Knowing Jude
Chapter 35

It's one a.m., Jude is in my room, and he is drunk.

Panic shoots through me as sleep deserts me and the situation sinks in. I slept with my lights on so I can see exactly how drunk he is. At first, I can't make sense of what he's saying, but when I do, my blood runs cold.

"Sorry, Jo.... Sssorrry... Your sister... Saw me..."

The words come out disjointed, but I hear him fine alright.

He drops on my bed, huffing as if the effort of making that sentence has taken all his energy.

My heart is pounding so loud in my chest, I can't hear my own thoughts.

Maybe that's because there's none. I can't think.

I crawl onto my knee and shake him. "Jude? Are you sure?"

He lets out a groan, turns his head to the side, but says nothing.

"Jude, are you serious? Come on, Jude!" I whisper frantically, shaking him some more.

He turns on his back and peers up at me. His hands lift to cup my face. "It's...it's okay," he whispers. "She wouldn't... Say a word."

This time his words are a little put together. I shake my head, escaping his hold. I'm almost tearing up because if I know my sister, this is a perfect chance for her to ruin me. There's nothing she would love more than ratting me out to my parents and watching as they look at me with disappointment. That would be a change. For once I would be the bad girl. "You don't know her."

“I.......I know she.....she snuck out tonight to meet some guy who just dropped her... She's not going to say a word."

I'm about to protest again when his words register. I blink. "Wait... What?"

"Yeah," he whispers. His head drops back into the mattress as if tired of holding up.

"Did you see who the guy is?"

His shoulders move in a failed attempt to shrug. "I don't know him. Looks much older," he slurs.

"Fuck."

I've always known Maria was rebellious, but not to that extent.

Oh my God.

She's fifteen, for heaven's sake.

"Let's forget about that," Jude declares. His next move catches me by complete surprise.

His arms come around my waist and he pulls me towards him so that I tumble on top of him. It's a pretty awkward position, given his legs are hanging off the bed and it seems like he wants to align us all the way. He's been drinking alright, given the smell of alcohol on his breath, and smoking too, it seems. Smells like a regular cigarette, thank God.

I place my palms on his chest and try to push off him but his grip is too tight on me. A little part of me panics. "Let me go, Jude."

He holds me tighter and gives a sigh as if he can't hear my protest.

"Jude "

He shifts, almost rolling on top of me as he lifts his legs onto the bed. I look in horror as his boots come into contact with my blue covers. "Your shoes, Jude!" I seethe.

He grunts unintelligibly, then tries to push his right boot off with the tip of the other. They come off easily enough, and he's able to settle comfortably on the bed.

"Now let go of me," I instruct calmly.

"Why?" he Mumbles, eyes shut.

Why?

Because.

"You're hurting me," I say, wiggling in his tight grip.

I feel him tense, his breath catch, then his hands fall from me instantly. His bloodshot eyes shoot open and he stares at me. I don't know if it's as a result of his inebriation, but they are watery.

"I'm sorry," he whispers as I sit up. "I'm sorry, forgive me."

He sounds so remorseful, it catches me off guard. "It's Okay Jude. Just sleep it off, Okay? Move up the bed."

"I...it's not okay," he counters. "I'm so...sorry. I...I hurt her. Oh God, I'm sorry. I... I..."

He's not making any sense to me, perhaps his drunkenness is making him address me in third person.

"I hurt her, Jo. I... Forgive me."

Then he breaks down.

Jude Walker, the stoic bad boy with no care in the world, starts sobbing like a baby.

At first, I'm too shocked to do anything. I kneel there frozen and watch him.

He's not exactly full out bawling, but he's hiccupping a lot and tears are running down his face into the covers. His chest and stomach jerk as he sucks in deep uneven breaths. He turns onto his stomach, hiding his crying face into the sheets. I reach forward tentatively and put a hand on his right shoulder. "Jude?"

He doesn't pay me any attention. I feel very useless sitting there, unable to do anything to calm him down. All I can do is rub my hand on his shoulder, then down his back.

Eventually, he calms down, quietening down to sniffles. I crawl across the bed to my bedside cabin, pull out a wad of tissues from the box on top, and scoot back to him. I nudge them against his hand.

"Here, wipe your face."

He grasps them, rolls onto his side-facing away from me—and starts wiping his face and nose. I sit quietly and wait.

I wait a long while.

He has gone really quiet, and it occurs to me he could have gone to sleep.

"Jude?" I call and pull on his shoulder, easily bringing him to his back.

His eyes are wide open, gazing at the ceiling. His face is flushed, his nose redder than the rest of it, and his eyes more bloodshot.

