Jasey Rae (Short Story)

We gamble with desire

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I DO NOT OWN THE BAND ALL TIME LOW AS MUCH AS I WOULD LOVE TO. 

Picture on side is Jasey (Lilly Collins) -->

Enjoy xx

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Rain pelted against the window like hydrogen bullets ricocheting. I strummed my fingers lightly over the tight strings of the guitar. This was not light, poetic, melodic, gentle rain. This was a potential torrential storm. The bedroom of my Mom’s old house was dark as I tried to figure out the chords for this new song. I loved coming home, even though we rarely got the chance to, we always made the most of it. We’d all go back to our parents houses, catch up with the family and sleep in our old bedrooms. It was sweet in a way, I loved my childhood bedroom, and it sat with a sense of nostalgia, which was always helpful for writing songs. Especially this one, this one was really getting me. I couldn’t get the thought of her out of my head. I was such a bad person. The worry and stress of having to deal with her bound-to-be-heartbroken face was something I just couldn’t handle or think about right now. My parents were out for dinner somewhere. Real loving isn’t it? The week I come home, my second night at home and they’re leaving me all alone. I found solace in the sharp colours and edges of Mark Hoppus’ face I could just make out through the dark on my bedroom wall. I wasn’t sure why I’d turned the lights off when I had no intention of sleeping. Just perched here on my bed, strumming in the rain-filtered moonlight that crept across my bedroom floor, illuminating the silver detailing on my guitar. My finger slipped over the fourth fret, reminding me of her soft auburn hair, the way my fingers slid through it.

God, pull yourself together, Alex. You can do this. She’s just another girl. You have to say goodbye. You can’t live this lifestyle.

But I didn’t want to see the tears trail down her cheeks similarly to the droplets on my window right now. I’d rather just be soaking up my own tears for days afterwards rather than have the memory of hers.

Just some girl. Bullshit.

She was the first girl I had said ‘I love you.’ to.

She was the first girl who had said it to me.

I couldn’t leave her behind. I was such a bad person. I had to tell her.

I pushed the guitar across the carpet and crawled under the covers, encasing myself in the thick green warmth. Sleep on it. You’ll feel better in the morning.

Lights out. But I still hear the rain. These image’s that fill my head. Now keep my fingers from making mistakes, tell my voice what it takes to speak up, speak up and keep my conscience clean when I wake.

I don’t know who invented the term ‘Sleep on it’. Or the idea of doing so, because it’s a very, very bad idea. When people tell you to sleep on it, make up your mind in the morning, they are trying to tear your mental state into tiny little fragments. For one, you cannot sleep, because the thought is bothering you, making your brain very much awake and active in thinking about it, so you cannot settle down to ‘sleep on it’. Secondly, you fall asleep thinking about it, you have either dreams or nightmares about it. Her crying face transformed into one of rage as she then punched me multiple times before finally turning into an orange monster and swallowing me whole. I kid you not. So then, as if that’s not enough, you wake up thinking about it. Because you’ve been sleeping on ‘it’ all night, so ‘it’- the impending issue-Is still well and alive in your brain and you still haven’t made up your mind because it’s been plaguing you so badly. I feel like I never want to sleep again. The boys, Matt and I had all agreed to meet at iHop for breakfast. I went downstairs quickly; rushing past my parent’s having their typical Thursday morning coffee, just like their Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday morning coffees. Just the same the same cup of coffee they had every day in their matching turquoise mugs for twenty-six years, or as long as I can remember. I said a hasty goodbye, shoving some combat boots on with my ripped, faded blue jeans and quickly pulling a Green Day shirt on over my head. A brisk walk, a short bus ride, and I was at the iHop, sitting around a red leather booth with Jack, Rian, Matt, and Zack. The grotesquely crimson fake leather made tight awful squeaking noises every time somebody moved and Jack was taking advantage of his wide array of toilet humour. Everybody chatted and laughed about sleeping in their old rooms, and Matt told the boys about the motel room he was sharing with the rest of the crew and how much they all loved Maryland. I was trying to focus on the conversation but I kept zoning out and thinking about her. Was I going to be able to see her this time? How could I make this keep working? Would I have to break it off? Did she have a boyfriend?

“Alex! Bro! Are you alright?” Jack spoke up loudly, pulling me out of my daydream land, where those grassy green eyes fogged up my brain. I shook my head, running my fingers through my fringe a couple of times.

“Yeah dude, fine. Just thinking about shit.” I replied, pulling my phone out of my back pocket. He gave me a look. That best friend kind of look that just kind of meant that if I wanted to talk about it later, we could. We were going to be playing at our local Church tonight for their Youth Group. I wondered if she would be there.