Days went by without Cordelia being able to face the world and leave her apartment. She had skipped a whole week of classes and done nothing but mope around and sleep. Her appetite was suffering, she would poke at her food then eventually throw more than half of it away because she just wasn’t hungry. All she could think about was Jackson. She longed to hear his voice again but she knew that she couldn’t call him. She had known that revealing her past to him would ruin everything between them for good…‘looks like I was right,’ she thought to herself constantly.
She stared down her bottle of vodka for the first couple of days after telling Jackson the truth, but finally poured it down the drain. She had more than disappointed herself when she drank so many martinis the other night and didn’t want to let herself do that again.
It was nearly midnight and she was mindlessly watching late-night talk shows, she hadn’t moved from the couch in the past 5 hours at this point, when there was a knock at the door. It was a loud knock, startling her back into reality. Her heart began to pound, unsure who in their right mind was knocking on her door at midnight.
She slid the chain into it’s lock on the door and then unlocked the knob and pulled open the door. There he stood, tall and handsome as ever…with an almost empty fifth of Beam in his hand, “Jackson!” she shouted, shocked that he had wanted to come see her after their conversation a week ago.
“Wait,” she prompted him. She shut the door so she could undo the chain lock, then opened it back up, “come in, Jax. What’s going on? Are you okay?”
He was obviously way beyond the point of being drunk, so she stepped out onto the porch and grab his arm to lead him into the apartment. He was nearly dead weight as he leaned on her for support. The bottle slipped out of his hand and shattered on the ground.
“Don’t worry about that, I’ll get it in the morning,” she said calmly. She led him to the loveseat that sat, luckily, next to the front door. She couldn’t have supported his weight any longer if she had to. She went back to the door and shut it and locked it, then glanced back at Jackson, who was sloppily slumped over on the couch.
“Jax…? What’s going on?” she asked again, fearing he may have come over to make her feel even more guilty.
“I’m drunk.” He managed to get out.
“I see that, doll. Why are you THIS drunk?” she questioned. She sat next to him so she could keep him sitting up. “Let me get you some water,” she said standing up, but Jackson grabbed onto her arm and forced her back onto the sofa. His grip was too strong on her small wrist, needless to say that he likely didn’t realize that, but it scared her none-the-less.
“Ow…Jackson…” she whined, twisting her wrist out of his grip.
“We need to talk.” His words were slurred and lazy.
“You need to lie down. I’m calling Elle, where’s your phone?” Cordelia wasn’t sure what his business at her apartment was, especially being as drunk as he was, but she was sure that Elle would be worried if she knew he were in this condition. She was going to be a nurse after all, let her deal with him.
“I don’t think so,” he started, “if I wanted to talk to Elle, I would have gone home instead of coming here. Besides, she’s not all too happy with me lately.”
“Well if you had wanted to talk to me, I was here all week and you didn’t have to show up this drunk,” Cordelia argued back, “now why is Elle mad, can I do anything to help?” she asked.
“Do you want to hear what I have to say or not?” he questioned almost angrily. Cordelia sighed and slumped back on the loveseat, “fine,” she said exasperated, “but if you are here to make me feel any worse, save your breath, because I won’t hesitate to call the police and have you dragged off.”
Jackson laid his head back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling, breathing rapidly and heavily like a typical drunk. Then he sat up and turned to her, looking her in the eyes, at least sort of. His eyes were crossing a little as he tried to focus. He reached down and took her hands in his and lifted them up. He turned them over so he could see her scars and then gently leaned down and kissed each scarred wrist softly, then he laid her hands back in her lap.
“I find it harder to forgive you leaving me than I do for the abortion,” he started, “I loved you so much, Delia.” He paused and looked momentarily like he might be sick, but the feeling passed because he continued, “and I feel guilty—”
“Jax, I—” she tried to interrupt, but Jackson interrupted her before she could get any words out, “and I feel so guilty because I still love you. Some fiancé I am, huh?” He swayed slightly back and forth in his drunken trance, “I mean ex fiancé.”
“Wait….ex fiancé? Jackson, what happened?” Cordelia asked concerned.
Jackson reached into his pocket and after several minutes of fumbling around her pulled his fist out. He extended his hand toward Cordelia and turned his hand over and opened it, the small diamond ring that had been on Elle’s finger lay in his hand, “she gave it back.”
“Jackson…why?” Cordelia inquired further. She wondered if it had something to do with her being ‘back in the picture,’ but she genuinely hoped not.
“Because I don’t want you to leave me again,” he paused for several long moments, “and I told her that. I told her I was afraid you’d leave me again….that was a mistake. Thank you Jim Beam…” He leaned his head back again on the seat and was quiet. His eyes were closed and for a moment Cordelia assumed he had passed out, but he spoke again, “I dreamt about you God only knows how much in the past 4 years. I would wake up, usually next to Elle, holding her in my arms and STILL I wished it were you.”
“Jackson,” she said softly, “you don’t know what you’re saying, let me get you in bed, you should sleep.”
“Don’t! Don’t tell me how I feel…Elle does that sometimes, you’re not like her…she’s not like you, I guess.” His eyelids seemed heavy, as if he could fall asleep quite literally any second. “She knew about my past with you, however short-lived it was, and she was furious that I’d spent all night with you that night you got drunk.”
“Look, I am sorry, and I’m sure I can fix this. But lets just talk more in the morning, come on,” she stood up and grabbed onto his arm heaving him up from the loveseat. He was dead weight leaning against her, so she dropped him back down to the couch, “you gotta help me out here, big boy.”
He mumbled something incoherent and slumped his head back on the couch. “Jax?” Cordelia questioned. “JACKSON!” she screamed slapping him hard on the face. The sting of the slap was more than enough to wake him back up, his eyes shot open. “Hey, hsmmnnh.”
“Jackson, that wasn’t English,” Cordelia stated flatly, “Now help me out here,” she insisted, again pulling him up off the couch.
This time he managed to drag his feet, though clumsily, allowing her to lead him down the hall. “Ha, you get right to the point,” he said like a typical drunk man when he realized she was leading him to her bedroom.
“Funny guy!” she said. She had no idea why he had shown up, nor why he was so hopelessly drunk, but at this point it didn’t matter, she just needed to get him in bed to sleep off his stupidity.
To Be Continued
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