The Boy Who Knew Me When (From Boys to men Trilogy) (3 page)

“You bitch! Did you and Brandon have sex?”

  I felt my eyes widen then quickly turned away from her knowing all to well that Brea was one of the few people who could read me like a book. I pulled my suitcase up and began dragging it to the door.

“YOU DID!” she shouted. “What the hell Jemma? What were you thinking? Are you two back together? Was it hot? Say something for crying out loud!”

  But the truth is that I didn’t know what to say or where to even begin. I was not even so sure I wanted her to know anything at all. So I just said,

“Not sure about Hell,
never been there. I wasn’t thinking, no, YES and I don’t want to talk about it anymore. We have closure, we are staying friends, enough said. Don‘t push it, OK?”

She let out an exasperated sigh and surprisingly gave up without protest. “OK.”

  She paused, both of us taking in the inevitable moment of ‘
moving on’
that we were now faced with.

“Then I guess
it’s time to get this shit loaded and get the hell out of this crap hole of a town?”

I let out a much needed laugh at her question and simply said, “Let’s do it!”

 
I remember a very brief time in my life where everything was perfect. I don’t remember a lot of depth-ridden details but I remember that I was truly happy. I loved frilly dresses, having my hair pulled into two little braids and parading around the yard disguised as a fairy. I was a child, innocent to the world around her and completely oblivious that life can take a toll on your soul to the point that fight becomes near impossible. It’s been two months since I left Taylor and the world that broke me in two behind me. Brea and I are settled into the life Austin has provided us and for the first time since dancing in fairy wings I feel full and it feels amazing.

 
It took me a week after moving in to finally open the envelope Brandon placed into my hands the day we said our goodbyes. Not that “goodbye” ever actually left either of our lips. If anything it was not a goodbye at all, our final moments together were more like a hello to new beginnings than a true goodbye. Our relationship has changed, we are not a couple anymore, we are something so much more: we are friends, great friends.

 
We email, text and talk on the phone several times a week. At first I wasn’t quite sure how we would move forward, we had promised each other that we would always be a part of each others lives but my love for him honestly scared the hell out of me. It wasn’t until I opened the envelope that I knew for certain I could handle the feelings that had been stirring inside of me since that steam filled afternoon in my bedroom at Aunt Tilly's.

“Brea?” I asked out interrupting her from an episode of
Maury
Povich
. Yet another rousing episode of “Who’s the baby daddy?”

“Yeah babe?” she asks putting the TV on mute.

  I cross the room from my bedroom, my arms wrapped around the envelope as if was the most sensitive package in the world and sat down next to her on the couch.

“I think I am ready to open it. Do you mind sitting here with me?” Brea’s eyes opened wide, she shook her head no and mumbled “uh-uh”. 

  Slowly opening the small yellow package I pulled out a piece of white notebook paper and a small red box. Taking a deep breath I unfolded the letter and read:

Jem,

The day you broke up with me my world completely shattered. You broke me Jem, ripped out my heart and stomped all over it. Looking back I can’t say that it surprised me and maybe that is what caused it to hurt so much. Who wants to know that the person they have wanted most of their life didn’t want them back in the same way?

I remember every second of our time together, from the moment I first saw you standing in the hall freshman year to the moment you broke my heart and every second of the last few months I spent trying to pull myself back together. Thank God Brea was here to hold me up because without her I probably wouldn’t be able to write this. I am glad you are going to have her. 

I am not writing this letter to rehash the past, I am writing this because I know that for the rest of my life I will love everything about you. I will love that innocent young girl with a broken heart who let me have my shot at piecing it back together. I will love the girl that punched Jason Anderson in the nose for throwing the ball too hard during my first football practice, knocking me on my ass. The girl who I shared my first dance with, my first kiss and the girl I gave myself to, body , heart and soul, a first for us both.

You have always floored me Jem. Every time I ever laid eyes on you after not seeing you for a few hours you floored me. Seeing you lit up my day and no matter what shit was happening at the moment all it took was one word from your lips to make it meaningless. It never mattered what the word was because it was the mere sound of your voice. It tortures me to know that I will never have you in my life again. I can’t bear the thought and I am determined to have that not be the case.

