The Jesters Fool- Chapter 14

High school senior Brooke Taylor navigates an unexpectedly tumultuous year filled with death, secrecy, and decaying friendships

Halloween used to be mine and Lexi's favorite holiday. When we were little girls we would dress up together. Cheerleaders, zombies, fairies. Whatever our little minds desired�" one time in middle school, we made the last-minute decision to switch from M&M's to Alice and the Cheshire Cat. My mom had been so upset that we weren’t going to wear the yellow and green tule skirts that we had sworn on our lives that we would use. 

With the depression I have felt with her passing, the idea that days still go on around me feels weird. Our�" my- classmates will be in costumes tonight, going around town and trying to get candy even though they are much too old to go trick-or-treating. I’ll go to classes today, keep my eyes down, and smile when I accidentally meet someone's gaze. Then after school, I'll lay on my back in my uncomfortable bed. I’ll stare at the ceiling, and breathe deeply. I’ll force myself to believe that life will go on.

School was even more of a drag than anticipated. Teachers have felt the need to single me out since Lexis death, and I had to answer one too many questions about what my “fun” plans for the evening were. At a religious institution it should be against the rules for the administration to ask questions about my halloween plans! I kept my answers brief and quiet, immediately lowering my eyes so I would not be prompted further.

On my bed next to me are piles of incomplete assignments. And although my teachers have shown me grace regarding due dates and grades, I know at some point I need to get my act together. Colleges�" which I have been far too distracted to apply to�" will want a well rounded student. And the life experience of seeing a dead body up close and personal isn’t exactly what they’re looking for.

My history book has been long neglected, and I pick it up, almost unfamiliar with the contents of our current unit. A light tap on my door prevents me from actually engaging with the chapter however. 

“Who is it?” I call out, hesitant to accept visitors.

Someone tries the handle, but finds it locked. “Brooke.” It’s Marcus’ broken voice. I sigh begrudgingly, but get up to let him in anyway, hearing the hurt in his call.

“What is it?” I ask shortly, as I crack the door for him to enter the room.

He shakes his head slowly. His eyes aren’t bloodshot, which is a nice sigh. I have the authentic Marcus in front of me. Not the confused double that has been stepping in lately. “Trent and I.”

“What about Trent?” I ask quickly, my heart leaping at his name. I shouldn’t feel so excited at the mere mention of him, but he hasn’t crossed my mind in days. The little reminder that he exists sparks a thrilled emotion within me.

“We got in a fight.” His tone doesn’t match my internal glee. 

“About what?” What if they thought about me?

“How I’ve been treating Lexi’s death�" how I’ve been treating you. “He thinks I’ve been a jerk about this whole thing. But�"” His voice cracks slightly with emotion, “but she was my best friend. How is her death supposed to not affect me?”
My heart softens for him, and despite all the times I’ve hated him this week�" all the times I’ve hated him today alone�" I want to let him talk. Let him vent his emotions in a healthy way. And if he trusts me to confide in, he deserves my attention.

“Why did you come here then�" you know I am not going to take your side here. I think you’ve been awful since she died.”

“But you’ll understand, Brooke. You loved her too, you’re going to understand.”
I was hurting him since before Lexi died. I didn’t change with her death, I transformed in a premptive grief. Maybe that makes me worse than him in a way. “Have you talked to Thomas at all?”

Marcus shakes his head, “I have no idea how he is doing, I’ve tried to see him a couple of times, but he just shuts down. Won’t say much at all.”

“She liked him for so long. And when they finally got the chance to be together�"” I fight back tears�" “It’s just so unfair!”

“At least she died while she was dating the boy she had wanted for years. She was happy in that way.”

I smile softly. Something regarding death, and Marcus didn’t say anything horribly disturbing. It’s reassuring to know that he can still be normal. The normal Marcus loves me though, even more so than the version of himself that is consumed in grief. As my guard is down, he kisses me. Not innocent and sweet like the first couple times. Desperate, more now than ever. His fingers are completely tangled in my hair. If a kiss could join souls�" this is what it would take. And although his passion is high, mine isn’t much lower, and maybe it’s not all fake. He breaks off to look at me�" with clear eyes he looks at me. “We’re getting good at that.” I stare blankly, breathing heavily, and feeling emotions that conflict in every way.

