Exposed: A Novel (24 page)

Chapter 54
Taylor

Andy returned, drunk and stumbling over his feet, a few hours after he left his house crying. I never left the living room.

When I heard the door open I hurried to meet him.

He grabbed my shoulder. “Let’s make a movie.”

I raised my eyebrows and stepped back.

“Come on, girl. Make a movie with me. Just once.” The distinct juniper and licorice scent of Gin rose from Andy’s tongue.

“You don’t know what you’re doing. Just a few hours ago you wer—”

He forced me against the stairwell banister. “Didn’t I tell you not to talk to me like that?”

The banister cradled my head, but my heart sunk to my knees and fell to the ground.

Andy yanked me up by my shirt. My arms, limp at my sides, had no desire to fight back. So I closed my eyes as Andy gripped my wrist and forced me to follow him up the steps.

For the bazillionth time in my life, a man raped me and used me for my body and my looks to satisfy his perverted appetite. And the entire time I could only think of one word. Baby. Over and over again. I remembered the heartbeat, imagined the first cry, and wondered how she would be different from me. No part of me wanted her to be like me.

I woke up alone and turned to the clock. 2:59am cut through the blackness with its neon green glow.

Andy’s voice, muffled but loud, buzzed in my ear. I rubbed my eyes to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, then rolled over to try and figure out his words.

More buzzing.

I rolled out of bed and tiptoed to the bedroom door, creaked it open, and listened to his slurred words.

“Divorce is fine with me. I’m not the one that started this.” His words tripped over each other.

Hand to mouth, I continued to listen.

“If you would’ve stopped sleeping around maybe I wouldn’t be doing this, you know? You act like I’m the one that left. I’m just getting back at you. This is your fault, you hear me?” I pictured his red eyes and spit flying from his lips. “No. I don’t want to hear your excuses. You played around, now I am.” He paused. “I don’t think so. I like this life. The money. The girls. I’m done.”

I tiptoed back into the room, closed the door, and crawled into bed. For the next two hours I listened to Andy’s voice fluctuate from screams that shook the walls to buzzing sounds I could barely hear.

And no matter how many times I tried to believe it, I couldn’t.

Andy Cross had a wife.

Birds chirped from the tree outside the bedroom window. The sun flickered in the room, drawing specks of shadows on the wall, and I stayed in bed. 10:48am. I didn’t want to move.

Nightmares upon nightmares dressed up in the form of Andy’s wife and messed with me all night. I couldn’t stop thinking about her. And him.

The door clicked.

I turned my head.

Andy walked in the room, carrying a tray with wobbling eggs, bacon, and toast on top. The smoky smell of bacon made my stomach spin. And the thought of slimy eggs floating inside my body with pieces of pig took away any appetite I might’ve had, which was weird since I loved eggs and bacon.

“I’m not hungry.”

Andy placed the tray on the bed and shrugged his shoulders. “More for me then.”

He crunched and swallowed, crunched and swallowed, swishing orange juice between bites.

I cleared my throat. “Are you leaving because of your wife?”

“I don’t have a wife.”

“I heard you, Andy.”

“You didn’t hear what you think you heard.” He slapped another piece of bacon on his tongue.

“Are you staying in the porn business then?”

“We’ll see.”

“What about me?”

“What about you?”

“Are you making me leave?”

Andy crunched the last of his bacon and swallowed it, then walked out of the room.

Birds continued to chirp outside the window. The clock turned to 11:00am. And I slumped back into bed, hoping I’d sleep the day away and wake up to normal Andy. Sadly, I missed the bruises. At least I knew he cared about me enough to get mad at me. Now . . . now his behavior confused me to no end.

I felt like another crystal of sugar in his tea, not enough to make a difference, not enough to notice, but still there anyway.

Chapter 55
Ally

Mom called on my way to my next clue, which was the apartment Jessie and I lived in when we first married. I ignored her call, but oddly enough, Dad called five minutes later.

I picked up the phone, hoping he’d talk to me until I got to Abingdon, which was a good thirty-five minutes or so from Loch Raven Reservoir.

