Journey (19 page)

              “About ten years.”

              “Did you live around here?”

              “I lived in Chelsea, which is near Central Park.”

              “Oh.”

              “We can go see it, if you want.”

              “That would be fun!  I want the Jack Croft tour of New York.”

              “Do you ever miss going to galas and soirees?”

              “Sometimes.  Why?  Would you like to go to one?”

              “My parents used to attend a ball at the MET every year, and I kind of miss it.  I don’t miss going to a function every single weekend, but I would like a reason to dress up and socialize every now and then.”

              “That can be arranged.  We usually buy a table and just gift the tickets to people, but we can go.”

              “Yay!”

              We arrive at the Four Seasons in downtown Manhattan.  Jimmy hops out of the car and opens the door for us, then grabs our luggage, handing it to the bellhop.  Jack bids Jimmy goodbye, and we head into the hotel.  

              We ride the elevator to the top floor of the hotel and go down the hall to our suite.  The only word I can think of to describe it is “divine.”  I’ve stayed in some of the nicest resorts around the world, and my parents had money, but they didn’t have private driver, presidential suite money.  They more had social connections of people who had private villas and fancy yachts that we rented or were invited to use with them and some other friends along as well.  This lifestyle is an entirely new ball game for me.  Still, a lot of this just doesn’t scream Jack.

              “Do you often have a personal driver and stay in top floor suites?”

              “Why?  You don’t like it?”

              “I love it.  It’s...divine.  I just- It doesn’t seem like the Jack I know to throw his money around so overtly.  I don’t know...it all feels strange somehow.  I don’t know how to describe it.  It’s as though you feel like you need to do these things to impress me.”

              “Don’t I?”

              “No.  I would have been just as happy at the Holiday Inn in a regular room.  I just feel like things are a bit cliché, you know?  I meet a handsome stranger in a foreign country one day who happens to be a gazillionaire, or something crazy like that, and then he showers me with insane gifts and jewels.  Then, before you know it, he will be wining and dining me in the exotic locations, in the most lavish hotels, and telling me how to dress and when and what to eat.  The next thing I know, you’ll have your on-call OB/GYN certifying that I’m on birth control.”

              Jack throws his head back and laughs, seemingly quite entertained.  “You think this,” he sweeps his hands around the room, “is cliché?”

                     “Well...kinda…  Yeah…  In movies and romance novels, anyway.”

              “I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m not a gazillionaire.  I’m not even a billionaire.”

              “
Whew!
 Thank goodness.”

              “Rest assured that I don’t have any doctors on-call as I never really thought your reproductive health to be any of my business.  Furthermore, I trust that you’re a responsible adult who would communicate to me if there was a fear of pregnancy or STD.  I promise that I will never tell you how to dress nor force you to eat.  Next time, I will make sure we stay in a roach motel.”

              “Thank you!”

              “I do have some gifts for you, but they’re anniversary gifts- the rest of them, to be exact.  Would it ease your mind to know that I spent zero dollars on them?”

              “Yes.”

              “Good, because I didn’t spend a dime on them.”  

              I smile up at Jack, focusing my eyes on his, when his mouth curls up into a smirk.

              “Except this one and that vase of forget-me-nots on the table.”

              He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an envelope.  I open it and see a card that has a simple, red, glittery heart in the center of it.  I open it and read:

Forget me not, for you I am unworthy of

Forget me not, for it’s you that I love

Forget me not, for my soul I shall give

Forget me not, for it’s you that I live.

A toast to our 6th, 7th, and 8th anniversaries, plus many more to come.  

Cheers!  

Your Sweet, Sexy Jack

My stomach flutters and heat rises from my core.  Looking back on my reservations and hesitations, when I was so full of myself and wrapped up in the opinions and activities of those around me, I can’t believe that I left this man.  I left our love up to chance, and I will forever be indebted to chance for bringing us back together for the rest of eternity.  Never again, will I allow my fears and superficial things govern my life.

“Jack, I don’t know what I’ve done to deserve you or the second chance to have you, but I am the luckiest person in the world.  I don’t deserve you, but I will do everything in my power to earn you.”

“I’m not exactly perfect and honestly, back then, I don’t think I was even open to seeing things through your eyes.  You being you is what makes you- us -deserving of a second chance.  You lift me into Heaven just by being you.”

