Prompt 81 - Grovel - "City Of Dreams"- ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
spikespetslayer - OC
Feb. 9th, 2008 11:58 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
dedra.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
tamingthemuseTitle: City Of Dreams
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Fandom: None
Summary: We all have dreams that we need to live; hopefully they coincide with the ones that we need to make us happy.
City Of Dreams
“I don’t understand.”
“I love you. I’ve always loved you. Please, I’m begging you, don’t move to New York. I’ll do anything, go anywhere if you’ll stay.”
~*~
Jazz had always dreamed of going to New York City. Ever since she was a little girl, the gritty streets teeming with people fascinated her; all walking quickly to get to unknown destinations that seemed to her childish mind exotic and exciting. She wanted to be one of those people, walking down those dangerous streets, living in those neighborhoods with their Jewish delis and florists on the corners. She wanted a loft in SoHo, a coldwater flat in the Village, a condo on Central Park West.
It was her dream. Her fantasy that drove her. She worked hard in classes to learn everything she could that she thought might help her in the city. She took not one, but two foreign languages, Spanish and French, hoping that she might be able to work somewhere multinational or even at the United Nations. She studied advanced classes, planning for her college application early on.
Everything that she did was geared toward getting to New York and going to school in the heart of the city.
She subscribed to magazines like The New Yorker and Town and Country, devouring them the day they were delivered to the mailbox in front of her house. She studied movies that were filmed in the city, usually guessing which neighborhood they were filmed in. She changed her name from Jasmine to Jazz to sound less plebian and more sophisticated.
She never noticed the longing looks that followed her every move.
Jason had lived next door to Jazz all their lives. He was more than just her neighbor; he was her best friend and confidante, sharing the dreams and secrets of their lives as they shared a plate of chili fries at Denny’s late at night after work. She would talk about the city, always giving the impression the word should be in all caps, and he would listen and watch her wild gestures and facial expressions with a sense of bewildered rapture. He loved her more than she could imagine and she had no idea.
They made it through high school without many difficulties or much drama, a pleasant change from most high school careers. The summer after graduation was a combination of weekend parties with kegs of beer and bottles of various liquor acquired through any means possible and quiet contemplation of years past and what was to come.
Jason still spent his time hanging around Jazz, sometimes forgetting to call her Jazz and listening to her curse about her given name. “It’s so…I don’t feel like a person, I feel like a fucking flower when Mom uses that name. For crying out loud, she could have named me something that was easier on the ears. Monica, Julie, Jamie—there’s a ton of baby names in those books. What in the world could have made her choose Jasmine for a name?”
She rolled over on her stomach and crossed her ankles in the air, swinging her feet over her rounded buttocks. Jason couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as she plucked clover out of the ground, trying to keep the stems long as she braided them into a crown that she ultimately put on top of her brown wavy hair. “Anyway, I think that whatever I get into, Jazz will be a much more acceptable name. It’s a single syllable that nobody will be able to mispronounce or bastardize into something else. It makes me seem sassy and independent, don’t you think?”
She slanted her eyes to look up at Jason, noticing the glazed expression on his face and his slack jaw. “Jason, are you all right? Are you even listening?”
“Don’t go to New York. Stay here with me.”
“Pardon me?”
“Don’t go. Don’t leave me. Please, Jazz, I’m serious.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I love you. I’ve always loved you. Please, I’m begging you, don’t move to New York. I’ll do anything, go anywhere if you’ll stay.”
She sat up and looked at him. There was an unmistakable shine of hope in his eyes and a sheen of perspiration on his upper lip as he leaned forward to look down at her from the great height of the hammock that hung between the two trees in their shared back yard. “Jazz, Jasmine, whatever you want to call yourself, I’ve been in love with you since I was ten years old. I want to take care of you forever. I want to cook for you and keep your house. I know that you’ve always wanted to go to New York, but I’m asking you from the bottom of my heart, don’t go.”
She leaned back, her position knocking her clover crown askew. “Jason, why are you saying this? You’ve never said anything like this before.”
He stood and began to pace, his fair skin growing redder as he became more agitated. “How could I? You’ve always been so sure about what you wanted. Ever since first grade you’ve gone on and on about what you were going to do in the city, where you were going to go. It’s always been about Tavern on the Green and Sardi’s, not Denny’s and Niemerg’s. I’ve listened to stories about the Upper East Side and Greenwich Village. I’ve heard you debate the advantages of Barnard versus Columbia. I’ve watched you comb through magazines and catalogues to find the best bargains, the most fashionable outfits, the best clothes even though you didn’t fit in here because we’re not New York City. We’re the small town you live in, not the big city that you want to.”