I wish you could see yourself. I wish you could see the girl that we all see, that you were not so blinded by your past that you can’t see how amazing you really are. And that is the reason for this letter. No matter what happens between us I want you to know that about yourself. You are wonderful Jem! Every inch of you is the picture of perfection. You are the most beautiful girl I have ever laid my eyes on; you have no idea how many times I had to fight off the guys on the team. Most of them made it perfectly clear they thought you were hot and would have given a limb for a chance at you. I threatened most of them on a daily basis, not just them but most of the male population at Taylor high school.

Everything you see wrong with yourself, those drop dead bedroom eyes , your perfectly kissable lips, breasts that could feed a man’s dreams for a lifetime, legs that go on for miles, legs I love having wrapped around me and an ass, good lord that ass. J-Lo has nothing on that perfectly sculpted ass of yours. It is as if God took his image of perfection and gave you every single fucking inch of it. Right down to what is inside of you.

You are smart, even if you blew off school; you are still so fucking smart. Remember our sophomore year when Becky Hamilton ran as student council president and she went on a tirade about the unhealthy food served in the kiosk, demanding it be closed down right along with the vending machines? You shot her idea down in half a second after you side slapped her with statistics about the independence of youth and how something as simple as a food kiosk helped mold teens into productive citizens by providing choices and the opportunity to learn money management skills. You had the school staff eating out of your hands, it was hilarious, and I thought Becky was going to piss herself. 

Intelligence is so much more than a grade on a piece of paper Jem. You have no idea how frustrated I would get sometimes with you, always putting yourself down. You never listened to any of us even though we practically beat
our admiration into you.

Anyway, I know this letter is long and I am totally rambling but I want you to know how special and amazing you are, not just to me but to everyone around you. And though I can’t have you, I want you to know that you deserve love and I hope you find it. I know you fear the pain that can come along with it, Lord knows I know what that pain feels like right about now, but the joy that comes with loving someone outweighs any pain it can cause.

I would not change one second of loving you Jemma. Well...except maybe the part where you ground my heart into sand. Haha! Seriously though, you have to let love in babe. You have to let someone love you and let yourself love someone. Your heart is still beating in your chest; you aren’t dead, stop living life like you are. It is OK to love, not everyone is like your father, not everyone breaks in the end and not everyone will leave you. I love you and no matter what you decide. I’m not going anywhere and will be here for you, no matter the distance whether you want me or not.

Yours always,

Brandon

  I looked up from the letter in my hands to Brea with tears in my eyes.

“Well?” she asked.

  Instead of answering I pushed the note into her hands and reached down to open the small box in my lap. Inside was the most beautiful heart locket I have ever seen in my life. It was about the size of a quarter and covered in Celtic symbols. I pulled the delicate chain from the box and held the heart in my hand, rubbing my thumb over the intricate design and then flipped it open. As my eyes took sight of the photographs inside my heart sped up and a small breathless gasp made its way out of my mouth from the pit of my stomach. One side of the locket was a photo of my brother Nicolai and on the other was a photo of my mother. Engraved on the back of the locket were the words, “Let love in.”

 
Brea and I both sat in silence for what felt like forever before she broke said silence in a way only Brea could.

“Fuck me gently with a chainsaw, that was fucking hot
, it’s kind of annoying how much he loves you. Damn it Jem. So what now?” Brea had seen the movie
Heathers
way too many times.

 
That was the question wasn’t it? What now? What do I do with Brandon’s words, how do you process such blatant honesty?

“Well, I can tell you what you should do. You should mosey your out of this world ass over to the phone and call Brandon before he comes to his senses. THAT is what you should do.” Brea huffed. I stared down at the locke
t in my hands, and then lifted my head back to her stare.

“I agree, can you put this on me before I call him?” I held up the locket and Brea nodded her head taking the heartwarming piece of jewelry into her hands and placing it around my neck.