“Oh Jack,” I breathe, allowing my chest to relax and body fall into his firm and safe arms.  “I love you more than I can ever say, and you bring light to my life that is brighter than a million suns.  Or downtown Tokyo.  Take your pick.”

“Can I choose both?”

“Of course you can.”

We enjoyed a beautifully intimate night that fed into this morning.  We are currently on the Jack Croft tour of New York City.  Jimmy drives us by Columbia University, to some of Jack’s favorite places to eat and shop, and then to a large, upscale building in Chelsea.  

                     “This is it.”

                     “This is what?” I ask.

                     “This is where I lived.  Wanna go inside?”

                     “Can we do that?  You don’t live there anymore.  Or do you?”  I narrow my eyes, suspiciously.

                     “I don’t actively live here, no, but I still own some real estate here, including my old penthouse.  Let’s go see it.”

              “Okay, but if you’re trying to
Pretty Woman
me, I’m going to be so mad at you.”

              Getting out of the car, then holding the door for me as I do, Jack asks, “How could I
Pretty Woman
you?  That’s impossible.  You’re not a hooker.”

              “You know what I mean.”

              “No, really I don’t, but I’m going to say that I do, just to make you happy.”

              Rolling my eyes as we pass the building’s doorman, I don’t see that his attention is focused on me.  “Greetings, Mr. Croft.  Who is this dashing young lady?”

              “Phil, this is my girlfriend, Dr. Journey Ferrer.  Journey, this is one of the building’s doormen, and my personal favorite, Phil.”

              Phil’s weathered eyes grow larger, lifting with his salt and pepper eyebrows.  “So nice to meet you, Doctor.  Is this the same-?”

              Jack nods in confirmation.

              “Please, just call me Journey.”

              “Sure thing, ma’am.”

              “Has Henrietta been by lately?”

              “Yes, sir.  She was just here yesterday morning.  Everything should be in order.”

              “Thanks, Phil.  We’re going to head up.”

              “It was nice meeting you,” I call out to Phil as we board the elevator.  Once the doors close in front of us, I look over to Jack.  “Did you tell everyone and their brother about me?”

              “What if I did?”

              “I don’t know.  I’m more curious, really.  Is that why you insist on introducing me as ‘Doctor?’”

              “Maybe.  Or maybe I do it just to drive you crazy.”

              “I’m sure it’s both.

              The elevator reaches the top floor, and we step off directly into a space with high ceilings and an open floor plan.

              “This is where you lived while you were in college?  I mean, I wasn’t hurting, but my college living quarters were nowhere near this extravagant.”  I walk over to the large, picture windows in the living area that provide sweeping views of Central Park.  “And why couldn’t we stay here instead of The Four Seasons?”

              Jack turns bashful.  “I don’t expect you to understand, Journey, but you know I’m not one of those people who flaunts things.  Plus, I didn’t want you to freak out because I own this place.”

              “Why would I freak out?”

              “I don’t know.  It’s silly, I suppose, but between both of my parents’ holdings and my own personal investments, I own a great deal of real estate.  I guess I just didn’t want to turn into a George Foster.”

              “Oh, Jack- so sweet and oh so sexy, yet so humble...  Not a single atom in your entire body is anything like George Foster.  Do I really care to know every single detail about your holdings and finances?  No.  But, this is a little different.  You actually lived here.  Our lives together started while you were living here.  That’s fantastic to me.”

              “Well, your next anniversary gift is in here.”

              “In here?”

              “Mmm hmm…  Maybe we should play ‘Hot and Cold.’  I’ll tell you when you’re getting warmer or colder.”

              “Umm...okay.”

              I walk around the room aimlessly, but with the assistance of Jack, I begin to hone in on his office and the desk it houses.  On the desktop, I spy a metal picture frame with a printed picture in it.  Inspecting it closely, it’s a candid photo of the two of us standing on the beach in Cabo, holding hands.  “Who?  How long have you had this?”

              Jack smiles.  “Rico took it, unbeknownst to me.  He printed it and mailed it to me after our last trip there.  He also made the frame.  They replaced the barstools in The Green Monkey, but Rico salvaged some of the metal from which they were constructed and crafted this.”

              “I’m speechless.  Has this been here ever since?”

              “Yup.  At first, I spent many hours staring at the photo.  I think it perfectly captures our essence.  When I left to go back to my parents,’ I left it here, returning to it and unable to remove it since.”