“Hey, Ally. I’ve got some bad news and good news. Which do you want to hear first?” Dad said.

“Bad news.”

“Are you sitting down?”

“You could say that, although if I were standing I probably wouldn’t sit.”

“Yes.” He chuckled. “You’re my daughter. Stubbornness can be a good thing. Sometimes.”

“Yes, like the way you are with Mom.”

“Yes, like your mother.” His breath gushed into the phone. “That’s what I need to tell you.”

My foot eased on the gas and I veered onto 695 east.

“She’s got cancer.” He sniffed. “I don’t know the details. She wouldn’t tell me. And she got off the phone with me real quick. First time I heard her voice, live at least, since you were a kid. She didn’t want to leave it on your answering machine and she didn’t think you’d call back.”

Perhaps my heart should have skipped a beat. Or my vision should have blurred. Or my foot should have burned the gas pedal. But nothing happened.

No sweaty hands. No heart scaling my throat. Nothing.

“Are you okay?” Dad said.

I cleared my throat.

“You should call her, talk to her.”

“I’m not calling her.” I paused. “I mean, I will, but not tonight. I’ve been thinking about it for awhile, just didn’t know what to say.”

I hung up with Dad and focused on the brake lights of the car in front of me.

The car in front of me turned on to I-95 north and I followed, feeling guilty about not wanting to feel guilty. Must’ve been Mom’s plague on my life.

When I pulled into the parking lot of our old apartment building I saw dozens, phew, I mean dozens and dozens of red and silver heart balloons taped to the side of the apartment building.

“How in the world did he pull this off?” I said to myself.

I’m not sure if it was my conversation with Dad or what, but the smile that came so naturally in the beginning of my treasure hunt wasn’t coming so naturally anymore.

Mom’s words trickled into my day and wouldn’t leave.

The truth will set you free.

If that’s really true, Lord, I said inside, then why do I feel trapped by the truth?

I am the way, the truth, and the life.
I saw the verse in my head. John 14:something. Right page. Top left. Highlighted pink.

The truth, somehow, had become as wondrous as brushing my teeth. I knew it so well I couldn’t feel it anymore.

I parked near the huddled balloons and rubbed my eyes. For Jessie’s sake, I needed to smile. I needed to love him.

The balloons swayed and tangled with each other, taunting me with their glittering hearts. Holding my breath, I got out of the car, hoping I’d see Jess and smile. I walked to the apartment building and stood under the balloons. The grass beneath my feet looked like a Van Gogh-style ocean of red, white, and pink rose petals.

More than Words
sang to me from the balcony above me. Took me a second to realize it was Jessie singing and not the radio. Cute, I thought as I forced a smile.

Once my cheeks loosened and my lips parted, the smile grew into a genuine light on my face. The balloons parted and Jessie smiled down at me.

He climbed over the rail and hung from the balcony, then let go and landed on the ground in front of me. I stepped toward him and he fell over, holding his left foot.

“Ow.” He squeezed his ankle.

Swelling inside, a laugh hid behind my pursed lips.

He looked at me and laughed. “Not so John Wayne, huh?”

My laughter broke the tightness of my lips and meddled with Jessie’s growing laughter. A quick image of another woman sprinted through our moment. He told me our neighbor from this very apartment building was more beautiful than me.

Jessie lay on his side, head supported by his left hand. My smile loosened. He wrapped his fingers around my wrist and pulled me to petal heaven. Sitting with my legs tucked under me, I looked at Jessie’s nervous eyes. A young girl’s voice caught my attention. I turned to see what she looked like as she walked up the apartment steps, smiling at us, but Jessie turned my chin toward him and kissed me.

As his lips touched mine I thanked God the girl looked more like Marilyn Manson than a porn star. Then I battled distracting thoughts as we kissed under the fading blue sky. Some moments of the kiss were genuine, others, well, I almost forgot I was kissing him for a few seconds.

Jessie kissed the corner of my mouth and looked at me. “It’s not going to feel like it did the day we met, Ally.”

I looked to my left.

