions. They give me headaches."
"So you like nature and animals and children and families," I deduce.
"Yes," she frowns.
"What's the matter?" I ask.
"I feel like... you're the only person who has ever asked me what I want to do with my life," she says sadly.
"What do you mean?" I question confused.
She sighs and looks to me kind of sadly. "Everyone has always told me what I should do with my life. I was never really given an option or at least that's how it has felt," she says shrugging.
"I think that you should do what you want to do and not to listen to what everyone expects of you," I advise her.
"Yeah... maybe I should," she agrees. "Pastor Ben offered me a position leading worship full-time at my family's church."
"Did you take it?" I ask. That doesn't even sound like something she wants to do—even though she's skilled.
"I told him if the woman who's currently doing it leaves, that I'll accept," she admits.
I sigh. So she's definitely staying there... not planning on leaving anytime soon. That thought actually makes me sad. "Is that what you want to do?" I ask.
"I figure that it'll give me time if it happens and I can take my time to decide what I really want to do," she explains.
I nod in understanding glancing at her and back at the road. She's watching my reaction.
"So... what about you?" she asks.
"What about me?" I question laughing. I have no idea of what she's getting at.
"I've just completely spilled my guts about my life choices. What about yours?" she asks.
"That phrase is kind of gross," I chuckle.
"Hey, I didn't come up with it. But seriously, I just told you everything. Why so tight lipped?" she teases.
"So you want to know about me?" I ask.
"Well, only if you're willing," she jokes.
"I don't mind," I tell her. The truth is that I'm completely touched that she wants to know details about me. So I explain it. I tell her that I went to a performing arts school. I tried ballet and failed terribly. I acted a little while in school and got a few bit parts. Then after school I received some decent roles that have brought me to where I am.
I stop and glance at her as we drive the highway.
"You know... if you're still interested in ballet, I could help you with that," she offers teasingly.
"You know ballet?" I question chuckling.
"I worked at the Y. I taught ballet," she explains with a smile on her face.
"Are you offering to teach me?" I ask grinning.
"If you'd like," she says earnestly. I glance back at her but she is serious.
"You really are a sweetheart, love," I tell her.
"Is that a yes?" she asks me and I can hear the smile in her voice.
"Where would we even practice that? Your room? My room?" I chuckle.
"Alright. Just know the offer still stands and I don't charge. Except when I'm at the Y. They charge a fee," she tells me jokingly, but I think she's serious.
"Hmm," I hum a reply. "I might have to take you up on that someday. So, who have you taught before?"
"Little girls," she chuckles. I explode in laughter at that.
"You're joking, right?" I say.
"No, I'm serious," she replies.
"About which part?" I ask.
"All of it," she says. And my heart hurts at her offer. She's earnest... about it all. That was always a sore spot with me. It was something that I admired and I always felt like a bull in a china shop with that course.
"You think you could teach me?" I ask.
"I'd be willing to try as long as you would," she says and I frown. Everyone always gave up on me and she's willing to continue no matter what.
"I'll have to think about it," I tell her. But it really does mean the world to me that she's willing...