              “It’s fantastic, Jack.  I don’t get the iron piece of it, but I don’t care.”  I pick up the frame and trace our outlines with my finger.  It’s a beautiful picture, and we do look very much in love.  I touch the metal’s rough surface, and realize it’s made from iron.  “The frame.”

              “Exactly.”

              It’s as if this picture, and Rico, captured and predicted something we couldn’t.  It’s our crystal ball, showing where we belonged all along.

              “This is my favorite gift, I think.  I love it.”

              “We can take it back home, if you want.”

              “No, I think it should stay here.  I think it belongs here.”

***

Jack takes me to Staten Island to see the Statue of Liberty.  With this outing, he gives me our seventh anniversary gift, copper.  We take pictures at its base, ride the elevator as far as we can, then walk up the dizzying and narrow spiral staircase to the top where we take many more selfies, and he crowns me his lady with my very own foam crown, made from the likeness of Ms. Liberty’s.  We also visit Rockefeller Center, where it takes me a moment to realize that it is our eighth anniversary celebration.  As I study and appreciate the intricacies of the bronze statue in the middle, Jack keeps me in his arms, allowing his intoxicating scent to wrap around me.

              We retire to our suite in The Four Seasons one final time for this trip, eight of our missed anniversaries now properly celebrated.  The last thing I remember before falling asleep is thanking Jack for everything and saying, “You’re some kind of wonderful, you know that?”

              To which Jack replies, “You’re my kind of wonderful.”

May

Jack

A month has passed since Journey officially moved in with me.  Our days have turned into weeks that eventually turned into a routine.  Journey and I have been helping Jenny study for her finals and prepare for graduation.  Journey is also preparing a special surprise for Jenny to reward her achievement in finishing high school as her class’ Salutatorian.  Jenny has applied to several schools, with our help, and has gotten a few scholarship offers for cheerleading from just about all of them.

We enter the large auditorium, filled with balloons, bouquets of flowers, and excited friends and families of graduates.  The last time I stepped foot in here was at my high school graduation, where I was Valedictorian of my class.  Unexpectedly, being here stirs up positive feelings and memories.  I would have never admitted it at the time, but I was proud of my accomplishments and my hard work to achieve them.

My head moves slowly with my gaze, taking it all in.  My stroll down memory lane ends abruptly with Journey’s hand stiffening in mine.

“George,” she says sharply.

I turn my head to witness George giving her his doofus smile and attempting to be charming.  “Journey, Jack- So nice to see you.  What have you two been up to?”

Now, Journey might be a tiny person, but she has the gall of ten people her size.  I’ve envisioned one day having to hold her back with one of my arms wrapped around her waist, and her legs and arms still flailing about, reaching for the object of her anger.  Typically, she is a sweet natured, loving soul, but she does make a compelling case for keeping the stereotype of fiery redheads alive.

“Not that it’s any of your business, or even matters, but I recently moved in with Jack.”

George’s face grows grim, and his lips form a tight line, but he avoids eye contact.  “Unwed and shacking up?  Keeping it classy, kids.”

As much as I want to slug him and his stupid face into last week, I know all four feet, eleven- five feet, two inches in her heels -of Journey is a much more formidable opponent and far more impulsive than I.  As I place my hands more firmly on her shoulders to usher her out of his slimy presence, he asks, “Are you two coming to the party tonight?”

Journey’s face turns cold and her body stiffens under my touch.  “What party?”

“Oh- Did you not know?  I thought surely Uncle John and Aunt Genevieve sent your family an invitation.  Perhaps they sent it directly to your parents, Jack.  Did you think they were going to let their little girl graduate from high school without the appropriate pomp and circumstance?”  

“Gee, I don’t know, George, seeing as how I’ve lived here almost a year, interact with Jenny almost daily, and now live just down the highway from them, but have yet to meet them.  Are they even here today?”

“Of course they are.  Uncle John is the Guest of Honor.  He did help build this lovely auditorium, after all.  Such giving people they are.”

Journey’s fists ball up, and fury is emitted in a measure far greater than her little body should be able to muster.  “If you ask me they seem like they-”

“Babe, I think they’re trying to start the ceremony,” I cut her off.  

George and all of the Fosters deserve every bit of ire Journey has to dish out to them, but not right here and not right now.  Journey remains stiff while glaring at me.  I offer an apologetic smile.  

She moves into George’s face- as well as she can -and points her index finger at him.  “This.  Isn’t.  Over.”

