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“But he can’t make people want him.”
“Not the people he wants to. Well, some of them – I’ve seen him with Liv.She wants him. Maybe if they weren’t both addicted to substances they could switch some of that addiction to each other.”
Sky rubs her face, looking round the room. “I don’t know what to say, Dylan. Every time I think you’ve told me everything, something new comes up. Trust is a huge thing in a relationship.”
“I fucked up again, didn’t I?”
Sky shakes her head. “This burying things and not dealing with them is a part of you that you need to acknowledge. Funny, I remember you saying something odd about me being a mirror the day we met, about how you couldn’t see through me.” For a long moment, she pauses and studies her shoes. I shift uncomfortably, bracing myself for what might come next. “I learn more about myself the more I get to know you,” she says as if half-talking to herself, then looks at me with confused eyes. “Let’s deal with our crap together.”
I sink back against the sofa in relief. “You did come to collect your stuff?”
“I don’t want to live here. If I can stay with you until I face what I need to change...?”
“Sky, stay with me as long as you want to.” I bite back the desire to say ‘forever’, pushing away the fantasy of her and me and a happily ever after.
As I watch her wander around the flat shoving random items into her bag, I realise this can’t be a happily ever after because in reality our story is just beginning.
* * *
Sky
The girlon Jem’s lap curls her body around his, blonde head on his shoulder. Jem grips her waist, smoothing the back of her hand with his thumb as they watch TV. This is different to the last girl I saw him with—the groupie at Dylan’s house in the summer who he treated like his servant. The heavy black eye make-up and red lipstick ages her, but her heart-shaped face and smooth skin make her look like a child trying to dress up. There’s a vulnerability about this girl with the skinny legs and big boots.
When we walk into Dylan’s lounge room, she pushes hair from her face, dark roots betraying her natural hair-colour, and her green eyes watch us from a distance. She’s in the room, but removed and the dilated pupils indicate why.
“Make yourself at home,” mutters Dylan, walking by. “Thought you’d be gone by now, Jem?”
Jem and Liv remain in the same position and he gestures toward me with his black-painted fingernails. “Moving in, summer Sky?”
I hug the box tighter. “Temporarily.”
“Hmm. Cute.” Jem switches his attention back to the TV.
Liv scrutinises me further, head still resting on Jem, and his grip on her waist tightens as if he doesn’t want to let go. Aware there’s no introduction coming anytime soon, I follow Dylan into his bedroom. He dumps the rucksack on the floor and holds his hands out for the box in my arms.
“Don’t you like them?” I ask him.
“I like my own space, and with what’s happened between the three of us, he’s not my most welcome guest.” He spins around. “Sorry, I’ve no idea why I’m bringing all your gear in here. Habit. Where do you want me to take this?”
“I need to store the boxes somewhere, I guess.”
Liv has detached herself from Jem when we walk back into the lounge, and now she’s standing I can see how painfully skinny she is. Her leather jacket hangs on her small frame and sharp collarbones jut out of the top of her tatty black tank top. Nothing about her says ‘heiress’; she’s ill and lost. Is this Jem’s fault?
As she passes a beer to Jem, I study him, intrigued by their lack of vocal interaction. They can hardly take their eyes off each other—are they a couple in love? Although Liv’s eyes are dull, Jem’s are bright, watching her every move. When she places herself back on the sofa, they instantly fit together again, like interlocking pieces of a puzzle no one else could fix. Jem rubs his face into her hair and catches my scrutiny. I shift my look to the floor.
“How long you staying, Jem?” asks Dylan.
“We’re leaving soon. Just waiting for a ride from Liv’s mates.”
She smiles, the perfect white straight teeth at odds with her image. “I’m Liv.”
Jem smirks. “Yeah, oops. Forgot you’d never met.”
As if. “Hey, Liv.”
Her phone beeps and she pulls it from her pocket. “They’re downstairs.”
As I watch, I don’t see anything imbalanced in their relationship; the power of the rock star over the innocent girl isn’t in play here. Dylan said they fed off each other, perhaps they do, and that’s where their comfort around each other comes from. Jem’s not high right now, he isn’t sober either, but he’s in the room more than Liv is. When I look at Jem and Liv, my heart hurts because what emanates from them isn’t the happy peace of two people in love, but the defensive tension of two people shutting out the world.
Will this girl survive when Jem’s inevitable explosion happens? I can’t see she’ll be the one to save him.