“Brooke?” Aaron's voice jars me. Not only because I am slowly caving into the wills of another man, but also because I’ve done everything in my power to avoid him since our awkward demise. My heart leaps into my throat, my voice choked by nausea. Why is he here now? Unwanted, and almost unfamiliar, a long forgotten experience covered up by my recent dramas. Against my chest, Marcus also stiffens. He gives me an accusatory look as if I had asked Aaron to come here.

“One second,” I managed to call out to the man behind the door. With shaking legs, I push off my bed, and away from Marcus. “Get in my closet,” I grit out in a desperate, panicked whisper.

“Why?” His eyes flash angrily, “So you can feel like you have some privacy with your little lover?”
“Marcus, I didn’t ask him to come, I’ve barely said more than two words to him since he broke up with me.” I open the closet as quietly as I can, “Get in. Or I’m never speaking to you again.” 

“Why can’t he know why I’m here Brooke?” I have no answer. I just shrug, clamping my hand over his mouth�" but I quickly pull away in disgust when I feel him lick my palm. I feign gag, wiping my hand against his sleeve to dry it, and then forcefully push him into my closet. Even when we have the most intimate moments, the most damaging emotional spats, he can still make me laugh. 

“Be quiet.” I give him one last stern reminder before heading over to the door. I take a deep breath. My chest feels tight, and I open the door. “Aaron?” He stumbles into the room, leaning against my desk for support. His face is pale, his pupils large, “Are you alright?”

“I’m drunk.” He says flatly, eyes widening as he stares at me, “Brooke, you’re so pretty.”

I feel my face heat�" more so in embarrassment for him than from the flattery he is giving me. “Thank you, Aaron.” My tone is gentle, as if I am talking to a small child and not an adult. 

“Brooke, I think about you a lot.” He walks over to me, clamping his hand against my shoulder, caressing down my arm. I place my hand over his, prying his fingers from my skin. His palms are slightly damp with sweat.

“Can’t you be normal and drunk text me instead of being here?” I hate that he is in my room. A misplaced reminder that my failure at romance was the first of my tragedies this year.

“Brooke, I love you.” My face pales. 

“No you don’t�"” He leans in close to me�"“Aaron,” His lips claim mine, only for a brief second, where I feel myself wanting to get lost in him, but I push him off of me. “I said no, I told you I don’t want this,” I can feel my face burning red, the sensation so strong it’s almost painful. What would Marcus think? Could he see what was going on through a crack in the closet doors?

He reaches out and grasps my fingers, I pull them away, “You can’t come running to me because things didn’t work out with your ex.” His inevitable breakup with her is the only solution I can find as to why he would come here for me. I hold my hand to my chest protectively and walk with him towards my door.

“I’m so sorry Brooke, for how I treated you, for what you’ve been through…” He trails off, taking a moment to really take me in. His eyes roam over my body, as he notices my faint trembling.

“Aaron, please�" please, leave,” I beg, my voice breaking. Only a man would think it an appropriate time to confess his love to me less than a month after my best friend was murdered; in bed, next to me.

Tears fall down my face as I close the door after his retreating form, “Marcus,” I whimper, and he pushes his way out of the closet�" the closet that he had locked Lexi in on our first day of senior year. The closet that encapsulates beautiful memories that feel like they happened a lifetime ago. The realization hits me, and I sob harder, my sorrow bringing me to my knees, weighed down by a torrent of tears.

His arms wrap around me, but the weight of them creates more fear in me than any sense of comfort. “He kissed you?” His voice is rough.

“I didn’t even want him to.” I try to free myself from Marcus, but he wraps himself around me, pulling me even closer.

“I can’t believe he kissed you,” He mutters, his breathing fast and heavy with anger.

“Marcus, let me go,” I struggle against his arms again, and he drops me. I pull myself to my feet quickly, distancing myself from him. Looking at him, his anger, his pride. I take him all in, “I want you to leave.”

“He doesn’t have a right to touch you. You don’t love him.”

“No Marcus, I don’t love him. But I don’t love you either. Get out of my dorm room.” His eyes grow clear with hurt. My admissions of not loving him seem to be the only things that can break through to his conscience in his jealous  state. “Get out of my room.”

“I love you.” He shakes his head slowly, eyes to the ground. “And I’ll leave because you asked me to�" I’m listening because I love you.” He slowly walks to my door, and I watch him go in silence. I cannot bring myself to say anything else to him. I don’t not love him, I just don’t love him either.

Author's Note

Please leave me as many comments and critiques as you can-- I will take all of them, even if you want to tell me that you absolutely hate the story