“Oh, no, honey, it’s so far from over,” George mimics her tone.

I practically pick Journey up off of her feet, walking her to our seats near where Jenny will be seated.  Journey’s reddened cheeks hide some of the cute freckles on her nose I’ve come to cherish.  Sitting upright and tightly next to me, I know she’s angry with me for stopping her confrontation of George.  

Music plays from the overhead speakers and she whispers to my side, “I could’ve taken him, you know.”

I pat her leg and chuckle, “I know, baby.  I have no doubt.”

Journey’s hand laces in mine, her body eases into me, and her head rests against my arm.  I feel her smile against me and her body moves with internal laughter.  

Yup, she’s feisty, she’s brash, and she’s all mine.

John Foster gives some sleepy speech encouraging graduates to follow their dreams, follow The Golden Rule, and other tired, typical commencement speech topics.  

Following his droning, Jenny gives her Salutatorian speech, which is beautiful, insightful, and haunting.  

“I don’t want to lecture you all about the great things you can do or the wonderful places you’ll take your lives, because the truth is, I myself don’t have that wisdom.  I’m only eighteen, and I don’t have the answers.  I don’t have nuggets of knowledge to pass down, nor do I have a crystal ball that can predict the future.  One thing I do know for sure is that every single one of us will experience difficulties and trials in life.  Someone once told me that each person’s struggle is relative, meaning what may be difficult for one person to bear may seem trivial to another, and that’s very true.  Another thing I know for certain: What gets us through these tribulations is hope.

“I used to believe that stories began with
once upon a time
and ended with
happily ever after
, but that was when I was naive.  I realized that the happily ever afters never come and the once upon a times tend to come back, whether you want them to or not.  Why do I say this?  Because there’s no such thing as happily ever after.  Happily ever after puts a period on things.  Happily ever after indicates a conclusion.  Happily ever after signals the end.  I, for one, like to believe that happily ever afters are probably boring.  If there’s a definite ending to your own personal story, then that means you’ve stopped learning, stopped growing, and stopped having hope that life has more to offer us.

“We can never give up hope, even if things are not how we want them, and we seem to be headed down a path of which there is no return.  I know, because, like you, I too have trouble holding onto hope.  Sometimes the future seems too dim or confusing or so overwhelming that it’s hard to see that small beacon of hope, ever constant, lighting the way.  

“Most of the time, hope is a vile thing that betrays you at every single turn; however, we still cling to it, despite its continued disappointments, because when it does prove to be our ally, all of its ugliness fades away and, in those few moments of bliss, holding onto it was well worth the risk.”

                     By the end of the speech, Journey is wiping tears from the corners of her eyes, and my chest is tight with the pride a big brother holds for his baby sister.  Jenny is a member of our family, and I know somewhere locked deep within her are some terrible demons that I wish I could slay for her, but it’s almost impossible to fight a foe that you cannot see nor identify.

Jenny smiles at us and winks.  Sidled to the love of my life, watching the young lady that Jenny has become, my cheeks begin to hurt from my enormous smile.  

Family members cheer, whistle, and clap excitedly as their graduates cross the stage to receive their diplomas.  As Jenny walks across, Journey jumps up out of her seat and begins cheering and yelling wildly.  I laugh to myself considering how much noise can come from one person.  Journey’s voice echoes through the room, bouncing off of the floors and rafters, and it dawns on me that she’s the only one standing and cheering.  The entire clan of Fosters turn their perfectly poised heads to the side, looking pointedly at us.  Beneath their veneered smiles, I know they are seething.  I look away from them, and give a loud whistle, just for spite.  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Journey smiling up at me in what I can only describe as astonished joy.  I’m a little surprised at myself as well.  I think this is the first outward and public display of something other than cool, calm, and collected I’ve ever made.  Based on Journey’s unadulterated gaze, I think it’s something I might do more often.

The graduates move their tassels as their diplomas are conferred, then promptly throw up their caps upon the declaration of their graduation to thunderous applause.  After they’re dismissed, Jenny bypasses her family and makes a beeline for us.  She jumps into Journey’s arms, and they bounce up and down in a tight embrace.  

“You did it!” Journey exclaims.

“With your help!”  Jenny wriggles out of Journey’s arms and comes to me, hugging tightly.  “And yours, big brother from another mother.  Thank you so much.”