“It’s different now, but we’re still us. I’m still me.” He moved a piece of hair from my eyes. “Don’t you think it’s still exciting?”

“This isn’t easy for me,” I said. “Trust me, I want to get over this.” I picked up a petal. “I mean, do you think I like seeing these women in my head every day, all day, and comparing everything about them to me?”

“Don’t do that.” Pieces of white fell from his hand. “Stop comparing yourself, Ally. You are my wife. I want you. Those women are nothing more than a fantasy. They aren’t real to me. You are.”

“Don’t talk about it like that.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t want to hear words like fantasy, okay? The idea of you needing a fantasy kills me, Jess. You don’t understand what this feels like. You wouldn’t unless I cheated on you.”

“You almost did.”

I stood and wiped the petals from my jeans. “That was nothing. And I didn’t spend our entire relationship sneaking around thinking about other men in a way I’m only supposed to think about you.”

“Have you thought about him?”

“Who?”

“Have you thought about Sean?”

“What are you talking about? In what way?”

“Point proven.”

“You haven’t proven anything.” My voice broke. “Is this your idea of romance? Is this your idea of excitement?”

Jessie stood. “Look”—his eyes squinted as his voice raised—“I am trying everything I can. I am trying. Do you know that? I love you. I don’t want to lose you, okay? Especially to Sean. He’s a jerk, Ally. Can’t you see that?”

Marilyn-Manson-girl walked back out of the apartment building and grinned at us. I looked back to Jess. “He never, ever treated me as bad as you have. And I don’t think he ever would.”

“Oh, right. That’s why he’d have no problem helping you have an affair. There’s a reason he goes through so many girlfriends and never gets married. Are you blind?”

“How can you talk to me like that?”

“How can you talk about him like that?” Jessie closed his eyes and exhaled loudly. “I’m sorry. I just don’t like the guy. He’s not someone you should trust.”

“You don’t even know him.” I looked down, realizing how much I defended Sean but not my own marriage. “How did you find out anyway?”

“So, it is true.” He shook his head.

Chapter 56
Taylor

Turned out I couldn’t find out the sex of the baby until 20 weeks. I had an ultrasound around thirteen weeks and Lisa told me my due date. April sixth. Yeah, I never had an abortion, but let me tell you, I really, really wanted to sometimes. Especially with Andy constantly badgering me. No, he didn’t leave porn. And yeah, he made me continue filming while pregnant, but I wasn’t showing too much, so he didn’t have to sacrifice his reputation for me.

Anyway, on November twentieth, I made it to twenty weeks and two days and found out the sex of the baby.

Lisa, so sweet, smiled her way through the ultrasound and made me guess the sex by pointing to the baby’s pelvis area.

I pointed to the screen and said, “That looks like a boy to me. I see a bump.”

Lisa perched her glasses on the tip of her nose. “No, sweetie. You’re looking at a baby girl.”

My body relaxed on the table. Staring at the ceiling, instead of the swimming glob on the ultrasound screen, I imagined her face. I wondered what her name would be. And I freaked out, imaging crazy scenarios like Andy stealing her or the hospital finding out who I am and not letting me take her home.

I looked back at the screen. The baby poked into my hipbone. Lisa took measurements of the head and other things while I daydreamed about marriage. No one would marry me, so my daydreams would stay that, just dreams. I imagined a husband sitting next to me as I discovered the sex of my first child, playfully arguing with me over names.

“You’ve got an active one,” Lisa said. “I can barely keep up with her.”

I half-smiled. Then it hit me. Layla. The baby’s name would be Layla. I hadn’t thought about before. And I didn’t think about it much then. But I knew Layla was her name. Layla Renee.

“Are you planning on having a natural birth?” Lisa said.

“Um, I haven’t thought about it much, but I probably won’t.” I pressed my hand into my stomach, trying to find Layla. “Won’t it hurt too much?”

She put her hand on my arm. “It hurts bad, but it’s bearable. Depends on what you want though. Think through everything and write a birth plan.”

“A birth plan?”

She laughed, not in a way that made me feel young and stupid, but in an I’ll-take-care-of-you kind of way. And she did care for me. She set up an appointment with me to go through everything a few days later.

