I'm laying bare across Jack's rickety iron bed watching him write by candle light. He's always been inspired after we make love. Nothing has changed and everything has changed.
The first time I ever spent the night with Jack Berry was after the premiere performance of Boy Meets Girl at New York's Cort Theater. I slipped in unnoticed, or so I thought, with my Dobbs hat pulled far down over my face. Showing up alone to the theater as a young woman from University wasn't the kind of attention I wanted to attract. Especially considering my father's friends and colleagues would most likely be in their usual box seats.
I glanced around the top deck of the theater and tousled my hat hair when I spotted him staring from five seats over. Embarrassed, I looked down at my hands and slipped off my satin gloves. I didn't look up until the lights dimmed and the curtain rose.
By intermission, Jack had slid down three seats with only one in between us and he said, "I've seen you before."
"You have?" I asked knowing full well when and where. The NYU library was a spot we both frequented as freshman trying to execute our best efforts for academic success.
Jack had already made a name for himself. A freshman he may have been, but his writing already had the professors talking. They titled him the next Walter Winchell for his candidly foul wit.
"You know I have." Jack lowered his glasses down the bridge of his nose and it made me laugh.
"The theater is where you go when you're not at the library, Mr. Berry?"
"Ah and I was just about to introduce myself, Miss Thomas."
"You have quite the reputation already at University, Mr. Berry, but how do you know my name?"
Jack smiled with his eyes and said, "After the second time you walked into my quiet corner, causing me to lose all concentration, I had to find out who you were."
He offered to walk me to my dorm, but halfway there, he offered up his for a friendly drink and a rare presentation of amateur poetry. His words consumed me and the bourbon washed away all of my sensibility. I let him kiss me and tuck me in at 3AM...drunk.
I remember waking up and finding him asleep at his desk- paper notes everywhere. I carefully removed his glasses from his boyish face; he had a delicately defined boyish face. I wanted to kiss him but stopped for fear I'd wake him. So, I left.
****
"Did you know I was engaged before I showed up at your door?" I ask with cautious curiosity.
"Of course I did."
The way his face falls breaks my heart. What am I to do? If I dig any deeper, it will cause an uproar of emotions we both wouldn't dare to give up.
'I love you.'
'I hate you.'
'Why did you ever come?'
'Why didn't you come for me?'
'Why did you say yes to him?'
'Because you never asked me!'
'Run away with me!'
'I can't.'
'Then leave!'
I know us- the Jack and Emily fight sequence. This time might end differently than before, because this time, there's too much to risk. If I don't marry Stanley, my father may never forgive me. My mother would be very disappointed, but she would eventually forgive me. She couldn't help but love her only child more than life itself.
Jack gets up from his desk, still naked, and takes my face in his hands. They move from my face to my neck...to my breasts and the small of my back...to my thighs. He devours me like this might very well be our last time together. I want to let go and let him take me, but reality comes flooding in and I panic.
"Jack," I say as I stop him, "I can't do this." The tears come more quickly than I thought they would. I don't want to leave but I know I cannot stay.
"You're choosing him," Jack says like he assumed this would be the outcome. Our love story ends in a final tragic scene.
"If it were up to me, you know I-"
"IT IS UP TO YOU!" Jack yells and I'm dressed and out the door before we can hurt each other any more.
The last lonely train is waiting to take me home. This time, it isn't warm. My tears feel like they turn to ice with every drop.
Of course, I made the right decision. For the both of us. I just needed to see Jack one last time to truly know for sure. Marrying Stanley makes the most sense for the path my family has laid out for me. It would be dishonorable not to follow it. After all, my father's way has always been the only way.
But I can't stop myself from thinking about Jack and how I walked out on him. I start to sob uncontrollably, because it doesn't matter what is logical anymore. My heart wants love. And my love is with Jack.
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