“Congratulations, little sis from another miss.”

Journey reaches into her purse and pulls out a small box from Tiffany’s.  “I was going to wait to give this to you, but no time like the present, right?”  Journey giggles and snorts a tiny bit.  “A
present
present.”

Jenny’s eyes light up.  “A gift for the current place and time?  That’s so sweet of you.”  She unties the white fabric ribbon and opens the small blue box.  Inside of an even smaller blue suede bag, she is grateful watching her new sterling silver ring reflect the yellow hue cast from the overhead fluorescent lights.  “It’s magnificent!  Thank you both so much.”  

              “One more thing,” I say, smirking.  Journey looks to me in confusion as I reach into my breast pocket and place an envelope in Jenny’s hands.

              Jenny opens the envelope and pulls out three tickets.  She reads them aloud, “Florence and the Machine AND The Head and the Heart?”  Jenny’s wide eyes stare back at us in shock.  “Oh.  My. God.  It’s my dream concert!  How did you?  Oh god, Jack!  You’re the best ever!”

              Two pairs of small, but strong, female arms wrap around my waist and my body is pulled in every direction as the girls move excitedly.

              “Ah, there you are.”  The hair on the back of Jenny’s neck stands up and she shudders ever so slightly at the sound of George’s voice.  “We were wondering where you ran off to.”

              Her posture straightens and discomfort streaks her face.  “I was talking to the Crofts since I probably won’t see them all weekend.”

              “Your parents are looking for you.  They want to take pictures and the like.”

              Jenny drops her head and becomes unusually formal, nodding in our direction.  “My apologies, George.  Pardon me, please- Journey, Jack?  It was a pleasure as always.”

              Jenny walks away toward the gaggle of overdressed, overindulgent people pretending not to stare in our direction.

              George eyes me.  “The Crofts?  I didn’t realize that sharing an address meant that you share a last name.  What’s the monthly allotment Jack’s paying you from his trust, or are you just giving the milk away for free now?”

              I see red- absolute, dark as blood, red.  I fill the space between Journey and George in one quick stride, staring down and challenging George.  “What exactly are you implying?  Before you answer, I caution you to choose your words wisely, asshole.”

              George says through his smile, “I wasn’t implying anything.  Implication is not required when there’s fact involved.  Come on, Jack, everyone knew what she was the moment you met.  What kind of girl fucks the first guy she meets on vacation, then keeps fucking him, and only fucking him, one week out of the year?  You really think it was your sparkling personality?  She probably pegged you for a chump with money, and you fell for it hook, line, and sinker.”

              “You sonofabitch ass pussy,” Journey spits out.

              George’s eyes move toward Journey, then back to me as his smile grows.  “Or was it you who just wanted to use her on vacation, then not deal with her until a year later?  She is a little,
pedestrian
, if you know what I mean.”

              My face is red from my quickening pulse and pounding heart.  I draw my arm back, ready to strike him as hard as I can, and several more times after that, but before I can, Journey slips in front of me and connects George’s crotch to her knee.  

              George’s knees buckle and immediately moves his hands in front of his groin.  “Ow!  You bitch!  You hit me in the balls!” George cries.

              “And I’ll do it again if you ever imply that Jack Croft is anything less than a stellar human being with only the best intentions at all times.  Call me what you want, but I’m a doctor you pussy ass willow.  Who the hell are you?  Honestly?  Outside of this town, no one knows who the
fabulous
Fosters even are.”  George looks injured, but keeps his tough exterior.  “Oh...that’s right…  I guess you didn’t get the memo that in the Hamptons, on the Cape, on the Vineyard, in Aspen, and even in Mexico, no one gives a crap on a saltine cracker about you or your sorry family.”  Journey takes a tiny lunge forward and George backs away.  “Today is not your day, it’s Jenny’s, so move out of my way so I can tell my favorite girl goodbye.  Have a great time at your oh-so-happening party tonight, George.  I hope you have lots of ice to nurse your bruised testicles and ego.”

              I’m elated with how things just went down.  Journey was never in danger, because there’s no way I was going to let him touch a hair on her head- I would’ve snapped his neck, but she didn’t need me to rescue her.  She’s strong-willed and can stand up for herself.  Some men may feel emasculated by their love stepping in and defending their honor, but Journey has never been sexier to me than she was standing up for both of us.  From the moment we get home, I make it a point to show her just how irresistible I find her.