I clear my throat. "Jude... What's wrong?"

He shifts, tosses the used tissues in the little bin beside my cabin, then lets out a low humourless laugh. "Everything."

So it seems.

"Where are you coming from right now?"

His eyes flicker from the ceiling. He pushes himself upwards on the bed, resting on a pillow. "Oh, I don't know, a thousand places." He lifts a hand and shoves it through his hair. "Shouldn't have come here... I need... I need... Will you... Will you distract me, Jo? I need a distraction. Not...drunk enough."

I sigh. "I think you're drunk enough, Jude."

Otherwise, he wouldn't have a pause after every other word.

He gnaws on his bottom lip and nods. "I think you're...you're right. I just cried like a fucking pussy."

I remain silent, not sure I should ask what he was crying about.

Before silence can reign again, he speaks. "Tomorrow is the stupid pre-wedding, you know?"

That catches my attention, and I settle on my bed, my chin resting on my raised knees.

"And she... She's going to be... To be forgotten. I couldn't keep this one away. I tried. All the others?" He takes a pause and laughs. "So eager to get down with his son, they were. They weren't worthy to replace her."

A frown is gathering on my face fast as he talks and I try to understand exactly what he's talking about.

"Nobody is," he adds in a whisper. His face twists in pain and I'm almost sure he's going to break down again, but he doesn't.

Who's going to be forgotten? Who's going to be replaced?

Remembering meeting Jude's father and his fiancée, I fill the spaces for myself.

His father is getting remarried and he doesn't like it. He thinks his mother will be forgotten.

A chill stiffens my limbs as I decipher the meaning of his other words.

He wouldn't, would he?

Not his father's girlfriends, right?

His eyes slide over to meet mine. "I loved it, you know? I loved stealing them from him. And they liked it. I'd fuck them, and tell them they are not as good as Mum, and will never be, and I'd insult them, call them sluts, and they'd still come back for more. Until the old man realised all they wanted was his money and kicked them out." He licks his lips as if enjoying the mortified look on my face. "His money and my dick, of course."

I swallow hard and instinctively scoot away from him. "Jude..." I trail away because my voice sounds strangled. I'm at a loss.

What is it that I keep forgetting, again?

Because deep down, I know I shouldn't be surprised. I have always known the label placed on him by all my peers at school is real, and not just some stereotypical nonsense because he's hot and a star in the school football team. Jude is a bad boy, and I don't know how I got myself in this position.

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Ignorance, my subconscious, which always seems to have a bone to pick with me, snaps.

"Shut up, okay?" I order in the nicest way I can. I have always yearned for more information on him, but this is a little too much. This is destroying the pretty picture that had started clouding my mind, convincing me that he's not as bad as they say.

He doesn't shut up. He's on a roll, his words flowing confidently now.

"He hates me, you know? I took her away from him, and from all the others too. It's why they all hate me. I don't care about them. I don't need them telling me what I did was awful. I'd kill myself too if I could."

He's talking a lot and making no sense at all.

He licks his lips again. "Are you afraid of me, Jo?"

His question catches me off guard. I hold his predatory gaze for all of a second, then gaze at the headboard behind him. My heart rate speeds up but I shake my head. "No." "You look scared."

My eyes turn back to him, narrowed. "I don't know how to deal with you right now, Jude." I've never had much experience with drunks.

Let's not mention bad boy drunks.

He blinks, looking slightly offended.

"You need to sleep and be out of here very early in the morning, okay? I don't need any more trouble."

I scoot out of bed and pad to my closet, feeling disappointment weigh me down.

I don't know why I feel so disappointed, in him.

Admittedly, the Jude I've 'seen' all this time I've hanged out with him isn't the one I'm 'seeing' tonight.

I have no idea what he does after school.

"Are you mad at me?" His quiet voice floats through the room to where I'm getting spare blankets.

I don't let how sad he sounds get to me. I shake my head. "I'm not, Jude. We'll talk when you're sober."

He's quiet until I get back and start placing blankets on the floor. I can feel his gaze on me as I make a makeshift bed. Then I settle between the warm blankets.

"What the fuck you think you're doing?" He snaps, and I feel movement on the bed. His blond head appears above me.

"Leaving you the bed, Jude. You need it."

"It's your bed."

"Just sleep, Okay?" I snap, getting irritated. I turn on my side and face away from him.

He doesn't say anything, and I hear shuffling. I wait to hear something, but I don't.

I'm tired, but my mind is racing. Eventually, I fall into a restless sleep.