During the next visit she explained episiotomies, anesthesiologists, transition phases, cervical dilation, oh man, she explained it all. I didn’t retain all of it, but it helped me understand labor and pregnancy better. With only five months to go I feared the day. Not just the pain, but I didn’t know how to go about adoption and I wasn’t sure I wanted to.

I went home to Andy after my Lisa-explains-it-all visit and saw a note stuck to the door with electrical tape.

I changed the locks. I won’t be back for a few months. Don’t look for me until I get back.

The clock in my heart stopped ticking. Time, for me, didn’t exist. Four months pregnant with a job history of porn, I had nowhere to go. I thought of Gianna, but she disappeared during my third month of pregnancy and soon after her phone number stopped working.

I sat on the top step of Andy’s house—the same house that stained my life with blood and semen and fluffy powders—and I considered my options.

A job outside of porn that offered me as much money as porn, that would’ve been a nice option, save the fact that no one would hire me.

A sharp breeze swirled through my hair. I tucked my hands inside my sleeves and hugged myself.

Memories. So many memories here. The first time Andy tempted me with his smile and shoved his camera in my face. The first time I got so drunk I threw up. The first time I smoked weed and snorted cocaine. So many firsts in such little time. Then there’s the one I’ll never forget.

I looked at the ground.

My body. Torn and stolen, just like that.

I should’ve left that day. For good. But I didn’t. And I knew why and hated the reason.

I needed him then as much as I do now.

“God, if you exist,” I said to the bush, “I hate you.”

Another breeze touched my hair.

Thankfully, the bush didn’t talk back. And neither did God. Which proved His non-existence to me even more.

I shoved Andy’s note into my purse and pulled out my car keys. One last look at his house. I stared at the shutters, the windows to the rooms I cried myself to sleep in, and the garage where Andy busted my lip for the first time. Then I turned and walked to my car.

“Alright, Layla.” I touched my stomach. “It’s you and me now.”

The bitterness of December came as slow as it possibly could. I made it to five months pregnant by sleeping in my car and stealing food from Super Fresh or Weis Markets. Sometimes I’d go in and eat olives and fruit right out of the salad bar. Other times I’d slip something up the sleeve of my shirt or plop it in my purse and walk out. I didn’t know what else to do.

I applied at McDonald’s and Chick-Fil-A, but by the time my interview came—on January sixteenth—my stomach stretched my clothes and Layla made sure the world knew she existed. Even McDonald’s didn’t want me, a pregnant girl with no job history, at least no job history worth printing on an application.

My cell phone stopped working because it was in Andy’s name since I didn’t have enough credit, but I tried to call Gianna a few times from a payphone. Nothing.

I showed up at Naomi’s apartment, but a young married couple answered the door. So, I checked Rite-Aid and they said she stopped working there and moved out of state.

Zayta. I even called Zayta, but she told me to come back in two years after I matured a little. Not sure what that meant, but I wasn’t thrilled about going back to porn anyway, so I didn’t argue.

I had one option left.

I knocked on Mom’s door on January eighteenth just after the sun settled behind the trees. Light flakes of snow disappeared on my hand as I knocked a second time.

Something rumbled on the other side of the door. I stepped back and looked at the windows. The curtains fluttered. A figure backed away.

Breathing deep with my head tilted back, I fought with myself.

Knock. Don’t knock.

Do it. Don’t do it.

You need help. Not from her.

I stepped toward the door, extended my arm, and walked away.

She saw me. I knew she saw me. And she saw my pregnant stomach too. Like everyone else, she didn’t want me.

Maybe an abortion would’ve been an easier road.

Layla kicked my rib. I pressed her foot down with my hand and Lisa’s words floated into my path like the snowflakes around me. Remember, the best road is rarely the easiest.

The best road seemed non-existent.

I sat in my car and drove to a nearby side street, put my forehead on the steering wheel, and noticed the empty gas light on the dashboard. I had a full tank months ago and I tried my best to only drive short distances to make it last as long as possible.

I guess three months was as long as possible.