He stopped and looked down at her, hoping the shock on her face was from the feelings bubbling up inside him and spilling out of his mouth and not something else. “I’ve stood up for you and fought for you time and time again. I’ve defended you against every kind of name that you can imagine being called and stopped them from calling you crazy. I’ve backed you one hundred per cent, but now that it’s almost time for you to leave me, I don’t want to let you go.”
She gaped at him, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly as she stared at him. He squatted down in front of her and took her hand from its resting place on her leg. “Jazz, you’re the love of my life. Will you at least consider staying here?”
He knew her answer before he saw the tears begin to fall. He had done everything but grovel at her feet and debase himself completely and she was still going to leave him. His heart began to break as she shook her head.
“Jason, I can’t. My tickets are paid for. Hell, I leave tomorrow! Why did you—what made you—Jason…” She couldn’t continue, the tears thickening her voice until the words stuck in her throat, choking her on their simplicity.
She jumped up and dusted off her cut-offs, dropping the crown to the grass beneath her feet. “I’ve got to go, Jason. I’ve got—” She shook her head and clamped her lips tightly closed, compressing them into a thin white line before running into the house, the back door slamming behind her with a sense of finality, a final punctuation mark to their relationship.
Jason let his own tears take over as he bent to pick up the clover crown. He turned to look at the window that was across from his. They had been close enough that their parents had given them walkie-talkies one Christmas and they spent the whole night talking until the batteries died. He had stood outside and held the ladder while she climbed down so they could go to a party in their sophomore year; after she was too drunk to climb up, he had tucked her into the hammock and set his alarm so she could wake early and sneak back in to the house.
They had share everything it seemed, except their dreams. She had hers of a life elsewhere; he had his of a life with her. He thought that they could meet somewhere in the middle, not be at such odds with each other at the opposite ends of the poles.
Choking on a sob, he turned and went to his back door, closing it quietly behind him. His feet dragged as he climbed the stairs to his room, dropping to the bed and covering his face with his arm to hide the misery on his face.
He didn’t notice the wide brown eyes that stared through the blinds at his window or the tears that welled in them. With a desperate sigh, Jazz turned away from the window and looked at the bare walls and empty closet.
She thought that she could at least live part of her dream. She wouldn’t stay there forever, just long enough to see what she had fantasized and planned all her life. Jason meant the world to her, but this did too. She hoped that he was mature enough to understand that. She hoped that she was too.
Rating: G
Warnings: None
Fandom: None
Summary: We all have dreams that we need to live; hopefully they coincide with the ones that we need to make us happy.
City Of Dreams
“I don’t understand.”
“I love you. I’ve always loved you. Please, I’m begging you, don’t move to New York. I’ll do anything, go anywhere if you’ll stay.”
~*~
Jazz had always dreamed of going to New York City. Ever since she was a little girl, the gritty streets teeming with people fascinated her; all walking quickly to get to unknown destinations that seemed to her childish mind exotic and exciting. She wanted to be one of those people, walking down those dangerous streets, living in those neighborhoods with their Jewish delis and florists on the corners. She wanted a loft in SoHo, a coldwater flat in the Village, a condo on Central Park West.
It was her dream. Her fantasy that drove her. She worked hard in classes to learn everything she could that she thought might help her in the city. She took not one, but two foreign languages, Spanish and French, hoping that she might be able to work somewhere multinational or even at the United Nations. She studied advanced classes, planning for her college application early on.
Everything that she did was geared toward getting to New York and going to school in the heart of the city.
She subscribed to magazines like The New Yorker and Town and Country, devouring them the day they were delivered to the mailbox in front of her house. She studied movies that were filmed in the city, usually guessing which neighborhood they were filmed in. She changed her name from Jasmine to Jazz to sound less plebian and more sophisticated.
She never noticed the longing looks that followed her every move.
Jason had lived next door to Jazz all their lives. He was more than just her neighbor; he was her best friend and confidante, sharing the dreams and secrets of their lives as they shared a plate of chili fries at Denny’s late at night after work. She would talk about the city, always giving the impression the word should be in all caps, and he would listen and watch her wild gestures and facial expressions with a sense of bewildered rapture. He loved her more than she could imagine and she had no idea.
They made it through high school without many difficulties or much drama, a pleasant change from most high school careers. The summer after graduation was a combination of weekend parties with kegs of beer and bottles of various liquor acquired through any means possible and quiet contemplation of years past and what was to come.
Jason still spent his time hanging around Jazz, sometimes forgetting to call her Jazz and listening to her curse about her given name. “It’s so…I don’t feel like a person, I feel like a fucking flower when Mom uses that name. For crying out loud, she could have named me something that was easier on the ears. Monica, Julie, Jamie—there’s a ton of baby names in those books. What in the world could have made her choose Jasmine for a name?”
