Jeremy and Tallis
Jeremy’s house was simple, obviously missing a woman’s touch. Moira took most of her decorations that she had hung around the house when she left, which did not bother him. His record player was in the corner of the living room, housed in a wooden case next to a flat screen TV. Above the record player were three shattered records, hung up in the wall like a puzzle pieces in their original shape. The records broke in one of Moira’s fits of rage, caused by Jeremy coming home drunk covered in glitter. He would often go to the strip club with Solomon, usually on business, but Jeremy never understood why pleasure couldn’t be in the mix. Moira targeted three of his favorite records, which at the time caused him to pin her against the wall, not violently, until she calmed down. The next day, when Moira woke up, they were hung up on the wall in the fashion they were now, a sort of mosaic. A lava lamp sat atop a small table on the right of the black leather couch.
The kitchen was bare minus the necessities; a coffee maker, a knife block, a clock on the wall with a cracked glass covering (this time, Jeremy’s fault), and a shelf of shot glasses above the sink. Black granite and dark wooden cabinets stretched across the walls and wooden floors, without a crumb or spot of liquid in sight. One of the club’s “groupies,” cleaned his house once a week, who he paid in a bit of a scandalous manner.
On the dining room table, some bills, unopened mail, and other paperwork was strewn across the dark wood. The front for the club was a mechanic shop which Jeremy was named owner. He didn’t have to do much in the shop besides look over finances and sign some papers, but they had been piling up as of late. Another item on the table was a leather bound notebook that he enjoyed writing in when he had the opportunity.
Jeremy’s bedroom, his sanctuary, was on the top floor. Black curtains scaled a tall window to keep sunlight out, and the room was painted a deep gray. Another simple room in the house, only having a guitar, a dresser, and a shag rug laying under his four post bed. He preferred not to have a TV in his room as he was usually either busy, sleeping, or with a woman while in there. A master bathroom was connected to the room.
This left only the Kaci’s room and guest room. Jeremy didn’t use it much, seeing as he never really had guests stay at his house. Some boxes of Moira’s stuff that she left behind lined the wall with the window. He never understood why he felt bad throwing them out. The feelings he had for her were mostly all hatred, but not all his memories of her were awful. If Jeremy knew that Tallis would be coming to stay, he would have cleared the room to not bring up any conversation about Moira.
As they walked in the house, Jeremy threw his keys on the kitchen counter and slipped off his cut, draping it over one of the dining room chairs. “Make yourself at home,” he said, tugging at the tie to release his hair and scratching his head. “Help yourself to the fridge. Not much in there besides water and whiskey, but…” he trailed off. He pointed up the stairs, suggesting for him to follow her. “Whatever you do, don’t go in Kaci’s room,” he pointed towards her door. “She’ll kill us both. Here’s the guest bedroom. Sorry about the boxes,” he said, beginning to stack a few of them to create more room. “Moira didn’t pick all her shit up,” he grunted, while stacking the last one. “Not sure how long you’re staying, but the dresser and closet are empty.” He slipped away from the guest room before she had a chance to seduce him and descended down the stairs to the kitchen. He pulled the whiskey out of the freezer and poured himself a glass, adding a few ice cubes. He sat down at the dining room table to review some of the paper work. ”Keep yourself busy, man.” He began signing some documents, reading others with his fingers holding the bridge of his nose. He let out a soft sigh before tossing the document he had in his hand across the table. He rested his elbows on the wood and put his head in his hands.
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Oh how I've missed this place.
Tallis floated through Jeremy's house like a ghost, settling behind him to work the knots out of his tense shoulders. It was as if he carried the weight of the world on those muscular shoulders of his. For all she knew, he did. When was the last time they had talked? The last time she had told him her fears and dreams? "I tried to come back once, a few weeks after I left. Rode all the way here in the rain." She sighed, abandoning her job to sink into the chair beside him. "Her car was in the driveway, so I left."
Honesty had never been so difficult.
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Jeremy sighed gratefully at the feeling of Tallis' hands rubbing his back. He'd been touched by women plenty of times in the past year, but this felt different. This felt maternal, careful, selfless. He felt them leave his shoulders as she began to speak, but he didn't lift his head from his hands.