“It’s beautiful Jem; it’s amazing how much Brandon has grown up since freshman year, huh? Not that he was ever a normal teenage boy. But man, the letter, the necklace. I hate to say it but I feel bad for any girl who comes along after you. He‘s completely and totally ruined.” 

I cringed at the thought and said “He is going to find someone amazing, he doesn’t need me anymore. And no, he is not the boy we met ninth grade.”

Brea let out an almost hysterical laugh. “THAT is the understatement of a lifetime, definitely not a boy, Brandon is all man. Every hot succulent inch of him. Damn, I know he is pretty much hands-off material, but just thinking about it makes me feel like I am 14 all over again.”

 
I laughed at her honesty then decided it was time for a little honesty of my own.

“I wish you had told me about Brandon. I want you to know that as far as you are concerned he is not hands-off. If you want him, I won’t hate you for trying to get him. He loves you too, you know.”

  Brea took my hand in hers and offered up a sweet smile assuring me that she had no intention of playing second fiddle to the love of his life. But I didn’t want to think of myself as the love of his life. I had to know that Brandon would one day open himself up to someone else and move on. Deep down I knew he already had, the fact that he never really fought for me spoke for itself.

 
When he left me standing on the side of the street in front of my house holding onto the last significant piece of our relationship I knew he was saying goodbye to everything we were. I knew he was moving on and I would rather him end up with Brea than anyone else. No other woman could ever be as good for him as she could be. After all, they had both managed to put up with me all of these years.

 
They had bonded when I wasn’t around, when I was too caught up in my own bullshit to be a good friend and girlfriend and in turn they too became friends. It felt good knowing that she was there for him at a time that I could not be. When I was the last person in the world he would want comforting him because I was the reason why he needed comfort in the first place. He really was a great boy, a boy who had grown into an even more amazing man.

 
I finally ended up calling Brandon and we spoke for hours about our past, our future, life, being on our own. And by the end of the conversation we officially realized that we would never be able to say goodbye. The reason the words never left our lips was because we would forever be intertwined. He and I both vowed that no matter what happened or who came into our lives we would never shut each other out. We vowed to put the past behind us while still allowing it to shape us into better people and focus on a future as friends.

 
So here we were, months later and I couldn’t be happier. Brea had gotten a job at the Old Navy store up the way from our small two bedroom apartment and I was on the last of my savings still clinging onto the hope that something would come my way before classes started next week. I had put in application after application but considering I had no work history and the competition was fierce I couldn’t manage to find one person willing to throw me a bone. I hated the idea of calling Aunt Tilly for financial help but I had approximately 300 bucks left in my savings account and rent was due in two weeks.

“Hey babe, Angela was wondering if you wanted to hit up the Omega party at UT tonight,” Brea yelled from across the room.

  We met Angela two days after moving into our apartment. The walk-in gate to the building had gotten stuck and we got locked outside. Thank goodness Angela came along. Giving the gate a big kick and tug the door sprang open allowing us entry. She was a second year student at St. Edwards and filled us in on all of the quirks the 50 year old building had to offer.

 
Angela is a bubbly, dark-skinned Cuban sex kitten. Short, with a pixie cut hairstyle and boobs so large that I was shocked didn’t knock her abnormally small frame over with each step she took. She was very sweet and the three of us hit it off well. Meeting her had done wonders for our social life. She introduced us to pretty much every human being in the building and dragged us to parties from UT to St. Edwards to ACC. She was lively and knew everybody; you had to be a real jerk not to like her.

“Yeah sure, whatever!” I yelled back.

  Brea shut her bedroom door and went back to the conversation she was having with Angela on her cell and I went back to reading my book. Truth be told I wasn’t in the mood to go to a party. We had spent virtually every weekend out and about, a quiet evening at home with my face buried in CD Reiss’s
Beg
was all I was interested in doing at the moment. I would have argued my case but dealing with Angela and Brea as a duo was not on my list of favorite things to deal with. I would waste my breath and end up going so what was the point? I always ended up happy that I chose to go anyway.