She rolled over on her stomach and crossed her ankles in the air, swinging her feet over her rounded buttocks. Jason couldn’t tear his eyes away from her as she plucked clover out of the ground, trying to keep the stems long as she braided them into a crown that she ultimately put on top of her brown wavy hair. “Anyway, I think that whatever I get into, Jazz will be a much more acceptable name. It’s a single syllable that nobody will be able to mispronounce or bastardize into something else. It makes me seem sassy and independent, don’t you think?”
She slanted her eyes to look up at Jason, noticing the glazed expression on his face and his slack jaw. “Jason, are you all right? Are you even listening?”
“Don’t go to New York. Stay here with me.”
“Pardon me?”
“Don’t go. Don’t leave me. Please, Jazz, I’m serious.”
“I don’t understand.”
“I love you. I’ve always loved you. Please, I’m begging you, don’t move to New York. I’ll do anything, go anywhere if you’ll stay.”
She sat up and looked at him. There was an unmistakable shine of hope in his eyes and a sheen of perspiration on his upper lip as he leaned forward to look down at her from the great height of the hammock that hung between the two trees in their shared back yard. “Jazz, Jasmine, whatever you want to call yourself, I’ve been in love with you since I was ten years old. I want to take care of you forever. I want to cook for you and keep your house. I know that you’ve always wanted to go to New York, but I’m asking you from the bottom of my heart, don’t go.”
She leaned back, her position knocking her clover crown askew. “Jason, why are you saying this? You’ve never said anything like this before.”
He stood and began to pace, his fair skin growing redder as he became more agitated. “How could I? You’ve always been so sure about what you wanted. Ever since first grade you’ve gone on and on about what you were going to do in the city, where you were going to go. It’s always been about Tavern on the Green and Sardi’s, not Denny’s and Niemerg’s. I’ve listened to stories about the Upper East Side and Greenwich Village. I’ve heard you debate the advantages of Barnard versus Columbia. I’ve watched you comb through magazines and catalogues to find the best bargains, the most fashionable outfits, the best clothes even though you didn’t fit in here because we’re not New York City. We’re the small town you live in, not the big city that you want to.”
He stopped and looked down at her, hoping the shock on her face was from the feelings bubbling up inside him and spilling out of his mouth and not something else. “I’ve stood up for you and fought for you time and time again. I’ve defended you against every kind of name that you can imagine being called and stopped them from calling you crazy. I’ve backed you one hundred per cent, but now that it’s almost time for you to leave me, I don’t want to let you go.”
She gaped at him, her mouth opening and closing soundlessly as she stared at him. He squatted down in front of her and took her hand from its resting place on her leg. “Jazz, you’re the love of my life. Will you at least consider staying here?”
He knew her answer before he saw the tears begin to fall. He had done everything but grovel at her feet and debase himself completely and she was still going to leave him. His heart began to break as she shook her head.
“Jason, I can’t. My tickets are paid for. Hell, I leave tomorrow! Why did you—what made you—Jason…” She couldn’t continue, the tears thickening her voice until the words stuck in her throat, choking her on their simplicity.
She jumped up and dusted off her cut-offs, dropping the crown to the grass beneath her feet. “I’ve got to go, Jason. I’ve got—” She shook her head and clamped her lips tightly closed, compressing them into a thin white line before running into the house, the back door slamming behind her with a sense of finality, a final punctuation mark to their relationship.
Jason let his own tears take over as he bent to pick up the clover crown. He turned to look at the window that was across from his. They had been close enough that their parents had given them walkie-talkies one Christmas and they spent the whole night talking until the batteries died. He had stood outside and held the ladder while she climbed down so they could go to a party in their sophomore year; after she was too drunk to climb up, he had tucked her into the hammock and set his alarm so she could wake early and sneak back in to the house.
They had share everything it seemed, except their dreams. She had hers of a life elsewhere; he had his of a life with her. He thought that they could meet somewhere in the middle, not be at such odds with each other at the opposite ends of the poles.
Choking on a sob, he turned and went to his back door, closing it quietly behind him. His feet dragged as he climbed the stairs to his room, dropping to the bed and covering his face with his arm to hide the misery on his face.
He didn’t notice the wide brown eyes that stared through the blinds at his window or the tears that welled in them. With a desperate sigh, Jazz turned away from the window and looked at the bare walls and empty closet.
She thought that she could at least live part of her dream. She wouldn’t stay there forever, just long enough to see what she had fantasized and planned all her life. Jason meant the world to her, but this did too. She hoped that he was mature enough to understand that. She hoped that she was too.
no subject
Date: 2008-02-11 11:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2008-02-16 12:24 am (UTC)