"You knew I didn't love her," he said gruffly. He looked up only to grab the piece of paper he originally tossed and began to reread it. He grabbed the pen to sign the bottom, and then reached for another from the stack.
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"You don't stay with someone for three years if you don't love them, Tillman." She needed to touch him, so she began running her fingers through his dirty blond hair. It was softer than she remember. Then again, everything about Jeremy was different than she remembered. "I loved you, and I hated knowing that she was still warming your bed at night." Tallis laughed out of embarrassment. "Wow, never thought I would tell you all of that. I tried to drink all of those feelings away."
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He closed his eyes at the sensation of her fingers in his hair. “Easier said than done.” He sighed and opened his eyes to look at her. “I never told you this, Tallis. Moira had an abortion last year, behind my back,” he sighed and rubbed his temples. “Your dad convinced me to stay with her since it was good for business. Her dad owns some ports down at the bay. He let us import and export whatever we wanted.” He played with the pen in his fingers, avoiding eye contact. “I couldn’t look at her the same anymore.” Bringing it up brought him a lot more pain than he expected.
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She moved her fingers to his, lacing them together in an effort to comfort him. "I'm so sorry, Jeremy, you would have been an amazing father." Tallis kissed the top of his hand. "That sounds like something dad would want, limitless imports and exports. Fuck feelings as long as business is booming, right?" It was impossible to hide the bitterness in her voice; the club had always come first for her father. "I had a miscarriage, so we would have been parents together." She looked away, she didn't want him to know that there was more to her miscarriage than she was willing to tell him. Tallis ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to hide her face.
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He smiled as she kissed his hand, but his expression quickly changed when she mentioned her miscarriage. She obviously didn't want him know much more, but he wasn't going to let that slide. He re-positioned himself to face her better and looked her in the eyes. "What happened, Tallis?" he asked in a very matter-of-fact tone, not expressing the anger and confusion he was feeling. He tried his best to keep calm when millions of questions were popping up in his mind.
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"Cameron didn't want to be a father, so down the stairs I went." She laughed, trying to hide the pain that was bubbling up in her chest. She could have been a mom. A good mom, unlike her own. It took everything she had to look back up at Jeremy. "When that didn't work, he brought out the bat. You know, the usual stuff. I wasn't planning on keeping the baby anyway, but..." Tallis left it at that.
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He frowned as she began her story. He grabbed her small, soft hand in his large one and didn’t break his gaze from her until she was finished. He felt his rage boiling inside, so much so that he didn’t really know how to respond. He stood up abruptly, shaking his head and clearing his throat, moving towards one of the kitchen cabinets. He swiftly grabbed an unopened bottle of whiskey and two glasses and brought them back to the table. He watched her intently has he poured the alcohol into each glass, not spilling a drop, and pushed one towards her.
After he took a sip, he stood up again and looked down at her. “You really couldn’t have fuckin’ called me, Tallis?” He began pacing back and forth, rubbing the bridge of his nose with his right hand. Where did he fuck up so much to where she wouldn’t call him to help her? He and Taylor always were able to get her out of whatever situation she was in, whether it was a douche bag or just a flat tire. “God damn it,” he said quietly, plopping himself down on the chair. He grabbed her hand again and intensely held her gaze. “I don’t know what to say… I-I’m sorry.” He sighed and closed his eyes, trying to push all of the pain and anger back down his throat.
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She didn't hesitate to take the back, tossing back the glass like it was purified water. God, it burned like hell. Jeremy's anger caught her off guard, putting her on the defensive with hair bristled and teeth barred. "What the fuck was I supposed to say? 'Hi, Jeremy! I know we haven't talked since we fucked at my brother's funeral, even though I've missed you like crazy, but I wanted to let you know that my boyfriend is abusing me. He pushed me down a flight of stairs and repeatedly hit me with a baseball bat because he couldn't wait for me to get an abortion.' Is that what you wanted me to say, Jeremy? That ever since I left my life has been a shitshow? Is that what you wanted to hear? Because that's what you're getting."
His apology rolled right off her back, he had nothing to be sorry for. "No, there's nothing to be sorry for. None of this is your fault." Tallis sighed, slumping into him. "Amazing how so much can happen in so little time."
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